#love is stronger than his white trash tendencies | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brennenscolby · 4 years

Text

The Rush | Taeyong

Summary: Ruthless criminal Lee Taeyong has had his eye on you for quite a while now. After playing cat and mouse games around Neo City, what happens when he finally captures you?

Pairing: Lee Taeyong (Villian!) x reader (Hero!)

Genre: DarkFic, Demon/Psychopath AU, 2-part series

Warnings: mentions of blood/gore, guns, knives, violence, yandere tendencies, demonology, obsession, smut/bdsm (incoming chapters), handcuffs, consensual sex

————

Crazed, polychromatic eyes glowed in the shadows from afar.

He knew what he was doing.

And he knew his actions would seek you out.

You stumbled to the ground, knees aching from the unexpected shove you had sustained to the waist. Instantly, you fell into a frenzy of emotions, blurred vision following suit.

It's only been a few minutes since you arrived, and everything was already at complete disarray.

Grey clouds contorted around the dark and gloomy sky as people scrambled in random directions, senses desperately fluttering into fight or flight mode. Grabbing your aching head, you took a deep breath to calm yourself while simultaneously muffling out the overwhelming chaos from your surroundings. After a moment of simple white noise, you looked up, the sudden echo of screams and shouts yanking you away from your brief serene state.

Buildings trembled feverishly as explosions resonated down the main district of Neo City. Bloody, splayed corpses rested on the cold concrete ground, displaying the work of an evil-doer.

With realization finally sinking in, you stood up, separating yourself from the frightened bodies. Determination quickly replaced your confusion, leaving you set on holding whoever created this disaster, accountable. Stumbling about, you silently thanked your lucky stars as you had happened to be appropriately dressed for the unexpected occurrence. However, even with that in mind, you couldn't say you were happy with the ongoing destruction around you. Being a heroine, you expected the city to be at peace for at least a day, but it seemed that would never be possible. Especially when a specific someone had broken out of Neo City's most isolated asylum.

Running a plan over in your head, you backed away, startled by the abrupt shadow which had secluded your vision and disappeared just as quickly as it came. Bringing a white, gloved hand to your face, you shielded your eyes away from the burning sun to specifically target what was infront of you. Now fully paying mind to the evening sky, you squinted at the city's tallest building, spotting something a little out of the ordinary.

There, you could faintly make out a relaxed figure, one way too relaxed to have blistering explosions happening around them.

It was him.

The only man who could ever infuriate you while simultaneously making your heart painfully skip a beat.

Your breath stuttered for a second before regulating in an instant. It was clear awareness had settled upon you a little too late.

You should've known.

Sweat rolled down your temple as you grew uneasy, failing to make out what he carried from the distance. Based on this fact, you assumed he couldn't see you, -which relieved your worries for a split second-, but, karma proved you wrong, for, he was more than prepared to nonchalantly jump off a four hundred and twenty five building without breaking a single bone.

Rising to his full height, his clear, emerald and amtheyst coat fluttered behind his form, almost as if to give him a god-like appearance. The impact of his landing was enough to make heads turn, forcing terrified civilians to screech even louder than before.

He sauntered down the street as bodies rushed passed him, fear-stricken faces resisting the urge to even take a glance at his gorgeous yet deadly visual. He was psychotic, insane was what he was, and yet,

He was the man who had stolen your heart.

Blonde, chartreuse and violet hairs fluttered over his domino patterned harlequin mask from his smoothly combed up-do, plaguing you with the mystery of his true facade and who he really was. Sharp, chocolate-colored eyes bore into yours innocently, almost as if to hide away the atrocities surrounding you.

Your eyes darted down to the gun holsters around each of his sides, notably spotting poisonous bullets you were all too familiar with. From your peripheral vision, you could see his hand sneakily fall down onto a firearm, further making you feel threatened and powerless.

But none of that could compare to when he sharply proceeded towards you.

Placing a white gloved hand onto your hip, you sleathily pulled your shimmering white sword from your pouch, bringing it forward to demandly aim it his way, only for it fall flat against his strong, gloved, vice-like grip. Nonetheless, you kept a poker face on, yet, even with this, you couldn't help but feel as your blood ran cold in alarm. The criminal clicked his teeth in annoyance, before rolling his neck around, the action being similar to that of a snake coiling it's tail. You grunted in response, already irritated with the first few seconds of your interaction. Your teeth brushing painfully close to each other with every bit of strength you mustered as you clenched them tightly,

“What is this? A game to you?"

"Perhaps", were the first few words he spoke, aiming his hooded gaze down at you. Just the simple sound of his tone sent tremors down your spine, reminding you of the sweet affectionate words he would use excessively to get a reaction out of you, “You can end all of this, princess. And you know how",

You locked yourself into a staring match at his response, insistent on standing your ground. His eyes which had been a beautiful dark brown, turned completely black, engulfed by the demonic possession in him. Just before he could channel his own demonic necromancy, you raised a hand,

"I will never let you win. No matter what."

Your thoughts raced from your head to your mouth, faster than you could even comprehend. For a second, you almost second guessed yourself for providing an answer to his unsolicited question.

Lee Taeyong, as he called himself, narrowed his eyes at you, swallowing thickly. With the tension heightening by the second, you almost could've sworn you saw pitch black energy radiate off his form, “We'll see about that, angel", were the last words he murmured, before bringing you terror like never before.

You raced down the street, heart pounding from the adrenaline that filled your veins. All of your white energy faded away, overshadowed by the criminal's powerful aura. You knew Lee Taeyong had been mixed into some bad things, but you never thought he was a full-on demon. With that in mind, you weren't too sure of what you would do as he had you exactly where he wanted you.Crouching down against a wall, you found yourself cornered in a pitch black alleyway. Your sword, which ran useless without your abilities, left you powerless. You had nothing to defend yourself aside from the last bits of fate and hope you clung onto.

A dark chuckle chastised you, only growing stronger and louder as it neared your cowering form, “I know where you are, my love. There's no point in hiding."

His shadow stretched across the brick wall adjacent to him, forming what seemed to look like a creature with horns, rather than the human he was reported to be. You stood from the hidden spot, finding the least bit of strength to stand your ground against him, even without abilities to aid. Just as you moved into a fighting stance, his footsteps suddenly ran quiet, leaving behind an ominous silence. Slowly but surely, you turned your head around, only to find the psychopath directly behind you. Your body suddenly pressed against the brick wall you had hidden behind, his own firm chest possessively trapping the rest of your torso from escape. His cold, gloved hands snaked around your waist, holding you steadily and firmly in place, “Found you", he uttered, that mysterious, glowing masked face of his, dangerously close to yours. The onyx of his eyes reflected demonic possession as the rest presented small specks of red, hinting at promiscuous intent,

"Hide and seek was never really a challenge with you, sweetheart", You twitched in surprise, feeling as his soft lips, just gently, but swiftly, pressed against the cold skin between the juncture of your neck and shoulder. His mask slightly grazed your cheek, creating a warming sensation followed by the heavy breathing of his hot breath grazing your throat,

“And it would never be", he whispered ominously. His hands rested gently on your hips, before greedily gripping the skin to pull you even closer. Just before you could close your eyes and give into his desires, you shoved him back, sending seeps of white energy burning into his skin from your touch. He hissed, clutching his shoulder with a strangled grunt. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, you reached out, smacking a hard hand across the brick wall before rounding the corner at an impeccable pace and darting off to your safe spot as quickly as possible.

A/N: Feel free to leave comments (including how trash it might’ve been) ^_^

#taeyong x y/n #taeyong x you #yandere taeyong #nct taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fic #taeyong lee #lee taeyong #ty lee #ty track #nct #nct 127 fic #nct 127 #lee Taeyong x reader #Taeyong lee x reader #Taeyong x reader #taeyong nct #villian taeyong #villian

92 notes · View notes

ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 4 years

Note

If the Quidditch mates were to be recruited, how do imagine they would do? Such as, which group would they be paired with, how would they contribute, can they keep quiet about their secret group, and if they meet Alanza, how would she get along with them?

Oh, thank you very much. This is a fun one.

Murphy my boy, I love you. I do. But if even Badeea can’t keep the Circle a secret, there’s no way you would be able to. Talkative Bae would blab the secret within a week, or if he didn’t, he’d make cryptic comments that obviously allude to him and the others being up to something. He is, after all, the totally impartial Quidditch commentator. On the other hand, I think his tendency toward tactics and abilities in gauging probably would be a real lifesaver for the Circle. He could weigh in on different plans and help amend or edit them to be smarter. He would be the brains of the group. He’d definitely go over to the same group as Andre, or Penny when Andre’s not available, because I’m #Snitchpin trash, but so is Murphy. The only issue would be would be with the Circle’s chain of command. I feel like Ben probably wouldn’t take Murphy that seriously, though they’d get along better than Murphy and Merula. I just think she’d disregard his statistics and have no patience for him. I mean, you already know the first thing he’d do would be to hyper-analyze how low her skill level actually is, from a statistical point of view, of course. Bonus points if MC has a painful flashback to when Rowan nervously listed off all of the witches who were stronger than Merula on the day they all met. Finally, Alanza. Damn, I think they’d be really good friends, actually. I think they compliment each other well. Murphy always has trivia ready, but he’s also down to go on adventures and get involved. He’s Alanza’s perfect questing buddy.

Orion, oh god do they need you. It honestly sucks that he’s probably graduated by this point because MC needs his wisdom at this point more than ever. Pretty much everyone does. Hell, I’d say his main role on the Circle could be emotional support. So many of the members, especially the main players, need some therapy plain and simple. Orion would be the best they could do, but they could do a lot worse. In particular, I can see Talbott, Ismelda, and Beatrice gravitating to him. He could weigh in on the bigger decisions as well, since MC would absolutely trust his judgment. But he wouldn’t help with tactics, he would provide the moral scope. Offer different perspectives for the Circle to consider. Points of view. Oh, and I also think him definitely being of age would be helpful in it’s own right. He and Bill could be designated as sub-group “leaders” that have more access than the typical Hogwarts student. They could take independent jobs outside of the school. They could both come on the Knockturn Alley meeting plan. I genuinely don’t know how Ben and Merula would feel about Orion, but if there’s one thing I know - he would be the best of the Quidditch trio at keeping the Circle of Khanna a secret. He’s definitely tactful enough to be good about that. Damn, he talks in riddle so much that even if he wanted to expose the Circle point blank, most people probably wouldn’t know what he was trying to say. Not sure how close he would be to Alanza, but I just get the feeling that she would 100% understand him. People would be baffled by his metaphors and she’d think he was just speaking straight-forward.

Alright, you all knew she was coming. Let’s talk about Skye. While it would be easy to say that she’d blow everything and run the Circle into the ground, and then just call it a day...I mean, MC and the others are already pretty much doing that, though I hate to say it. There isn’t much damage Skye could do that hasn’t been done already. While she could easily blab about the secret, I still see Murphy doing that sooner. I also don’t see her getting that committed to the Circle or wanting to be involved since she’s so dedicated to Quidditch. But if she did, she would probably hang out with Penny, and/or any characters that were in MC’s respective House. Like, Penny is at least someone that she knows, however vaguely. As for her role, I think Skye would be muscle. She’d volunteer to go on missions and get into the action in ways that Orion and Murphy don’t. I could see her being the first in line to do some Whomping Willow dodging because it’s just like bludger dodging. Credit where it’s due, she’s athletic and I bet she could procure that mysterious note all on her own. I also believe she’d charge right into that obvious trap, but again, MC is doing that without her help. I bet Skye would draw her wand on the Wizard in White. She’d lose, but she’d go down fighting. I sorta feel like she and Alanza would get along initially, but gradually realize they have very little in common and drift apart.

#Skye Parkin #Orion Amari #Murphy McNully #The Circle of Khanna #Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery #HPHM Quidditch #I just realized Rath could technically count now #But we still know so little about her #That Im not sure what she would do

9 notes · View notes

scribe-of-maat · 5 years

Text

Pat Was Not Used: Raising Dion Theory

SPOILERS ABOUND

I’ll never forget an interview I watched where the actress for the girlfriend in Get Out said white people would come up to her and go, “Oh your character in the movie! It was just awful. But, she wasn’t really evil right? Her parents brainwashed her?”

And she’s like, “No! She was an evil, racist POS! C’mon lady!”

Seeing this theory brought that interview back into mind in a big way. I mean, you can have your own theories, and the author does say multiple times they’re not excusing Pat... but the nature of even entertaining that theory means you kinda are.

Pat’s a serial killer. I want to start with that. He’s a Nice Guy serial killer who would murder his own godson if it meant he got to live a little bit longer. Who’s love for Dion, in the end, was conditional (if it was even real towards the end) and only extended as far as Dion’s usefulness to him and he was willing to do ANYTHING to save himself. Including killing the object of his Nice Guy affections.

This person’s theory has a couple of key points that I myself don’t see in the story and seem to only exist to try separating Pat from his actions. Namely:

Everyone has the Sickness, not just Pat. We can see over the course of the season this isn’t the case. Electro-Invisi Grandma didn’t possess this sickness. Brayden’s dad didn’t possess this sickness. Mark didn’t possess this sickness. It was only Pat, probably because he’s a bad person deep down.

The Crooked Man is a separate entity. Again, I don’t see anything to support this in the story. Pat’s powers are a lot STRONGER than everyone else’s, yes, and they give him the ability to transform, but at no point do we get the impression he’s not in control of his own thoughts or actions. Yes, he had the initial flare up of his powers, the same way Mark and Dion and his first murder victim do, but by the time of S1 he’s fully in control, like all of the other powered people we see. We see from his perspective multiple times and again, nothing to indicate he’s not in control.

