#i apologise for the disgusting quality but this was the best i could get it

[sophsun1]

"The relationship between Brian and Justin was the first of it's kind. You two have created a landmark in television that will follow you and I hope that you will be as proud of it and your work as we are and that the world will be. Because there will never be another relationship like Brian and Justin on television ever, we have it and it was because of the two of you." - Dan Lipman

[imaginedanvrs]

ready or not, here we come

ghostface!wandanatcarol x reader

masterlist

word count: 5.3k

warnings: home invasion, death threats, knife play, cutting, some blood, slapping, stalking, begging, fingering, restraint, strap on sex (r receiving), anal, double penetration, triple penetration, overestimation, implied character death. lmk if i missed anything

It was pretty much a once in a lifetime moment for you to have the entire house to yourself, so you were more than prepared to take full advantage. Trouble was, there were too many options and only one night to fulfil as much as you could.

  You could have brought someone home from your local bar to fool around with on whatever surface you pleased, though that meant being away from the house for a couple hours because your home was outside of town. You could have dug up your secret bag of weed in the back of your closet to smoke the house down, but if the potent smell still lingered when your parents strolled through the door the next day then you would be in deep shit. Maybe you should have just gotten off and made the most of not worrying about being too loud while enjoying your own company. 

  When you stepped into the lounge your eyes landed on the tv standing proudly at the front. Then again, maybe you could just watch your favourite horror films on the best quality screen in the house without anyone around to make noises of disgust at the kill scenes. Paired with the raw cookie dough your mum always scolded you for eating, it could be the perfect night. 

  You dashed upstairs and swiftly changed into your sleeping shorts and shirt, unaware of the heavy gaze that watched you strip. You practically lived in the middle of nowhere and had never really felt the need to close your blinds when you changed. Or even when you slept. It was a good area - quiet. 

  Just as your bare feet hit the downstairs landing, the phone rang through the hall. You considered ignoring it because whoever was on the other line certainly wasn’t going to be calling for you and from the sounds of it, half the people that your parents answered to were reps or scammers. Still, you were willing to bet the one phone call you didn’t answer was the one someone in the house was expecting but never mentioned. 

  “Hello?” You asked as you eyed the kitchen you were eager to get to. 

  “Hello?” A male voice came through.

  “Yes?” You frowned, wanting to get on with your evening and not entertain whoever was giving up their own Friday night to call your house.

  “Who is this?” The man asked. 

  “Who are you trying to reach?” You questioned back, maintaining your manners despite not being the least bit interested. 

  “What number is this?” He continued. Okay, you were done with this. 

  “Probably not the one you’re looking for,” you chuckled. “Goodnight,” you said and placed the phone back on the receiver without another word. You started back towards the kitchen when the phone rang behind you again. 

  Seriously?

  You glanced back at the device, wondering if it was just playing up but after several tones you trudged back and picked it up. “Hello,” you answered. 

  “I’m sorry, I had the wrong number,” the man told you with a certain calmness you were supposed to be feeling while you devoured the sugary treat you were craving. 

  “So why’d you dial it again?”

  “To apologise,” he said simply.

  “You’re forgiven, goodnight,” you repeated but apparently the caller wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. 

  “Wait, wait. Don’t hang up,” he insisted and you wondered briefly if he was as stoned as you could have been. He sounded it.

  “What?”

  “I wanna talk to you for a minute,” he said. You rolled your eyes, mildly amused by the caller’s unusual antics. 

  “There are other numbers for that, bye,” you informed lightly, pressing the phone down firmer than before. You strolled away and the silence remained. 

  The caller left your mind as soon as you began mixing together the ingredients you needed and left your house in a comfortable silence as you worked. Your hands worked absently, placing everything together until you were done. The moment you finished washing your hands, the phone rang again.

  You huffed, picking up the device. “Hello?” You asked, patience clearly running out. 

  “Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” You weren’t surprised to hear his voice.

  “Who is this?” You frowned as you gathered the bowl and a drink in your free hand. 

  “You tell me,” he replied, like he was such a smart ass. “You tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine,” he said playfully. You scoffed a little.

  “I don’t think so,” you told him though you weren’t so quick to hang up this time, hoping that entertaining him for a bit longer would make him stop. 

  “What is that?” He asked instead when you placed the bowl down on the table. 

  “Just something to snack on while I watch a movie,” you explained absently as you retrieved your drink. 

  “What kind?”

  “Just some scary movie,” you told him vaguely because you hadn’t decided on one yet. 

  “You like scary movies?” You smiled at the teasing manner he used whenever people were trying to scare their friends, willing to bet he was leading up to something.

  “Uh huh.”

  “What’s your favourite scary movie?” He asked and you grinned more. 

  “Halloween,” you recited at once. “I like the classics. What’s yours?”

  “Guess.” You opened up Netflix on the tv to put the film on and saw a few horror titles on there to give you some inspiration. “No cheating,” he warned and you scoffed again. 

  “Nightmare on Elm Street,” you suggested. He merely chuckled. 

  “So, you got a boyfriend?” The mystery caller continued. You didn’t comment on the random change of topics as you ventured leisurely around your house double checking all of the locks before you got ready to hang up and settle down. 

  “No, why? Do you want to ask me out on a date?” You entertained further. It wasn’t like you were ever going to meet this guy.

  “Maybe,” he chuckled. “You never did tell me your name?”

  “Why do you wanna know my name?” You approached the front door with an excited spring in your step. 

  “Because I wanna know who I’m looking at.” You swallowed thickly with your hand on the handle of the door, feeling an icy cold drop in your chest as you stood perfectly still. 

  “What did you say?” You spoke slowly, turning the lock on the door without checking if it was already locked or not. 

  “I said I wanna know who I’m talking to,” he replied simply as you exhaled with forceful steadiness. You didn’t respond to him as you switched the porch light on and peered outside. “Hello?” Came the voice as you scanned the area the light cast onto. You found nothing and in a way that felt worse. 

  “Look, I gotta go,” you told him as you turned the porch light off, feeling the need to make it look as though there was no one in the house. Whoever was calling was probably just some bored teenager that wanted to scare you. Maybe they knew you from school and had heard you in passing mention your love for horror movies. 

  “You hang up on me and I’ll gut you like a fish,” he spat, shifting his tone entirely. “Understand?” You didn’t respond, too busy flickering your gaze over every window and door in your immediate vicinity. “Yeah.” You could hear the smile in the sick fucks voice as your hands began to shake. 

  “I wanna play a game with you,” he said. “Can you handle that?” There was a clear taunt to his voice as you approached the window closest to you and peered out into the pitch black. You remembered your science teacher making a comment about light being on one side of a window at night. Though you couldn’t make out a thing in the darkness, anyone on the other side of that glass could see you in your fearful entirety. 

  “Can you see me?” 

  “Listen, I am two seconds from calling the police,” you warned, entirely too aware of how unthreatening you appeared when your voice was shaking and tears were stuck in your throat. 

  “They’d never make it in time,” he told you. 

  “What do you want?” You whimpered, pacing through your home. 

  “To see what your insides look like.” You hung up the phone and frantically dialled the three numbers you needed when the doorbell rang. You stumbled backwards through the corridor to get to the other side of the house while your blurred eyes stayed glued to the front door. 

  “Leave me alone!” You screamed though it did nothing to warn off the trespasser because less than a second later a cloaked figure smashed through the glass door behind you. They shook off the glass and slight disorientation as you bolted out of the room, dropping the phone in your fright. You had never felt fear like it as you heard them run after you, heavy boots crunching on the glass they had shattered to reach you. 

  You had just enough time to unlock and open the front door as you heard the cloaked figure advance and for a brief second you had a spark of hope that if you just kept running, you would escape them. The last thing you had expected was to throw open the door and be faced with the same eerie ghost mask you hadn’t gotten the chance to see the other invader wear. You didn’t give it much thought though, because it was more than obvious that whoever was behind that mask was not someone that wanted to help you. 

  Miraculously, you dodged them both when they lunged for you, sprinting to your right with no real plan as to how you could escape them both while inside your home. Your blood was pumping as fast as the adrenaline struck every limb in your body, willing you to just move. You obeyed, running full force into the solid body that appeared out of nowhere. 

  You grunted and before you could fall down on your own, the third masked figure took hold of your shirt and threw you down to the hard floor behind them with ease. You hit the wooden floor hard, your ribs taking the full impact and aching in protest to the bend they endured. You ignored the ache that was dulled by the shock and scrambled to get to your feet and give yourself some fighting chance against the odds, but a military style boot pressed firmly into the centre of your back and held you in place. Your lungs screamed at the suppression but you were in no state to help. 

  “Please,” you cried out as you tried to reach behind you to scratch at any exposed skin you could find. “I have money,” you attempted to negotiate with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

  “Aw, she has money,” one of them echoed. You recognised that haunting voice. 

  “You,” you whispered. 

  “Me,” the guy from the phone answered back. 

  “Look at all the effort I’ve gone to. Can I ask you out on a date now?” The others chuckled and you frowned at how similar they all sounded. 

  “I’ll do anything,” you told them, still struggling under their weight. 

  “Yes,” they said simply. “You will.” Suddenly, you were kicked onto your back and forced to gaze up at the three strangers before you. The first thing you noticed were the knives. They all held the same dagger that glistened threateningly under your home’s lights, itching to have their polished blade’s stained with whatever they desired to take from you. 

  “You’re going to be our first,” the one closest to you declared as they crouched down next to you and tilted their head, as though considering where to start.

  “You should be honoured,” another told as they strolled around the perimeter of the room until they were in your blind spot. “You’re going to be the first one to feel our blades,” they whispered close to your ear and hauled you up by the hair so you were pressed firmly against their cloaked front and unable to squirm away when their menacing blade was pressed against your neck.

  “So we thought we’d do something a little special for you.” Your desperate attempts to claw at the body behind you only served to amuse the other intruders whose cloaks were too thick for your nails even in your survival fueled strength. 

  “Please!” You begged again, unable to escape the coolness of the blade that was dangerously close to your jugular. It was futile to fight against one of them, never mind hope to get past the two that blocked both your exits. 

  “Please,” the one behind you mocked. “Please what?” They waited patiently for your answer as you stared at them in terror. 

  “Please don’t kill me,” you said quickly, knowing it wasn’t going to make a difference. “If you leave I won’t say anything. I don’t know who any of you are,” you reasoned. They looked between each other in silent communication before reaching for the ghost masks and pulling them swiftly from their heads. 

  What the fuck?

  “What about now?” Wanda asked, a smirk gracing the features that you had always admired from afar. Next to her, Natasha’s gaze bore into yours, void of the clear excitement her girlfriend had and instead looking at you like one of her hunting trophies she had collected from far too young an age. 

  You couldn’t see her, but Carol’s unmistakable voice was by your side. “Now lets play that game.” Her lips ghosted over your neck just under your ear as she spoke and you felt the knife twitch with her impatience. 

  “So competitive,” Wanda chided but her smirk didn’t waver. Natasha remained silent as she watched you. 

  “We’ll give you a five second head start to run,” Carol told you as she reluctantly moved her knife away and shoved you forwards. The pair in front of you stepped aside to create a clear path to the opened front door. 

  “Five,” Carol began and you sprung to your feet. To all of their surprise, you didn’t go for the door, you went for the stairs. 

  The three women were the best athletes in your school and you knew that if you ran out of the house you would have no chance of outrunning any of them, but maybe if you got ahold of the handgun your dad kept in his bedroom, you would stand a better chance of surviving the night. 

  “Four,” they continued as you ascended the stairs, scrambling over the steps quicker than you ever had in your life, even when you were a young child that thought monsters might be following you in the dark. Except this time they really were. 

  “Three.” You barged into your parents room and made for the safe in the corner. 

  “Two.” Your fingers fumbled against the number pad, making you enter the code wrong the first time until it clicked in confirmation for you to swing the door open to present an empty space. Your heart plummeted. 

  “One.” There was no time to ponder the location of the missing weapon, the only thing you could do was sprint to the best exit available. 

  “Ready or not, here we come,” Carol taunted as three sets of boots thudded up the stairs. Taking your chance, you ran to your own room towards the window that was in place just above the porch’s shelter. If you jumped from your own window down to the roof, there would be less chance of you injuring yourself and you would have a better shot of outrunning the intruders. 

  By the time you made it to your window, the first of the three was in your room just in time to see you struggling to pry open the old wood. Your heart hammered in your chest, refusing to look back at them as you failed to get a good grip on the window, unaware that it had been glued shut an hour prior. 

  “It’s almost a shame how predictable you are,” Natasha told you, grabbing you by the arm and hauling you on to your bed. Just as you landed, you leant back and put all of your energy into swinging your elbow into her ribs. She stumbled back at the impact and you moved to strike again but a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you just an inch off the floor. “But at least you’ve got some fight in you,” Natasha quipped as she watched you flair about in Carol’s arms. 

  “Fuck you!” You spat, realising that begging and compromising weren’t going to help you. “Let me go!”

  “But darling, we can’t let you run off now. You’re bleeding,” Wanda told you, voice thick with concern you knew she didn’t have. You frowned, unable to recall when their knives had actually broken skin until you were introduced to Natasha’s dagger. She swiped the fierce blade across your abdomen, slicing through your thin shirt and leaving a trail of red across your skin that made you hiss. It wasn’t deep, but the next one was. 

  “And now you’ve messed up your clothes,” Carol added as she held you firmly against her so that Wanda could tear your shirt off you while you continued to struggle. 

  “You poor thing,” the Sokovian pouted as she examined the scarlet streaks across your stomach, tracing them with her fingers and smearing the blood up to your tits. She groped and pinched at your hardened nipples, chuckling when you turned your head to the side with a whine. 

  “Stop,” you whimpered, voice small. 

  “You’re not in charge here,” Carol warned. Her fingers were digging into your hips so firmly that you were sure she was going to leave you with bruises. You were powerless against it as you squirmed in her grasp, even as she threw you down onto your bed. 

  “Fuck!” You cried out when you felt another slash hit the back of your thighs. You tried to scramble away but a gloved hand wrapped itself around the back of your neck and held you down into the mattress. 

  “You had your chance to run,” Wanda said as she appeared on your pillows and switched her hold to your hair to tug you up and face her. You gritted your teeth with a glare, not ready to give up your fight yet. “Now you do as we say.”

  You continued to glare at the Sokovian as a strong pair of gloved hands lifted your hips up to slide your shorts and underwear down painfully slowly, just because they could. The cold air hit you and sent a shiver through your body while your cheeks heard in embarrassment at being so exposed to the woman. You were sure Wanda’s heavy gaze noticed, but she didn’t comment, instead focused on rubbing her covered thumb across your lips. 

  “Open up.” She tapped them twice but you kept your lips firmly together. She smiled, amused, then delivered a harsh slap to your cheeks that heated them further. You still didn’t comply until she slapped you harder and your mouth fell open in shock, giving Wanda the chance to slip her fingers into your mouth and immediately press down on your tongue. You went to bite down on the rough material but the hand in your hair was suddenly gripping your jaw and holding it apart. You gagged slightly around her digits, trying your best to block out the laughter you heard around the room. 

  “I bet you’ll look so good choking on my strap,” Wanda mumbled, enchanted by the sight of you drooling around her gloves. Your protests were incoherent and you had a hard time not letting your head empty as Wanda slowly thrust her fingers. Even when she took her fingers out to pull her gloves off before filling your mouth again, you didn’t mumble a complaint…until you felt two fingers stroke your bare cunt. 

  You tried to twist around to at least see who it was, but Wanda was adamant on keeping your gaze fixed on her as one of the women collected the wetness you didn’t know was there and rubbed several circles on your clit. Your hips bucked involuntarily and you whined around Wanda’s digits. 

  “What was it that got you so sweet, doll?” Carol asked. “Was it when Natasha cut you? When we chased you up the stairs? Told you all those nasty things on the phone?” The blonde didn’t expect an answer and didn’t wait for one. She pushed two fingers forwards, groaning when your pussy took her in. You heard her curse and wanted to thrash away, but it was hard to deny how good it felt to have her skilled fingers inside you. 

  “Desperate whore,” Natasha commented as she appeared by Wanda’s side. The pair shared a passionate kiss as the Sokovian continued to thrust her own fingers and you couldn’t help but clench at the sight. 

  “You like watching them, doll? I didn’t take you for a voyeur,” Carol chuckled, curling her digits to elicit the reaction she wanted. You moaned when she brushed against the spot you needed, momentarily forgetting about the weapons they held until Natasha placed hers against your jugular. 

  “Malysh, let us play a little longer,” Wanda pouted to her lover. Natasha’s blank eyes bore into your own, still void of the excitement the other women held. Still, she pulled her knife away with a huff, making her girlfriend giggle as though she had become giddy at the promise of impending violence. “Let’s keep her entertained so she doesn’t regret that, huh?” Wanda whispered with a grin. You had always loved seeing her smile from afar, but in that moment you could only see the craze that sparkled in her eyes. She was terrifying, but still beautiful. 

  Almost so beautiful that between her and the fingers still steadily fucking you, you didn’t notice her unzip her trousers and pull out her strap until she was forcing you down on it. Your gags filled the room as she pushed you down by the back of your head, moaning softly at the way you struggled to take her. Tears filled your eyes and a distinct burning started up at the back of your throat as Wanda tried to break through. Your lips were wrapped so perfectly around her that she couldn’t help but buck her hips up slightly to chase some friction at your expense while you hit her thighs. 

  “Fuck, you get so tight when you can’t breath,” Carol groaned as pushed a third finger into you and scissored her digits slightly to enhance the stretch. Before you could grow accustomed, she pulled her soaked fingers out and pressed her own silicone toy between your legs. She prodded bashfully at your throbbing clit until you were shaking, wetting the length of the toy. 

  Carol muttered a curse when she pressed the head of her cock against your entrance that refused to part for her. You whimpered around the toy stuffing your mouth, feeling how large Carol was against you and how much it might hurt when she-

  “Take it,” the blonde hissed when she finally forced her strap inside your cunt. Your legs gave out but she quickly took hold of your hips and used them to thrust further, deeper, inside you. 

  “How’s that feel, love?” Wanda asked as she brushed your hair away from your features that were blurred with pain and pleasure. The stretch was intense and it was hard to imagine a point that you would even begin to adjust to Carol’s size as she refused to let up, adamant that you take all of her. “You look so pretty getting stuffed like a good fucktoy,” she told you, almost in a singsong tone. “Don’t you think?” Wanda turned to her partner who sat in your chair to the side, her gaze dead set on you. If you hadn’t already been so overstimulated, you would have shuddered. Natasha was looking at you like you were her prey and you couldn’t hold her gazy any longer. 

  Carol didn’t pause for a second when her hips finally pressed against your own. She didn’t give you a moment to adjust or prepare, she instantly drew her hips back only to slam the entire length back into your abused cunt. You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

  Wanda cooed at the sight of you struggling to take them both, whispering condescending praises that you couldn’t pick up entirely. ‘Sweet fuck’ and ‘good whore’ were all you picked up as Wanda held you by the hair and made you continuously deepthroat her own toy while Carol pumped her cock in from behind, pace unrelenting. Your cunt burned in a pleasure you never could have imagined, bringing out moans you didn’t want to please the intruders with but couldn’t stop. It just felt so good to be used. Too good, more than you could hold off on. 

  “Gonna cum,” you managed to communicate when your whines grew louder and Wanda pulled you off her strap, spit down your chin and coating her toy. 

  “Cum for us,” Wanda said, pupils blown with lust at the sight beneath her. She pushed her strap back into your mouth but this time angled it slightly lower so that the harness could provide better friction for her clit. You didn’t realise what you were doing for her until you registered the stutter of her hips as she came with you. 

  “Fuck,” Wanda voiced as you cried out around her strap, clenching and pulsing around the cock in your pussy as Carol continued to fuck you relentlessly, pace still harsh. You shuddered and moaned, unable to distinguish up from down as your high was drawn out and you were sent toppling into a second one. 

  “Greedy thing,” you vaguely heard Natasha mutter as she stood up from the chair. Her boots thudded as she stalked towards the tangle of bodies, still only eyeing you. 

  “Come on, Nat. If she wants more, let's give her more,” Carol said, a smirk on her features that you never got to see. Natasha hummed, a trace of a smile threatening to break through.

  As pathetic as it was, you could have cried when Carol pulled out. You immediately felt empty but bit your tongue when you felt a pair of hands haul you up the bed until you were straddling Wanda’s own piece that glistened in the low light. She didn’t give you any instructions or warnings, merely pulled your hips down until you were half way filled with her strap. Without anything to stop you this time, your moans bounced off of the walls. 