Mark’s Energy Speech. The one thing that might lend the most credence to this, but still falls flat for me. We see the thundercloud possess Brayden, but this could simply be another one of Pat’s powers and the thundercloud his ghost form, like his murder victims’ literal ghost forms. Almost the first scene we have of Brayden is his father scolding him for his violent tendencies, and then we see his invasion of Electro-Invisi Grandma’s memories and lashing out when things don’t go his way. Pat/Pat’s powers probably chose Brayden because he’s as maladjusted as Pat was.

Basically, Pat is trash and there’s no reason to bend over backwards to try saying it wasn’t really him. He was the villain--never, ever a victim. His whole reason for serial killing, to save his own life? Hugely selfish, ultimately a dead end (he’d eventually run out of powered people and then he just genocided everyone for nothing) and would absolutely not fly in the superhero comics he loves so dearly.

#raising dion #raising dion spoilers #pat raising dion

115 notes · View notes

raiders-r-us · 6 years

Text

Headcanons-How Gage Feels About the Other Companions

Cait- Doesn't get along with her at all if he meets her before she gets clean, sees her as just another junkie commonwealth raider type.

If he meets her after she's clean, he has a quiet respect for her, since she worked to better herself. Her constant drinking annoys the hell out of him though. She wants to fight him every time she's drunk and he's within eyesight; he's not interested in a fight that doesn't end up with someone's guts on the floor and their money in his pocket. He figures Sole wouldn't be too happy with him if that happened to Cait.

Curie- It's not a secret that the idea of synths creeps him the hell out, but with Curie it's a whole new level. It's one thing to build a person in a lab, you can almost forget they weren't born like normal people; but Curie started out as a robot. What does that say about humanity if you can take a programmed personality and slap it in a human shell? Doesn't help that she's so damn nice all the time. "Monsieur Gage, if I may, perhaps I could help you with your eye." He shudders every time he hears that accent, and he avoids her like the plague. He is not at all pleased if Sole forces him to see her when he's sick.

Preston Garvey- Hahahahaha fuck you.

Danse- Gage and Danse don't get along at all and it's very mutual. Danse is quick to dismiss Gage as just another piece of raider scum. Considering Gage's thoughts on the Brotherhood, he thinks Danse ought to look in the mirror before he goes pointing fingers.

If Gage is romanced by a Fem!Sole, Danse makes him very insecure. The "white knight" military man probably has more in common with Sole's late husband than a busted up old raider ever could.

Codsworth- Gage does not like robots; especially creepy robot butlers with stupid accents. He thinks it's super annoying the way he nannies Sole; and he'll probably break his fist on a wall if the damn thing compares him to Sole's husband one more time. He'd smash the damn thing and scrap it for parts if it were up to him, but for some reason Sole considers it a comfort to keep around.

Deacon- Gage, for all his faults, is not a liar; and he can't stand liars. He doesn't trust Deacon half as far as he could throw him, and it drives him crazy that Sole does. He's forever keeping a cautious eye on the railroad spy, waiting for some shifty shit to go down.

Dogmeat- Gage tries to act all tough and indifferent to the "mutt" at first, but soon falls in love with man's best friend. When he thinks no one's looking, he even sometimes shares his food with Dogmeat. Sole has caught him more than once passed out curled up on the couch with fluffbutt over there.

Hancock- Hates him at first; chem downing junkie ghoul that he is. Gage warms up to him though, as he realizes that Goodneighbor is a thriving town that doesn't judge, and Hancock worked his ass off to make it that way. He respects and identifies with the need to walk away from family when they make a choice you just can't respect.

He does wish he'd stop offering Sole chems though.

MacCready- Gage just can't believe a word MacCready says about his past. A cave full of kids who kick people out once they grow up? Nope, too weird, not buying it. Because of this, he doesn't believe a word the young mercenary says, and feels about the same for him as he does for Deacon.

Nick Valentine- Resents the hell out of him. Sole looks up to this guy-robot-synth-thing like a father figure; and like any prewar father figure, Nick doesn't have many nice things to say about a guy like Gage. Gage finds it hard to look at Nick, he freaks him out almost as much as Curie does, just in reverse. This obviously robotic looking thing has the mind and memories of a prewar lawman, it's not just programming, he used to be a person...but what the hell is he now? Creepy, if you ask Gage.

Piper- Oh God just so damn annoying. Does she ever shut up? Not every cause matters, and his business certainly doesn't belong in a fucking newspaper for all to read. He hates it when Sole indulges her with tales of their exploits. Gage thinks if Piper REALLY wanted to keep her sister safe, she'd worry more about combat training than journalism. Piss the wrong person off and kiss your family goodbye; and Piper doesn't take any care in who she pisses off. What's more important? He'd like to ask her. Your family, or the scoop?

Strong- When he first meets Strong, Sole narrowly stops Gage from killing him on sight. At first, all Gage sees is a goddamn fucking mutie. Gage and Strong form something of a strange and unlikely friendship, full of lots of boasting and chest slapping. Gage takes an interest in Gatorclaw hunting, he likes bringing back trophies to rub in the mutant's big dumb green face.

X6-88- At first, Gage trusts him about as much as he trusts the institute as a whole...which isn't saying much. Surprising to himself though, he finds himself on weirdly good terms with the courser. Not too many of Sole's companions can relate to Gage's quiet, somewhat calculating disposition; he appreciates X6's tendency to leave him alone. He also appreciates how X6 judges by skill, not by a warped sense of black and white morality. Neither of them are very fond of words, so the extent of their communication is a friendly nod of the head in passing.

Longfellow- Gage sits in childlike wonder when Longfellow tells the stories of his youth and the sea. He wouldn't admit it, but he sees Longfellow as the strong father figure he wished he had in his own youth. Usually Gage doesn't give a shit what people think of him, but it cuts him deep when Longfellow looks at him with disappointment upon finding out about Gage's position as a raider. Longfellow's life actually makes him consider leaving it all behind; running off to a secluded and inhospitable wilderness to build a life with Sole away from all the bullshit. Something to consider anyway.

Preston Garvey for real this time- It's no secret that there is heated animosity between the two, but Gage can't help but note the similarities between them. They both placed Sole in charge, taking a back seat as second in command; both of them with a fire in their hearts to accomplish their goals. Garvey's goal however, is futile to Gage. The commonwealth, and the wasteland as a whole, is just not a peaceful place. There will always be a bigger badder monster or stronger force of manpower lurking around the corner to fuck up your day; sending in Sole to rescue people who don't even have what it takes to stand up for themselves does nothing in the long run. Gage usually prefers to keep his distance from Garvey and his holier than thou speeches, but he always tags along when Sole goes to speak to him. He's not above knocking Garvey's teeth in if he tries to trash talk him to Sole again.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions #gage #porter gage #nuka world #headcanons #cait #curie #codsworth #danse #deacon #hancock #maccready #old longfellow #dogmeat #preston garvey #piper #strong

137 notes · View notes

flying-elliska · 5 years

Text

S3 Rewatch - Episode 2 - Vendredi 19h34 “Surprenant”

I really was looking forward to see if I could write anything new about this scene and like ...of course I can, I could write a whole ass essay about it. So here goes. (it’s a long one sorry lmao)

The first few seconds set the scene perfectly. The scratchy white noise of the vinyl after it’s done ; the low golden lighting, the smoke Eliott blows in the air, the sated expressions on their faces - that feeling of perfect contentment you get when you are perfectly at ease being with someone, even in silence. Lazy afternoons where time just seems to disappear, the feeling of being high, skipping your obligations, taking time for yourself - makes the clip feel somehow nostalgic, timeless and expectant all at once. Something has happened in the time between last clip and now, because they’re suddenly much more comfortable with each other. The tension is of a different kind now. The short moment where they turn their heads towards each other feels almost too intimate to witness - we’ve never seen Lucas like that before, so comfortable, letting go of outside pressure. Then he gets up to change the music and vinyl is a great prop to use because it’s so tactile, as is the piano - the fact that Lucas is touching Eliott’s instruments is both a shorthand for their newfound closeness and umm...a bold move lmao not to mention the obvious connotation. (He doesn’t even put the vinyl back in its jacket that heathen...can’t see Eliott too bothered lmao).

I laughed out loud at Eliott’s “I don’t want to impress you” because that is both a big fat lie and sort of true in the sense that he doesn’t want to intimidate Lucas but still wants him to think Eliott’s cool (and the two previous sentences were sort of a boast, still.) Beethoven and Star Wars feels like a very Eliott type of mix. Fur Elise is a sad but beautiful piece, that the compositor apparently dedicated to a female friend he proposed to but turned him down (?) That fits with Eliott’s tendency for pessimism and melancholy. On the other hand the Star Wars theme is playful and hopeful and geeky ; I looked up how it sounds on the piano and it’s absolutely adorable, like it was made to be a Porg lullaby. The way Eliott talks about it, slightly ironic (plus the Star Wars theme is pretty simple and Fur Elise is often played by dabblers) makes it sound like he probably taught himself a few pieces on a piano that was already in the house, as a party trick. I see Eliott appreciating this type of music, but maybe not having the persistence and discipline that getting actually good at classical demands. (And I don’t see his parents being around to push him either.) Maybe he tried and gave up or figured it wasn’t for him, which would give his admiration for Lucas’ playing a new dimension, like he knows how hard it is and brings him something he doesn’t have (but alright, I’m reaching a bit here).

Lucas plays a few notes and Eliott teases him again about also having a triangle if he wants. Is he trying to find his bearings again after not having played for a while ? Is he also teasing ? Is he nervous, careful ? We can see him nod ever so slightly once he gets it and starts to play faster, like he’s happy to come back to this piece. The actual piece of piano by RIOPY starts fast right from the beginning but I like that they start slower here ; the whole piece is a beautiful metaphor for their relationship - starts hesitant and slow, withholding, and then the notes become deeper and the passion moves in all at once and it’s like he almost can’t contain it ? But you can also hear the effort it takes ? The emotion is just perfect for the story and I am so impressed at Axel learning it from scratch. I wonder in what context Lucas learned it. With the title and the emotion behind it, was he dreaming of having someone to adress it to ?

Then we have, for a brief moment, Eliott’s perspective as he sits up with a look of disbelief, amazement and then enthusiasm. And how fitting is it, really, that the first time we ever get his worldview is the exact moment he falls in love. Plus the perspective crossing adds to the impression of connection of the moment. And the way Lucas is framed from Eliott’s perspective - the light behind him gives him a halo. We go on this whole emotional journey in a few seconds with Eliott, falling in love with Lucas too. First it’s pure surprise as his eyes zoom in, like he’s just automatically drawn to get closer, to pay attention, cutting through the haze (of weed, but also his life). Then it’s awe as he just lets himself realize how amazing this boy he’s developped a crush on really is, and for a few seconds he looks almost fragile, almost like it’s too much. Then finally he smiles and it’s just the joy of the music and Lucas sharing it with him. Maxence just absolutely nails this crucial moment (and also this is the prettiest he is all season tbh fight me ; how fitting. Eliott is a ‘lover of life’ - love would make him the most beautiful, too.)

Why does this moment feel so special apart from how well it’s acted and filmed ? Well, from what we’ve seen so far from Lucas, it’s unexpected. We know that he’s clever, that he can be very manipulative, that he’s repressing his sexuality, and that he’s got trouble at home, that he’s closed off and trying very hard to pretend to be “normal”. Apart from that, there isn’t much to set him apart from the average teenage boy who likes to go out and drink beer with his mates and say slightly insulting stuff about girls and try a little too hard to be cool. So far, we can all empathize with him, but we don’t know that much positive stuff about him, to be honest. The piano scene is the first clue of how much there truly is under the surface. It’s a step away from the macho player image he’s careful to cultivate ; it’s a sign that he does have somewhat of an artistic, sensitive temperament. It’s the first revelation about him that feels wholly positive, unburdened by shame, and yet highlights how fake his closed off daily demeanour is. It’s a clue that he’s not only repressing the fact that he’s gay but a whole world of emotions, how caring and sensitive he can be - because of how rough life has been for him the past few years - social clichés, the pressure, the stuff with his family disintegrating, the homophobic jokes around him for not being masculine enough or liking ‘gay music’, how lonely and confused he must be. This season, in short, is not only about Lucas accepting he’s gay, but about himself opening up and growing into his own person, someone both strong and compassionate, bold and sensitive, defining himself beyond clichés or the heritage of his asshole father, stepping beyond his insecurities, to become his own man. That’s what the piano scene represents and why it will always be god tier. Oh and also : it’s an offering for Eliott. He’s taking a chance here, too, and the joke he makes when he’s done...it’s almost he’s expecting to be mocked so he does it himself. I would bet that his piece of shit father probably said something about piano being too effeminate at least once. That’s kind of heartbreaking. It’s also a clue to how safe he must feel with Eliott, or at least how strongly he wants to, well, impress him to take that risk. He’s seen Eliott’s drawings and he wants to say hey me too I can be artsy !!! And his intuition is so spot on. We know Eliott’s been making drawings about them already, that he’s a romantic daydreaming about finding love stronger than fear. He’s a pessimist because of his condition and yet he really wants to believe that his emotions can be valid (that’s a key part of his arc in the season) and he can find love. So then he met Lucas ; it must have felt like love at first sight but he must also have told himself, what if this is fake, what if it’s just a random obsession, what if what if, he doesn’t even know him, what if he’s a crappy person, etc. So to discover that Lucas is actually so brilliant, and that they can connect over art, that they share this sensitivity about beauty and meaning, about wanting life to be more, and that Lucas is brave enough to reach out, and just the amount of feeling in that short piece...it must have felt so validating, and like destiny, too (we know it’s a word he will use for Lucas later). I think this is probably when Eliott really started to believe that Lucas could be his Polaris story. It’s already a ‘you’re not alone’ moment, too.

So that scene is absolutely key in both their story arcs and their relationship. But it’s not over ! There is an awkward moment moment after Lucas is done because it feels like he’s given too much, too soon - but Eliott catches him like in a trust fall, he says yes, this meant something, it was amazing, it was surprising and I like surprising people - like I said, Eliott wanting to surprise people to test them and loving to be surprised in turn says so much about him as a character. And then the touch at the door, how did Lucas and we with him not collectively die on the spot. Because that was absolutely unambiguously a mark of interest. Love the idea that Eliott is trying not to kiss him but I also feel like he felt kind of bad for kicking Lucas out and he wanted him to know he was really interested and it was not just a buddy hang because like...in that particular context that’s just not something you do with a buddy aahhahaha. Love how the shot is framed with Eliott standing in the dark, Lucas in the light, and Lucas’ little shocked smile when the door closes.

And then drama. Chloé is such an overdramatic teen, god - a guy she’s talked to twice stands her up and she’s like “men are trash” hgdfhgd...But it is an apt parallel with Eliott kissing Lucille. It is such a slap in the face after the earlier intensity but also like. Eliott is such a dumbass in that moment, how did he not see Lucas standing there ? To me, it means that in his head, Lucas and Lucille really are separated - Lucille is his safety net and he kisses her a little bit without thinking, automatically. The whole Lucas thing is in another world, scary and thrilling and uncertain and so he doesn’t want to give up his safety net yet. It’s ...not super healthy tbh. It’s kind of a pattern with him, of not being honest out of fear and i don’t like it, but at the same time, coming from his perspective, it is somewhat understandable. He just lives with a different set of stakes. I’m not excusing it, but yeah. Poor Lucas though.

Previous clip

#skam france #s3 rewatch #it's overinterpretation time !!!

39 notes · View notes

karenhikari · 6 years

Text

You Are My Sunshine

Summary: It was an insane idea, but perhaps, Blitzen thought to himself, he could be the one to bring the sun to Nidavellir for this elf. And maybe, just maybe, he was doing much more than simply saving an elf's life. Spoilers for all three of the books.

Hello, hello, hello! Remember all those months ago when I said that you could expect a Blitzstone story from me soon? I messed up. Of course I messed up. This story has been sitting on my desk for weeks, ready to be published, but school mercilessly consumed whatever leisure time I had. So, it wasn't until now that I could find the time to publish this little something.

Without further ado, please read and enjoy!

You Are My Sunshine

–*–*–

You are my sunshine, My only sunshine.

–*–*–

If someone had told Blitzen that, one day, he would share his house with an elf, he would have laughed. After all, elves were creatures of light and sun, of green fields that smelled like dew drops and pine needles. The mere idea that one of those beings would ever set foot in Nidavellir was absurd. So no, Blitzen had never spared more than a vague thought for those aurous creatures.

However, Destiny had a tendency to work in bizarre ways and, somehow, Destiny had dropped ―literally dropped― Hearthstone in the dwarfen realm.

The day he met the elf started normally to say the least. Blitzen had woken up at around noon. He'd invested a considerable amount of time in getting dressed and tidying up his bedroom, making it around one in the afternoon when he finally got to the kitchen to fix himself breakfast.

He had ―with much reluctancy, let it be said― accepted that it was time to go grocery shopping. Sighing, Blitzen prepared an insipid plate of scrambled eggs and didn't even bother to clean up the dining room before he grabbed his keys and left the house.

Unfortunately, the son of Freya never made it to the grocery store.

Blitzen had only walked two or three blocks when something caught his attention. Certainly, Blitzen was not the kind of dwarf that walked straight into an alley or that peeked into a rubbish bin. However, just as he walked around a corner, a strange sound escaped the metallic coffins of a dumpster, and he couldn't help it.

Naturally, Blitzen knew all the obvious rules for staying alive―don't walk alone into what could very well be a trap, don't go unarmed into an unknown territory, do not trust your surroundings and follow your gut. To summarize―don't do stupid shit.

On the other hand, the noise he'd heard wasn't the growling of a big animal or the clinging of swords. Rather, it sounded like a weakened whimper.

It would have been so easy to merely keep walking, to hush the tiny voice that told Blitzen to turn around and check what had uttered such a small sound. It would have been so simple to ignore the thought that urged him to follow his hunch and drown it in his grocery list, to focus on the carton of milk he still had to buy. Regrettably, Blitzen had inherited a sense of curiosity of both of his parents. Whenever an idea wormed its way into his head, he couldn't let it go. And so, Blitzen didn't turn the next corner in his trip to the store, for he turned on his heels and walked straight into the dead-end alley.

As soon as he walked closer to the trash can, it became obvious that the metallic dumpster was where the snivel he'd heard had come from. Usually, the son of Freya would not have gone anywhere near a pile of garbage. This time, however, curiosity got the best of him and he promptly stood closer to the bin, careful not to touch anything.

His resolution did not last for too long. As soon as he was able to take a peek into the dumpster, he recognized the whimpering creature. Shivering and surrounded by trash bags the same color of his outfit, laid a clearly unconscious elf.

There was no mistake―it had to be one of the inhabitants of Alfheim. Hair so blond it was almost white, delicate yet sharp features, snowy skin that Blitzen supposed looked even paler than usual at the moment, since he hadn't seen the sun in the gods knew how long. Blitzen had never met an elf, but he damn right knew what they looked like, and the creature in front of him sure as Helheim was an elf.

And a rapidly fading, sick-looking elf, at that.

There was a reason why elves stayed out of Nidavellir and dwarves only ever traveled to Alfheim in old tales. Doing otherwise could kill them. It was because of that reason that Yggdrasil was divided into different worlds to start with. Elves and dwarves could not coexist, it was absurd to even consider it. So, either that elf was trying to get himself killed, or he had ended in Nidavellir by mistake.

A few hours later, Blitzen would ask himself what had motivated him to practically jump into a trash can bin so that he could push an unknown elf out of it. He was not sure of how he had managed to drag the elf to his apartment without calling someone's attention either. Perhaps the reason for that obliviousness was merely that his neighbors were used to his bizarre ways by that time and knew better than to ask him what he was doing.

Getting the elf to his apartment was only half problem. The elf was still unconscious and he kept shaking. Blitzen was not an expert. In fact, he was as far of an elf healthcare expert as one could get, but he was pretty sure that elves could only last a couple of days without their beloved sun, and if this elf's state was anything to go by, he was dangerously approaching the last hours of his second day.

As soon as he got the elf into his home, Blitzen paced around his apartment, promptly collecting every single blanket he possessed. He then proceeded to drop them on the benumbed elf in a desperate attempt to help him keep whatever warmness his body still had.

Blitzen had never seen an elf before and, quite frankly, the wounded, whimpering young man in front of him seemed nothing like the majestic creatures he'd read about. Instead, the person lying in his couch only seemed weakened, hypothermic and wounded. For some reason, Blitzen felt an even stronger drawn to him than he would have, had he met an overwhelming, luminous elf instead.

The gods knew how that elf had ended in Nidavellir. However it had been, Blitzen was not about to let him die in his own living room. It was clear that the elf was much too weakened for Blitzen to even try to make him travel through Yggdrasil, though that did not mean that instead of taking the elf to the sun, Blitzen could not bring the sun to the elf.

It was an insane idea, yet a plausible one, and Blitzen was short of other options.

Perhaps, Blitzen thought to himself ―and it was a very vague 'perhaps' indeed―, he could be the one to bring the sun to Nidavellir for this elf.

–*–*–

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

It was almost ironic, that, in the same way that Blitzen had managed to steal an artificial drop of sun to keep Hearthstone alive while in Nidavellir, Hearth was now returning the favor by endeavoring himself in burning the kenaz rune above his head in the middle of Niflheim. On one hand, Blitzen was beyond proud of the skill level Hearth had accomplished. Not so long in the past, his elf had only managed to summon the power of one rune for a few seconds before he passed out. Now, Hearth had calmly wielded the power of the torch rune for an extended period of time while managing to remain almost unfazed, with the added challenge of the inhospitability of the field they were in.

On the other hand, however, Blitzen was also extremely concerned. Hearthstone's skin, snowy-white on a good day had gone almost transparent from the cold and the effort. His lips, instead of the rouge color Blitzen knew to be a healthy one for his friend had turned crepe pink, and green veins peppered his hands and cheeks, emphasizing the translusence of his skin.

The cold was so intense that Blitzen could hardly feel Hearthstone's hands between his own, as both of them clung on to the blanket that covered their bodies. The action, useless as it was, gave him something else to think about.

He'd told Magnus that the two of them would be the last of them to succumb to death, although he was more than aware that such knowledge was of no comfort. If anything, the one thing that gave the son of Freya some sort of vague relief was the certainty that he would die cradling Hearthstone in his arms. Even if that meant he would have to feel him grow colder with each passing second, to the point where it was as if he were holding ice cubes instead of his friend's hands.

At least, in the end, he would have Hearthstone to cling on to.

–*–*–

You'll never know, dear How much I love you. Please don't take My sunshine away.

–*–*–

Ever since Hearthstone had met Blitzen, he'd known the dwarf had some outlandish ideas. Being around the son of Freya was bizarre on a regular basis. As an example of the heartwarming oddity that came so naturally to Blitzen, Hearth could quote the fact that he was still alive at the moment. After all, what other dwarf in the Nine Realms would have done what Blitz had upon a half-dead elf lying on the street? None other, that was which―none.

Not only had Blitzen picked him up and taken him to his own house, no. The son of Freya had also spent that afternoon and the better part of the consequent night working, until he completed another one of his crazy ideas―a sort of tanning bed that emitted a white light that felt as pleasant and warm on his skin as the sun rays.

Blitzen could have easily kicked him out after that. He could have sold off his design of the tanning bed for mountains of red gold. He could have, at the very least, asked Hearthstone to pay him rent. Instead, the son of Freya let out a fruity laugh whenever Hearth mentioned any of those things.

"You are still too weak to leave, my friend," he had brushed off every single time Hearth suggested that it was time he returned to where he'd come from. "This house is big enough to keep us both comfortably, there is no need for you to leave."

The one and only time Hearth had proposed Blitzen began selling either the design of the tanning bed or the artifact itself, the dwarf's features had darkened. "I don't need their money," he'd said. "I made the bed for you and that's it. I wanted to save you. They wouldn't understand that."

Eventually, Blitzen had resorted to several excuses and illegitimate reasons to make Hearthstone stay. First, he'd told Hearth that he couldn't leave until he had taught Blitzen proper ASL.

To be completely honest, Hearth had not believed Blitzen's interest at first. He'd thought it was merely something the son of Freya had said, although he did not necessarily mean it. Something that was not like the other elves' glares of contempt or like his parents' open despise, albeit it held the same meaning. At the time, Hearthstone had thought nothing of Blitzen's proposition. It was something the dwarf had said out of pity, a poignant offering, an attempt to make him feel better about his deafness.

However, Blitz had learned. He'd sat in front of Hearthstone every afternoon for months on end, genuinely paying attention to the elf's corrections. Less than six months after Hearth had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen was already capable of holding a fluent conversation in ASL. Blitz rarely spoke using his voice when they were alone, and they were alone for the most part.

Still, Blitz had not let him leave then either. The reason he had offered then was still plausible, albeit a little risible too―Hearth was the only one out of the two who could cook to save his life.

Inge had taught him how to handle himself around the kitchen, despite the fact that she always insisted that he left in the most polite of ways. She said that he did not need to learn such things, that they were below him. The truth was, Hearthstone actually enjoyed cooking. He had to pay close attention to the measures of the ingredients, to the correct order of the steps, to the times. It gave him something to keep his mind busy, something where it didn't matter if he could listen or talk.

It had proven to be a valuable ability while he stayed in Nidavellir, seeing as taking care of the kitchen was the one chore Blitzen allowed him to do. No matter how many times Hearth reassured him he was fine and that he could do something as simple as sweeping or doing some laundry, Blitz insisted. Hearth was a guest, he said, and he would not allow him to work.

Finally, when Hearth had dared suggest Blitzen collected rent from him, nearly a year after the elf had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen's instant reaction had been to frown. "Excuse me?" he'd asked, forcing Hearthstone to repeat himself. Although that was mostly etiquette, as Blitz proceeded to interrupt him midsentence, grasping Hearth's wrists. It was then that the dwarf turned to raise an eyebrow at his friend. Slowly, Blitzen readjusted the position of his hands, until they were holding Hearth's.

"Honestly?" he'd smiled, mouthing the words so he didn't have to let go of Hearth. "I like having you here. I really enjoy your company. I think… I think there's a reason why you fell on Nidavellir rather than any of the other worlds. You told me that you didn't want to go back to Alfheim. Then don't do it. The doors of my home are open for you, as long as you need or want to stay here. The gods know that I had felt loneliness creep around the corners of this house before you showed up. So, really, if the reason you want to leave is that you don't want to be a problem or to cause me an inconvenience, I'm telling you right now that it isn't like that at all. You're my best friend, you know? If you feel comfortable staying here, then please, feel free to do so."