  Despite the laughter you heard, you were also met with a firm slap to the face from Natasha. She still had her gloves on and had more force to the act than Wanda did, more aggression. It was clear that out of the three, she was the one that wanted to hurt you the most. She grabbed your chin, assessing you for a hard minute as you grinded into the base of Wanda’s strap. 

  “Danvers, come here,” she said without taking her eyes off of you. Carol grumbled something about the redhead not being in charge but complied as the two swapped places. It unnerved you greatly to know she was lurking somewhere behind you, but the other women kept your focus on them. 

  Wanda suddenly bucked her hips up and took a hold of your waist, making you follow her shallow thrusts as though she didn’t want to be that far from you. It meant that the head of her cock hit the back of your pussy more often and with more force and it felt incredible. 

  “You look so good like this,” Wanda husked, her accent slipping through slightly in her haze. 

  “Keep her still,” Natasha’s voice came behind you. Wanda stilled her movements and slapped your thigh when you tried to move against her. You met her smirk with a silent plea until you felt two wet fingers prod against your ass. 

  “Wait-” you tried but Natasha was already pushing them into the first knuckle, despite your discomfort. 

  “No,” the redhead said back as her lips ghosted over your shoulder and her teeth sunk into your skin. You whined at the dual pain and in trying to move away only made the strap shift inside you. 

  It was all too much as you felt Natasha begin to thrust her fingers into your ass steadily. She twisted and curled her fingers before fanning them out to open you up while Wanda began to move your hips once more. The discomfort and pleasure blurred together until you found yourself craving anything they gave you. Your moans picked up more when Carol’s lips found your nipples. 

  “You’ll take what we give you,” Natasha said, gliding her dagger around your torso where the looming threat settled. She pulled her fingers out of your tightest hole only to swiftly replace them with her strap.

  “Fuck, please!” You gasped at the sudden intrusion. “Too much,” you tried to communicate as you felt your body stretch once more. 

  “Shut her up,” Natasha huffed as she bore more of her weight down on you so that you took more of her piece. Your walls stretched so painfully that you almost didn’t register the cut to your torso. You cried out and fell against Wanda only to be pushed back so Carol could slide her strap between your lips. 

  With all three of them pounding into you in a purely primal manner, your body finally gave in to their assaults. Your eyes glazed over, unable to focus on any one thing as every thought in your mind struggled to make itself known. All you were aware of was the way seemingly every nerve in your defeated body was ablaze with an onslaught on sensations. The three women eventually found a rhythm to fall into together that ensured you were never empty, even as drops of blood fell from your scarlet chest you were too lost in the pleasure to acknowledge. 

  “You’re going to be the prettiest victim,” Natasha mumbled against your ear, biting the lobe softly. You whimpered, though not in fear. Their straps were hitting your depths over and over, never letting up for a second. Your holes welcomed them greedily, clenching around the silicone everytime they pulled out and making each woman grunt at the tightness. They made comments you mostly missed, but the degradation you picked up on only made you wetter, as Wanda pointed out. They were ruthless and even when you came again, they didn’t stop. 

  You whined around Carol’s toy, trying desperately to communicate how sore and used you felt. You needed a break to let your body recover, but it was made clear to you that you were done when the three women agreed you were. They pulled more orgasms from your wrecked frame, not caring when you soaked Wanda’s thighs with your cum or Carol’s with your spit. When you eventually passed out from the overstimulation, they withdrew. 

  You slumped against the Sokovian in an exhausted heap, barely able to keep your eyes open as she cooed to you how much of a perfect slut you were for them. You mumbled a protest when you were manoeuvred onto your back on the bed, finally opening your eyes to see Wanda leaning over you with a deranged look upon her face and shimmering knife in hand. “I know,” she said softly when your eyes widened in fear and tried to move your spent frame. “It’s scary, but you knew this bit would happen,” she continued, stroking your face as she dug the knife under your chin. 

  Carol and Wanda appeared at her side and you finally saw Natasha smile. She was smug, they all were. They had won. “Thank you for this, baby,” Wanda said, raising her dagger above her head. “You’ll look beautiful with our knives in you.”

  Then she struck.

[everythingpeaches]

In Which Sirius Makes a Mistake Part 1.

'I'm sorry,' he says quietly over breakfast that morning. Remus doesn't answer, just shakes out his copy of the prophet and dissappears behind its pages.

'I'm sorry,' he whispers over Remus’ shoulder in charms. The boy in front doesn't reply, but Sirius knows he has heard him by the tension that ripples out across his back.

'I'm sorry,' he scribbles on a piece of parchment and charms it over to where Remus is sitting writing out his notes in History of Magic. The scrap of paper ignites and dissapears into ash.

He can't apologise at lunch, because Remus isn't there, and he has muggle studies that afternoon with quidditch practice straight after so he can't apologise then, either.

When he gets back to the common room, damp and cold from the rain, he searches for Remus and finds him sitting at a table beneath the windows with Lily. They are doing homework, papers and books spread out around them. Remus sees him, catching his gaze and then breaking it again just as quickly.

This may be, he thinks as he trudges slowly up the stairs of Gryffindor tower to his dormitory, the worst thing he has ever done. It is certainly the worst he's ever felt, worse even that when his family disinherited him and kicked him permanently out of his home. At least then he could flee to the safety of James and his family. This time, even his best friend has no comfort for him, just a reproachful tone and disappointed gaze.

He keeps replaying that night in his mind, acting it out over and over with a different outcome every time. If only he had kept quiet, if only he had just shut his mouth for once in his sorry life. What he would do to take it back, to swallow those careless words which have caused so much damage.

Things had been good. They had been happy. Sometimes Sirius thought he could not help but ruin things. It must be some innate quality, some inherited evil that he cannot fully repress. The Black in his veins, corrupting everything it touches.

He showers, the water burning his skin and soap stinging his eyes. He cries, something he hasn't let himself do since he was a boy in a house full of family who hated him. When he comes out of the bathroom finally, James is there sitting on his bed. He takes his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and Sirius wonders when the scrawny boy from his childhood had grown up into a man.

'Hi,' Sirius says, because he can never stand a silence and he especially cannot stand silence from James.

'Hi,' James replies tiredly. 'Have you spoken to him yet?'

'I've tried, he doesn't want to hear it.'

'I don't blame him.' It hurts, but it's true. Sirius doesn't blame him either. 'I'm really mad with you, Pads.'

'I'm mad at me too.'

'Yeah, I know.' James was always so calm in his anger. Sirius wishes he would shout at him, maybe give him a good smack. This quiet disappointment was so much worse. 'I still don't understand what happened, what were you thinking?'

'I don't know. I don't think I was, really. Snape was just going on and on about how he knew something was going on with Moony, how he'd find out and then he... well he said some pretty disgusting stuff. About him and about me, I just lost it.'

Tears are welling up in his eyes again and James has the deceny to pretend not to notice when Sirius wipes them away.

'I get that, believe me I do, but why the Willow? Why tell him to go there when you knew-'

'I don't know,' Sirius cuts him off, unable to hear James say it. When he knew Remus was there, when he knew what it would mean. 'It's the worst thing I've ever done.'

James doesn't reply to that.

'Do you think you-'

James cuts Sirius off this time, 'No, Sirius, if he doesn't wanna speak to you that's his decision and you have to respect it. This is for you to fix, if you can, me and Pete won't get involved.'

Sirius nods, ashamed for asking.

'You're right.'

'I hope you can, though, for what it's worth. I've never seen you both so happy as you have been this year.'

The tears are threatening to return, so Sirius turns away to slip behind his curtains.

'Thanks, James,' he says, before climbing into his bed and hiding himself beneath the covers.

[iedtasso]

Ted teaches Rebecca how to bake his biscuits

Tedbecca headcanon fluff!

Rebecca was having a hard time since facing Rupert during a west ham match

Ted was pretty down too because it was hard watching Nate be the coach for the other team, since it reminded him of how he "didn't appreciate him enough"

They ended up tying so it wasn't the best of the days

Rebecca knew she couldn't be left alone that night and Keeley was busy with her new job

Ted senses that and decides, you know what would be fun? Trying to bake the biscuits while drunk

Rebecca goes "sure why the fuck not"

Rebecca realised this is the first time she's stepped foot in Ted's house, and starts observing her surroundings - an opened jar of peanut butter (which she comments on saying "that's absolutely disgusting all the dust is going to collect inside" to which Ted replies "that's why you gotta lick it at least once a day!"), the ziplock of the tiny army figures, random books here and there, a picture of his son and, oh, the picture of Nate.

She picks the framed picture, puzzled. Why would Ted still keep this?

Ted notices and gives her a pained half smile, and point to a mini believe sign pasted on the kitchen cabinet. "I still believe in him, y'know? He's going through stuff right now, but I still believe in him"

Rebecca gives her classic "of course, it's Ted" smile and puts the photo back down

They gather on the kitchen as Ted pops open a bottle of champagne (he knows it's her favorite since she has them ready in her office all the time) and pours it into the glasses.

Rebecca takes a sip and asks "so, shall we start?" frankly she's pretty hungry and if there was anything that could cheer her up, it would be those delicious biscuits.

Ted chuckles and shakes her head, claiming that they aren't drunk enough yet and it wouldn't be fun. ("if you wanted a sober baking class you should've watched those British bake off shows y'all have")

After having a few more glasses chugged down their throats (during which Rebecca removes her heels because her feet were getting sore) they finally start baking

Ted insists that they don't use measurements today and put in the ingredients according to gut feeling

at this point Rebecca is pretty drunk and she slurs "WHAT. you want us to bake shitty biscuits? Absolutely not I want them to be of the same outstanding quality as those you bring every morning"

Ted laughs in amusement as he's never seen her this drunk before, and replies "as greatful as I am of that compliment, I'm sorry ma'am but we're going with freestyle today. You gotta trust ur gut sometimes, they might surprise you"

Knowing she can't convince Ted otherwise, Rebecca dramatically sighs and goes "alright! Fine" as they start plopping in the ingredients and mixing them.

At one point Rebecca accidentally flings her arms towards the bag of flour and spills the powder all over herself an the floor (she apologises with a string of "shit", "fuck" and "I'm so sorry"s)

As they plop the pan inside the oven, Ted suggests she changes out of her flour-covered top and gives her one of his AFC Richmond polo shirts

she was about to argue when she realised he was probably right, she didn't want to be covered in flour for the rest of the night (but she still made a fuss about it as she snatched the Richmond shirt and stumbled to the bathroom, or toilet, as Ted like to call)

While waiting for the Rebecca falls asleep on the couch, as Ted puts a blanket on her.

She's awoken by Ted cheering "REBECCA, YOU GOTTA CHECK THIS OUT"

Apparently the biscuits were ready, as she eyes Ted suspiciously before taking a bite.

"HOLY FUCK!" Rebecca yells and looks over to Ted who has his eyes wide open with a huge grin on his face. His usually slick back hair has now fallen in front from all the drunk cheering and dancing he did, because the biscuits were fucking amazing

"now what did I tell ya, you gotta trust ur gut!" Cheers as he hops all over the kitchen, and Rebecca can't help but laugh

"celebratory peanut butter?" Ted offers the opened jar towards her to which Rebecca immediately replies "absolutely not!" and goes in for another biscuit instead

Ted, unbothered, shrugs and dips his finger in to lick the peanut butter anyways

the middle gifs of Ted are exactly what I mean when I say celebratory dance:

[crimsonrae]

So I had this idea. Henry has this girlfriend right, and she's pretty independent. She never has the usual worry about money (and not just because she's dating a rich man). Later Henry finds out that she has an Only Fans. A very successful Only Fans. It's not very explicit, she usually posts very tasteful nudes that don't show the good bits or her face so she stays anonymous. Obviously he confronts her about it.

What I want to know is, how do you see this interaction going down? 😘

I apologise if I already sent this to you.

Okay, I had to think about this one - and look into what Only Fans is 😁.

Honestly, I don’t see this interaction going well...but that depends on how he finds out about her career. I think Henry is a person that is big on mutual trust and an understanding that he values privacy.

So here is a best-case and worst-case scenario.

The good interaction:

She is upfront right from the start - maybe she doesn’t give him the full details, but she alludes enough to her work that when she does feel she can divulge the full spectrum that he isn’t all that surprised.

“So... you know how I told you that I do modeling, some nude, but for a website?”

Henry blinks and nods, “Yeah...?”

She shifts uncomfortably but knows that this is a conversation that needs to happen before their relationship goes any further, “Well I actually take and post the photos... it's on a site called OnlyFans.”

“The cam-girl site?” He interrupts, not able to keep a mild tone of disapproval from his voice as he watches her tense. Defeat starts to gleam in her large eyes and he feels like a heel. Slowly, he places his hand over hers and squeezes, silently letting her know that he’s listening.

This is her chance to explain.

She takes it, “There are cam-girls, yes. I don’t do videos...just photos. I have a stage name and I never show my face... you know what?..It'll be easier if I just show you.”

With trembling hands, she pulls her phone out and navigates to her account. Her stomach flutters with nervous apprehension as she slowly hands the device to him. This is it. This will either make or break them.

Henry takes the slim gadget gently from her fingers, his expression blanker than a wall as he scrolls through her page. He sees that she has an impressive number of followers, but he is even more impressed by the quality of her work. It’s startlingly alluring and tasteful... It reminds him of the seductive covers of the market romance novels. Something that is meant to entice and evoke a person’s darker desires and imagination, but still retain a bit of mystery.

After a few minutes, he slides the phone back to her with a sigh before gradually nodding, “Okay.”

She blinks unsure, “Okay?”

“Yeah, thank you for telling me. I know that wasn’t easy, but as long as this doesn't become more...pornographic, for lack of a better term, I’m okay with it.” He said quietly with a soft smile.

Her eyes were wide, unable to believe how well this went, “So you’re not angry...disgusted?”

A chord of sadness struck Henry at her timidity and shook his head, “No..no, of course not. This is more like art...it’s beautiful. Besides it’d be a tad hypocritical with the amount of sex scenes I’ve filmed. This isn’t too dissimilar to what the body doubles do on set.”

“Henry...” She breathed, overwhelmed by the gratitude she felt for this gentle bear of a man. 

He chuckled at her flustered mien and leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her brow, “Breathe, luv.”

The vague thought of introducing her to his agent crossed his mind, body doubles weren’t easy to come by, but that was a talk for another time.

The Bad Interaction:

She isn’t upfront with him and he discovers her page when a costar is talking about her photos.

Waiting had never been a strong suit of his, Henry stared boredly into the set rafters as he waited for the crew to finish fixing a broken prop so shooting could begin again. He had been texting his girl, but she had put a pause on their conversation to go have dinner with a few friends.

Idly, he glanced over to his costar Malcolm, decent enough bloke, but Henry wasn’t sure he’d be friends with him offset. Still, the other man hadn’t uttered a word in ten minutes after making passing observations for the past hour, Henry could only wonder what had captured his attention.

Malcolm was suckered into his phone, eyes wide as he scrolled when he noticed Henry’s curious stare. He smiled sheepishly and turned his phone over, “Sorry, probably shouldn't be looking at these here... but I just love Masked Ivy’s photos. She’s such a tease...she just uploaded her latest set.”

Henry hesitated for a moment, brow furrowing - relatively sure his colleagues was talking about a porn star, “Masked Ivy?”

Malcolm blinked, surprised, “You haven’t heard of her? She’s huge! - Not physically, but.. well, you know.” He handed his phone over, “No one knows her real name, but she’s an artist, man. I wish I could get her number...cuz she is fine.”

Partially out of politeness, more out of insatiable curiosity, Henry looked at the photos. Smooth bare flesh greeted his eyes, a pouty mouth and face hidden by shadow and a mask did little to deter from the soft swell of her pert breasts. He swallowed tightly, feeling a twinge of arousal... but also familiarity. Frowning, he scrolled down and took in more glimpses of this woman’s bare body. 

Then he saw it.

At the top of her shoulder, a birthmark that was shaped similar to a seashell... he knew that mark, he knew this body... this was his girl. A pit began to form in his stomach as feelings of betrayal began to surge and more sharply hurt. They had only been dating for about six months, but things had gotten serious, quickly. 

At least, he had thought they had been serious. His heart panged and he handed the phone back. Distantly, he heard himself say, “Yeah...she’s gorgeous.”

Malcolm grinned and nodded - moving to rave more, but Henry quickly excused himself as he pulled out his phone. She had lied to him. She had told him that she worked in web design. He formed his own account on the FansOnly site and found her page. He felt like he was looking at a stranger.

Disappointed anger, warred with the aching squeeze of his heart shattering and he steadily became overwhelmed by both. If she hadn’t told him about this...what else hadn’t she told him? 

A sickening anxiety choked at his throat as he thought of all the personal things he had told her... He felt like he was falling off a cliff and into familiar and unwanted territory, the land of broken trust. 

With trembling fingers, he pressed her number, barely able to keep his tone calm as he received her voice message prompt, “Hey...We need to talk... Call me.”

[salemcat09]

Hey! I saw your request post so,,, maybe a Harry x Ginny oneshot? Like, after the war when they’re young, before they have kids. Just some nice domesticity, maybe living together in a flat or something? Idk it’s up to you!

Hello tysm for the request! I kind of made this into three little one-shots I hope that's okay. I am so so sorry this took so long and its so short I have zero attention span to finish anything, in fact the first part was sitting in my drafts for months. Anyway hope you enjoy 😅

(Read below the cut)

Harry slid the silver key into the lock. With a wordless glance back at his eagerly smiling girlfriend, he grinned and turned the key. A slight click of and he carefully pushed the door open.

Picking up one of the boxes he had placed down, Harry stepped in. He took a deep breath and looked around as Ginny swiftly followed. They'd finally managed to escape Molly's protective wrath and bought their first apartment. It was temporary of course and only rented. They planned to move into Grimmauld Place eventually, but in the end, decided it was best to get a little place close by in London while they renovated.

It was small, very small, especially in comparison to Grimmauld Place or Godrics Hollow, but it was home. Scratch that, it was *their* home. Just a tiny two-bedroom flat with an open-plan kitchen/living room and one bathroom. On the outskirts of the London CBD. They only needed one bedroom, even a studio would suffice but they allowed the extra space for when Harry's godchild Teddy came to stay.

Harry let out a low whistle as he stepped further in, running his hand along the kitchen counter. Ginny exhaled and nodded, mimicking Harry's whistle in agreement. "Wow" she laughed.

"Wow." He acknowledged, turning to her again. "We have a house."

"No shit Haz" his ginger girlfriendsnapped back sarcastically. "But yeah....shit, I feel like an adult" she chuckled again and shook her head.

"We are adults" Harry stated all though he found it hard to believe himself. He was only 21, Ginny 20, but considering he expected to die at age 17 he felt ancient thinking about it. Because of the war, he had only graduated a year ago along with Ginny and that certainly didn't help in feeling adult. His parents had already settled down, married, had a child and we're fighting a war at his age. Yet he could hardly cook a meal. Granted, he did do the war part but he tried to forget about that. And he could cook a meal because of the cooking for the Dursleys but he was forgetting that skill already anyway.

Ginny decided to start unpacking, and opened the box labeled 'living room'. Harry smiled at them, admiring how perfect his life was for a moment before unpacking kitchen things. He vowed never to take this life for granted.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Cooking had always been a secret talent of Ginny's. Charlie had taught her at a young age how to properly cook a meal and all the best ways to make a recipe. However, they never told anyone about this, worried she'd be ridiculed in some way for it (as she was for most things).

After moving in with Harry though, it appeared she had no choice but to reveal the secret seeing as Harry despised the idea of anything along the lines of cooking and cleaning after spending so many years being forced to do it but his aunt and uncle. It was probably a blessing in disguise if they were being honest, Harry wasn't great with making dishes anyway baking was much more his style.

Harry had been shocked the first time Ginny offered to make a homecooked dinner in their new home rather than order the usual take-out. He didn't know what to expect but it certainly wasn't a gourmet-style (and quality) lasagna thats for sure.

The initial shock of his girlfriend's amazing cook wore off quickly as she turned to him and profusely apologised for how bad it likely was. He stared at her in pure disbelief “Ginny this is- I usually hate lasagna but holy merlin this is good!”

“Really? 'Cause I messed up the spices in the sauce and the pasta turned out soggy and they didn't have the right-” She was cut off by Harry putting a finger to her lips

“Gin. It's good. It's amazing actually why didn't you tell me you were such an amazing cook?!”

She laughed flipped two fingers at him, deciding to finally try her own cooking. Taking a bite her eyes lit up.

“Mm you were right this is brilliant,” they said with their mouth full. Eyes widening she realized what she'd said “Oh God I'm turning into you!” she stared at Harry in mock disgust. “We've been married far too long”

“Ginny we're not married” Harry replied bursting into laughter

“Oh. Well hurry up and propose then!”

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Harry smiled fondly as he watched his wife twirling around the kitchen. She said she was going to do some "spring cleaning" but as always ended up getting distracted. She was humming a tune to herself, blissfully unaware of the set of eyes watching her.

Harry laughed and tried to cover it up with a fake cough, snapping Ginny out of her bubble. They turned to him, cheeks red with embarrassment but a grin on her face.

“Was I singing that out loud?” She cringed

Her boyfriend stifled a laugh, “Kind of, sorry to ruin the mood carry on”

Sticking out her tongue at him, they reached out a hand. Harry promptly stood and grabbed her hand, spinning her around in the process. He dipped her (and the mop she'd been dancing with) and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

They playfully shoved him away, laughing at his attempt at romance and turned around to carry on "cleaning".

[sweetlittlevampire]

Okay, I know that I don’t owe anyone an explanation, but I feel like giving one nonetheless. Or maybe I just wanna talk into the void that’s the internet, because it’s easier than talking to an actual person, but -

I don’t like May 15th.

Which is an odd thing to say, because the day per se isn’t a bad day. I have very dear friends who were born on that day. I am trying to think about them on this day, about making them happy. I am trying to make May 15 th a nice and happy day for myself. And most years, at least the past few ones, I succeeded in doing so pretty well.

But on some years, I do get remined that May 15th was also my father’s birthday, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Especially if my mother decides to casually forget that there are things you simply do not say to someone else, even in jest, thank you very much.

(Heavy mentions of mental/emotional/psychological as well as physical abuse and mentions of suicide under the Read More. Proceed at your own discretion.)

If you’ve been around for long enough, you probably know that my relationship with my father was not the best. He lied to my mother about wanting children because he thought he could get her to stay with her that way. He told her he never wanted kids when I was fourteen; he successfully hid that truth from the whole family the whole time.

He didn’t hide it from me. Every minor inconvenience, every deviation from what he deemed his “standard” - and I mean even minor things, like not wanting to wear the colour socks he’d picked out for me - was met with degrading and humiliating comments, yelling, and sometimes even a beating. Every hobby I picked out - drawing, reading, crochet - every choice I made academically - pursuing languages and linguistics and literature - was met with comments that were aimed at making me feel completely worthless as a human being. Because what I love doing most was worthless to him, so anyone doing those things was a worthless person by default.

(If you ever wondered why I am so unreasonably insecure about my art and my writing at times? here’s your answer.)

I got severely ill during my teen years, which was stress-induced, and my father didn’t believe me for one second that I really was sick, despite of having an actual diagnosis, meds to take, and being unable to eat food or drink without breaking down crying because I was in so much pain (oh yeah, trying to beat your kids so they stop crying when they’re in pain does not work. We tried that too.)

It might seem super trivial, but the yellings and the beatings were so bad that I was afraid to come home from school. My father developed heavy alcoholism in his late years - he literally drank himself to his grave - and there were days on which I was begging for him to be extra drunk. Because it meant he’d probably be asleep and would leave me alone.

(Drunk enough that he was still semi-conscious was...a whole different thing,)

He wasn’t nice to my mother either. She has Multiple Sclerosis, and he tried to make her believe that she was faking it too (didn’t work). He had zero respect for neither me nor her and got physically violent with her as well, as if the whole stress wasn’t taking enough of a toll on her health as is. I remember her legs stopping to work completely for a couple of weeks because of it all when I was around six or so.

(Side note: If you’re wondering why my mother never left him - both my parents were on disability pension, but because my father got his disability pension years before my mother did, she would’ve had to pay him a special alimony, which she could never have afforded back then with her meager job and a child. She knows this because she actually consulted a divorce lawyer about it.

That, and fear. It’s a paralysing thing.)

I didn’t like my father. I think it’s safe to say that he didn’t like me either. He still expected birthday gifts on May 15th.

Which were either met with indifference, or with disgust. “That’s all? So that’s what I’m worth to you, huh? Thought so” he said while actually tossing it into the trash. ...it was an expensive stationery set with a fountain pen, a ballpoint pen, and a mechanical pencil. Emerald green with gold accents. Monogrammed.I remember this so distinctively because I had saved my allowance for almost a whole year to get the thing, simply because I foolishly thought “Hey, he always uses fountain pens. He likes those. Getting  a quality one that is personalised will maybe make him like me too? Just a bit?” ...an idiotic thought in hindsight.

I still think about the birthdays. I often think about my father - I look like him. On particularly bad days, I look into the mirror, and all I see is him.

I know I sometimes behave like him, in the sense that...I kind of have a bad temper? And I tend to get loud when I’m upset. I don’t know if it’s genetics, or if it’s learned behaviour. I have told most of my friends and family to tell me whenever I’m doing it, because sometimes I do it without noticing...and I’m actively trying to unlearn it. Sometimes there are slip-ups, and I make mistakes. It happens, but please tell me if I mess up, so I can apologise and do better next time.

Now my mother is equally hot-headed, equally stubborn, equally as loud. So when we argue, it tends to get messy sometimes.

Like today. It was because of something minor, I don’t even recall what it was about, but I ended up raising my voice in frustration and anger, which frankly, was a bad move. I need to work on that.

So my lovely mother, who already told me once that I am but “a ruined human being” to her, proceeds to look me in the eye, and says:

“You are just like your father.”

And leaves the room.

And I know that she probably meant “You are just as loud as him”, but it sent me spiralling.

Because my father was a manipulative, self-absorbed, irascible, abusive human being who didn’t shy away from driving his daughter into depression and to the brink of suicide with his words and his fists.

And I’ve been wondering for the last few hours: what if she’s right? I already adopted some of his behaviour and am having a hard time unlearning it. What if there’s more? What if I am a manipulative, self-absorbed, irascible, abusive human being and I don’t notice it?

What if I’m hurting and scaring my mother in the same way that he did? What if I’m hurting my girlfriend in the same way that he did? And just cannot see it?

Look. Objectively and logically I know it’s not the case. But my brain keeps circlimg back to “But what if it IS the case?” and I am disgusted and scared and insecure and just want to crawl into a hole and never to come out again because what if my brain is right?

...May 15th, yall.

[nicetomeetmew]

If LU was an anime (VA headcanons)

Okay so! A while back I uploaded a video (which you can find here) giving the LU boys voice actors. And in the description of said video, I promised that I was going to post a list of explanations for my voices and link it. Which I am only doing now.

These choices, bar a few, are my own personal opinion, so I'd love to hear your thoughts about them! I spent far to long working and watching anime for this but I am pretty happy with the end result, bar one (glares at Four). So I hope you enjoy! And prepare yourself. Cause this is LONG.

Legend - Vic Mignoga (Edward Elric from Fullmetal Alchemist and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood)

So fun fact. Back when I first discovered LU, I almost immediately imaged Leg with this voice. He had strong Ed vibes for me and when I started making this list, he was the only one I immediately knew was perfect. At least to me. It just has that quality; the snark with the capability of being genuine and emotional (I do apologise if the voice clips I included in the video made you sad. That's a hazard of FMA). I didn't consider anyone else for Legend, even though I did briefly consider Vic Mignoga for Warriors (more on that later).

Sky - Aleks Le (Zenitsu Agatsuma from Demon Slayer)

Man, I considered a fair few KnY voices for this list, including the voice of Tanjiro for Wild and the voice of Giyu for Twilight. But this is the one that stuck. I was struck between Sky having a youthful, soft voice or an older, soft voice (I knew his voice had to be soft. I mean. It's Sky.)

I watched the dub of Demon Slayer solely for this and it never would've occurred to me to consider Zenitsu's voice for Sky. But as the show progressed and I heard it when he wasn't... you know... begging some poor lass to marry him, I realised he actually has quite a soft voice. And when I heard it get all serious I thought "Yep. That works." And thus I placed Aleks Le as the Chosen Hero. You could argue that his voice is a bit too youthful for him but I still think it works.

Wind - Amanda Miller (Boruto from Boruto: Naruto Next Generations)

Ugh. Ugh. *increasing sounds of disgust*. I hate this.

But let's start from the beginning. Right off the bat, I was 99.9% sure Wind would be voiced by a woman. Okay so he's not 10 (that will make more sense in a second), but he's still pretty young and I imagine him with quite a youthful voice. For him, I considered Sarah Natochenny, the current voice of Ash Ketchum in Pokémon, and also Colleen Clickenbeard's voice for Monkey D. Luffy in One Piece. But these two voices shared the same problem. They were too raspy. I just cannot see Wind with a raspy voice. I guess if you really, really, really focus on it it could work but I just could get it to work for me hfff.

And then... ugh. I spoke to a mate about. He doesn't know about LU so I just told him I was making voice headcanons and couldn't think of a good one for a 14 year old boy. And he said "have you heard Boruto's English voice?" And I think my response was something along the lines of, "Ben, I have standards." But he insisted it would probably work so I watched a clip of Boruto on YouTube and much to my horror, it did seem to work. But there was problem. None of the clips had lines I could picture Wind saying. And because of that I was struggling to actually give Wind the voice. But something told me that it was the right one so... I... *shudders*... watched Boruto. I watched I think 5 full episodes before I had no more braincells and skipped thorough a bunch more and sure enough, I could finally see Wind with that voice. I think it fits him great and it honestly might be my favourite choice just because I had to watch that nightmare.

Hyrule - Justin Briner (Izuku Midoriya from My Hero Academia)

Ah. This one is much more pleasant. First of all, I never realised this at first but Midoriya and Hyrule are kind of similar. For one thing, they do kinda look alike. And for another they have the same "I will never give up" kinda thing going on.

Roolie is another one I knew would have a soft voice. I think Justin Briner was always down as a choice for him, except for when I briefly considered him for Four (more on that later *big sigh*). This is another anime I watched the dub for solely for this and there were a ton of lines right from the get go I could instantly imagine Roolie saying. So yeah. Aside from the tiny moment I almost assigned Justin Briner to Four, this was a pretty easy one. Midoriya has a soft voice that I could easily imagine Hyrule having. And when he got angry and his voice got harsher, I could also easily see Roolie like that too. Fun fact: there's another BNHA voice on this list... heh.

Wild - Michael Sinternklaas (Dagger from Black Butler)

AW YEAH. YOU HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH BRITISH BOI.

Ahem. Anyway. Yes Wild is British. Everyone rejoice. I was unsure of how people would react to this but I think this is the only voice on the list everyone agreed on. Which I'm happy about.

As I mentioned, I considered the English voice of Tanjiro (Zach Aguilar) for Wild. There were issues with this; mainly that it was too soft, too young, and made him sound too similar to Sky. Now here's the thing. I WANTED to give Wild a English accent. I am almost certain he would have one, like most people. However the only anime I could think of with decent English accents was Black Butler (and yes I know his final voice is from it, bear with me) and there was a problem with that. Most of the voices from Black Butler are ridiculously posh. Now you may be thinking "But Kai, Zelda has a posh English accent" and to that I would say "Ah yes but she's a princess and Wild is not". And now you might be thinking "But Kai, he's a knight an probably spent a lot of time in a place with posh English accents". To which I would say "But he wasn't always". Two words. Hateno Village.

Let me explain.

I feel like a lot of people hear the words 'English accent' and immediately think of an accent like Zelda's (and no, I am not saying everyone does and I'm also not implying that there aren't people out there who aren't British and know that there are multiple accents). Anyway, English accents are different depending on the place. And, since one can assume Wild is from Hateno Village, I would imagine their accent is different to that of those born in Castle Town. So that's why I was reluctant to give Wild a voice from Black Butler. Because all the voices that weren't insanely fancy were either far too old or did not have the right vibe.

Then one day, taking a break from this, I was watching season 3 of Black Butler (one of the only anime I watch dubbed) and I heard two voices that I suddenly thought, hang on just a second. One of those was the voice of Ronald Knox, who's a grim reaper. And the other, of course, was Dagger. I was leaning towards Dagger and what sold me was one scene in particular, which I chose as the final voice clip for Wild (you cannot tell me that is not exactly something he would say). And that was it. But Wild's was easily one of the most frustrating (not the most *glares at Four again*).

Time - David Matranga (The Father from Wolf Children)

Another tough one and also one I heavily considered for Twilight (for obvious reasons). Time's was kind of tricky because I knew I wanted it to be deep but there's such of variety of deep voices. At one point I even considered dumping the deep voice idea because it was so hard. It was a this time I thought of the voice of space cowboy extraordinaire, Spike Spiegel. But my brain said "hell no". There were other voices I considered for him, loads of which I cannot find the notes for and another one which will likely appear in part two as another character (no spoilers), but when I was picking a voice for Twi, some of the lines the father said just kept ringing big old Time vibes with me. So in the end, I decided to for it. Like I said, I imagine time with a deep voice and while to father's might be a bit more... gravelly (?) than I imagined, I think it fits him pretty well. It's serious and mature but still a certain kindness I'd imagine Time's voice to have.

Warriors - Johnny Yong Bosch (Ichigo Kurosaki from Bleach)

Don't lie. You knew Johnny Yong Bosch was gonna be on here and not just because I put his name (albeit spelled incorrectly) in the thumbnail. When I started making this, I knew I wanted to fit JYB into it. In my mind, LU would be an amazing anime and almost all amazing anime have Johnny Yong Bosch in it.

Now, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out whether he would be better for Wars or Twi. At one point I was convinced he would be best for Twi and that's when I briefly thought about Vic Mignoga for Warriors (his voice for Tamaki Suoh from Ouran High School Host Club. Don't tell me Tamaki and Wars aren't at least a tiny bit similar). But I could bear to part with Vic for Legend so I decided heck it, Johnny is Warriors and I'll find someone else for Twi later. As for the voice in particular, the two voices I considered for Twi definitely did not fit Wars. And then I remembered Bleach and immediately I thought "Yep. That's the one". I imagine Warriors having an authoritative voice, not too deep and very... uh... I don't know the right word. Clean sounding? Anyway, Ichigo just seemed to fit nicely and thus it was so.

Four - Micah Solusod (Yukine from Noragamai)

Ugh. UGH. Okay. This is my least favourite. Four was, excuse my French, A FUCKING NIGHTMARES. There was not ONE SINGLE VOICE that seemed to work for him at all. I watched a bit of the Noragmai dub because I was thinking about Yato's voice for someone (I can't remember who. It might have been Wild) and I heard Yukine's and decided to put it into reserve. As in, my last resort. And I had to use it. Oh my god Four. I love you but your voice is literally a nightmare. Is it high? Is it low? Is it young sounding? Surprisingly grown up sounding? I DON'T FREAKING KNOW.

I mentioned earlier that I considered Justin Briner for him. I was thinking about his voice for Luck from Black Clover, which may have honestly worked a bit better, but I was pretty attached to Justin as Roolie by this point. So I had to whip out Micah.

Let me be clear. No, I do not think this works well at all. I appreciate the people who tried to see that good in it, but I honestly just don't think it works. The only reason I went for it is because Yukine's voice switches between older sounding and younger sounding throughout the show and since I could decide what Four's would sound like I said to myself "Fine. Four can be the same", found some clips, slapped it together and never looked back.

I am still looking for another voice for Four and if I find a decent one, I will include it in part two.

And last but not least...

Twilight - Aaron Mitchell Dismuke (Tamaki Amajiki - My Hero Academia)

Told ya there was another BHNA voice.

So Twi was another tricky one. As I mentioned, I was seriously considering Johnny Yong Bosch for him. More specifically, his voices for Giyu Tomioka from Demon Slayer and Kiba from Wolf's Rain (for obvious reasons). I did almost go for Kiba but something was stopping me. I'm honestly not sure what.

So I was talking to a mate (and by that I mean I rambled. A lot) about VA's and at one point he suggested Aaron Mitchell Dismuke but not for Twilight. I can't actually remember who he suggested it for but anyway, that didn't work out. But when I was looking through his work, I saw that we played Amajiki and I was curious. I listened to him and I liked it.

Okay to be fair I wanted a country accent for Twi. Of course I did. But I could not a find a decent one. They few I found were absolutely terrible. So I gave up on that and decided that was Amajiki. And that was that.

And that concludes the Links VA headcanons! I am happy with most of them and once more these are my opinion but I would love to hear your own ideas!

As I have said many times, I am working on a part two and as a sneak peak (sort of) I'll tell you two of the characters that will be featured (excluding Four, if I find him another voice).

Dink (even though he hasn't, technically shown up yet) and Malon (which is proving to be a lot tricker than I thought). There a couple more but my lips are sealed heh.

Oh and speaking of Dink, the voice I considered for Time and then thought it would be better for someone else? Yeah that's the voice that's currently in the lead to be Dink's :)

I hope enjoyed my long winded explanations! And thank you for reading/watching!

[neon-writing-pot]

Marinette and her blog, The aftermath

Written while in the middle of waiting for my first ever mri, fucking terrified

Previous

The next day was just as chaotic as the first except it was so, so much dumber when Marinette had enough of holding the only brain cell of the class. She really didn’t expect it to spiral as much as it did but the recording that Nathaniel had made was worth it.

Lila’s newest claim was simple enough, Marigold had gotten sick and would be taking a day off to see her. Then it got out of hand. “Oh, Alya I’m so sorry but you can’t visit us since we’ll be on a date and I wouldn’t want her being embarrassed when she’s still getting used to herself!” Marinette couldn’t hold herself back, she was able to handle the ‘friends’ talk but that was to far.

“Oh and where the hell do you plan to have you’re date Marigold even though she doesn’t like you” Marinette hissed, leaning over her desk. Lila sent her a quick glare to her as Alya quickly came to her defence

“Girl shut up! We all know you have no idea who she is, you didn’t even know who Mari-gold was until yesterday so stop being an attention whore and give it up and let them be a cute couple.” Marinette visibly gagged as she mentioned them as a couple which alisated confused reactions from others.

“What about her only male crushes, or her very male person she had a date with, or maybe the fact she doesn’t state she’s bi?”

“W-well obviously s-she’s embarrassed!” Alya shouted resulting in a raised eyebrow from both Marinette and some of her older followers.

“Alya she uses tumblr, one of the most accepting sites for lgbt people (most of the time) why on tumblr would she not say that.” Chloe drawled gaining an approving smile, Nods came from fellow classmates as Alya began to grab at empty thoughts

“Because she wouldn’t want to swamp Lila with all the attention she had.”

“Then what about her very real boyfriend.” Alya blanched as shock flooded Lila, she’d only read her most recent post to get an idea of what to say, she never saw anything like that.

“Stop being so Biphobic Marinette we just want to be happy!” Alya hugged Lila as the situation slowly died. Sighing she turned to Nathaniel motioning for his phone.

“What are you doing?” Smirking she simply stared.

“Getting some quality content.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

She’d spent the next night drawing over every single one of her classmates faces for the only purpose, spite. If she had to deal with that then so would the whole internet along with the added bonus of allowing her and Nathaniel a full show of the chaos.

And it was glorious, both she and Nathaniel had come in early to see how others reacted the news. Chloe seemed oddly happy when she came in already watching the video three times over and silently messaged her thanks. Rose came in slowly hiding behind Juleka as they made their way forward, tears brimming on the edge of her eyes Rose murmured out an apology while Juleka comforted her, even for Marinette’s grudge of the class the two did nothing to harm her and tried their best to warn her of anything horrible the others would attempt and were the only ones she forgave.

Kim and Alix where next, Alix to stubborn to attempt an apology while Kim shuffled towards her in dismay. “Look I’m sorry ‘nette, I- uh never meant to hurt you and I was wondering if you could make a banner for next week” Marinette was nearly impressed by the idea that he had turned his apology into a request without knowing it but she was annoyed none the less.

“You just apologised to me, for purposely hurting and humiliating me and yet ask me, to my face if I would do something for someone I wouldn’t think of as a friend for free?” Kim lightly nodded as Marinette sighed eyes narrowing “Well Kong, find someone else who will do your dirty work for free.”