Ever so slowly, Blitzen let go of Hearth's hands, allowing him to sign. Even once he was free of the dwarf's restraints, Hearth took a moment to consider his answer. Finally, he exhaled a sigh and raised his eyes to meet Blitzen's.

"Do you… do you mean that?" he asked, shaking fingers drawing the words rapidly in the air.

"Every word," the dwarf confirmed. Needing to show Hearth how convinced he was of what he had said, he accompanied his speech with the movement of his hands―first, he made the thumps-up sign with his left hand at the height if his chest. He placed his right hand, doing the same gesture, behind his left one, his left thumb touching the back of his right hand. Then, the sign for 'word'―his left index extended vertically, while his right thumb and index, extended horizontally, not touching his other hand*.

Blitzen, bless his heart, had taken the time to know him so well, that he didn't add anything to those two words. Neither did he move. Instead, he tilted his head and he waited with a gentle smile on his face. Blitz didn't pressure him for an answer, much less did he demand one. And it was a good thing, as well, because by the time Hearth was certain of what he wanted to say, his hands were shaking so much that he would have found himself unable to answer anything.

Being deaf, Hearth knew better than anyone that actions spoke louder than words. Although, given his upbringing, he'd never been one to initiate physical contact. Blitzen, on the other hand… Blitzen was different. From the first day he'd been there, Blitzen had showed no qualms about taking Hearth's hands or fixing his clothes. He didn't mind hugging him or linking their arms. Of course, he wasn't bothered either when Hearth corrected the position of his fingers when he taught Blitz ASL.

For once, Hearthstone decided to follow Blitzen's example. Rather than trying to spell something out with his faltering hands, Hearth leaned forward to engulf his dwarf friend in a tight hug. It was probably the first time he initiated a touch of that kind. Unlike anything he could have expected, Blitz didn't pull back or react badly at the contact. Hearth had to tell himself that of course Blitzen would not do something like that to him. Ever since he'd met him, Blitzen had been nothing if not kind and patient to him. Instead, no more than a millisecond later, Blitz was returning the embrace. Hearth felt the vibrations of his laughter resonate through their entwined forms.

When Blitzen's laughter died down and a different, slower form of reverberation filled the space between them, Hearth had a very clear idea of what Blitz must have been saying―That's alright, bud. That's alright. He'd seen Blitz spell out those words so many times that it wasn't hard to picture his hands moving or his lips spelling out the words.

Sighing, Hearth allowed himself to hide his face in the crook of Blitzen's neck, inhaling the dwarf's familiar scent. This was home, he told himself. This strange relationship he'd built with a dwarf, this bizarre stay of his in the one world where it should have been impossible for him to survive. This was home, the one place in Yggdrasil where he was wanted, alien as that idea was to him.

In a rushed thought, Hearth sent a fast expression of gratitude to whoever god had guided his path to Nidavellir instead of any of the other worlds, to whoever had made his path cross with the one person in the Nine Realms who was selfless enough to take care of a stranger and offer him his very own house to live n.

That afternoon, nearly a year ago then, Blitzen had done much more than simply picking an unconscious elf up. He'd saved his life in more ways than Blitzed would ever know.

–*–*–

The other night, dear

When I lay sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear,

I was mistaken,

So I hung my head and cried.

–*–*–

Of the many reasons, Hearthstone had imagined he would go back to his parents' house, needing the Skofnung stone to save his best friend's life had never crossed his mind. It wasn't that he actively wanted to go back to Alfheim, but on the nights what he could not stop thinking of his parents' disdainful words, on the days when he asked himself how long it would take before Blitzen grew tired of him and asked him to leave, he wondered. He did so with dread, with a daunting emptiness in his chest and a hitch in his breath. Where would he go? Back to the humiliation his parents had subjected him to for as long as he could remember? Would he try to find a way of living in another of Yggdrasil's worlds, on his own?

Hearthstone had never been able to come up with an answer that settled the thumping between his ribs. He knew that there was no answer to that question that would ease the knot of anguish that formed in his chest whenever that thought assaulted him. And so, he prayed. He prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that Blitzen was kind-hearted enough to not send him packing, even if the day came when his dwarfen friend realized how useless he was, Hearthstone prayed that Blitzen chose to keep him. Even if it was out of pity, even if it was only an act of commiseration, he prayed.

Blitzen had not given up on him, no matter how many times Hearthstone proved he wasn't worthy of the devotion Blitzen treated him with, the son of Freya only insisted that Hearth was more talented than he gave himself credit for. Blitzen trusted him, that much was crystal clear. He counted on him with the same blind dependence with which Hearthstone had leaned on him from the day that they had met.

Hearth couldn't let him down. Not then. He couldn't fail Blitzen. It was simply not an option.

His decision had been instant. If Blitzen needed the Skofnung stone, then Hearthstone would get it for him. Blitz had done so much for him… this was the least he could do to repay him. So Hearthstone had gone back to the sumptuous residence that had always felt too cold and too indifferent to call home.

Blitz had asked him not to. Of course he had, as he frantically tried to stop the hemorrhage in his chest, always too selfless and too generous, but he didn't understand. Hearth could not lose him. He wouldn't allow himself to forsake the only one who had believed in him, the first person who had ever cherished him.

No. there was no 'maybe', there was no 'trying'. He would get the Skofnung stone for Blitzen or he would die while attempting to obtain it. There was no other possibility.

So that night, the first one he spent in his parent's house in over a decade, Hearthstone held on to the memory of Blitzen's laughter, to the way his eyes softened in his smile, and he prayed. He prayed to the All Father and to Sif and to Freya that he would be strong enough to save Blitzen's life.

–*–*–

You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

As the cold water of the shower un-prettified Blitzen, Hearthstone felt droplets of his own pool at the bottom of his eyes. However, it was not long before the water began dying with red and Hearthstone's shaking hands fidgeted, trying to find the Skofnung stone. With faltering fingers, he placed the gravel on top of the dwarf's bleeding wound. Immediately, the edges of his injury started to sew themselves together, stitching the skin back in place.

Too slowly for Hearthstone's taste, the color began returning to Blitzen's features, and his body grew limp in Hearth's arms instead of the frigid stiffness of granite. In a rapid motion, Hearth caught sight of the dwarf's lips moving, no doubt to question where they were, how he was alive, to insist that Hearth did not return to Alfheim.

He couldn't have cared less about what Blitzen was saying. Even if he had, tears clouded his vision, making it impossible for him to read the dwarf's lips. There would be time to answer all those questions later. There would be time to explain his friend what had happened.

For now, it didn't matter. For that exquisite, perfect moment, nothing else mattered. They would deal with his father later, with Andvari's ring, with Ragnarok itself if it were to come, but they would do so together. At least for those stolen minutes, the only thing important enough to be worried about was the wellbeing of the man in front of him.

So he let Blitzen know. He hugged him fiercely, clinging to him for dear life under the icy gush of water. Hearth's hands bowled into fists around the fabric of Blitzen's shirt. He felt the vibration of the dwarf's voice, his arms encircling his waist. As if by magic, the tension in Hearth's shoulders melted away, not by the art of the water, but by the steadfastness of Blitzen's embrace.

Hearth rocked them both back and forth, pulling them as close together as it was humanly possible. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of Blitzen being next to him. He was there, confused, certainly, befuddled, disoriented, but alive. Blitz was alive and Hearth was home.

There was nothing, nothing in the Nine Worlds that Hearth wouldn't have done to recover this feeling. This closeness, the simplicity with which he could limply fall into Blitzen's arms and forget about the rest of the existing world. And so, he clung to the son of Freya, and he thanked every god he could remember for allowing him to have his dwarf back, and he cried.

Not only had he paid his debt to his father that day; rather, he'd also given Blitz back a small amount of everything the dwarf had given him. In a way, Hearth supposed it could have been summarized as him saving Blitzen's life, in the same way the dwarf had saved his all those years in the past.

Nonetheless, Hearthstone knew better―Blitz might have built a machine that was able to reproduce rays as bright and warm as the sun's. However, they could not compare with the radiance or the closeness Hearth felt when Blitzen held him. And, in the same way that he had done the first time Blitz had successfully signed a full sentence without making a single mistake, Hearthstone vowed to devote his life to the one he owed it to.

–*–*–

You'll never know, dear,

How much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

–*–*–

Well... here goes nothing. This is it. I really hope you enjoyed reading this little something, because I sure enjoyed writing it.

Now, after finishing the series I was as convinced as any other that Hearth and Blitz are a married couple and Magnus didn't notice. So, of course I knew that writing a Blitzstone story would simply be a matter of time. The other day I was reading some Solangelo fanfiction and came across a story with this song. And you know how catchy this tune is, so I was trying to come up with a decent plot for Hearth and Blitz with this song still going around in my head and then... I realized that the lyrics actually worked great for this lovely couple. So... here we are now.

As for the "*", I must admit that I do not speak ASL. I really want to learn it, because it is fascinating to me, but at current time I do not speak it. I searched for those signs on the internet and then tried to describe them as best as I could. If any of them are wrong, please, please point it out to me.

Alright, it seems that this is all for today. In case any of you is reading "Tales of a Caged Animal", I hope to publish the next chapter soon. I really hoped you enjoyed this story and if you did, please leave a comemnt!

Read you soon!

#Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard #Magnus Chase #Fan fiction #MCatGoA #Hearthstone #Blitzen #Hearth #Blitz #Blitzstone #Romance #Hurt/Comfort

45 notes · View notes

glasscomets · 5 years

Text

i hated that got episode SO MUCH.

i feel unfair saying that -- i thought it was the greatest episode ever for most of it. the music was incredible, notably the night king’s theme. i thought there were a decent amount of deaths. theon and jorah had me in a puddle of tears.

four main reasons i hated it.

1. i was waiting for that showdown we’ve been teased from the beginning of jon’s character arc between him and the WWs. WE DID NOT GET IT. he doesn’t even get near the night king.

arya dealing the final blow could have been okay to me if we at least got to see jon 1v1 him. maybe the nk is too much, and arya has to intervene. but nope. even bran, the other character with a connection to the nk, did fuck all. i think it makes sense for arya to be involved - her storyline has had her train so she could be a master killer! but jon has been fighting these WWs for YEARS, and he didn’t even get to kill any WWs this ep.

and d&d’s reasoning? it’s too obvious for jon to be the hero. okay! so instead 8 seasons of buildup, with no payoff. what’s the point now? am i really supposed to believe he cares about the throne after his whole story revolved around the WWs? i feel as though they destroyed his arc.

2. arya is a master assassin now, sure, but am i really supposed to believe she snuck past all those WWs? she didn’t even put on, say, a WW face to get up close? and the night king died to a SINGLE FUCKING DAGGER? no combat. just plops dead, ggez.

i don’t think he should have shattered so easily like the rest of the WWs. it should have been more difficult.

3. the white walkers fought absolutely nobody. we had brienne. we had jaime. we had arya. we had jon. we had basically every amazing fighter alive here, and NONE OF THEM FOUGHT A DAMN WHITE WALKER

this is the equivalent of fighting trash mobs the entire hour, no mini-bosses. it’s just sad that the only time we ever will get to see a white walker in proper combat is hardhome. thinking back to hardhome is excruciatingly depressing after knowing how it all ends -- all that buildup for nothing

4. this whole series, it’s been very apparent how pointless the battle for the throne is, with the dead marching on westeros. a throne means nothing if there’s no one to sit on it. from the very first scene of the show, we see the real threat: the white walkers. the stark words, “winter is coming”, repeat throughout the show.

and.... the long night lasts a single night. so, fuck 8 seasons of buildup, am i right? it wasn’t so hard after all! now let’s focus on the REAL threat, motherfucking cersei and euron--who is by far the worst character in the show. cersei is a brilliant character, but as a villain she can’t compare to death itself, in my eyes. this bit is a bit unfair, but from reading the books and getting inside cersei’s head, you really get a sense of how incompetent she is. it’s hard to take her seriously as a real threat.

or.... it’s leading to jon vs. dany, in the end. which is even more horrendous character assassination, on a level i don’t want to imagine.

on dany’s side of it: i’m not dany’s biggest fan, but throughout the show she has demonstrated she has a heart. we saw that even in this past episode--she saved jon from the wight swarm, she helped him during the viserion fight. she has some sadistic tendencies, but is able to reign them in (see: wanting to murder jaime, being convinced out of it). so for her to suddenly go mad queen--which is the only way i see jon feeling pressured to go against her and make a bid for the throne--it feels WRONG. the foundation is not strong enough. characters like sam question her motives, but from what I have seen over the seasons, i don’t see a mad queen. she has empathy! and she loves jon for fuck’s sake. if this mad queen crap happens, it’s likely because jon’s stronger claim sets her off. which is ... gross, gross character assassination.

jon doesn’t want the damn throne. but, he’s going to be a contender for it, isn’t he? i fear that’s where we’re going. R+L=J comes in here. if it happens, the starks and sam will push him to do it--they’re probably going to convince him dany is mad. flashback to arya telling him to remember his family... and if dany isn’t mad but jon just decides he wants the power, we’re right back to character assassination on an even worse level than dany suddenly going mad.

basically, either way dany and/or jon’s characters are getting FUCKED if this horseshit is what they’re setting up for.

of course, fuck if i know why can’t this just be a non-issue where they get married and co-rule

so basically fuck this shit, i didn’t watch 8 seasons to see dany flip a switch and go mad queen in the final 3 episodes and have that take precedence over the long fucking night

at least the best boi in the world ghost is alive and well

#got salt

1 note · View note

a-splash-of-stucky · 6 years

Text

By Morning Light | iii

Pairings: Steve x Bucky x Reader

Summary: The boys try to surprise you. Things…don’t work out as planned.