Most followed in a similar suit, a request hidden behind in an apology only done because someone with power had shown them they done wrong, all until Alya. Apparently the girl wasn’t as avid a fan other class members and had never watched the video. Her mood was bright and sunny as she came in only to have in rained on as she witnessed another student apologise to the new bully of the class. “What the heck are you doing?! Why would apologise to someone as horrible as her, she’s hurt Lila so much!” Alya shouted as Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Guess you haven’t seen the latest news Apple.” Alya froze, rage bubbling

“What- don’t you EVER compare me to that HALF ASSED excuse of a reporter, you don’t have the right Marinette with you being worse than Lily.” Marinette barely held back laughter as Alya insulted herself only stopping when the video was shoved in her face. Alya’s face turned from anger to disgust as she realised what was playing in front of her, who’s voice was screaming at her idol, her own. Paling she looked up and turned to Marinette, “You need to take this down.” Marinette blinked, once, twice and it was still the same thing, a demand.

“Of course-“ Alya cut her off with a smile

“Great now I was wondering if you could promote the Ladyblog a little bit, since we’re friends after all.” Marinette was appalled, hell she was ready to jump over her desk and tackle her if Nathaniel wasn’t holding her down.  So taking in a deep breathe she responded.

“Of course if you take down every video of or mentioning me from the ladyblog.” Alya once again paled, that was half her content- more than half even it would tank her blog and she wouldn’t be able to recover without Marinette.

“You have to be kidding me Mari, we made this together it would ruin all our hard work!” She pleaded, weary of worse to come.

“You ruining my work, harassing and teasing me then begging me to spare you from the internet isn’t helping you. So enjoy your tabloid and be glad no one knows your name.” Marinette hissed sitting down just as the door opened to a badly timed Lila.

“You have no idea how well my date with Marigold went so Alya want to-“ Alya stormed towards her red faced as Lila became confused. “Is something wrong bestie?”

“Yes, Lila there is!”

“Well then wh-“

“How could you lie to me! You ruined my blog, you ruined my chances at being a reporter. How dare you pretend to be friends with me while I hurt my friend.” Alya screamed into her face as Lila backed away.

“I swear I can explain!”

“You don’t have to! I already know you’re a two faced bitch so stop talking to me and my friends.” Storming she marched back to Marinette squeezing between her and Nathaniel. Furrowing her brow Marinette rose and stared down at Alya.

“What are you doing Alya?” Marinette questioned as Nathaniel stood next to her. Alya responded with a confused look and a statement.

“Sitting next to my best friend Mari, Nathaniel can sit next to Lila.” Nathaniel was offended by her statement as Marinette slowly shook her head

“Alya you’re not my friend.”

“What?! But I confronted Lila, told her off, stopped being her friend!”

“Yes, but you didn’t apologise, realise what you’ve done wrong  and doing just that won’t fix what you’ve done.” Sighing she looked to Chloe, Sabrina and Nathaniel. “I have real friends now Alya, hey support me, help me and don’t doubt me.” Alya looked down annoyed she’d made everything right, why couldn’t Marinette see that they were still friends, how could she just replace her first friend.

“B-but-“

“But nothing Alya and anyways me and my real friends have a reservation to get to so, carrot top, bob ross, queenie? Shall we go?” Marinette’s smile was sweet as ever as she and her friends left happy and laughing.

———

Lmao wrote this ages ago and forgot to post it 

Taglist: @luleck @schrodingers25 @magic-miraculous

[onebadwinter]

Baron Helmut Zemo Tropes

Taken from Here and Here

Anti-Villain: Sometimes verges on this, though it's a case of Depending on the Writer.

Arch-Enemy: After his father's death, he takes this role to Captain America and leads the Masters of Evil after inheriting the title.

Aristocrats Are Evil: He's a baron after all, and believes his aristocratic heritage entitles him to rule.

Avenging the Villain: Helmut's original motive was to kill Captain America because he killed his father. Eventually, Helmut came to the realization that actually, Heinrich was an awful father and an even worse person.

Badass Normal: Has no powers, but regularly fights the likes of Captain America and the Avengers. He usually has a contingency that will allow him to deal with his opponent's plans anyway; it's only when these contingencies fail (as happened during his battle with Moonstone at the end of the initial run on Thunderbolts) that he's in trouble.

The Big Bad: Of his fare share of arcs, particularly those involving the Masters of Evil.

Brain Uploading: He only survived being decapitated because Techno uploaded his consciousness to a computer.

Butter Face: A Rare Male Example. He has the body you'd expect of somebody who can keep up with Captain America in terms of physique... but that handsome form is contrasted by a hideously malformed visage. For a while, he had a young, dashing look again after hijacking the body of the Helmut from another Earth, but only two years later his face got disfigured again. When he got Carla Sofen's Moonstone, he used it to fix that, but when Melissa broke it again...

Calling the Old Man Out: During his trip back in time, he ran into his father while the latter was gleefully doing mad science for the Nazis. Helmut had long since discarded any Nazi prejudices he had once had, and was fuming watching his father put down other races, the handicapped, etc. Finally he had enough and started beating the hell out of him while giving a "Reason You Suck" Speech. Quite the sign of Character Development for the guy who started out worshiping and avenging his father's memory.

Captain Patriotic: At the beginning of the Thunderbolts, he disguised himself as Citizen V, supposedly the son of a previous hero who'd gone by that name, whom Zemo had killed. Zemo went the whole hog, even decking himself in a cape designed after the American flag.

The Chessmaster: Zemo has a plan for everything, and lays them out months in advance.

Cool Mask: Wears a tighter fitting version of his father's mask.

The Cynic: Has a generally negative view of humanity.

Daddy Issues: He loved his father, and his father loved him... until the Adhesive X incident, where he became outright abusive in every way. Originally, Helmut blamed Captain America. Now, he acknowledges that his father was just a horrible human being.

Did You Just Punch Out Cthulhu?: He once shot the Grandmaster, one of the Elders of the Universe and a being way outside his normal weight class, through the head. Admittedly, there were mitigating circustances that allowed him to do this, and the Grandmaster did get better (because, hey, comics).

Disney Villain Death: Many, many times (see Never Found the Body below).

Even Evil Has Standards: Arranged the death of one of his ancestors during a time-travel jaunt, after he found out the man was a rapist and a mass-murderer who did it all For the Evulz. He later clashed with another ancestor when he thought he was harassing a girl (the two were actually in love, and he quickly apologised).

Evil Genius

Evil Is Petty:

The Faceless: He rarely ever removes his mask, due to his face being horribly scarred in a accident.

Facial Horror: His head has been slashed up so badly that it's practically a skull, with ribbons of flesh draping over his eyes and sliced-off cheeks and lips. The sight of his face visibly disgusts everyone in the original Thunderbolts.

Freudian Excuse: Raised by his father to believe in his inherent superiority. There wasn't a lot of dad hugs down in that South American jungle, mostly just rants and lectures.

Good Scars, Evil Scars: Hideously disfigured beneath his mask.

Grand Theft Me: After becoming a "ghost", his mind was transferred to the actual son of Citizen V (Techno noted it was basically him playing a joke). That is, until an energy conflict - the V-Batallion tried to teleport Citizen V as the body was being sucked into a portal - made his mind be expelled into Techno's machinery. But given he arrived at Counter-Earth, this meant Zemo could do a literal case of the trope, and took the body of his self from this world.

Heel–Face Revolving Door: Cannot make up his mind which side he is supposed to be on. He even once took a bullet for Cap despite being his sworn enemy.

In the Blood: The arrogance and the drive for control certainly are.

Joker Immunity: Unlike his father, he can never seem to be put down for long.

The Leader: Of the Masters of Evil and the Thunderbolts.

Legacy Character: To his father, Baron Heinrich Zemo XII.

Manipulative Bastard: Zemo's very good at getting other people to do what he wants, playing on their emotions and desires.

Master Swordsman: One of the best in the Marvel Universe. Zemo's dueled the likes of Captain America and survived several decades worth of warfare on a time travel jaunt.

Nazi Nobleman: Started out as one, though he's moved away from fascism in recent years. Nowadays his goals align more with Dirty Communists.

Never Found the Body: During the run of Thunderbolts alone he was declared dead on four separate occasions, all of which turned out to be false. In each instance, his body was never found. By the fourth time, most of the team just assume he'll turn up eventually (not that they want him to).

Noble Demon: He's much more noble than his father,for sure.

Purple Is Powerful: Signifies his aristocratic leanings.

Secondary Color Nemesis: Purple, to oppose Cap's blue and red.

Take Over the World: He insists it's to save it. Some people (like Songbird) aren't convinced.

Taking the Bullet: Once leapt in the way of an energy blast an insane Moonstone aimed at Captain America. Messed his face up bad.

There Are No Therapists: This guy is seriously messed up and would probably have turned out differently if he got professional help.

Token Evil Teammate: Alongside Techno, he serves as this for the first iteration of Thunderbolts. While most members of the team fall somewhere between The Hero and the Anti-Hero, Zemo shows no signs of having softened whilst playing-hero, and alongside Techno manages to almost conquer the world and turn it into a Darwinist nightmare. He also constantly mocks his teammates for wanting to be heroes, calling them "weak" and "traitors to the cause" when they show the smallest signs of heroism outside of their pubic duties.

Unlucky Thirteen: He's the thirteenth Baron Zemo.

Well-Intentioned Extremist: In his mind, at any rate, after some Character Development, he becomes determined to take over the world for its own good. That doesn't mean that he's not an Axe-Crazy terrorist who's willing to perform some truly heinous actions for the sake of the "greater good." Zemo: I would never have hurt a world I worked so hard to save.

Western Terrorists: More like this than a Nazi.

Wicked Cultured: When being held at swordpoint by his worst ancestor, an evil aristocrat who believed only in the absolute of power, said ancestor's son (who'd struck up a friendship with Zemo) asked what was more absolute than power. Zemo's answer? "To be, or not to be."

Worthy Opponent: Sometimes sees Captain America this way, and definitely sees Sharon Carter this way.

Xanatos Speed Chess: He's good at incorporating the gambits of others into his plans, as evidenced by his deft manipulation of Moonstone when they were both members of the Thunderbolts.

One of his nastiest acts of spite was destroying a box of Cap's treasured belongings, including some of his last links to the past, right in front of his eyes.

What was his initial plan in founding the Thunderbolts? Pretend to be heroes, earn America and the world's trust, become famous and respected, and then gather knowledge on the other heroes to... sell to the criminal underworld? Eventually, Moonstone points out this is a freaking stupid plan.

Taken to the highest extreme possible. When he actually did have the power to implement whatever change he might have wanted, Songbird shut him down with the intention of killing him out of not trusting him. What were what he believed could have been his last words?

MCU Zemo Tropes

Adaptational Attractiveness: He's quite handsome here, while his comic counterpart usually has to wear a mask to hide his hideously charred, disfigured face. This is true to his first appearance in the comics as a one-shot villain, before he was scarred upon becoming a recurring character.

Adaptational Heroism: In The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, when he does don his iconic comic book alter ego, unlike in the comics where he was a straight-up one-note supervillain, Zemo here is depicted so far as an Ambiguously Evil Anti-Hero ally of Avengers Sam and Bucky without mostly ever betraying them until his escape from the hotel in the fourth episode with most of his redeeming and justifiable qualities shown upfront more than his villainous qualities that Civil War mostly showcased, but still likely an on-and-off antagonist simultaneously during his Enemy Mine with the two superheroes.

Adaptational Nationality: In the comics Helmut Zemo is German, but here he is a Sokovian. Ironically, his actor actually is German, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier sees a bit of his German accent creep in. He also has a vast array of vehicles and a private plane in Germany, and seems very familiar with both Berlin and the German language. Whether this is a Retcon into making him part German or just a Mythology Gag is yet to be seen, though he does identify Sokovia as "his country".

Adaptational Nice Guy: His comic counterpart and that of his father were literal Nazis who wanted mass genocide and world domination, and while the Helmut of the comics did grow out of the former, he still tends to try the latter. This version of Zemo, despite being on a black ops killing team, has a much simpler and more sympathetic motivation, while his father was merely a civilian. Neither have any ties to HYDRA (aside from Helmut's exploitation of HYDRA's Winter Soldier project), while the versions from the comics are both prominent members of that organisation.

Adaptational Wimp: In the comics Zemo is a major adversary of Captain America and the Avengers, with a particular emphasis on his skills at fencing and manipulation. While this version retains his cunning, he is also presented as much less of a direct threat to anyone despite being a former black operative; when Black Panther decides to bring him in alive, he goes down with barely a struggle. Most of his success ties into this, with him exploiting his lack of obvious supervillainous affect to stay under the heroes' radar until his plan requires him to show his hand, then relying on Steve and Tony's flaws and personal issues to do most of the work for him. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier shows that he hasn't forgotten how to do his own dirty work, however, putting his soldier skills to use alongside his usual guile and strategizing once he gets back into the fray.

Adaptation Personality Change: In the comics, Zemo is generally depicted as an unapologetic villain who is primarily driven by a selfish desire to rule over others. His film version, on the other hand, has a much more sympathetic motive for his villainous actions, as he's just a victim of the Avengers' collateral damage in Sokovia seeking revenge for the death of his entire family.

Affably Evil:

Alas, Poor Villain: His defeat in Civil War is treated as an utterly somber affair, with him having nothing left after completing his plan and hoping to commit Suicide by Cop at T'Challa's hands before trying to kill himself when T'Challa refuses to be consumed by vengeance as Zemo has. Even though he got what he wanted (up to a point), it doesn't change the fact that his family is gone forever.

The Alcoholic: Following his escape from prison in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Zemo reveals himself to be a little bit of a tippler, partaking in shots, champagne, helping himself to Sharon's expensive liquor collection, then taking more shots at a club. He apparently approves of the way they party in Madripoor.

All for Nothing: He wanted to destroy the Avengers and was content with them dividing. Thanos's arrival and the events of Endgame undo all of that. In fact, the Avengers are no doubt more beloved than ever as a result.

Anti-Villain: Despite the grim and often hypocritical in hindsight actions he resorts to, he does have some good traits and was hoping for a cleaner way to get what he wanted first. Also, his motive — revenge for the collateral damage-induced loss of his family — is at least a little sympathetic.

Apple of Discord: His Evil Plan is to find evidence that Bucky Barnes murdered Tony Stark's parents while under HYDRA control and show it to Stark, so Bucky's friend Steve Rogers and Tony will turn on each other over whether to spare or kill Bucky, and the Avengers will be ripped apart as they side with one leader or the other.

Arch-Enemy: Since the death of Ulysses Klaue, it seems Zemo has taken his seat as Wakanda's most wanted for the death of King T'Chaka. Not a day after he breaks out of prison, Ayo is already hot on his trail to capture him.

Aristocrats Are Evil: It's revealed in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier that he is a nobleman like his comic counterpart. Though unlike said counterpart, his upbringing had nothing to do with him becoming a villain since his father was by all accounts a decent man in this universe.

Badass Longcoat: The events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier have Zemo wearing a stylish winter coat, complete with Conspicuous Gloves.

Badass Normal: Unlike most of the Avengers, he's just a plain old human. But, through sheer patience and ingenuity, he still managed to tear them apart. During the trip to Madripoor he proves to be no slouch in combat either, reminding everyone he was former special forces. He also comes much closer to permanently stopping Morgenthau than Falcon or Bucky have ever managed so far, largely because he's fully willing to kill.

The Bad Guy Wins: Downplayed. Zemo has achieved his goals but with never with the fully desired outcome.

Batman Gambit: He's good at finding ways to make other people do things for him by exploiting their predictable behavior.

Beard of Evil: He has grown a beard during his eight years in prison as seen in Episode 2 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Beware the Superman: His return in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier reveals his own take on the idea. While he is against the idea of a Super Soldier on principle, he is not specifically against them as people, but more how they are precisely put on a pedestal, their flaws washed away/ignored and subsequently inspire Blind Obedience. He specifically notes how the personal loyalty inspired by Steve Rogers to Sam and Bucky (then, even now) precisely drives them to such extremes—even breaking the law much like they did to free him. Sam and Bucky do not protest the point. He admits that Steve was not corrupted by the power he was given but points out there was only one of him compared to the many who would abuse it. He is proven right on this point by John Walker taking the super soldier serum and going off the deep end.

Big Bad: Of Captain America: Civil War. He exploits and exacerbates the ideological differences between Captain America and Iron Man, resulting in the eponymous Good vs Good conflict that threatens to destroy the Avengers.

Big Damn Villains: As Sam, Bucky, and Sharon are pinned down by bounty hunters in the Madripoor shipyard, Zemo suddenly makes a grandiose entrance in full villain garb on a ledge, killing several assassins by shooting a nearby gas tank with his pistol before going to ground and taking down the rest in close combat, opening up the heroes' window of escape.

Blue Blood: The Falcon and The Winter Soldier reveals that he was always a baron. While the fall of Sokovia took away most of the power of the title he still has a lot of money and connections as a result of his position.

Breaking the Fellowship: Thanks to his efforts, the Avengers are severely compromised, with several of the foundational friendships that held them together torn apart and anyone who sided with Cap imprisoned or branded a fugitive. Even Tony and his supporters still bear physical and mental scars caused by fighting their friends.

The Bus Came Back: After being imprisoned at the end of Civil War, Zemo returns in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, with the title characters seeking his assistance in tracking down the source of the Flag Smashers's Super Soldier powers.

Cape Busters: Has a personal grudge against the Avengers and plots to destroy them by pitting them against one another. By the time of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, he has apparently narrowed his vendetta to all super soldiers, stating that they "cannot be allowed to exist." At the same time, as stated above in Beware the Superman, his is more nuanced compared to other versions of this trope.

Character Tic: He has a habit of tilting his head whenever he's attempting to manipulate someone. It seems to be a subconscious thing he does, as he immediately stops doing it when Sam notices and lampshades it in Episode 4 of The Falcon and The Winter Soldier.

The Chessmaster: He plays all the Avengers like pawns. He frames Bucky for a crime, to have the world hunt him and lure him out of hiding. This partially causes the Avengers to turn on each other, divided over Bucky's innocence. He takes the UN interrogator's place, extorting information out of Bucky and using the trigger words to activate Bucky's soldier conditioning. Before finally showing Tony the tape of what really happened to his parents, sending him into a murderous rage to kill Bucky.

Colonel Badass: He used to be a Colonel in the Sokovian Special Forces, and he is one of the most effective foes the Avengers have faced — though not because of his combat abilities, but because of how effective he is about executing his plans.

Comic-Book Movies Don't Use Codenames: In Civil War, he's never called "Baron Zemo", the title he goes by in the comics, and is instead referred to by his military rank Colonel. This is subverted in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, which reveals that he was Sokovian royalty and has several characters address him as "Baron".

The Comically Serious: His stoic demeanour tends to stick out when he's in the same room as Sam and Bucky, like when he awkwardly jumps to the defense of Marvin Gaye's "Trouble Man" soundtrack, or his crappy dancing in Sharon's nightclub.

Composite Character: He takes Klaue's role as the man who murders King T'Chaka.

Cool Car: He actually has a lot of these. His family owned an impressive collection of classics, with plenty of Rolls' and Bentleys in his garage. It's a taste he himself had acquired, as he, Sam, Bucky and Sharon make their getaway out of Madripoor in a super-charged muscle car he had stashed in the docks.

Crusading Widower: His wife was among the civilian casualties in Sokovia. He keeps a recording of her last voice message on his phone.

Cunning Linguist: Zemo's multilingualism allows him to assume different identities. Aside from his native Sokovian, he speaks English, German, Russian, and presumably French, given that he was able to convincingly impersonate a French-speaking psychologist.

Death Seeker: Once he has put Iron Man against Bucky and Cap, he first attempts to persuade Black Panther into killing him, then decides to shoot himself. Black Panther catches the bullet before snagging him a headlock so he can face justice.

Determinator: He manages to find new resolve after Civil War, and Iron Man's sacrifice has done little to change his views. With Iron Man dead and Captain America retired, he decides he will stop the creation of any and all super soldiers in the world no matter what happens.

Divide and Conquer: His plan against the Avengers, seeing that there's absolutely no chance he can fight them on his own. He even compares the Avengers to some sort of a mighty empire, which can only be felled by using this tactic.

Driven to Suicide: Tries to goad T'Challa into killing him, and then to shoot himself when he refuses. Neither works out for him; making enemies of a guy with Super Strength and a bulletproof suit was a bad idea, evidently.

Elites Are More Glamorous: His family is Sokovian nobility and he was colonel in EKO Scorpion, Sokovia's black ops kill squad. Even if Sokovia was a developing Balkans country, that still makes him pretty dangerous.

Enemy Mine: Downplayed Trope. Despite not personally hating Sam and Bucky, the latter two consider their alliance with Zemo this due to Civil War and the damage he caused; the only reason they tolerate him is that he can accomodate them with the resources they need to take down the Flag-Smashers. To his credit, Zemo doesn't hesitate in helping their cause because of his Beware the Superman beliefs, even expressing interest in facing Karli Morgenthau herself.

Even Evil Has Standards:

Evil Genius: While he has combat training, his greatest strength is his intellect. Aside from his abilities as The Chessmaster, Zemo was able to crack the encrypted HYDRA files on the Winter Soldier program that Black Widow released to the Internet and build a very effective EMP bomb in his hotel room.

Face Death with Dignity: When T'Challa finally catches up with him at the end of Civil War, he's completely calm and fully prepared for T'Challa to kill him to avenge his father, even seeming to acknowledge that in his mind T'Challa's revenge against him is just as justified as his own revenge against the Avengers. Later, in episode 5 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, he's completely calm and accepting when it looks like Bucky is going to execute him, and later he calmly walks away with the Dora Milaje when they show up to take him into custody, knowing there's a decent chance he's going to be executed in a spectacular fashion in Wakanda for killing the king (for some reason the Dora Milaje went to all that trouble just to turn him over to the U.N. where he'll be held in the same prison that used to hold Captain America's half of the Avengers, but he's got no way of knowing that).

Facial Scruff: His brief appearance in the second episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier has Zemo with this due to his time spent in prison. Downplayed in that it looks relatively thin despite having been locked up for eight years at this point, and he shaves it off shortly after.

Fantastic Racism: He has a distaste for enhanced individuals in general, and super soldiers in specific. Specially if such super soldiers are put on pedestals he deems completely unearned.

Flaw Exploitation: He turns the Avengers, particularly Steve and Tony, against each other through a series of Batman Gambits with the ultimate goal of making them fight each other to the death — or if not that, at least to the point of no longer being a cohesive unit. In particular, he reveals to Tony the truth of what happened to his parents knowing that he'll go into an Unstoppable Rage against Bucky and that Cap will prioritise keeping Bucky alive even at Tony's expense.

Friend to All Children: Invoked in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. In the fourth episode, Zemo earns the trust of a few children in Latvia by offering them sweets in exchange for information. But he also uses to opportunity to manipulate them into thinking Bucky and Sam aren't to be trusted.

Four Eyes, Zero Soul: When he infiltrates the UN compound to activate the Winter Soldier, he wears a pair of glasses as part of his disguise.

From Nobody to Nightmare:

Gambit Roulette: The final part his master plan relies on little other than his assumptions on the personalities and capabilities of various characters after studying thousands of pieces of intel from HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. that Black Widow dumped online back in Winter Soldier. The whole thing would have fallen apart if...

Godzilla Threshold: Sam and Bucky see recruiting him to stop the Flag-Smashers at this...and ultimately cross it when they run out of options.

Heads I Win, Tails You Lose: Even if any of the above had happened, Zemo still would’ve won because his entire goal was for the Avengers to disband - whether through an amicable parting-of-ways or a bloodbath - it was always a matter of how big his win would be. The only real flaw in his plan was the interference of Black Panther, and the creation of the Sokovia Accords, both of which he’d have no way to account for.

He Who Fights Monsters: He wants to take revenge for the death of his family, which he blames on the Avengers for causing collateral damage in the Battle of Sokovia. In doing so, he is responsible for the deaths of dozens of innocent people himself. He even earns someone coming after him for revenge in T'Challa.

Hidden Agenda Villain: His motives remain unclear for much of Civil War and are only revealed as the final battle is taking place.

Hidden Depths: Like Sam, he's a fan of Marvin Gaye and considers "Trouble Man" a masterpiece.

High Collar of Doom: He does the Marquee Alter Ego and Not Wearing Tights through the whole of Civil War, but his winter gear in the third act features a large collar turned up, giving off this vibe. His supervillain gear in Falcon and the Winter Soldier also features one of these, albeit with his comic self's fur trim included.

Human Shield: Thanks to his EKO Scorpion training, is fully capable of taking hostages to hide and shoot behind, as a group of assassins in Madripoor discovered.

Hypocrite:

Interrupted Suicide: After explaining his motivations to T'Challa and apologizing for the death of his father, Zemo tries to shoot himself in the head. T'Challa, however, has none of that, and stops him to make sure he pays for his crimes and turns him over to the authorities.T'Challa: The living are not done with you yet.

It's Personal: Zemo has a personal vendetta against the Avengers. His family was killed during the Battle of Sokovia and he simply wants revenge on those he holds responsible. As pointed out in Beware the Superman, he extends this to any Super Soldier held in such high regard, which is why he has no problem teaming up with Sam (who's more or less Badass Normal like himself) and Bucky (who is a Super Soldier, but isn't exactly held in high regard).  When he, Sam, Bucky, and Sharon come across the HYDRA scientist responsible for creating more Super Soldiers after the failed Siberian Winter Soldiers, Zemo quietly and stoically shoots the man before the team is attacked.

Jerkass Has a Point: In episode 4 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Zemo explains why he doesn’t believe that super soldiers should be allowed to exist. By his own previous statements, Sam would probably agree with much of what he says, and John Walker spends the rest of the episode illustrating his arguments.

Kick the Son of a Bitch:

Kill and Replace: Murders the psychologist who was supposed to be evaluating Bucky and takes his place, taking the opportunity to activate Bucky's brainwashing during the evaluation.

Knight of Cerebus: He's a Villainous Underdog, but he manages to tear the Avengers apart through tactics. Unlike previous villains, his methods includes manipulating Tony into trying to execute Bucky to avenge the deaths of his parents and turning on Steve in the process. Averted in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier when his Laughably Evil side lightens the mood.

Know When to Fold 'Em:

Laser-Guided Karma:

Laughably Evil: Downplayed the next time he makes an appearance as he becomes The Comically Serious in an Endearingly Dorky kind of way when he joins in Sam's conversation with Bucky to praise Marvin Gaye's "Trouble Man" soundtrack, or his lame dancing in Sharon's nightclub.

Manipulative Bastard: He is very skilled at manipulation, having studied the Avengers' psychological profiles in order to exploit their individual weaknesses and play them against each other.

Man of Wealth and Taste: Zemo is a baron and more than loaded, owning a private jet, a fleet of classic cars, a personal retainer, and plenty of money and stashed resources.

Marquee Alter Ego: In Civil War, Zemo does not wear a mask — or any kind of costume at all, unlike his comic book counterpart. This changes in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Master of Disguise: Zemo uses prosthetics and heavy makeup in order to convincingly make himself look like Bucky Barnes in the security cameras, fooling just about everyone into thinking the latter was responsible for the UN explosion. He later pulls a Kill and Replace on the psychiatrist who was intended to interview a contained Bucky with no one none the wiser until things start going wrong. Although the latter example is downplayed as when Tony finally discovers the real psychiatrist's body, he looks decidedly nothing like Zemo's impersonation of him.

Misplaced Retribution: Zemo holds the Avengers responsible for all the damage Ultron caused; while Tony and Bruce did create Ultron (after the former was influenced by Wanda), the "end all human life" thing was still his idea. The rest of the Avengers, however didn't know about Tony's plan, and did their best to stop Ultron once he went rogue.

Moral Myopia: He seeks to avenge his family, but he ends up killing multiple innocents who surely had family of their own. He acknowledges this, seeing as how he apologizes to Black Panther for killing his father but by that time he’s hoping to be killed so he can join his family, either by T’Challa or his own hand, so it’s more about easing his conscience rather than remorse for what his actions indirectly caused.

Movie Superheroes Wear Black: Instead of the purple and gold costume he had in the comics, he sticks to dark civilian clothes. Near the end of Civil War, he has a pitch-black coat with a large collar. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier trailers and promo images however reveal he’ll be getting a new costume featuring his signature purple mask and even incorporating the classic ermine trim on his collar.

Nazi Hunter: As part of his Adaptational Nice Guy he's no longer a member of the Nazi-affiliated and fascistic HYDRA group, but is shown to despite and openly oppose them, telling Karpov that "HYDRA deserves its place on the ash heap". The Falcon and the Winter Soldier has him openly despise Nazis and reveals that he'd been hunting down and killing HYDRA members for years as part of his quest to destroy the Super Serum, long before the destruction of Sokovia.

Necessary Evil: How Bucky, and especially Sam, view him in their fight against the Flag-Smashers. No one knows more about the super-soldier serum and Hydra than Zemo, and fortunately for them, they have a common enemy in the Flag-Smashers.

Nice Job Fixing It, Villain!: While his plan does succeed in its goal, it does allow Steve to find Bucky, after fruitlessly spending two years scouring the Earth for him, and gives them an ally who can get the brainwashing out of Bucky's head.

Nice to the Waiter: He is quite friendly and courteous to both a staff member of the hotel he stayed at for Civil War, and his old family butler.

No-Nonsense Nemesis: Zemo is an extremely pragmatic man who knows full well that he's just an ordinary person in an extraordinary world, and realizes that it will give him no quarter if he were to dally about with regards to his vengeance. He has no choice but to be utterly cutthroat if he wants to complete his goal. This is especially shown in his first full-blown action sequence in Falcon and the Winter Soldier, taking down assassins after himself and the heroes in a surprise attack that wouldn't be out of place in a first-person shooter game.

Non-Action Big Bad: Although he has military training, he never directly fights any of the Avengers in Civil War, acknowledging that he could never physically stand up to the likes of them. Instead, he relies more on subterfuge and deception. Becomes a Subverted Trope by the time of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, showing he's fully capable of taking down several assassins after the heroes, though all of them are still normal humans.

Not So Above It All: After being freed from prison in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Zemo shows that he isn't a stoic and unpleasant individual 24/7. Notably, he jumps in on Sam and Bucky's conversation about Marvin Gaye's Troubleman soundtrack to give his own thoughts on the record, and he can be seen thoroughly enjoying himself Madripoor, drinking quite a bit of hard liquor and awkwardly dancing at the Little Princess nightclub.

Nothing Left to Do but Die: After getting Tony to fight Steve and Bucky, Zemo decides to listen to his wife's voicemail one last time, before deleting it and attempting to commit suicide.

Nothing Personal: He tells T'Challa that he is sorry for killing his father and that he seemed like a good man in Civil War. While conversing with Bucky for the first time since the events of that film in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, he says this verbatim about using him to tear apart the Avengers.

Not Wearing Tights: He doesn't wear anything remotely resembling a costume in Civil War. However, he dons the purple mask in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Outliving One's Offspring: His son was a casualty from the Avengers' fight with Ultron.

Old Money: He is generationally wealthy due to his family being Sokovian royalty.

Only Sane Man: In The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, it says a lot about Sam's present circle of associates that (other than Sharon Carter) Zemo is by far the most mentally well-balanced individual Sam has around him at his job.

Papa Wolf: The reason he's out to destroy the Avengers? His family was killed in their fight with Ultron.

Patriotic Fervor: Averted. As Zemo himself remarks ruefully, while he served in Sokovia's armed forces, his drive for vengeance isn't out of any love for the country, as he never actually had much patriotic feeling. The Falcon and The Winter Soldier shows that he does have some serious grievances over how it ended up, though, even chastising Sam and Bucky for not visiting the memorial.

Politically Correct Villain: As part of his Adaptational Nice Guy he's no longer a member of the Nazi-affiliated and fascistic HYDRA group, but is a fan of Marvin Gaye and understands Trouble Man (Sam's favorite album) to be a condensation of the African-American experience. Also berates Sam for stereotyping himself as a "pimp" just because he's flamboyantly dressed.

Purple Is Powerful: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier sees Zemo don a purple mask, coat, and gloves as he resurfaces to the criminal world.

Put on a Prison Bus: Zemo is taken to prison by Black Panther before he can commit suicide, ultimately sitting out the next few years until his return in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.  And it happens again in Episode 5 of the aforementioned series, where he's taken by the Dora Milaje to the Raft.

Pyrrhic Victory: Zemo succeeds in fracturing the Avengers and getting the majority of them branded as fugitives, but he is also captured by Black Panther and still has to face prosecution for the murders he committed. It also works vice versa on his capture being a Pyrrhic Victory for the heroes. Best summarized by the following exchange:Everett K. Ross: So how does it feel? To spend all that time, all that effort, and to see it fail so spectacularly? Helmut Zemo: ...Did it?

Revenge Myopia: Getting his revenge was worth anything — including inflicting upon others the same pain he complained about suffering. Lampshaded at the end of the movie, when T'Challa observes that the revenge he seeks has consumed him. Worse still, because he tore the Avengers apart, they had no gameplan and were unable to present a united front against Thanos, leading to even more families the universe over being devastated by the Snap.

Rogues Gallery Transplant: Downplayed. While Zemo is still an enemy of Captain America and The Falcon as he was in the comics, he also ends up becoming an enemy of Black Panther's, due to his involvement in King T'Chaka's death. It extends to the entire nation of Wakanda as well, as they immediately dispatch Ayo to apprehend him when he escapes from prison in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Royals Who Actually Do Something: His noble lineage while serving in the Sokovian special forces makes him this.

Secretly Wealthy: He may have been living the gritty villain life in Civil War (probably to fly under the radar), but The Falcon and the Winter Soldier reveals that he is a wealthy Baron like his comics counterpart. Sam even reacts with "So all this time, you've been rich?"

A Sinister Clue: Zemo is left-handed and is the Big Bad of Civil War. Shooting a gun with his left hand starts off his Big Damn Villains moment in Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Sucks at Dancing: While the gang rests and spends the night at Sharon's club in Madripoor, Zemo's dancing moves leave him wanting. Let's just say he was channeling his inner Commander Shepard.

Suicide by Cop: After apologizing to T'Challa for killing his father, he says that he seemed like a good man "with a dutiful son", saying this last part with a meaningful glance, obviously hinting that he's fine with T'Challa taking vengeance upon him now. When T'Challa refuses to do so, Zemo attempts to just shoot himself, but T'Challa thwarts this effort as well.

Superhero Movie Villains Die: Subverted. After completing his plan to turn Iron Man and Captain America against each other, he first attempts Suicide by Black Panther. Attempts being the operative word, as T'Challa refuses when he realises how close he came to turning out like Zemo. As a result, Zemo attempts to shoot himself in the head, but Black Panther stops him and turns him into the authorities, leaving him incarcerated but very much alive.

Supporting Protagonist: Of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, as most of Bucky's and Sam's story and dynamic are sometimes told from his viewpoint during his team-up with them.

They Look Just Like Everyone Else!: There's nothing from his looks that would suggest that he's more than just an everyday guy.

Took a Level in Cheerfulness: He's much more upbeat in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier than he was in Captain America: Civil War. Which makes sense: in the latter he had just lost his family and was on a revenge quest whereas in the former the stakes aren't as personal and he's had time to grieve for his family in prison, meaning he has the time and temperament to joke around, make fun of "allies" and dance badly.

Took a Level in Kindness: Downplayed, but in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, he's much friendlier with Sam and Bucky than he was with Tony and Steve in Civil War. Justified, as this time around he's working together with them to take down the Flag-Smashers and even then he still takes the time to engage them in relatively civil conversations.

Tragic Villain: He pursues his vengeance purely because he feels he has nothing else to live for without his family. This is highlighted by his decision to goad Black Panther into killing him and, when that doesn't work, shoot himself.

Tritagonist: Of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, when he teams up with Sam and Bucky in their crusade to defeat the Flag Smashers, while being more developed as a character in contrast to his debut in Civil War along the way of the narrative.

Tranquil Fury: Despite spending the whole movie on a murderous crusade, Zemo avoids all the theatrics of Loki or Ultron and seldom even raises his voice. This includes when he finally spells out his motives to the heroes.

Troll: Even when he's not manipulating or killing everyone around him, he's kind of a dick, as seen in his reappearance in Falcon and the Winter Soldier, reciting Bucky's trigger phrase, knowing it doesn't work, just to upset him, needling Sam about his experience in the Raft, and later telling his retainer to serve Sam and Bucky them any food that's gone off.

Truer to the Text: Zemo in Civil War was a borderline In Name Only depiction of him. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier retroactively adds a lot more aspects of the original comic character, such as his noble status, his costume, and his physical prowess.

Unknown Rival: To the Flag-Smashers, particularly Karli Morgenthau. Do to being enhanced with the super-soldier serum, Zemo considers the Flag-Smashers to be dangerous individuals, and is more than willing to form an Enemy Mine with Sam and Bucky to take them down. Karli on the other hand, isn't even aware that Zemo exists until he shoots her and destroys the serum right in front of her. Even then, she seems more content to get up and run than to try to confront him for his actions.

Unwitting Instigator of Doom: He successfully managed to break up the Avengers, hoping to bring down the most powerful team of beings in the universe to avenge the deaths of his family. Unfortunately for him, it worked a little too well, as they don't stand on a united front when Thanos arrives and, despite putting up a good fight, get flattened by the Mad Titan. Said Mad Titan then uses the Infinity Stones to wipe out half of all life in the universe, turning the world into a total mess that it spends five years trying to recover from until the Avengers find a way to set things right. Even when they do undo the Snap, the world falls into utter chaos once again trying to handle those that were restored to life, leading to the Flag-Smashers taking rise and causing just enough trouble to force Bucky and Sam to bust Zemo out of jail to help them.

Villain Protagonist: So far of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, when he teams up with Sam and Bucky to take down the Flag Smashers, getting more screen time and more of his development unlike in Civil War.

Villain Respect: As of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Zemo develops this towards Sam Wilson due to his refusal to be ehnanced into being super soldier while maintaining his idealistic outlook. He also concedes that Steve Rogers was not corrupted by the power he held but holds him as an exception.

Villainous Underdog: He's not a Physical God, not an alien, nor a Super Soldier. He's just a former military colonel with patience, a simple yet effective plan, and The Power of Hate. This is exactly why Sam and Bucky decide to bring him into their crusade against the Flag-Smashers.

Weak, but Skilled: Invoked. Zemo is a professionally trained special ops colonel who has the combat skills to take down regular men with ease. However, he knows that no amount of skill can destroy a group of enhanced individuals like the Avengers, and so relies on his manipulation and espionage skills to turn them against each other instead.

Weapon of Choice: A Smith and Wesson 6906 pistol, which he uses to execute the other Winter Soldiers and attempt suicide.

Well-Intentioned Extremist: Zemo's objective in The Falcon and The Winter Soldier is to stop the creation of any and all super soldiers, believing that they create symbols of facism like the Red Skull once did. He accomplishes this in the fourth episode by shooting Karli Morgenthau multiple times and then smashing the remaining vials as Nico is helping her escape him.

What You Are in the Dark: When Zemo corners Karli and discovers the last of the Super Soldier Serum in her possession, rather than take it for himself, which would have made his mission a lot easier, he smashes the vials and would have successfully destroyed them all had Walker not intervened.

Wicked Cultured: He's a connoiseur of music and art, as revealed in Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Woobie, Destroyer of Worlds: He has quite a sympathetic motive for his mission of revenge against the Avengers, namely that he blames them for the death of his family.

Xanatos Speed Chess: He's not in control of everything that happens in Civil War (for one thing, he has nothing to do with the Sokovia Accords), but he's good at taking advantage of unexpected situations to further his plans. Even more so in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. In Civil War, at least he still instigates most of the events, but in the show, he's broken out of prison without having expected to and is more or less thrust into an ongoing conflict he has nothing to do with. He still manages to play the heroes and the villains—that he utterly disagrees with—and so far has gotten away completely unscathed, once again having succeeded at what he set out to do.

He's the Big Bad of Civil War and is more than willing to commit mass murder to achieve his ends, but the times he acts polite or remorseful are genuine. He states he'd rather avoid unnecessary deaths if he can, has a few standards, apologizes to T'Challa for killing his father, has regular courteous interactions with a staff member of the hotel he's staying at, and even eventually apologizes to Bucky for using him. Considering he's just a grieving man who's dedicated to avenging the deaths of his family, it makes sense he wouldn't act like a cackling maniac.

By The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, he is shown to be fairly courteous to those around him (who, apart from his family butler were his enemies before) and he is capable of holding civil conversations with Bucky, even offering him a genuine apology for his actions in Civil War. He also agrees to join Sam and Bucky's crusade against the Flag-Smashers, without the driving of a hard bargain one might expect from him. He is also fully willing to lend his resources from the criminal underground to Sam and Bucky to take the Flag-Smashers down, no questions asked.