Warnings: Fluffiness and implied sex. (Brief) mentions of throwing up.

Notes: YESSS! We’re finally getting an update on this fic! *does happy dance*

I’m sorry it’s been so long, y’all. Life has been busy, my inspiration dried up, and I kinda wasn’t loving this particular series so…I left it alone, for a bit. Still probably not gonna update it very regularly, but I will finish it. Anyway, I hope you like the floof :)

Title is from ‘Still Falling For You’ by Ellie Goulding

[BML Masterlist]

~ this love is like sun on the rise ~

Waking up is a hit-or-miss type of experience.

Sometimes, it’s a cruel and unforgiving yank into reality, a harsh slap to the face delivered by the persistent blaring of Steve’s alarm clock. Until you’ve got some food in your system and downed no less than a gallon of coffee, all you are is a crusty-eyed and enormously cranky shell of a human being.

Other times, waking up can be a little less harsh of an experience (though, no less reluctant, on your part). These mornings consist of you burrowing deep into the covers, whilst someone — usually Bucky — pokes and prods and gently cajoles you into getting out of bed. His strategy often involves bribing you with the promise of — yep, that’s right: coffee.

Today is unlike either of those days.

Today is a slow and gentle return to consciousness, pieces of the world sliding into focus, one after the other. You’re not exactly sure what pulls you from your sleep, but you gradually become aware of the textures and temperatures and sounds around you.

First, it’s the feel of your pillow beneath your cheek, the brushed cotton pillowcase a soft and silky-smooth texture on your skin. Next, it’s the weight of your duvet above you, the marshmallow-like mountain protecting you from the chill of the cold winter morning. Other elements of the world slowly trickle into focus, from the general creaking and whirring of your house, to the distant noises of the city waking up.

A loud crash destroys all semblance of peace you’d been enjoying.

“Wha’ th’ hell?” you mumble, your words muffled due to the fact that your face is buried in your pillow.

It is at this point that you realise that the bed on either side of you is empty. Your legs aren’t tangled up with Bucky’s, nor is Steve’s arm slung over your waist. The sound of your boyfriends’ steady breathing is also, distinctly missing.

You are immediately suspicious.

Or, well. As suspicious as you can be, this early in the morning.

Which is to say, not that suspicious at all.

With a grumble, you push yourself up onto your elbows and squint at the digital clock on the nightstand. It takes a while for you to make out the numbers through your sleepy, bleary eyes, but when they do finally come into focus, your confusion immediately deepens.

It’s barely ten minutes past six in the morning. The sun’s not even out, for fuck’s sake. Why on earth are they up at ass-crack o’clock?

You flop your head back down onto your pillow with a soft oomph. As you tug the duvet around your shoulders, you grumble incoherently, cursing your boyfriends under your breath.

It’s a bloody Saturday, for goodness’ sake. Saturdays are for sleeping in, and you damn well need this lie-in after the hectic week of meetings and unexpected deadlines you’ve just had.

But, even as you close your eyes and will your body to slip back into a state of unconsciousness, you already know that it’s a lost cause. Your mind is too active now, the gears and cogs of your brain whirring to life, preparing to start your day.

As you lie there in a state of half-sleep, you wandering mind begins to think about what that crash could have been. It’s definitely the boys doing something downstairs — the question is, what?

You quickly dismiss the idea of them fighting an intruder or something in your house, largely because you know that the security system installed in your place would put the White House to shame.

Thus, Steve and Bucky must be doing…something else downstairs. Something that does not involve fighting bad guys, but does involve loud crashing noises.

Steve and Bucky waking up early can either be a really good thing, or a really bad thing, you muse. They’re both equal parts angel and troublemaker, but this early in the morning, it’s too hard to tell which side of their personality is coming through.

The boys waking up early is, in itself, not unusual. Steve has a penchant for going out on runs just before sunrise, because he likes how peaceful the streets are at that time. And, if Bucky’s had a bad night, he’ll often sit on the sofa to watch the sunrise, or maybe go out on a walk to clear his mind.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” you gasp, jerking out of your half-asleep state when another loud crash rings through the house. It’s followed by a string of colourful swear words and an especially loud shhh!

Yep. It’s time to investigate.

You groan, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms out to the side, yawning wide as you feel your joints pop. A smile crosses your lips when you sense a weight shifting around on your bed, creeping along your right side. A petite, fluffy tabby appears by your right shoulder, head tilted to the side and ears flicking in curiosity.

A husky chuckle rumbles from your throat. “Mornin’ Disney,” you murmur, as you rub your knuckles between her ears.

“What’re your dads doin’ downstairs, huh?” you ask quietly, “Shall we go an’ take a look?”

Disney seems too distracted by your fingers to really take note of your question. For a minute, you allow yourself to be transfixed by her deep, happy purrs, letting the sound wash over you in waves.

The three of you decided to adopt Disney from a pet shelter a couple of months ago. You can safely say that getting her has been one of the better decisions that you’ve made in your lifetime. Annoying tendencies to scratch up the furniture and knock things over with her tail aside, she’s the sweetest thing in the entire universe. Disney is a great comfort to you when the boys are away on long missions, and a wonderful companion to the boys when the pressures of world-saving become a little too much to handle.

You and Disney lie there for an unspecified amount of time, the only sounds in the room being Disney’s contented little purrs and your slow breathing. You’re contemplating whether or not it’s really worth leaving your blanket fort to investigate the happenings downstairs. It’s been at least five minutes since the second crash, and there haven’t been anymore loud noises in that time, but that doesn’t really put you at ease.

Steve and Bucky are more than capable of handling themselves but — well, they’re not the best of cooks, and you’d rather not be forced out of bed because the house was burning down, or something.

With a heavy sigh, you gingerly push yourself up into a sitting position and lift Disney onto Steve’s pillow, before rolling out of bed. You head into the bathroom to relieve yourself, wash your face and brush your teeth, before slipping on your fluffy pink bathrobe — the one with the bunny ears attached to the hood — and sliding your feet into a pair of blue and white polkadot slippers. When Disney realises that you’re about to leave the room, she elegantly leaps off the bed and pads over to you, winding herself around your legs and butting her head against your calves.

“C’mon baby,” you whisper, as you pull open the bedroom door. “Let’s see what they’re—oh.”

You break off as the pungent smell of burnt food assaults your nostrils. It’s overpoweringly bitter and wholly unpleasant; the stench makes you want to gag. Even Disney seems unimpressed, flicking her tail the way she does when she’s annoyed. Whatever’s going on downstairs can’t be good.

Yep. It’s definitely time to investigate.

You make your way downstairs, pulling your robe tighter around your chest to protect your skin from the chilly morning air. The burning smell only becomes stronger with each step you take — you’re surprised that you haven’t thrown up by this point, honestly.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the Steve and Bucky are in the kitchen. You cross the living room, Disney hot on your heels, and pause at the entryway to your kitchen to assess the scene.

To describe the kitchen as ‘chaos’ would be a euphemism.

It looks like a hurricane has whipped around the room. A bag of flour seems to have exploded, as every surface — the cupboards, the countertops, the floor, everything — is coated in a layer of white dust. A tin of cocoa powder also seems to have burst open, because the kitchen counters are speckled with streaks of rich brown. Pots and pans and dirty spoons are scattered across the worktops; used bowls have been stacked up into haphazard piles in and around the sink. The floor is littered with slices strawberries and a couple of banana peels. Egg shells scattered in random places complete the overall aesthetic.

The boys have — thankfully — opened up the windows to air out the house and get rid of that pungent burnt odour, but right now, the scent is plugging up your nostrils and making each breath a struggle.

Steve and Bucky are standing by the stove, hunched over a pan and murmuring quietly amongst themselves. They’re so focused that they haven’t even heard you come in. Bucky says something to Steve, who turns around to grab something off the kitchen island. When he sees you, standing in the entryway with your arms folded over your chest, he freezes like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Mornin’ Stevie,” you say, the corner of your mouth crooking up into a smirk.

“Uhh…good morning, sweetheart,” Steve says, in a strangled voice. When Bucky whirls around, you just manage to catch the look of shock-and-dismay that crosses his face, before it gets replaced by a beaming grin.

“Mornin’ beautiful!” Bucky chirps, “Ready for breakfast?”

You pointedly glance around the trashed kitchen, before arching an eyebrow questioningly. “You were making breakfast?” you ask dryly, “Could’a fooled me. I thought you just had a food fight.”

Suspiciously bright flushes of red bloom across Steve’s cheekbones. It’s then that you notice the smears of white on Steve’s t-shirt and sleep pants, to match the multicoloured splatters on Bucky’s clothes. There are streaks of white and — oh goodness, is that egg in their hair?

“You did have a food fight, didn’t you?” you sigh, shaking your head in fond annoyance.

“Well…Steve started it,” Bucky says, giving you a cheeky wink before turning back to jiggle his pan around. Steve is spluttering in shock.

“Bucky!” he cries, not unlike an indignant toddler.

“Yes?” Bucky sing-songs, drawing out the syllable.

“I—you—ugh why do I even bother?” Steve mutters darkly.

Disney gracefully leaps up onto the kitchen counter and starts pawing curiously at the bits and bobs littered on the messy surface, taking particular interest in a couple of blueberries.

Steve frowns at her as he runs his fingers through the silky-soft fur of her back. “Disney,” he scolds, “I thought we were clear on the plan? You were supposed to keep your mother in bed until we’d finished!”

“Told ya’ we should’a gone with my idea,” Bucky drawls, glancing over his shoulder

“Shuddup,” Steve says, without missing a beat, “Disney just needs a little more training, is all.”

“Hold up—what plan?” you ask, interrupting their bickering. You step forward and cautiously lean your elbows on the island countertop — after checking that you’re not putting your robe in anything suspicious, of course.

“Uhh…we were gonna make you breakfast,” Steve says slowly.

“Okay, I got that. But…why?”

Bucky sighs, turning off the stove and stepping up behind Steve, looping his metal arm around Steve’s waist. “‘Cause we wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, to say sorry for missing our anniversary,” Bucky explains.

You’re fairly certain that your heart melts into a puddle at his words. “Really?”

“Yeah, sweetie,” Steve murmurs, a shy smile gracing his lips, “We were gonna make you breakfast and feed it to you in bed and then take you out, and—,”

“Treat you like a princess,” Bucky finishes.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees.

Without saying a word, you briskly stride around the island and throw yourself into their arms, not caring about the fact that you’re probably getting all kinds of foodstuffs onto your clothes. There are tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and your heart feels so full you genuinely think that it might burst. Steve and Bucky hold you close, Bucky burying his face against your neck, Steve tucking your head under his chin.

“Honeys, you didn’t have to,” you mumble, your voice coming out muffled because your face is smushed into Steve’s glorious pecs. “We already did something and—,”

“But we didn’t do something special,” Steve protests, “Buck and I were away on a mission for most of the day—,”

“And when we got home, we basically passed out for a million hours,” Bucky adds.

“But I didn’t care!” you insist, “We said I love you, and I got a really nice card—,”

“But I care, gorgeous,” Steve says quietly, crooking his index finger under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up to look into his beautiful, bright blue eyes. “We care. We wanted to do something special for you. Treat you like a princess.”

“Sap,” you sniffle, giving him a watery smile.

Steve rumbles approvingly as you card your fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “You always treat me like a princess, darlings,” you murmur, humming softly as Bucky presses a kiss to the crook of your neck. “You always treat me like I’m the most special thing in the world.”

“Well then, we wanted to try do something extra special, today,” Bucky says, letting you go as he takes a step back. He pauses as his eyes do a quick scan around the kitchen. “Uh…emphasis on try, I guess.”

You burst out laughing, twisting out of Steve’s grip as you spin in a slow circle, letting the enormity of the mess sink in. “Yeah…I’d have to agree with you there, Buck,” you snort, “What happened?”

Steve sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face and frowning when his fingers come away coated in flour.

He may or may not have a dusting of white on his cheek.

“Well…the breakfast plan was pancakes with sausages,” he starts, looking to Bucky for some assistance.

“Yeah, but then—uh…we got sidetracked with the pancake idea,” Bucky says, gesturing vaguely around the room. You chuckle in amusement.

“And I’m guessing you burned the sausages, or something?” you ask teasingly.

Steve’s blush deepens. “What gave it away?” he mumbles.

“Oh, I think the burning smell might have been a big clue,” you say airily.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Steve says stubbornly, a cute little furrow appearing in the middle of his brow. “Bucky was in charge of—,”

“It’s not Bucky’s fault that he doesn’t know how to use this fancy-shmancy new oven!” Bucky protests, throwing his arms up in frustration as he turns back to the stove, “And yes, Bucky is now referring to himself in third person, because why the ever-loving fuck not?”

You giggle helplessly, coming up behind Bucky and wrapping your arms around his muscled waist. You plant a kiss on his shoulder — the metal one — and he cranes his head back to press his lips to your forehead. “So what’s on the stove, then?” you ask.

“Erm…it’s supposed to be pancake batter,” Steve says apologetically, popping up on your left side.

You peer over Bucky’s shoulder and narrow your eyes in suspicion. “It’s so…watery,” you comment hesitantly.

Bucky sighs. “Yeah, yeah, we fucked up,” he grumbles.

You giggle, patting his side consolingly. “Okay then, how ‘bout this — since I’m awake now and I’m the only one out of the three of us who can actually make pancakes, why don’t you let me handle the cooking?”

“But gorgeous!” Steve protests, “You aren’t supposed to—,”

“Whilst you boys clean up this mess,” you interrupt, holding your hand up to stop him. Steve’s mouth snaps shut and he concedes to your request with a shrug.

Bucky hangs his head down and sighs exaggeratedly. “Well, I ‘spose that’s fair,” he admits, “But I want a good morning kiss ‘fore I get to it.”

You roll your eyes but indulge his request, loosening your grip on his waist so that Bucky can turn around and catch you in his arms. Then, before you know it, he’s slanting his lips over yours and kissing you like he means it — luxurious and deep, with just the right amount of tongue.

As he pulls away, you tip your head backwards and to the side, easily finding Steve’s lips. He kisses you with just as much reverence and tenderness, teasingly flicking his tongue over your bottom lip. Steve tastes of strawberries and mint toothpaste.

They manage to distract you for several long minutes, taking it in turns to claim your mouth. Steve cups the back of your head, whilst Bucky’s thumbs rub circles into your sides. Your pleased sighs and soft moans fill the air.

Unfortunately, breakfast is not about to cook itself.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough now,” you say firmly, wriggling out of their grip and twisting to face the stove. “Time to clean now.”

You give Bucky a playful shove when he tries to swoop in for another kiss. “Clean,” you repeat, more forcefully this time, though it’s hard to be serious when you have two goofballs for boyfriends.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky says, snapping you a two-fingered salute.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Buck—Peggy would’a had a heart attack if she saw that,” Steve mutters, as he crouches down to get the cleaning supplies out of the cupboard under the sink.

“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t scare her by running into HYDRA bases without waiting for—,”

“For fuck’s sake, Bucky! That was just the one time—,”

“Nu-uh! One time in France, and then another one time in Italy, and then—,”

“I waited for backup in Italy!”

“Stevie, honey, I think you and I remember Italy very differently.”

“Well yeah, that’s ‘cause all you ‘member ‘bout Italy was how I sucked you off in…”

You shake your head in fond exasperation, tuning out their conversation as you pull out the ingredients you’ll need. Honestly, the two of them argue like an old, married couple — but, you wouldn’t have them any other way. You start to hum quietly under your breath as you measure out the ingredients into a mixing bowl, the motions familiar and soothing to you. You’ve learned from experience to make triple the normal recipe, because super-soldier metabolism is not to be messed with.

Disney appears on the kitchen counter and plops herself down by the bowl, watching you with keen eyes as you mix everything together.

She seems especially interested in the chocolate chips.

You shoo her away when it’s time to actually cook the pancakes — you don’t want to accidentally set her tail on fire, or something. The boys have actually done quite well, so far; Steve is busy attacking the mountain of dishes and utensils by the sink, whilst Bucky has made a lot of progress in wiping down the surfaces and cleaning up the spillages on the floor.

As you wait for the pan to heat up, you lean your palms against the side of the counter and close your eyes, content to just listen to the sounds around you. Bucky’s low whistling and the squirting noises coming from his spray bottle overlay the running tap and the clattering and banging of Steve’s dishwashing.

There’s something so domestic about it all.

Not for the first time, you can’t help but think how goddamn lucky you are to have these two wonderful souls to share your life with. Yeah, the morning might not have gone exactly the way Steve and Bucky had planned, but — the love in the air is so palpable you could almost stick your tongue out and taste it. The atmosphere is homey, and amiable, and everything you never knew you wanted.

Fucking hell, Steve’s sappiness is rubbing off on you.

You pour in some of the pancake batter when the pan seems hot enough, then dart off to grab some plates and a spatula.

Flipping pancakes takes you back to lazy Sunday mornings in your family home. You remember the cartoons playing on low volume in the background, whilst you and your parents made breakfast in the kitchen. You remember listening to your dad singing off-key as the pancakes piled up in an impressive stack beside him. Sometimes, your mother would be baking — cookies, muffins, bread, whatever she was in the mood for. You remember feeling so happy and fulfilled and loved.

It’s funny how things can be so different and simultaneously so similar. The sounds are different, the house is different, the people around you are different — but you feel no less happy, or fulfilled, or loved, with this new family of yours. If anything, those emotions have only increased tenfold.

You’re so engrossed in your thoughts that you let out a startled gasp when someone wraps their arms around your waist.

“Oops, sorry, honey,” Steve apologises, laughing softly as he ducks to press a kiss behind your ear. “Jus’ wanted to say that it smells good.”

“S’almost ready,” you tell him, turning to brush your lips over the tip of his nose. “Set the table, please?”

“On it,” he says, letting go of you with an affectionate squeeze to your ass.

As you pour the last of the batter into the pan, you listen as Steve lays out the cutlery on the small dining table in the alcove. Bucky is calling out to Disney as he shakes her cat food into her bowl. You slide the last pancake onto the plate, turn off the stove, then grab the two enormous pancake stacks and carry them over to the dining table, setting the plates in the middle so that everyone can help themselves.

“Oooh damn, sweetie, those look great,” Bucky says, coming up beside you.

Once you’ve set the plates down, you turn towards him and are pleasantly surprised to see him with a mug of coffee in each hand, one of which he holds out towards you.

“Thanks, honey,” you say softly, accepting the mug from him and wrapping your fingers around it.

“Made it just the way you like it,” he says, leaning in to peck you on the lips. You take a quick sip and nod your approval — just the way you like it indeed.

Steve comes over at that point and sets the condiments down on the table. There’s syrup, honey, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, bananas and a range of berries. Frankly, you’re surprised that he managed to carry all of that over without dropping anything.

Bucky, ever the gentleman, pulls out your seat and gestures for you to sit down with a great flourish. You giggle, gingerly perching on the chair as he pushes you in. Steve sits down on your right and Bucky on your left, the three of you facing the gigantic windows so that you can watch the sky change colour as the sun climbs through it. Right now, it’s a wonderful gradient of purples and pinks.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” Steve says, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. Bucky’s flesh hand curls over your thigh, thumb stroking the soft skin there.

“Happy anniversary, darlings,” you murmur, settling into your chair as Steve dishes out the pancakes. You reach for your favourite toppings and add them in generous servings to your plate.

“Of fuck,” Bucky moans. Your head snaps to the side so fast, you almost give yourself whiplash. Bucky’s chewing with his eyes closed, a blissed-out expression on his face. He stuffs another forkful into his mouth and moans again.

You turn to Steve and share a look with him. He raises an eyebrow, whilst you try to suppress your giggles.

That moan sounded a lot like Bucky’s sex moan.

“Guess they call it food porn for a reason, huh, Buck?” Steve asks, voice lighthearted and teasing.

Bucky nods emphatically, before turning to look at you. “Honey, you’re amazing, and I love you and your pancakes.”

You can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, then, bright and cheerful and amused.

“Taste!” Bucky urges, breaking off a scrap of pancake with his finger, drenching it in syrup and bringing it to your mouth.

You take the pancake from his fingers, being sure to give an exaggerated groan when his thumb presses against your lips. Before Bucky can pull his hand away, your tongue darts out to lick the syrup from his fingers. You look at him through your lashes and make quiet, pleased noises in the back of your throat as you clean him off.

You don’t miss the way Bucky’s eyes darken, nor do you miss the way Steve’s breathing hitches. You sense Steve throwing his arm over the back of your chair as he leans in close, his face right up against the side of your neck.

“Behave, princess,” Steve growls quietly, nipping your earlobe for emphasis.

You have a feeling you know how the rest of your morning is going to go down.

#stucky x reader #steve x bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x you #stucky x reader fanfic #stucky x reader imagine #stucky x reader fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes fluff #stucky fluff #steve fluff #bucky fluff #my writing

646 notes · View notes

annakareninahikari · 6 years

Text

You Are my Sunshine

Hello, hello, hello! Remember all those months ago when I said that you could expect a Blitzstone story from me soon? I messed up. Of course I messed up. This story has been sitting on my desk for weeks, ready to be published, but school mercilessly consumed whatever leisure time I had. So, it wasn’t until now that I could find the time to publish this little something.

Without further ado, please read and enjoy!

You Are My Sunshine

–*–*–

You are my sunshine, My only sunshine.

–*–*–

However, Destiny had a tendency to work in bizarre ways and, somehow, Destiny had dropped ��literally dropped― Hearthstone in the dwarfen realm.

The day he met the elf started normally to say the least. Blitzen had woken up at around noon. He’d invested a considerable amount of time in getting dressed and tidying up his bedroom, making it around one in the afternoon when he finally got to the kitchen to fix himself breakfast.

He had ―with much reluctancy, let it be said― accepted that it was time to go grocery shopping. Sighing, Blitzen prepared an insipid plate of scrambled eggs and didn’t even bother to clean up the dining room before he grabbed his keys and left the house.

Unfortunately, the son of Freya never made it to the grocery store.

Naturally, Blitzen knew all the obvious rules for staying alive―don’t walk alone into what could very well be a trap, don’t go unarmed into an unknown territory, do not trust your surroundings and follow your gut. To summarize―don’t do stupid shit.

On the other hand, the noise he’d heard wasn’t the growling of a big animal or the clinging of swords. Rather, it sounded like a weakened whimper.

It would have been so easy to merely keep walking, to hush the tiny voice that told Blitzen to turn around and check what had uttered such a small sound. It would have been so simple to ignore the thought that urged him to follow his hunch and drown it in his grocery list, to focus on the carton of milk he still had to buy. Regrettably, Blitzen had inherited a sense of curiosity of both of his parents. Whenever an idea wormed its way into his head, he couldn’t let it go. And so, Blitzen didn’t turn the next corner in his trip to the store, for he turned on his heels and walked straight into the dead-end alley.

As soon as he walked closer to the trash can, it became obvious that the metallic dumpster was where the snivel he’d heard had come from. Usually, the son of Freya would not have gone anywhere near a pile of garbage. This time, however, curiosity got the best of him and he promptly stood closer to the bin, careful not to touch anything.

There was no mistake―it had to be one of the inhabitants of Alfheim. Hair so blond it was almost white, delicate yet sharp features, snowy skin that Blitzen supposed looked even paler than usual at the moment, since he hadn’t seen the sun in the gods knew how long. Blitzen had never met an elf, but he damn right knew what they looked like, and the creature in front of him sure as Helheim was an elf.

And a rapidly fading, sick-looking elf, at that.

A few hours later, Blitzen would ask himself what had motivated him to practically jump into a trash can bin so that he could push an unknown elf out of it. He was not sure of how he had managed to drag the elf to his apartment without calling someone’s attention either. Perhaps the reason for that obliviousness was merely that his neighbors were used to his bizarre ways by that time and knew better than to ask him what he was doing.

Getting the elf to his apartment was only half problem. The elf was still unconscious and he kept shaking. Blitzen was not an expert. In fact, he was as far of an elf healthcare expert as one could get, but he was pretty sure that elves could only last a couple of days without their beloved sun, and if this elf’s state was anything to go by, he was dangerously approaching the last hours of his second day.

Blitzen had never seen an elf before and, quite frankly, the wounded, whimpering young man in front of him seemed nothing like the majestic creatures he’d read about. Instead, the person lying in his couch only seemed weakened, hypothermic and wounded. For some reason, Blitzen felt an even stronger drawn to him than he would have, had he met an overwhelming, luminous elf instead.

It was an insane idea, yet a plausible one, and Blitzen was short of other options.

Perhaps, Blitzen thought to himself ―and it was a very vague ‘perhaps’ indeed―, he could be the one to bring the sun to Nidavellir for this elf.

–*–*–

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

On the other hand, however, Blitzen was also extremely concerned. Hearthstone’s skin, snowy-white on a good day had gone almost transparent from the cold and the effort. His lips, instead of the rouge color Blitzen knew to be a healthy one for his friend had turned crepe pink, and green veins peppered his hands and cheeks, emphasizing the translusence of his skin.

The cold was so intense that Blitzen could hardly feel Hearthstone’s hands between his own, as both of them clung on to the blanket that covered their bodies. The action, useless as it was, gave him something else to think about.

He’d told Magnus that the two of them would be the last of them to succumb to death, although he was more than aware that such knowledge was of no comfort. If anything, the one thing that gave the son of Freya some sort of vague relief was the certainty that he would die cradling Hearthstone in his arms. Even if that meant he would have to feel him grow colder with each passing second, to the point where it was as if he were holding ice cubes instead of his friend’s hands.

At least, in the end, he would have Hearthstone to cling on to.

–*–*–

You’ll never know, dear How much I love you. Please don’t take My sunshine away.

–*–*–

Ever since Hearthstone had met Blitzen, he’d known the dwarf had some outlandish ideas. Being around the son of Freya was bizarre on a regular basis. As an example of the heartwarming oddity that came so naturally to Blitzen, Hearth could quote the fact that he was still alive at the moment. After all, what other dwarf in the Nine Realms would have done what Blitz had upon a half-dead elf lying on the street? None other, that was which―none.