While none of the Avengers die as a consequence of his plan in Captain America: Civil War, he accomplishes his main goal in dividing them and is content with this. While the looming threat of Thanos forces them back together in Avengers: Infinity War and Avengers: Endgame, the reunion turns out to be temporary — by the time of Spider-Man: Far From Home, WandaVision, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, the Avengers are still very much defunct.

In The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, he successfully killed the man who recreated the super soldier formula and destroyed all but one of the remaining samples while inadvertently leading to John Walker gaining the Super Serum for himself. This turns in Zemo's favor after Walker brutally executes a defenseless Flag Smasher in broad daylight in front of civilians, corrupting the image of super soldiers in the public eye. He willing gives up a chance at pulling a Villain: Exit, Stage Left to visit a memorial and allows him self to be captured, his work done.

He framed Bucky Barnes for bombing the United Nations, then relied on everyone else including Captain America hunting him down for it, and further that no one but the Avengers would even be capable of killing Bucky, to get access to Barnes and his knowledge of HYDRA bases.

He arranges for his ruse to be discovered by the media, relying on Tony to find out and make amends with Captain America, so they'll both find the Siberian compound where Zemo reveals to them that Bucky killed Tony's parents.

His entire plan is based on assumptions from the S.H.I.E.L.D. intel on the Avengers he's studied that Captain America's over-protectiveness of his friends and Iron Man's complex over the death of his parents would mean not only that the two would turn on each other if Bucky's involvement in the Starks' death was revealed, but that Steve wouldn't have talked to Tony about Bucky's potential involvement beforehand.

His setup gambled on the fact that it is a conflict that only works if there are no voices of reason to hold either of them back. The fact that the airport fight left only two active members of the Avengers, Bucky and a third party present in the Hydra compound in a place where no one would interfere was a happy accident for him since most of the Avengers present could have prevented things from reaching the breaking point. Of course, this is covered under Heads I Win, Tails You Lose.

Notably, this is also why he finds Bucky a bit tolerable, since he is being bewared of.

In a stark contrast to his comics depiction, he lacks any affiliation with HYDRA and outright states that they deserved to be brought down. A conversation in Falcon and the Winter Soldier reveals he despises the Red Skull and those who idolize him, and he kills Doctor Nagel while the man is gloating about being a god.

Despite his profound hatred of the Avengers, he declined to unleash the other five Winter Soldiers and shot them dead rather than risk someone else doing so, as they were worse than Bucky and would do untold damage to the world given the order. He also seems uncomfortable with the concept of experimenting on humans in general.Zemo: If it's any comfort, they died in their sleep. Did you really think I wanted more of you?

Zemo was "just" a special forces operative, but when his family was killed, he used his intel on HYDRA to take on the Avengers and came closer to destroying the team than any previous villain.

Falcon and the Winter Soldier reveals that at some point, he became involved with the criminal underground, under the simple but accurate alias of "Baron".

A) Captain America and Bucky had captured Zemo before Iron Man arrived (then again, he was in a fortified bunker that would take serious fire-power to break through).

B) Iron Man had not figured out where Cap and Bucky were headed in the first place.

C) Iron Man had not come alone, meaning there might have been someone to restrain him or talk him down after he learned the truth.

D) Black Panther had succeeded in killing Bucky during one of their three fights during the course of the film (of course it’s highly unlikely that he even knew the Black Panther existed).

E) Captain America told Iron Man that the deaths of his parents were orchestrated by HYDRA.

Zemo hates the Avengers after the collateral damage they caused killed his family. So he decides to split the team up and in the process causes collateral damage that kills other people's family members.

Zemo believes that "gods" like the Avengers should not be allowed to exist. Sam points out that be decreeing who deserves to exist, he's speaking like a god.

Tortures and kills Vasily Karpov for information. Karpov is not only a still loyal HYDRA operative but one of the main leaders of the Winter Soldier project and ordered the death of the Starks and his slow death is just desserts. He does the same to  the HYDRA scientist responsible for making more Super Soldiers in Falcon and the Winter Soldier, finishing his work from Siberia.

He also happily participates in the interrogation of Doctor Nagel, the Mad Scientist who recreated the Super Soldier Serum via human experimentation, and personally guns the man down.

Zig-zagged; he knows very well that he can never kill the Avengers himself, since more powerful men than him have tried and all have failed, which is why he makes a plan to get them to kill each other for him.

In the secret HYDRA lab in Madripoor, he and his comrades come under attack. Not knowing where the assailants are, Zemo makes a quick getaway, causing Sam and the others to think he bailed... only to show up moments later when the assassins are in plain view, making it much easier for him to take them down.

 When the Dora Milaje apprehend him a second time in episode 5 of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, he surrenders himself without a fight, presumably both because he knew he had no chance of victory and because he had already achieved his goal of destroying the current iteration of the super-soldier serum.

He uses Bucky's Trigger Phrase while the latter's locked in an apparatus, making him go on a rampage. By the end of Civil War, he himself is locked in the same apparatus.

He kills T'Challa's father in the course of his Evil Plan. After T'Challa learns the truth about this, he foils Zemo's attempted suicide to ensure he faces justice for his crimes.

[newobsessionweekly]

Sad Jealousy 🌿

berfingsss said: Hellooooo :) how's the quarantine going? 😂 I'm so boreddddd :( Anyways I was gonna ask for a aron request. I just saw his photo shoot for lacoste (one looks like a Greek god) anyways I as thinking he could have his girlfriend on set with him and she gets like super jealous because of the shoot he does with the girls. 💜💜💚💚  a/n: so yeah, this is it, I hope you like it. For me quarantine is going great so far, I am enjoying sun and fresh air in the garden and I write almost all day. I don’t want it to end, it feels like heaven tho knowing there’s a virus thing killing people outside, it freaks me out. Thank you for asking. How are you guys? 🌿❤️

word count: 2.384 warnings: idk.

Arón Piper x reader 🌿

You first met Arón at a private gathering with the Élite cast at your brother’s place, Omar. You already knew who he was, he played one of the main characters from a very special movie to you, Omar and your mom. And before you knew, he and your brother became closer and he was around maybe too often just for a set buddy. In a couple of shakes you started talking and figured out you have more things in common that you thought. Your taste in music, movies and books, your ideals, thoughts and expectations. He revealed to be this kind and sensitive man, with a thoughtful heart and unavoidable you fell in love. You were not the only one whose heart had been stolen, you unknowingly robbed him and his heart is in your hands since then. You started dating and discovered a perfectly imperfect man, with a lot of qualities and flaws that fits with yours. Omar always made fun of you by saying what a disgusting perfect pair you made.

When Arón asked you to join him on his shooting for Lacoste, you thought it was sweet. You’ve been on the Élite set before and saw him acting, admired him while he gave the best of him in front of the camera and saw him helping at creating a breathtakingly project. You saw him working with Omar and were the most exceptional team you’ve ever seen. You were beside him and saw him at the make up area.You thought he was already gorgeous. He didn’t need a bit of make up on his beautiful face, but you weren’t exactly the best person to comment about it, you are not a public person as he is, at least you tried to understand why he has to wear that powder thing. Before he passes you and takes his place in the front of that white background, he leaned and placed a lovely kiss on your lips. He smiled, proud that he could bring you there, for you to see his work and be as proud as he is. The love you carry for each other is no doubtable, he loves you more than anything and he is proud to call this brilliant person his girlfriend. You are happy for him and proud as well, he is working so hard and he is making his dreams come true, beside him you feel like you are constantly living in heaven. Waking up with his lovely voice and some kisses, going to bed beside him, with your legs tangled and falling asleep on his chest. His cologne floating in the air, it is following you and his smile haunting you. The excitement you receive after a busy day when he finally sees you and the “good-bye” too hard to say when one of you has to leave for work. You adored him since the day one and that feeling only grows every day. He was posing in a Lacoste underwear and all you could do was to smile like an idiot. Seeing him giving everything to make it great, made you realise he’s indeed the most charming and talented man you’ve ever seen. He gained your sight and automatically smiled as he saw how proud you are of him. He felt his heart bumping on his chest and his lips refusing to take any form but the form of a bright and beautiful grin.  “Come on, Arón! I need your serious face right now!”the photographer laughed too as Arón tried to maintain his face straight. Five takes, and he still couldn’t get that frowned, serious look characteristic to him. Around you he couldn’t keep that frown on for too long. He consistently says you are the brightest light from his life, and he just couldn’t help smiling every time he sees you. “I’ll go and grab a coffee.” you laughed too when you saw his face blossoming again in a smile.

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Half an hour later you ended the call with your mom, notifying her about the last days and all helped you stay outside the room and let Arón get done his photoshoot. But when the clock turned three in the afternoon, you couldn’t help it and became concerned, entering the room after you threw away the plastic cup. He was dressed in a dark blue polo t-shirt and dark coloured pants, and despite the fact that those clothes weren’t really his style, he however could manage to slay in those. The girl next to him was also dressed in a similar way, in that royal blue. Your attention was captured when the girl suddenly started laughing though they needed to be serious and present some watches. You frown as the girl apologised. “I’m sorry! He’s extremely funny and the joke he told me earlier is just repeating on my mind.” she laughed. “Alright, calm down and let’s focus so that everyone could get home in a reasonable hour.” Arón placed his hand on her back and shifted it up and down to calm her. That was the moment when your chest burned a little and you could feel like the air was not enough. He’s such a lovely person and no one could resist him. Everyone got along with him so quickly though he remain an introvert. He knows how to make himself loved despite the fact he is shy and silent at first. When he did that thing with the girl, you understood you are replaceable. That girl is stunning and they share the passion for acting and posing. You don’t know what was that joke about, but you were convinced that this photoshoot isn’t the only thing they have in common. Everyone got along with him so quickly though he is an introvert. When he put his arm so naturally around her shoulders and she clasped his hand, you knew he could also do another things with so much naturalness with other girls beside you. He could discover in others all the things he finds in you and many more, and that made you feel not that extraordinary. She has a very beautiful face and body, and you couldn’t really say you fit into that category. You were merely staring at them, and all those thoughts made you feel jealousy running through your veins. You didn’t want that girl to touch him or him touching that girl too much. You didn’t want him to look at her too much; you were afraid that he might realise he could do more than just you. You didn’t feel that kind of angry jealousy, where he isn’t allowed to talk, touch, laugh with other girl because you are too possessive.You were feeling that sad jealousy where you realised how replaceable you are and the thought that he might realise that, made you experience so many feelings at once. You weren’t convinced which one you should let out so you just stood there and gazed at them while the photographer told them what a wonderful job they did.

Your expression changed, and it was one that showed no emotions. When Arón approached next to you and collected his stuff, he saw something was changed at you. You weren’t paying attention to anything around, you were just scrolling through your Instagram. He put it on the tiredness, because you hadn’t the best night, but when you stayed quiet when the most annoying music was playing, instead of commenting about it and changing it eventually, he knew something was truly wrong.

“What is going on inside that lovely head of yours?” he looked at you as your hands were staying in your lap and you were looking absently on the window.

“What? Nothing is going on. I’m just tired.” you tried and lied to him.

“You have to get better at lying if you want me to bite that. I know you far too better to know that even when you are tired and you can’t keep your eyes open, you still talk too much for a normal human being. So talk to me, amor!”

He indeed knows you better than anyone, even better than yourself. But it’s hard for you to admit all of your thoughts that have been rushing to get inside your mind even deeper.

Him on the driver seat with his hand on your lap and stealing kisses when the red light is on, would normally feel the most genuine thing in this world, but in this moment, you don’t find your place next to him.

“I just, I...” you stopped and moved your head, so you are not facing him. “I don’t think I’m good enough for you anymore.” you said it and Arón’s left hand frizzed on the steering wheel. He immediately pulled over on the edge of the road.

“What are you saying?” he stopped the engine.

“It’s stupid but-“ you could feel some tears in the corner of your eyes, but you didn’t allowed them to move any farther. “I try so hard to be like your girl friends, like your costars and your colleagues. I try so hard to be skinny and beautiful as them, but lately it seems impossible. I’m not like that and I will never be, I’m just ordinary. And I am not good enough anymore.” his heart broke at those words coming out of your mouth.

“What is going on inside that beautiful head? How can you say that? Do you think I stayed with you all this time just because you are thin and have a beautiful face?” his hands moved from the steering wheel and landed on your lap, reaching for your hands.

“I don’t know. Did you?” your head was still down.

He grabbed your chin, so you could look at him, “Of course not! I fall in love with you because you possess something that I couldn’t find in any other girl. You have the most superior type of beauty.” you waited for him to continue, “To me you are beautiful because you know how to speak your mind and heart out. You are the kindest person and a very talented one. You know how to talk, and you have far too many topics you could talk about. You don’t talk all day and all night about bags, make up and clothes. You have a beautiful heart, you know how to love, how to be loved and how to be a friend. You are funny, kind and much more than just that beautiful body of yours.”

You were crying, you couldn’t see him clearly and you couldn’t even breathe properly. His hands were holding yours tight, he is searching your face. He is crying too, and he is glad that you can’t see it.

“Are you serious?”

“No, that was a fucking joke, and I want you to get out of the car.” his sarcasm is so natural, like he was born with it and for him speaking sarcasm is like his first language. “Stupid, you can’t imagine how much I love you. But I need to know if you still love me.”

What kind of question was that? The love you’re caring for Arón isn’t doubtable, your feelings are pure and sincere, beside him you’ve discovered yourself, you have felt a love that Omar simply couldn’t understand how that feels. Beside him you found happiness, friendship, understanding. You found everything in one man, and now he is questioning your love.

You promptly responded,“To be sure I do love you. I worship you.” you didn’t want him to think any farthure that that. 

“So where those thoughts came from?”

“When I saw you with that girl today-” you swallowed the lump and shake your head.

He grabbed your chin once again and made you look into his eyes as he smiled,“So you are jealous.”

“Yeah, kinda. But it was a sad jealousy, you know.” you admitted and shrug.

He was confused, “Sad jealousy?”

“Yeah, like when you realise that you are so easy replaceable and the fearing of losing the other person... you know.” you tried to explain, but what you experienced was so intense. 

His heart broke again because of those words. He also discovered so many things in you. He knows he can find friendship, understanding, commitment in you. He is in love with you so deeply, therefore couldn’t imagine his present without you in it. He doesn’t like to plan his future much, but beside you he thought maybe he was wrong about that, maybe he should plan something so there will not be any chances of losing you. For the first time, he feared that he might not find you in the future.

He joked again,“So you are jealous.”

“Oh, shut up!”, you finally smiled and that was the moment when the car lighted up.

 “I’m sorry you had to consider about not being good enough. I’m sorry I haven’t showed or told you how perfect you are as much as I should have to.” his smiles paled a little, now on his face a sad one was painted. You could tell looking in his eyes he regrets it, he thinks your thoughts are his fault.

“Don’t apologise, I shouldn’t have thought about it in the first place. Everything you do is perfect, it’s not your fault. I love you so much.” 

“I love you more.”

You couldn’t resist but smile, “Don’t start this game, you know you are not able to win it.” 

“Maybe you should let me win, because you are just too precious and you need to hear that you are the most beloved girl of the earthly. And I am the most beloved boy because I am loved by you.”

 Your heart dropped on your stomach and you stopped breathing for maybe too long. You have beside you the sweetest, caring and lovable man you had fallen too hard for. Him, standing in his seat, looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes, the sun kissing his face, make him look like he was unreal. He is made itself by the Goddess of beauty. He can be itself the God of beauty, kindness, love. All of the Gods batteling inside your man because he is far beyond perfect. He is something this world would never understand.

[shapes-den]

Art Prompt Competition Entry

(I had to cut down my submission for the WD competition, by a lot, to match the maximum word count, but I thought I'd post the longer version (that's been spell-checked, haha) for anyone who wanted to read it. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I'm enjoying going through everyone else's submission so far!

Content warning for: Hallucinations/visions, themes of death and mortality, body horror, animal death, mind-altering substances, blood, other horror themes)

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“My name is Bu’ha.”

 “Bu’ha?” Ourkan squinted. “I can’t see you to tell if the name fits.”

“How rude of me, elder.” She stepped forward to allow the old wolf to sniff her.

“A yearling?”

“Yes, I’m a trainee healer, my parents suggested I go on this journey to gain confidence in myself.”

Ourkan huffed. “You seem old for a yearling.”

“Well…” Bu’ha paused, laughing nervously. “I was planning to get over my fear of corpses first.”

Ourkan laughed. “A wolf afraid of food? Well, I won’t ask the real reason.”

“It sounds stupid, but it’s true.”

“Strange.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m doing this for. Mother says I should gain enough life experience that silly things like that won’t upset me”.”

“I’m tired,” Ourkan cut her off, slowly stretched out his front paws and scratched at his ear, looking pained, “You should go find my grandson. Big red wolf, you can’t miss him.” He turned away and curled up, tucking his nose under his tail tip. Ignoring her.

"Goodbye... Elder."

----------------------------

Bu’ha plodded up the winding path she had found just past the rude elder's resting spot. Perhaps this pack might help her get over her embarrassing phobia? Ever since she was small the thought of death and dying had terrified her. She even sympathised with the prey her pack caught, apologising before eating, but her mother said this was a good quality in a healer. Compassion. Just… maybe not this much. Catching her own food had already driven home the message, the necessity of prey death, but she simply couldn’t rationalise predator death. They fed no one. It seemed so... senseless.

Sniffing out the presence of other wolves, Bu'ha picked up the pace. Ferns, damp from the mid-morning rain, grabbed at her forelimbs as she brushed past them. Chalky-smelling rocks crumbled into a slurry beneath her toes, but she didn't mind, her thoughts were focused on the two wolf pups who were passed out on a bed of sweet-smelling herbs ahead of her, blocking the path.

Smiling to herself, Bu'ha nosed the closest pup, but the smile soon turned to a deep frown. These poor pups were freezing in the cold autumn wind! Angrily she looked around for either parent, before realising that the pups hadn’t moved an inch.

An icy feeling went down her spine. Could they be…?

“What are you doing?!” Her thought was interrupted by the harsh bark of a middle-aged female. “Get away from my nephews!”

“They’re… alive?”

“What a rude, unobservant yearling! My sister’s twins are just sleeping. They happen to have been born with gifts that make them tired.”

Bu’ha took another look, feeling foolish as she saw that both pups were breathing deeply. How could she be so stupid? The two wolves were joined at the hip. Every healer knew that unusual puppies like that were often colder than normal wolves. It was their connection to dead things that made them that way. That same connection meant that they didn’t live long, and she had just been the most ignorant she could possibly have been. Not a great first impression.

“I’m so terribly sorry, your healer and their parents must be amazing at caring for them. Your nephews seem very happy and healthy.”

“Of course, our healer’s the best in the valley!” She said, with a cunning glint in her eye. “In fact, you should go and see her, perhaps you might learn a thing or two about etiquette.”

“Oh! I would love to; I’m planning to be a healer.” Bu’ha wagged her tail, happy to have found an excuse to leave. Meeting the medicine wolf would be a bonus to her learning too. 

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The pup’s aunt had given her very precise directions, seeming to enjoy making her stay and listen for an uncomfortably long time. It served her right though; she had disrespected the poor female’s family members. Bu’ha took a deep breath as she picked her way delicately through puddles and sharp rocks at her feet. It was slow going, but it gave her time to think about her manners at least.

The air was getting colder, but through the damp and moss, she could smell that the healer was close. Herbs and poultices had a distinct leafy smell, that seemed almost bitter to her, and she could've recognised it from a mile away.

Trailing plants hung down over a rocky cliffside at the end of the temporary stream, but there seemed to be no wolf or den in sight. She put her nose to the floor, hoping to pick up a scent, but all she could smell were puddles and an odd metallic tang that made her gag. Probably some rare type of medicine or plant, not that it made the stench of it any less disgusting. Maybe there would be a path on the cliff somewhere? Bu’ha stepped forward and nosed at the sodden, dripping vines. The revolting scent was stronger here, but so was a much sweeter smell of dried flowers, that seemed to be carried on a breeze blowing out of the rock itself. Of course! The medicine wolf must have a den hidden behind the plants. How clever, she thought, to keep any sick wolves where they would be undisturbed. Good for recovery. Now if only she could remember what the healer’s name was…

“Hello?” she whined, “Is a wolf name Huth here? Your packmate Auru sent me.”

A nose suddenly touched her own, causing her to jump at least 10 feet into the air in surprise.

“A visitor!” said the greying muzzle poking out from behind the curtain of greenery, “I never get visitors, come in!” Just as quickly as the nose had appeared, it vanished again, back into whatever cave or crevice it's owner lived in.