“You are still too weak to leave, my friend,” he had brushed off every single time Hearth suggested that it was time he returned to where he’d come from. “This house is big enough to keep us both comfortably, there is no need for you to leave.”

The one and only time Hearth had proposed Blitzen began selling either the design of the tanning bed or the artifact itself, the dwarf’s features had darkened. “I don’t need their money,” he’d said. “I made the bed for you and that’s it. I wanted to save you. They wouldn’t understand that.”

Eventually, Blitzen had resorted to several excuses and illegitimate reasons to make Hearthstone stay. First, he’d told Hearth that he couldn’t leave until he had taught Blitzen proper ASL.

To be completely honest, Hearth had not believed Blitzen’s interest at first. He’d thought it was merely something the son of Freya had said, although he did not necessarily mean it. Something that was not like the other elves’ glares of contempt or like his parents’ open despise, albeit it held the same meaning. At the time, Hearthstone had thought nothing of Blitzen’s proposition. It was something the dwarf had said out of pity, a poignant offering, an attempt to make him feel better about his deafness.

However, Blitz had learned. He’d sat in front of Hearthstone every afternoon for months on end, genuinely paying attention to the elf’s corrections. Less than six months after Hearth had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen was already capable of holding a fluent conversation in ASL. Blitz rarely spoke using his voice when they were alone, and they were alone for the most part.

Finally, when Hearth had dared suggest Blitzen collected rent from him, nearly a year after the elf had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen’s instant reaction had been to frown. “Excuse me?” he’d asked, forcing Hearthstone to repeat himself. Although that was mostly etiquette, as Blitz proceeded to interrupt him midsentence, grasping Hearth’s wrists. It was then that the dwarf turned to raise an eyebrow at his friend. Slowly, Blitzen readjusted the position of his hands, until they were holding Hearth’s.

“Honestly?” he’d smiled, mouthing the words so he didn’t have to let go of Hearth. “I like having you here. I really enjoy your company. I think… I think there’s a reason why you fell on Nidavellir rather than any of the other worlds. You told me that you didn’t want to go back to Alfheim. Then don’t do it. The doors of my home are open for you, as long as you need or want to stay here. The gods know that I had felt loneliness creep around the corners of this house before you showed up. So, really, if the reason you want to leave is that you don’t want to be a problem or to cause me an inconvenience, I’m telling you right now that it isn’t like that at all. You’re my best friend, you know? If you feel comfortable staying here, then please, feel free to do so.”

Ever so slowly, Blitzen let go of Hearth’s hands, allowing him to sign. Even once he was free of the dwarf’s restraints, Hearth took a moment to consider his answer. Finally, he exhaled a sigh and raised his eyes to meet Blitzen’s.

“Do you… do you mean that?” he asked, shaking fingers drawing the words rapidly in the air.

“Every word,” the dwarf confirmed. Needing to show Hearth how convinced he was of what he had said, he accompanied his speech with the movement of his hands―first, he made the thumps-up sign with his left hand at the height if his chest. He placed his right hand, doing the same gesture, behind his left one, his left thumb touching the back of his right hand. Then, the sign for 'word'―his left index extended vertically, while his right thumb and index, extended horizontally, not touching his other hand*.

Blitzen, bless his heart, had taken the time to know him so well, that he didn’t add anything to those two words. Neither did he move. Instead, he tilted his head and he waited with a gentle smile on his face. Blitz didn’t pressure him for an answer, much less did he demand one. And it was a good thing, as well, because by the time Hearth was certain of what he wanted to say, his hands were shaking so much that he would have found himself unable to answer anything.

Being deaf, Hearth knew better than anyone that actions spoke louder than words. Although, given his upbringing, he’d never been one to initiate physical contact. Blitzen, on the other hand… Blitzen was different. From the first day he’d been there, Blitzen had showed no qualms about taking Hearth’s hands or fixing his clothes. He didn’t mind hugging him or linking their arms. Of course, he wasn’t bothered either when Hearth corrected the position of his fingers when he taught Blitz ASL.

For once, Hearthstone decided to follow Blitzen’s example. Rather than trying to spell something out with his faltering hands, Hearth leaned forward to engulf his dwarf friend in a tight hug. It was probably the first time he initiated a touch of that kind. Unlike anything he could have expected, Blitz didn’t pull back or react badly at the contact. Hearth had to tell himself that of course Blitzen would not do something like that to him. Ever since he’d met him, Blitzen had been nothing if not kind and patient to him. Instead, no more than a millisecond later, Blitz was returning the embrace. Hearth felt the vibrations of his laughter resonate through their entwined forms.

When Blitzen’s laughter died down and a different, slower form of reverberation filled the space between them, Hearth had a very clear idea of what Blitz must have been saying―That’s alright, bud. That’s alright. He’d seen Blitz spell out those words so many times that it wasn’t hard to picture his hands moving or his lips spelling out the words.

Sighing, Hearth allowed himself to hide his face in the crook of Blitzen’s neck, inhaling the dwarf’s familiar scent. This was home, he told himself. This strange relationship he’d built with a dwarf, this bizarre stay of his in the one world where it should have been impossible for him to survive. This was home, the one place in Yggdrasil where he was wanted, alien as that idea was to him.

That afternoon, nearly a year ago then, Blitzen had done much more than simply picking an unconscious elf up. He’d saved his life in more ways than Blitzed would ever know.

–*–*–

The other night, dear

When I lay sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear,

I was mistaken,

So I hung my head and cried.

–*–*–

Of the many reasons, Hearthstone had imagined he would go back to his parents’ house, needing the Skofnung stone to save his best friend’s life had never crossed his mind. It wasn’t that he actively wanted to go back to Alfheim, but on the nights what he could not stop thinking of his parents’ disdainful words, on the days when he asked himself how long it would take before Blitzen grew tired of him and asked him to leave, he wondered. He did so with dread, with a daunting emptiness in his chest and a hitch in his breath. Where would he go? Back to the humiliation his parents had subjected him to for as long as he could remember? Would he try to find a way of living in another of Yggdrasil’s worlds, on his own?

Hearthstone had never been able to come up with an answer that settled the thumping between his ribs. He knew that there was no answer to that question that would ease the knot of anguish that formed in his chest whenever that thought assaulted him. And so, he prayed. He prayed to every god he’d ever heard of that Blitzen was kind-hearted enough to not send him packing, even if the day came when his dwarfen friend realized how useless he was, Hearthstone prayed that Blitzen chose to keep him. Even if it was out of pity, even if it was only an act of commiseration, he prayed.

Blitzen had not given up on him, no matter how many times Hearthstone proved he wasn’t worthy of the devotion Blitzen treated him with, the son of Freya only insisted that Hearth was more talented than he gave himself credit for. Blitzen trusted him, that much was crystal clear. He counted on him with the same blind dependence with which Hearthstone had leaned on him from the day that they had met.

Hearth couldn’t let him down. Not then. He couldn’t fail Blitzen. It was simply not an option.

Blitz had asked him not to. Of course he had, as he frantically tried to stop the hemorrhage in his chest, always too selfless and too generous, but he didn’t understand. Hearth could not lose him. He wouldn’t allow himself to forsake the only one who had believed in him, the first person who had ever cherished him.

No. there was no 'maybe’, there was no 'trying’. He would get the Skofnung stone for Blitzen or he would die while attempting to obtain it. There was no other possibility.

So that night, the first one he spent in his parent’s house in over a decade, Hearthstone held on to the memory of Blitzen’s laughter, to the way his eyes softened in his smile, and he prayed. He prayed to the All Father and to Sif and to Freya that he would be strong enough to save Blitzen’s life.

–*–*–

You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

As the cold water of the shower un-prettified Blitzen, Hearthstone felt droplets of his own pool at the bottom of his eyes. However, it was not long before the water began dying with red and Hearthstone’s shaking hands fidgeted, trying to find the Skofnung stone. With faltering fingers, he placed the gravel on top of the dwarf’s bleeding wound. Immediately, the edges of his injury started to sew themselves together, stitching the skin back in place.

Too slowly for Hearthstone’s taste, the color began returning to Blitzen’s features, and his body grew limp in Hearth’s arms instead of the frigid stiffness of granite. In a rapid motion, Hearth caught sight of the dwarf’s lips moving, no doubt to question where they were, how he was alive, to insist that Hearth did not return to Alfheim.

He couldn’t have cared less about what Blitzen was saying. Even if he had, tears clouded his vision, making it impossible for him to read the dwarf’s lips. There would be time to answer all those questions later. There would be time to explain his friend what had happened.

For now, it didn’t matter. For that exquisite, perfect moment, nothing else mattered. They would deal with his father later, with Andvari’s ring, with Ragnarok itself if it were to come, but they would do so together. At least for those stolen minutes, the only thing important enough to be worried about was the wellbeing of the man in front of him.

So he let Blitzen know. He hugged him fiercely, clinging to him for dear life under the icy gush of water. Hearth’s hands bowled into fists around the fabric of Blitzen’s shirt. He felt the vibration of the dwarf’s voice, his arms encircling his waist. As if by magic, the tension in Hearth’s shoulders melted away, not by the art of the water, but by the steadfastness of Blitzen’s embrace.

Hearth rocked them both back and forth, pulling them as close together as it was humanly possible. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling of Blitzen being next to him. He was there, confused, certainly, befuddled, disoriented, but alive. Blitz was alive and Hearth was home.

There was nothing, nothing in the Nine Worlds that Hearth wouldn’t have done to recover this feeling. This closeness, the simplicity with which he could limply fall into Blitzen’s arms and forget about the rest of the existing world. And so, he clung to the son of Freya, and he thanked every god he could remember for allowing him to have his dwarf back, and he cried.

Not only had he paid his debt to his father that day; rather, he’d also given Blitz back a small amount of everything the dwarf had given him. In a way, Hearth supposed it could have been summarized as him saving Blitzen’s life, in the same way the dwarf had saved his all those years in the past.

Nonetheless, Hearthstone knew better―Blitz might have built a machine that was able to reproduce rays as bright and warm as the sun’s. However, they could not compare with the radiance or the closeness Hearth felt when Blitzen held him. And, in the same way that he had done the first time Blitz had successfully signed a full sentence without making a single mistake, Hearthstone vowed to devote his life to the one he owed it to.

–*–*–

You’ll never know, dear,

How much I love you.

Please don’t take my sunshine away.

–*–*–

Well… here goes nothing. This is it. I really hope you enjoyed reading this little something, because I sure enjoyed writing it.

Now, after finishing the series I was as convinced as any other that Hearth and Blitz are a married couple and Magnus didn’t notice. So, of course I knew that writing a Blitzstone story would simply be a matter of time. The other day I was reading some Solangelo fanfiction and came across a story with this song. And you know how catchy this tune is, so I was trying to come up with a decent plot for Hearth and Blitz with this song still going around in my head and then… I realized that the lyrics actually worked great for this lovely couple. So… here we are now.

As for the “*”, I must admit that I do not speak ASL. I really want to learn it, because it is fascinating to me, but at current time I do not speak it. I searched for those signs on the internet and then tried to describe them as best as I could. If any of them are wrong, please, please point it out to me.

Alright, it seems that this is all for today. In case any of you is reading “Tales of a Caged Animal”, I hope to publish the next chapter soon. I really hoped you enjoyed this story and if you did, please leave a comemnt!

Read you soon!

#Magnus Chase and the Gods of AsgardMagnus ChaseFan fictionMCatGoAHearthstoneBlitzenHearthBlitzBlitzstoneRomanceHurt/Comfort

2 notes · View notes

upsmymindwanderedagain · 6 years

Text

Story of The Ice Wolf

PART 5

OTHER PARTS:

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4.1 PART 4.2 PART 6

WARNINGS: mentions of grief, torture (inflicted on reader), blood.

By the way this chapter is almost 5K.

Hey fellas! as I stated last chapter, there’s more story coming, we will see a little more of backstory of the reader and the twins. Now regarding this background, as I mentioned beforehand, in this story the twins Wanda and Pietro are not portrayed as we typically see them in other stories or even the MCU, sure they have the essence and personality (I hope) but this story is not flowers and sunshine, just have that in mind while reading. If something makes you feel uncomfortable or just something doesn’t feel right for you, send me a message and we can chat it out.

As always typos and errors are my bad, sorry.

"We will keep the details of the mission and what happened behind closed doors. The official statement is that Y/N and Bucky are on an undercover mission. We can't let the truth be known, not until we have an answer solid enough to reassure people peace of mind" Maria takes over "We will have a private ceremony..." "No" Tony interrupts Hill. "Bucky and Y/N were not that kind of believers" If you want to do one is up to you, but I'm sure that where ever they are they will laugh at us". "Stark is right, drink it off don't cry it out" Her best life counseling, even Barnes agreed on that one, May says. Everyone chuckles lightly. "Let's drink it off in their memory".