“Do… Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Bu’ha asked, both curious and confused.

“Of course not! It’ll be obvious enough when you get in here, hurry up!”

The yearling laughed, it seemed like learning from this wolf might be fun. Thank goodness this pack’s healer wasn’t as abrasive as the rest of them. She pushed her way eagerly into the cave, taking in her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

An elderly wolf with large patches of fur missing here and there, greeted her with a wagging tail.

“Don’t worry, I’m not contagious if you were wondering,” The old wolf sized her up, almost jealously despite her warm smile “As we get older, healing comes much slower.”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean to stare.” This wolf, Huth, was clearly old enough to be envious of the yearling’s youth, but she sounded friendly, and all those years of wisdom would be fascinating to hear about.

Bu’ha fluffed out her fur, not wanting to appear judgemental. Old wolves aren’t dead wolves, she thought to herself, though, she didn’t really believe it looking at Huth.

“You look half-starved. Did my cranky relatives bother to feed you?”

“No, but I- “

The older wolf cut her off by shoving a chunk off meat under her nose.

“Eat up!” She said cheerfully, not pausing for a response.

“… Thank you.” Bu’ha sighed, knowing she couldn’t refuse the hospitality of a shared meal, and whispered a quick apology to the unidentified creature she was eating.

“Custom of your pack?” Huth enquired. The elder was sharp, she hadn’t missed Bu’ha’s quirk. Should she lie? “No, you seem touchy about it. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. Spirits aren’t just superstition, you know.”

“Oh?”

“I can show you, after your meal. Spirits make the herbs more potent, full of nutrition. Good for growing wolves.” The elder gave her a kind, almost pitying look.

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Both wolves padded softly over snow. Mist rose from the surroundings, but Huth had told Bu’ha this was the magic of the place. Tall, slender trees were silhouetted against the early evening light, in an eerily beautiful way. Bu’ha was enjoying herself, she had already learned a few things, and the air was cool and pleasant to her nose.

“How do you feel?” Huth asked softly.

“Hm? Cold, mostly.”

“Good… Good. Tell me when you can see it.”

The young wolf tilted her head, looking around. Now that she mentioned it, the trees seemed to be swaying in time with her breath, each exhale blowing condensation into the still air. The ground was breathing with her, glistening dewdrops shining with life.

“Do… You mean… spirits?” For some reason her words were slow to reach her mouth. Each step was becoming harder, and yet Huth seemed unaffected by the energy of the forest.

“Shh, shh, you tell me when you see. Tell me what it says.”

“Huuuth…?” Bu’ha felt nauseous, her blood rushed in her ears. Everything felt darker than before. The tree (… were they trees?) moved with greater intensity, with purpose. “What…?”

Black blood dripped down blacker bark, each tree a twisted limb that uprooted itself to crash forwards towards her. Moss melted and bubbled underfoot. Howls of air almost knocked her down as she cowered before a mighty beast. Ragged breaths, bright dead eyes, its ribcage heaved as hers did, sucking the air from her lungs and forcing it back down her throat with no care for her mortal whims.

Each inhale brought a wave of sickness; each brought a tide of death. Small critters curled up and died before her, plants withered and rotted to nothing. All consumed by the black, black blood.

That corpse-like, canine face, an emaciated grimace that pulsated with an air of indifference. Urine soaked into her tucked tail. The slender spirit did not care.

“Tell me what it says!” Her vision was blocked as Huth let out a ragged screech. “I need to know what to do!”

Bu’ha stared up in fear at the mess of flesh that was the older wolf. Every inch of Huth's muzzle throbbed with open yellow pustules, bubbling like molten fat, barely clinging to her rotting bones. Her jaw hung loosely, teeth gnashing at nothing as strangled sounds of desperation left her throat. Her eyes were no more. Instead, her sockets poured forth dark, sticky liquid, that fell down her cheeks and hit the ground with a sickening squelch. Her cries were getting louder. Her head was twitching violently. One paw held Bu’ha pinned to the ground. Her empty sockets remained focused on the yearling.

Not to be ignored, nor constrained by the mere laws of physics, the tall, twisted sprit passed through the medicine wolf, it’s head almost comically small compared to its sinewy neck. Both wolf and spirit blended into one as a strange sense of calm overtook Bu’ha.

How idiotic she had been. Death was inevitable. Death did not care. Death was not…

Her vision faded into

nothingness.

-----------------------------------

Pitiful.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Huth kicked her back legs with each contemptuous thought. What a waste of time. The twisted corpse behind her had showed such promise, and yet…

“Too much mountain toad?” She pondered. What a moron. If only she hadn’t been so focused on the approaching winter, she wouldn’t have messed things up for the twins. Might even have cured them before the snow drifts got too deep.

The old wolf’s muscles ached as she bitterly kicked a clump of large icy earth at the yearling.

“Help…” A soft whine came from behind Huth... had she imagined it? Excitement overtook rationality as she turned sharply towards the ‘corpse’. There! Shallow breaths, despite the lifeless eyes.

“Perfect!”

Perhaps she wasn't so useless after all.

[ajokeformur-ray]

So... how about a empathetic reader who works in the same hospital that Arthur is at the end of the movie? Like, she is the lastest one who takes care of him, or something like that. Pretty please? And, can it have like kisses and fluff stuff? I'M WEAR FOR ARTHUR FLECK.

Swearing, complete inaccuracies with the legal system (creative license is my excuse and I’m sticking to it but if the lack of policies in this Arkham piece will bother you (like undoing his handcuffs because they’re hurting him, bringing food in for him, kissing him etc, I’d advise skipping it sksksks), Arthur smokes, SPOILERS and I think that’s it. I’m not sure if this is relevant but just in case - the reader has a flexible morality and some parts of the narrative are questionable. This is intentional. Also - the staff and hospital is described as being a total shit show because it’s what works for this piece sksksks I took a lot of liberties with this one lmao.

Also, as always, I teared up at this GIF. He’s so beautiful and so hurt and most of the film could have been avoided if someone had just hugged him ohhh :(((

Word count: 2, 638.

“Oh, here, Arthur,” You leaned across the cold metal table with your lighter, cupping a hand in the air underneath the tobacco end of the cigarette, which was already dangling from Arthur’s thin lips, “Let me get that for you.” You lit it easily, your hands steadier than you had thought that they would be. Immediately did Arthur’s lips purse as he took a long deep drag of the cigarette; his hypnotic green eyes closing in relief at that first hit of nicotine. 

It was close to three in the afternoon and you were the only staff member in the whole of Arkham State Hospital who was nice to Arthur. Everyone else treated him the way that he was used to - like he was a freak, a disease, someone to be watched and not extended a single modicum of kindness. But you… you had been warned away from ‘that one’. All you had seen upon first meeting Arthur was a man broken down by the world, a man who had said fuck the world and given into his impulses, his truest self, when he could no longer stand how the world had treated him and if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn’t deny that his motives behind the murder of public figure Murray Franklin made sense to you. He had been publicly humiliated and scorned and in a fit of rage had he finally expressed all that had been against him from the very start. You had read his case file extensively after being told to avoid him by almost everyone - staff members and patients alike (the more coherent ones, at least) - and you had come to one decision after a few weeks of fighting against yourself:

You were going to be kind to Arthur Fleck.

You hadn’t told anyone about your decision. It wasn’t because you were afraid of what people would think of you, but it was because you didn’t care about their opinions. None of them had bothered to try to understand him, whereas you were going to be kind to Arthur because he intrigued you; you were a naturally empathetic person and you had a soft spot for the slightly damaged and the broken. You couldn’t watch a film if animals were harmed in it; even obviously animated animals getting hurt made you cry in horror and disgust. You couldn’t handle the sight of pain in others and to see so much of it in one case file and to then be presented with the man himself walking hunched into his own body; his shoulders curved inwards, his head down, his feet shuffling instead of his taking proper steps was just too much for you to take. You had cried over a good eighty percent of his case file, your heart breaking for this one man. Never had you felt such a strong undeniable urge to protect someone before. You lamented the fact that you hadn’t met him before this day; surely if you had, this whole thing could have been avoided. It was like Arthur was apologising for his own existence in the way that he tried to occupy as little physical space as possible. To see the evidence of Arthur’s life in one manilla file and to then meet the man himself had been all the information you had needed to decide that people were wrong about him. He had done bad things, this was true, and you took great care to remind yourself of the fact that this man had brutally murdered people, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to ostracise him for it. What he had done wasn’t excusable and you couldn’t condone his actions even to yourself, but his descent was explainable.

So sure of your decision had you chucked yourself down the rabbit hole head first without even considering the implications on your continued employment at Arkham State Hospital if anyone came to learn of your affections for Arthur. You took on sole responsibility of his case, you bought him quality cigarettes with your own money, you bought him in food that you had made yourself… You told no one of these things, of the little ways in which you tried your best to take care of him despite all he had done to wind up here. Once that white door had closed upon you and Arthur for his daily therapy sessions were you granted privacy with each other. You recorded your conversations but the two of you had learned to read each other relatively quickly and as such, those moments where the verbal conversation lulled to a temporary halt were moments in which you had a discussion with your eyes, your hand reaching across the table to touch the back of his. You were careful to unlock Arthur’s handcuffs much of the time so that the chains didn’t clink against the cold metal table; though the metal bracelets were still secured around his wrists, you separated him from the chain so he had some freedom of movement in these sessions. Having spent much of his childhood being chained to radiators and the like, you were sure that his trauma would be triggered by being restrained to a table. You helped Arthur in any way you could and before you knew it, months had gone by and you were well and truly caught in the spider’s web.

Arthur pulled the cigarette away from his mouth and tilted his head up towards the ceiling to exhale; the wispy tendrils of smoke curling gently before they dissipated in the cool air of the impersonal, stark room. “Thank you.” The words were quietly spoken and your trained ears picked up on a soft note of gratitude as he allowed some emotions to creep into his voice. You smiled by way of saying ‘you’re welcome’ and distracted yourself while you willed yourself not to blush by opening the daily used case file which was thicker now with therapy sessions shoved in the back. The notes were all loose leaf and you despaired at the lack of care being shown towards Arthur. What was the point of keeping him here if no one was going to take their government appointed responsibility seriously? The head of Arkham may as well have let Arthur out for all the good the establishment was doing for him. 

“Have you eaten lunch?”

“No,” A sigh. His lack of elaboration in answer to your raised eyebrow had told you everything that you needed to know - he had either not been hungry at the time or he had been denied a meal. You cared little for what the reason was so long as he could eat now. Arthur took another drag on his cigarette, a quicker one this time, and he turned his head upwards once more to exhale; he was considerate of your distaste for his smoking and showed his gratitude in your supplying him with cigarettes despite your personal views on the habit by showing you great courtesy when he did smoke in front of you. You couldn’t have denied him this one vice if you had tried - goodness knew how mad you would go if you couldn’t have your own fix every day. 

You reached under the table with one hand, keeping your eyes on Arthur’s as you fumbled in your bag and pulled out a Tupperware box. The box was see through and you saw a light come into Arthur’s eyes which had nothing to do with the harsh overheads which could have used a gentler light bulb; for all the patients here which struggled with over stimulation and light sensitivity, staff showed little concern. Gotham was a total shit show and you hated everything about the suffocating place. It seemed that, even though Arkham State Hospital was on the outskirts of Gotham, it was still susceptible to the same toxins which circulated throughout the city. You set the box down, pushing it towards Arthur, and moved to separate his handcuffs from the chain. Your gaze, which was still holding his, very clearly said, you know the rules and he nodded once slowly, a smirk on his face, to show his understanding. 

You were the only staff member Arthur would ‘behave’ for and often were you called in at odd hours off the clock to ‘sort the fucking clown out’. You didn’t mind, not really. You had gained some strange reputation in Arkham and even the meaner patients, the ones who were especially volatile and unpredictable, left you alone. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that Arthur had given you some kind of honourary protection in your taking on his case, though you suspected that it was more the way you treated him which had granted you this unofficial protection, and less to do with the fact that you had his case file.

Arthur peered into the box and looked sharply back up at you. “How did you know that this was my favourite food?”

You smiled and shrugged. “I pay attention. Eat. You must be starving.” You pushed plastic cutlery his way - you couldn’t get proper utensils past security no matter what you said to them - and leaned back in your chair, glancing over the therapy notes from yesterday with curiosity. You used the notes to hide the way your eyes were fixed on Arthur’s face. You were far too invested in him for your own good and though you knew it couldn’t end well, you were determined to see it through to the very end, come what may.

At the first hesitant bite did Arthur’s eyes flutter closed as he chewed and you smiled. “Good?”

“So good,” He took a second, bigger bite and your smile widened as affection bloomed in your chest.

Silence fell once more as Arthur ate, punctuating his bites with drags on his cigarette, which was almost down to the filter now. He coughed lightly at one point and though he hadn’t said anything, you hadn’t needed him to as you reached into your bag, unscrewed the cap top and put the plastic bottle of water in front of Arthur. 

Half of his food was left in the tub as he looked at the water. There was something in his eyes which you were having trouble reading.

“What is it, lo - Arthur?” You had almost slipped up, called him love and the way Arthur smirked up at you briefly before he looked back to the water told you that he had noticed your near mistake. There was no denying it if he ever decided to call you out on what you had just almost said. You knew even without really thinking about it that you wouldn’t deny anything he accused you of in this vein; all of it was true. All of it.

“You’re always so kind to me,” He frowned down at the table, nimble fingers plucking at the chain you had released him from so that he could eat without having to sit uncomfortably. 

“Well, yeah, it’s my job. I took an oath to care for - “

Staring off into space, his cigarette burnt out now, the end smouldering but still lightly held between his nicotine stained fingers, did Arthur shake his head. “No,” He interrupted you, “This is more than an oath of care.” He turned his head to meet your eyes full on and with a cocky smirk tugging at the edges of his mouth did he say, “You better be careful.”

Anger rose quickly and you almost said something but then you caught another hint of some emotion flash through his eyes, like a trick of the light did he school his facial expressions so fast. You saw a desperate pleading, you saw… you saw need. Arthur wasn’t warning or threatening you, he was asking you to be careful. If you both got caught, if you got found out on supplying a patient with food made outside the premises or buying and lighting him cigarettes - which were allowed within the hospital but only a specific brand not available to the public domain - if you got caught letting him out of the chains just so he could move a little freer, if you got caught having personal conversations with him, it’d all be over. You’d be taken off the case, more than likely dismissed or fired or transferred elsewhere, and you would never see Arthur again. He would lose the only good in his life - a secret though it was, it was his good. 

In short, Arthur watched as you saw through his mask, through his cryptic statements, You saw him and he felt an unfamiliar heat blooming in his chest. So closely was he staring at you that he saw the precise moment of understanding dawn on your face and he smirked with pride. He could always count on you to understand.

In the end, you didn’t answer him verbally. You held a cigarette out to him, the filter facing him, and you held his green oceans as he parted his lips and allowed you to place the filter between them. You lit the cigarette with a slight shake to your hand and Arthur moved somewhat awkwardly to rest his hand over yours, the lighter firm in your grip.

“Thank you.” He wasn’t just thanking you for the cigarettes and you both knew it.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled and Arthur felt an urge to kiss you. He followed it and used his grip on you to pull you down to his eye level. You gasped, shocked by the sudden movement; your heart began to pound but you weren’t afraid. “Arthur, what - “

“Shshsh, I’m not going to hurt you.” He smirked, the expression at complete odds with how softly he had reassured you in that same moment, and took the cigarette from his mouth, tilting his head and upper body backwards using the back of the metal chair to exhale, keeping the toxins as far from you as he could given how closely you were now. You were leaning over the table, your belt buckle pressed against your stomach, your face close to Arthur’s. “I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”

The look in his eyes told you that he was serious about kissing you but if you didn’t want to, he wouldn’t make you. He would just never ask you for anything like this again. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for him; never again would anybody see him and care for him the way that you did.

“Okay.” A breathy exhale and Arthur smiled. It was a real, genuine smile and you felt your own lips quirking upwards in reply. You met in the middle, neither of you consciously moving, and your lips barely grazed each other’s. He kissed you so slowly, so slowly, that it made your heart bleed for him. He had a big heart, this you had come to know, and as you pulled away from him with the desperate need for oxygen did you meet his eyes again. His eyes roamed about your face as if he was desperately trying to memorise your face in this moment and that look in your eyes. “How about we get you out of here, hm?”

A look of confusion, a startled laugh, and Arthur nodded his head in agreement. Yes. It was high time that the Crown Prince of Gotham got back to work. The city needed him, after all, and he needed you. It would take weeks of careful planning, an elaborate distraction and a getaway car with a willing driver to get him out of Arkham, but he was a Joker and you were the ace up his sleeve.

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[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 7: An oxidising dream of a world (Part 6)

Warnings: angst

Author notes: at this point, I’m not even going to apologise anymore...

The rain was heavily falling, covering Yokohama with a strange, ominous curtain of water. The sky was greyish, covered by heavy clouds which hid the sun away and deprived the world of its colours, and the streets were absolutely lifeless. On such days, I always felt under the weather, for I disliked rain. Rain could pour, and pour, endlessly, water could soak me until I felt wet til the bones, but never would it wash away my sins and the blood on my hands. The rain reminded me all too much about the atrocities I did daily, and I did not want to have such disturbing thoughts. Besides, having the sky crying rarely did announce anything good... I could foresee that something would end, very soon, by the end of the day perhaps. Something would break and shatter, never to be repaired again, and I was afraid. If time could stop just a moment to delay this event... If time could slow down enough so I would never see the sunset...

"Ogawa...?"

I turned around toward my superior. He had finally woken up, past eight in the morning, and he had wanted to make me believe he was not tired...

"Yes, Dazai? What do you need?" I walked toward the couch.

"Did I sleep a lot...?" He seemed concerned.

"I hope enough to feel better than yesterday." I answered "You slept soundly."

"Which is odd..." He commented "But oh, well, I'm not going to complain..."

"You'd rather not." I shrugged, turning my attention toward the ringing phone on the desk "I'm going to pick it up."

The moment I put the device onto my ear, I regretted it. I replied to the voice, curtly, shakily, avoiding Dazai's look at all cost, and finally hung up with very tense movements.

"What's going on...?" He frowned.

I had to fight to stand on my two legs and used the wooden furniture to support my weight, unable to gather any kind of strength to my muscles anymore. But he was waiting. He wanted words from me. He needed to know, and I could not tell.

"The Western restaurant..." I started, immediately noticing the slight widening of his eye "It was... It was attacked..."

Without a word, without asking for details, he raised from the couch and hurried out of the office, messily throwing his coat onto his shoulders. If I did not know better, I would have stayed there, dumbfounded, and would have waited for him to come back. However, with all that had been said the previous night, I could not let him face troubles alone and followed him, taking an umbrella on the way out.

The downpour did not stop when we arrived; worse, it increased and the light umbrella could barely resist the heavy drops of water crashing against it. The restaurant was surrounded by people, journalists and the police. The source of the ruckus was a bus, or rather, the remnants of a bus. The vehicle had completely burnt, due to an explosion, but other than the scent of gas, what my nose smelled did not please me. Burnt human flesh. My being had gotten used to the sight and the scent of human corpses, yet this day, I could barely hold my disgust back. I did remember Oda was raising orphans he had taken in after the Dragon's Head Rush... I wished, strongly, that I was mistaking, but deep inside, I knew I was not. The ones to have died in the explosion were children. Innocent children who had been used for the sake of attracting Oda into the trap. And it had worked. Coming out of the restaurant, Dazai's friend wore a stoic face, and his blue eyes, normally devoid of any violence, were darkened by murderous intentions. He was not the one I had known before, not the same I had last seen. It was not long before my superior rushed toward him.

"Odasaku...! Odasaku, you can't go, it won't —"

"Bring back the kids?" He almost huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets "No it won't. But I'll go still."

"No...! Odasaku... Even if you feel down, you can still live on, and believe something good will happen...!" He tried to sound reassuring "You have to believe..."

I lowered my head. He acted out of the world, but he was the one who understood the best how our minds worked. He was the one who analysed us with the most accuracy. He understood everything, but could not make use of it... He had told me he felt lonely; just how lonely was he actually?

"... Do you know why I joined the Mafia...?"

Oda and I exchanged a glance. It was the first time he ever talked about his own reasons...

"I wanted to try... I thought perhaps in this violent world I could see human qualities and... Find a reason to live..."

A reason to live... His voice sounded so broken when he said those few words, I felt my throat tighten. A reason to live... What exactly was my own reason to live...? Why was I born into this world, with such a fate? What role was I supposed to play on this Earth...? I kept silent.

"My dream was to be a writer..." Oda sighed "A person who gave life through words... But I no longer have the qualifications... I only have one wish now."

"No..."

I watched, expressionless, as Dazai called after his friend, desperately, but the man he called would not glance back at him, and walked away, toward what would be his death. I realised. He would be another loss. My superior would lose something else he held dear in his heart. He would be broken. Dazai would be the one broken by the end of the day. So, I did a foolish thing; I went and tried to defy his destiny.

I dropped the umbrella on the ground, and, without a word, without caring about the rain, I ran after the shadow of the one who used to be nicknamed "Odasaku", leaving the executive behind. The puddles of water did not stop me as I jumped above them, nor did I care about the person running toward the crime scene, hands holding onto detective materials. No, my mind was only focused on the person in front of me, and I grabbed the back of his coat, stopping his track.

"Oda..." I panted "You can't go..."

"Not you too, Ogawa..." He did not give me a single look.

"That's not for myself...!" I argued "So listen to me... If you go and die, because I know you will die, he will shatter! He will be hurt... Do you know how pained he was after your meeting with Sakaguchi-san, yesterday...?! You cannot go... You cannot leave him..."

"He must learn, too..." He turned around to remove my hands from him "Are you truly acting selflessly?"

"Eh...?" I did not understand.

Only then did I notice that my own tears were mixing with the rain on my cheeks.

"If I die, it is you who will lose him." He stated "You don't want him to suffer, only because your own happiness gravitates around him. That's pretty selfish, making him your reason to be."

"I..." I wanted to protest, but could not deny what he was saying "It is true... But even so, do I not have the right to wish for his smile...? Even if I want him to be happy for my sake, would it not contribute to his own good as well...?"

"You have the right to... But I can't go back anymore now. So, there is a single thing you can do, if you truly care about him." He looked at me, holding my shoulders.

"... What is it...?"

"Stay by his side. Help him going on."

"That's not..." I chuckled bitterly "I did promise him so... But he does not need me as much as he needs you... I am not important... I am not enough... I only make him suffer... You know... Perhaps I should go in your stead..."

His hands gripped my shoulders tighter, making me wince in pain.

"You promised him... You can't go back on your words. Dazai does need you, although it is different from how he needs me. If he loses you because you wanted to save me, I do not believe that I can console him, because you made a promise. And for once, he sees a person as someone he may not lose, for you tied yourself to him on your own whim. It's too late, now..." He spoke lowly "Please stay by his side... I entrust him to you."

I could not have done a thing. Why could I not be the least useful to Dazai..? Why could I not do anything right...? Going and breaking my superior... How could he do that to his friend...? I was well-aware that never would I be able to comfort his pain... It had been too hard the previous night, to stand his sufferings without myself shattering, how would I stand having him act like an empty soul...?

"What the heck..." I cursed, trying to remove without success the wet hair sticking to my face "We both know... Who means the most to him..."

Without much energy, I made my way back toward the restaurant. I was cold, I was soaked, and the rain would not stop pouring onto me, masking my tears from the sight of others. I was tired, too. I only wanted to run away, from there, from the Port Mafia, from Dazai, but mostly, from myself. I wanted to dodge any responsibility and live the carefree life of a child... Why had I never had a childhood? Why could I not be innocent, almost naive, and ignore my duties as a human being? It was so stupid. Being alive, for someone like me, was such a waste...

Bumping into someone stopped my feet from moving. The thin umbrella sheltered my head, preventing me from getting even wetter, and, surprisingly, I was pulled toward the person's chest.

"Don't blame yourself..."

Now that the rain could not fall on me anymore, there was no way to disguise my tears as droplets, and they rolled, heavily, onto the cold skin of my face.

"I tried..." I sobbed "He was so far away... I couldn't... I'm sorry..."

"Don't blame yourself..." He repeated, pulling me closer in what seemed the attempt to a hug "Please, don't blame yourself..."

"How can I not...?" I buried my face in his coat "He is gone... He went away, and I could not... Stop him... For your sake..."

"I know... That's why, don't blame yourself..." Dazai made me look up at him "He chose this path willingly... The only thing we can do is assist him... Let's go back to the headquarters to prepare our men... We can still make it."

He clang onto a hope he knew was not meant to exist; a vain, meaningless light, yet he clang onto it so desperately. I had never seen him being so human...

"... Understood..."

I was utterly anxious as I waited for Dazai, in front of the headquarters. It had been a moment he had gone in to see the Boss. It was too long to my liking, and I feared Mori-san was trying to make him stay. What was going on...? If only I was more intelligent, perhaps would I understand the truth behind this whole case of ghosts Mimic was... I had sent around twenty men toward the abandoned mansion in the forest, where the remnants of the organisation were hiding, but I doubted it would help Oda a lot. I prayed for him to stay alive until we could go to him, but there was a voice which kept screaming I was comforting myself in delusions. Oda had chosen to die, and whether he won or lost against Gide, the leader of Mimic, he would die in the end.

It was not raining anymore, and, instead, the sun shone warmly above the busy Yokohama, as though accompanying a great man in his last moments. He did not deserve to die this way. He did not deserve to see his dream scattered on the ground. He did not deserve to see the kids he cared about being taken away from him. Yet, it had happened. Why was the world so unfair? Toward rotten criminals and filthy businessmen, it was so peaceful, whereas toward war orphans and starving homeless people, it was worse than Hell. Why so?

"Ogawa-kun! Let's go now!" Dazai called me suddenly.

"Yes...!" I walked after him as he led the way "What happened...?"

"The Boss... He has planned everything." He quickly told me "All of this for a damn certificate..."

"The 'Ability Business Permit'...?!" My eyes widened "Would that not make the Port Mafia's doings legal...?!"

"Exactly. Logically speaking, it was the right thing to do, but —"

"Your friend's life is on the line." I cut him, speeding up "There is no logic in that... You just want to save him, and this is normal. Am I right?"

"... Very right..." He conceded "I don't want him to die..."

[wolfpawn]

Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 49

Story Summary - Based on an idea I had that I submitted to Imagine Loki. Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths.

Chapter Summary -  Loki has to contend with something he could not have foreseen with regards to his coronation but some light teasing from his brothers causes him to have to think of something more, leading him to wonder a very important question. What is love?

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NOTES -  I literally have this written with over a week and just as a tab on my computer but I suffer from ITS, Idiotic Thoughts Syndrome which makes me really mentally weird and my mind tells me no one likes my stuff, I just had a few people message me over the last day about this telling me they love it which forced me to feel like I am letting them down if I don't post it which, by the way, is sometimes the best way to motivate my shitty ass, so yeah, it needs saying, if you like this, please let me know, it actually gets me to upload new chapters. I have some written, so...yeah.

The realms were informed of the upcoming coronation of the middle son of the Jotnar king. Some were startled, the idea of a second son as a successor was not something they had ever heard of in their realms. More than one prince looked at his younger brother fearfully, wondering if their younger kin wished to usurp their claim. Some assumed it was nothing more than the fact that the second son was tied with the daughter of the great Odin Allfather. It was leading to some interest and intrigue which in turn resulted in a startling number of beings accepting invitations to the realm for the event. Arden, Loki and Laufey stood startled as messenger after messenger arrived in the realm with acceptances to the event. 

“We cannot deal with this many, can we?” Helbindi looked at the sheer number of names in front of them as Loki revealed the list to his brothers. “The palace is not nearly big enough.”

“And we cannot grow it in the time required to do so.” Loki agreed. “But to tell them that the invitation must be rescinded, that is something that cannot happen either. We are between two fires and we are about to get burned.” 

His brothers did not know what to say, neither could think of something to assist. “What does your mate think?”

“I have not seen her to discuss it with her. All I see every so often is half concerned Jotnar looking at me in a manner to suggest they came in contact with her and are uncertain of what to say or do.” 

“Why do you allow her to be so?” Býleistr asked. “Surely you should tell her to cease such attitudes.” “Leist, I am not sure how you are with your mates, how you wish to carry your relationships with them is not my concern, I will say, however, that Ella is not one to be told what to do in the manner you speak and I can assure you, I would never wish for her to be another way.” Loki insisted. “She is her own being and her manner in dealing with those who think little of her is by far some of her best qualities.” 

“I think you to love her.” Loki looked at Býleistr, startled by both his statement and his facial expression at the mere thought of it. “Do you?” “Why do you look so repulsed at the idea of such?” Helbindi asked their older brother. “I mean, yes, she’s different, but she’s not hideous, far from it.” “She’s so...pale and her hair...you said before she has hair on other parts of her also.” Býleistr shuddered slightly at the thought of such. “To me, that sounds vile.”

Loki felt guilty when he recalled that Ella had been aware of his less than gentlemanly manner of speaking about her just after their first night together. “This is my mate you are speaking of.” He had not intended to growl his words so viciously at his brother but Býleistr’s words of disgust added to his old guilt made him angry. “Don’t you dare speak of her in such a manner.” Loki did not even know how he came to be holding Býleistr against the wall, his balled fist against his chest. 

Býleistr’s eyes grew wide with shock. He had not expected Loki to react in such a manner. “I…” “Loki, you know Býleistr has two functioning brain cells. Don’t beat up your brother as we prepare to deal with inter-realm guests, it doesn’t look good if the oldest looks half beaten to ice-chips.” Helbindi turned to Býleistr. “And you, you moron. The next time you dare insult one of our mates, remember that we will both round on you, then have Greta tell Alma what you said, or do you forget our father teaching us to learn the effects of our words? Idiot. I would love to hear her throw you out of your own rooms. Ella may not be something you find attractive, that does not give you the right to insult her.” 

“Fine, I’m sorry. I am sorry I offended you and your mate.” Loki stepped back when Býleistr apologised. “At least you know I am not interested in her?” He tried to joke to cease Loki looking at him so angrily. 

“Don’t, that’s not even funny.” Helbindi stepped in. 

“Why do you care so much about her?” Býleistr looked at his youngest brother. “You practically adore her.” “I do. She is great. She’s funny, witty, cutting and caring.” Helbindi listed some of his favourites of Ella’s traits. “She speaks to Greta to assist her in any of her woes. She is a genuine friend to her and always answers any questions she has. She is good to her. Anyone who is caring to my mate and makes my brother into a soppy mess is dear to me.” “I am not a ‘soppy mess’.” Loki became indignant. 

“I see you looking at her when she is near you, especially her stomach, you are a soppy mess,” Helbindi teased. Loki’s brow furrowed, having never thought he would do such a thing. “You don’t even realise you are doing it,” He laughed. “Well, that proves it is love then.” 

Loki said nothing in return. 

* It was late when Loki returned to their rooms that night. He had been trying to organise the situation at hand with Arden, though even with great consideration, they could not come up with something. He walked into the bedroom, unsurprised to see it in darkness. He had felt the green glow of Ella’s seidr on entering the room telling him that she had known he had returned for the night. 

When he came into the bedroom, he looked over at the bed and a brow raised at seeing that Ella had taken his side of it, rolling herself into his part of the pelts too. When he came over to it, he pondered how to get her to her own side before getting into his side on the minute sliver available and gently nudged her over. What she did next startled him slightly. She moved enough to give him room before leaning on his shoulder, all entirely in her sleep. He recalled the day he woke to the sensation of being on hers, how it had comforted him, seeing her now do the same with him, the little frown on her face going to utter calm as she inhaled his scent deeply. Loki thought over Helbindi and Byleist’s words of him and his feeling for his mate that day. He looked down to her swollen stomach before looking at her face again and found himself smiling. 

It had been a peculiar time, being forced to take the Aesir princess as his mate, the manner in which their time as mates began, her fighting for her life before she fought to save their situation as mates. She had mentioned the chance of her being forced to take another as her mate, how she had worried what could come, looking at her now in the bed beside him, resting, their child growing strong within her, he felt a horrible pang in his gut at the thought of another being the one to put their child in her. He thought of the guard from Asgard, the one she had cared deeply for, before him, any other being the sire of a child with her bothered him more than he could imagine. It was a peculiar feeling. Before he had put it down to being with regards lineage, now he was forced to acknowledge that it was Ella herself he cared for. He did not wish to ever consider her with another. He knew this was a side-effect of having one mate, a closer bond but he had rubbished it before due to his lack of love for Ella but now, knowing that it was just them, that in a short time, they would be tending to a small infant. That caused him to pause. In Jotunheim, a mother nursed and tended to her own child. In Asgard, it was well known that royal children were raised by a team of staff and not their mother. He looked at Ella and wondered if she would adhere to the Aesir tradition or the Jotnar one. He worried that she would refuse to raise their child in the manner that he felt was best. Jotnar young were born in their parent’s bed, the father being the only other being present and neither parent leaving for a few days after the birth, they merely lay together, the father tending to his mate’s needs while the mother tended to the infant and allowing them to bond as a family. The idea of their child being raised so sterilely as Ella had been worried him. He read of Aesir methods and knew that Ella loved her parents and indeed, it was clear that the Allfather truly did care for his daughter, even if he had forced her to have a life that Loki was certain was not how she would have chosen for herself if she had been allowed decide herself. He fretted the idea of their child being born, her not wishing for him to be in their room for it and as soon as he was parted from her, her sending their son to be looked after by another. Such an idea put fear into him. 

He would need to discuss the matter with her at length. He hoped she would think as he did but he knew he could never force her but he hoped she would see it as he did. 

Loki had been in his own mind, worrying about everything and sending himself into worry before he was supposed to sleep which would lead to a restless night when he felt a slight nudge against him. He looked down to see Ella’s stomach against him, her head comfortably on his shoulder. Forcing the thoughts from his mind, he got more comfortable and placed his hand on her stomach, protecting his child. 

“Loki?” Ella’s voice was heavy with sleep. 

“Yes?” “You’re thinking too loudly, go to sleep. It’s late.” Loki chuckled. “I might just do that.” 

Ella nodded slightly, unable to stay awake any longer, she dozed off again, making herself more comfortable as she did so. 

With her asleep beside him and the sense of calm of having his little family safe and in their room filling him with the serenity needed to fall asleep, Loki began to drift. As he did so, however, the thought came to his mind again, he refused to admit it aloud but in his heart he knew, he cared more for Ella than he had any female before. He did not know if it could be accused of being love, but she made him feel he could be more than he thought himself capable of being. She made him feel like a better being and being around her was something he loved. He wanted to speak with her, even when he did not wish to be around anyone else. She made him feel as though he was complete. She gave him a grounding, she gave him counsel and a family of his own. He just did not know if that equated to love. He thought he knew love before but it did not feel like this. 

[comfy-whumpee]

Class Clown

He was the only person Ty ever saw smiling.

 "Had an awesome dream last night," he was whispering, grinning from ear to ear. "My cat was climbing on me, and I picked her up, and somehow under her was a second cat, and then they started kneading me. There was other stuff too but dude! I haven't dreamt about my cats for so long."

 Ty smiled, moving away a little to divert suspicion. They couldn't be seen to have an 'unprofessional' relationship with each other. The Teacher didn't like to see them talking, because that was energy that went to something other than the endless, disgusting work they were forced to do.

 Ty had stopped caring about getting mucky a while ago. Everything was filthy here, and his cell was worst of all. He hadn't been allowed to shower. There were no changes of clothes. It had become his normal way of being, and he hated that in principle, but there was nothing he could do.

  Julian's once-golden hair was a dull brown, curls flattened by sweat and dirt. His freckles had vanished under streaks of black and grey. His shoulders and arms were always swollen and mottled with bruises. And he was smiling as brightly - almost as brightly - as the day they'd met.

There was a time, before Jim and marriage and forever, that Ty would have pounced Julian. As it was, it just made him smile to see the big, unabashed grin come out at the little things.

 "Score," Julian whispered, pulling a foil-and-cellophane chocolate from underneath the counter he was sweeping around. He unwrapped the sweet and ate it with only a brief check for its quality. "Mm, fucking hell," he said, rolling his eyes back. "God, this is the best day ever."

 Ty felt his heart twist up. That was the other thing about Julian. His cheer didn't come from a lack of comprehension - it came, at least partially, from acceptance. Julian had adjusted his standards to suit his new situation, and the simple joys were found, not gained. Julian's joy seemed bittersweet, now, tainted by the recognition that Julian should have been able to see his cat, and eat chocolate, and do anything else he wanted...and this wasn't true happiness, just little tastes of better times in the empty.

 "The best day ever will be when we get free," he suggests. He keeps his eyes on the sink in front of him. He's so fucking tired of kitchens. "When I got married, and when I get free."

 Julian paused, and smiled more ruefully. "You're right. This is a shit day compared to what I used to do. Even the winter days on the site where everyone's miserable and freezing cold is better than doing this in the buff."

 Ty laughed a little, and for a time, they worked in silence. The Teacher came, watched, and left. Ty slipped away from Julian to talk to 516, who was dealing with a cloud of potent chemicals that definitely weren't safe to breathe. Ty tried to avoid talking to her when the guards were near, but once they were at a safe distance, he whispered to her that she should try and use less, because her coughing fits would be taken as slacking. She stepped away.

 Across the room, Julian signed to him, O-K?

 Ty nodded. He took over the area 516 had been attending to, and then moved off again. When attention was off him, he signed back, using the finger spelling Julian had taught him. B-A-D-A-I-R.

 Julian smirked. He tilted his head towards the guard nearest Ty. B-O.

 Ty had to drop his head to hide his smile, and turned quickly back to the work. Julian snickered quietly, and picked up a rag.

 “Something funny, 511?”

 The voice cut across the room, and everyone tensed. Julian’s laugh had turned heads, and now the Teacher was moving away from where he’d been talking to one of his employees, approaching the trainee.

 “No, sir,” Julian replied smartly, but there was insincerity in his voice, and his volume was slightly too loud. Ty knew he blamed it on his hearing aid, but he also knew that was only sometimes the truth.

 The Teacher considered him, and then his gaze moved to the area Julian had supposedly been cleaning. He narrowed his eyes. “Hands behind your back, 511,” he said, hand moving to his belt for a pair of handcuffs.

 Julian didn’t move, seemingly unaware of the guards converging around him. “I’d rather not, sir,” he said. He was even smiling. It was a handsome, charming smile, the kind that had probably gotten him out of a lot of scrapes...back when he was seen as a person.

 Ty glanced across the room, and he saw a couple of other smiles. People liked Julian. Where eyes met his, he smiled too. They were all with him in this.

 The Teacher’s attention was wholly on Julian, now. His voice had lowered dangerously. “Last chance.”

 “Speak up, sorry?” Julian tapped his ear. “Got too close to the fireworks as a kid, you know, never quite the same, can’t read lips either.”

 The Teacher looked over his shoulder, and Julian turned too, arms already rising to catch the blow aimed for his shoulder, absorbing the impact and leaving him free to parry with a fist to the guard’s gut. Ty grinned, unreservedly, and saw 516 raising a clenched fist, and 509 trying not to laugh.

 Julian laughed freely, even as more guards joined the scuffle, and half a dozen fists knocked the wind from him. He fought the whole way to the ground, and even when his arms were finally pulled behind him, he grinned into the tiled floor, blood dripping from his nose.

 “You made a bad decision, 511,” the Teacher said, this time loud enough for them all to hear. He turned to check on the rest of the trainees, and Ty schooled his expression quickly. “Would you like to apologise for disrupting training?”

 On the ground, the grin was unwavering, held tightly in the face of violence. “Worth it,” Julian announced, his voice cracked and breathless but full of energy nonetheless. After a prolonged pause, he added, “Sir.”

 “Take him to his cell,” the Teacher instructed. “He can do a few hours in hogtie and then we’ll see how he feels.”

 He’ll feel tired, Ty predicted. This wasn’t the first time. He’ll beg, after the first hour, and he’ll cry for a while, and he’ll promise to be good and take the drugs when you give them to him. He’ll be out of it for a day. Within two he’ll be back to normal. By next week he’ll have pulled something else.

 He turned back to the counter before the Teacher could notice him, and crouched down to scrub at the join between it and the tiles. Despite the public punishment, the energy in the room had changed. They weren’t all trying to so hard to be quiet.

 He’ll keep going because he wants a reaction.

 Dead hairs and grit came away under the cloth and he felt a pang of almost-deadened revulsion.

 He gets it. Not from you; he doesn’t care about that. He gets it from us. He’s the class clown and he lives to see us smile.

 He needed to think of a good story to tell when he got back to his cell. Julian would want a distraction, and it was the least Ty could do.