----

The pressure on your brain slowly pulls you out of the dark oblivion, your body feels trapped, something cold kisses your exposed skin, your brain begins to register the pain of your joints. A disgustingly familiar Russian voice starts to beckon you. "Ice Wolf, open your eyes asset". "Ice Wolf" There's no third call. A surge of electrical discharge shakes you to the core, making you open your eyes as you scream in agony. As your body rides the aftershocks, a hand grips forcibly your hair lifting your head. "Captain is good to have you again on our ranks" he says in Russian. You sneer a dry "Fuck you Yuri". His open hand slaps you hard and unforgivingly, making you spit blood as your face is turned to the right "That's no way of talking to your handler asset". Your voice is a gruff hiss "You are not my handler sergeant" you are quick to spit blood and drool straight to his face. You try to launch yourself at him, but you are clasped to a metal wall, the wall mounted handcuffs give you no space to move, you trash with all your strength but the burn in your veins tells you that is in vain, the flesh in your joints and neck end up raw and bleeding. He only stares blankly at your before letting out a mocking boisterous laugh "I want you to meet your new handler and team mates before we make you forget them" he calls them to come in. A tall bulky Russian man comes in followed by two girls, one has dark mist swirling around her hands her face is stern and uninterested, the second one has a smirk on her face and archangel wings (Anika?). "Captain Ice Wolf a 'honor' seeing you again" he says sarcasm heavy on his voice. "Go to hell Salarov" you voice is harsh and hateful. "Allow us to greet you properly" he lifts a syringe full of a nerve wrecking familiar dark liquid, he jabs the needle in your neck, the dark liquid starts making your veins feel even more on fire, you don't scream instead you set your jaw and groan in pain, the veins and tendons on your neck bulge under the strain. When the initial burn starts to wear off you notice the sinister smile on the men faces, Yuri hands Salarov bright almost white branding iron shaped with Hydras symbol. The dark serum is awfully painful on its own, but is meant to weaken you and make every single wound unbearable while you are able to withstand deadly wounds, making it hard for you to die still there’s a breaking point in that. The Salarov juggles with the metal branding mockingly, with no warning he jabs the metal on the old scared flesh on your chest re-doing the branding, you can’t hold back this time you scream in agony, muscles tensing up in pain. ---

Six months have passed since the day Bucky and you made the ultimate sacrifice, and Wanda still can wrap her thoughts around the fact that you are no longer there.

She is on a constant limbo of sadness, bitterness and anger, she is angry at Fury for making the call, she is angry at you for doing such a stupid thing, she is bitter because the four of you saw the clues and still walked in, and she is sad, that deep hollowing sadness that not even revenge call fill up.

She is curled up in the sofa of your shared loft, she is wearing one of your leather jackets that still smell like you, she eyes at the guitar resting on the wall that one was yours, cup of tea in her hand, she knows better than get smashed in the middle of the day.

She is not fool or naive, since the first time they saw you bloodied, beaten, tumbling into the warehouse you all used to call home after their parents were killed, they realized that death was a stalking companion. They understood how possible it was that you might not come home again or even them, the sokovian streets were a mess.

That's why after a lot shouting and fighting they convinced you to let them fight too and get involved in all the not so legal things you did to get money, sure you put rules and you were taking the worst part of the burden and responsibility, but not all anymore.

Since the day they found you bloody beaten, they took you in. Their parents knew nothing about you. You said you were seven, but you looked at least two years older, you were bigger and way stronger than the other kids. The lack of your papers and the thin financial situation of they were in resulted in you not being able to go to the school (besides you got expulsed before getting in for beating down a group of kids making fun of the twins in the school yard). Wanda can't hold back her jiggle at that memory.

Instead their mama taught you everything at home, how to read, numbers, equations, you learnt English from her and Spanish from an ex-CIA neighbor, Grace she was a hacker so she taught you how mend around technology and you avidly learnt, somedays she took you outskirts to shoot but you already knew your way around weapons, she used to call you 'lil Sokovian devil' some time later she nick named you "Sokovian Ghost" due to your hacking skills and your tendency to lurk in the shadows gathering intel.

She smiles at the good memories coming to her head. You were family even before you were her lover, always taking care of them and even helping others.

While their parents were still alive, the three were trouble always on the run, you taught them how fight to defend themselves, their parents learnt that fact when the twins got suspended for kicking their bullies asses. You were so excited and proud of them that you fist bumped them in front of the director of the school, he yelled at you for encouraging them and you simply stared at him and shrug it off. Their parents couldn't hold back their laughter at you not giving fucks about it, if something the week they got suspended you taught them grappling.

When things got rough you stayed strong, even though your adoptive parents home was available after their deaths, the three of you slept most of the time in a warehouse or in Grace's place to avoid social services, she didn't mind, those were the days that you all eat better, specially you (you avoided meals to buy them treats but they didn't knew).

Tears start gathering in her eyes, they knew the risks of their lifestyle, they spent 4 years in the streets making jobs for drug dealers and informants. Later at the age of 17 you 18 behind Hydra's back the three of you took over the Sokovian illegal affairs from weapon traffic to drug dealing that's how you meet Zemo and his unit then partnering up with him, he was the official face you three were the master minds and the ones doing the extra dirty work, the streets were less messy and now it was yours.

She misses the constant presence that you were in her life, you were fiercely protective of her you even killed on spot stupid guys cat hollering at her (mostly in your Hydra days). But you also made her feel strong and confident on her own, you never down talk her or keep her from doing things and missions.

Pietro, Wanda alongside Natasha they have become ruthless and merciless in the missions, to the point of plain slaughters, resulting in awful scolding’s from the star spangled cap and lectures from Fury, Hill is in the middle, she doesn't scold them, she is more empathic but always reminds them that they are better than that.

She plainly misses you, the hard-cold facade you built around you to show the world was that, a facade a mask. Pietro and her knew the real you, the caring person that loved cuddles a fluff ball with her, you loved sneaking out just the three of you, sometimes Loki will tag along even Zrinka and Costel when they visited, you all went outskirts to make bonfires and drink off the night while playing guitars like the small rock band trio that you were.

She misses how at her comeback from missions you always had something prepared to make her feel at home helping her wash away the mission followed by cuddles and a glass of wine, other times if she wasn't too tired or hurt you'd take her to extravagant dinners or you'll make a homemade meal, you didn't best her at cooking but you were far, far better than Pietro, he is a lost cause, even their mama recognized that when they were little.

Sometimes when she is trying to relax at the bathtub after a mission her minds tricks her, sometimes she foolishly think that you will walk in the bathroom to lift her in your arms to take her to your shared bed. Her heart breaks again when the truth seeps back in her mind.

She misses the sex because it never was plain sex, the two of you were vanilla in that aspect of your intimacy, the tough life and the scars you both have is the testimony of you not liking kinky hardcore things. You were gentle and caring with an edge of roughness is she asked you to be, but you were a dork as much as smooth, charming talker you were you always made her laugh in glee.

She shamelessly used her powers to spice things up though, but that was as kinky as you two went, she ghostly caressed your skin with her powers, red energy dancing on your skin, shivers of pleasure trailing along the places she touched or holding off your hands with her powers as she made you come undone under her ministrations.

You were always teasing her of how the sweetest and most innocent looking of the trio was the kinkiest dipshit, regardless you adored her always looking at her like a lovesick puppy.

She can see how much Pietro misses you, you were his sistra in every sense of the word, for him you were that immoveable force strong, confident and caring. You helped him get a hold of his powers and break barriers, go beyond his limits just like you did with her, during this process you even end up hurt but you always brushed it off telling them how someday they might save you with their powers.

Pietro was fiercely protective of both of you, but he always respected your rank and dynamic, however in the moments you faltered or just needed a break he was there to support you, and take over the lead until you were back on your feet.

He admired you, he wished that someday he could be as strong as you. They saw you being tortured in Hydra's grasp how they piece you back together with steel with no regard of your mental state or body. They went through the training with you, however Hydra's trainers always pushed you to breaking points to make you the finest weapon. Still you swallowed your revenge feelings and worked for them, never losing the soft caring side reserved only for them.

You fulfilled your promise, you got them out of Hydra to a better life, that's the life you've been having this past five plus years. Pietro always pictured you on it, he was thinking on marrying his girlfriend Zrinka but he couldn't bear the thought of you not being there, not when even their parents wouldn't be there. Wanda was his only family left, sure Zrinka and Costel are family but the bonds and the experiences you've been through together makes it impossible that someone will fill the void that your absence has left.

Wanda was always teasing you at how now that you were Avengers it was more plausible that you two would end up in jail due to your shenanigans. Pietro being the flirty shit he is, loved going to bars and strip clubs to wreak havoc and you were always with him, even she would tag along just for the fun of it and get you worked up.

Most of the time only you and Pietro would go to street racing, she was wishing you two would end up caught up by the police so she could witness Tony and Steve making an excuse to bail you out, you never fell in jail.

Clint now more than before has been acting like a father figure for them, he is making sure that they don't do reckless things, making sure they eat properly and trying his best to cheer them up in his Clint fashion way, but is hard because not only the twins are hurting, Nat is hurting too she is closed off and distant, even when she partners up with the twins the rest of the time she keeps to herself.

Tony and Steve are still a little uneasy on how to approach the three of them, Tony is blaming himself and his ego, Steve is just lost he puts on his strong face but behind closed doors he is not better than Pietro, Bucky was his only family left, he lost the only person that know him before all this mess, he lost a brother too. Besides he respected you, even when the two of you had a rough start, he admired you just like he admires Natasha, it breaks his heart knowing that a wrong call did this much damage.

Tony, the billionaire is trying his best he even tries to cheer up Pietro buying him a new car, but the silver haired man, politely refused telling him the story of how the first car he ever had is a Dodge Challenger RT 73, you had it restored and tuned for him, three weeks later he crashed the right side during a street race. when he told you just laugh it up telling him that you bet Wanda a week until he crashed it, and you lost the bet and regarding the car it was now his problem to have it repaired, pretty much was a 'work your ass off to pay the repairs' with a pat of his back. Tony laugh wholeheartedly at the story, you indeed were something.

The next days (months?) are a complete blur you can hear yourself scream, other times you hear Bucky scream in agony, that's the only way you both know you are still alive. Both are being beaten to make you comply obedience (They'll need more than that). They refused to wip you both, they now know that Wanda will be able to snap you out of it. Even though you are being beaten to unconsciousness on daily basis, you learn two things, the one with the archangel wings code name is 'Dark Angel' (so original, and is indeed Anika) she can blast you with energy spheres. The other girl is called Dark Mist she can play with your mind and hurl you round with her telekinesis like a ragdoll, both of them can knock your ass out. The next time you regain consciousness you are strapped to a metal chair, Salarov and his two companions enter the lab room, he has a spider like dispositive on his hand. "Time to obey asset" there’s other two soldats that you know well, after some wrestle they forcibly shove a mouthguard on you. You are not stupid, you know what is about to happen, the scientist fiddle with the equipment setting it up, they lower the head piece in place, you try with all your strength to scape, but is in vein, Salarov only laughs at you “Do it” the scientist turns the machine on. You can feel the electricity swimming in your head, the pressure on your brain makes your sight fill with black dots, then it becomes white, the mouthguard can’t stop the agony screams and grunts, the other soldiers stand unfaced at your suffering.

They repeat the process at least a couple of times at the end your jaw is locked close like a Rottweiler, they pry out the mouthguard leaving you panting like a wounded animal. Your head feels crushed, pain is all you can register, you can hear Russian voices around you, several heartbeats (or is just yours?) you sight is blurry, but slowly it clears out. When Salarov ugly mug comes in sight you growl at him, you don’t know how you end up there, but in the back of your mind you know that Bucky is somewhere near.

The soldiers unclasp the handcuffs, but your body feels out cold, they haul you off the seat to toss you to the cold unforgiving floor. Your body is so heavy and beaten that falls like a sack. The sergeant nods at the soldats who land hard merciless kicks at your midriff, you growl and fumble in pain. After tasting a couple of boots, they forcibly make you kneel, your body hunches to the front, a dark oblivion is tempting you to surrender. The Mist traps you in place her energy makes your skin shiver in disgust. Salarov crunches before you he makes the spider like dispositive pierce your scalp, skull and the metal plate on the right side, you feel tentacles swimming beneath your skin running down your neck, a new burn runs through your veins.

(I can only hope that Bucky is dead to avoid being through this). "Status report soldat". "FUCK YOU" you venomously grunt spatting blood at him. He forcibly wipes out the blood off his face. "Increase the poison". You hiss in pain as your voice starts to falter, sight getting even blurrier. "Status report soldat" "F-FUCK YOU" your words are slurred but not less despiteful. "More" he grunts. You can’t voice a thing, your body shakes but you refuse to comply. They up the dose more, you can feel your thoughts drifting away, mind starting to blank even the pain starts to shut off. "Status report soldat" he angrily request. You voice is cold, emotionless, void of any human trait, after all the screaming in agony your voice is husky "Ready to comply" you mind is blank you don't longer feel or think, your stare is stern cold and unforgiving. "Code name" he request the glee in his voice is clear. "Ice Wolf" a kick of a boot sole your left cheek snap your face to the right, but you are unfaced staring blankly at the unknown. "Wrong, code name: asset 1. Repeat code name soldat" "Asset 1".

---

The soldats drag you to other lab room, where the doctors patch you up, before they store you, they show you some pictures requesting you to tell the names of the people framed, in the beginning you can name them all, but after awful discharges on your head you start forgetting the man with a slug smirk and dark brown eyes, the one with blue eyes an a shield, a redhead with green eyes, the man with metal arm, the one with the patch, a stern woman with blue eyes, an Asian woman with confident stance…every single one of them get lost in a void, the last ones you forget is a grey haired man with piercing blue eyes and a brunette woman with bright green eyes, they are replaced with enemies, a group call avengers they are targets to be eliminated given the order by your handler. The last thing you register is cold, is almost like a déjà vu, cold…cold until everything shuts off.

--- It's been two plus years since that mission, the avengers have taken down a several of Hydra's bases and hideouts. But despite all this effort a new Hydra unit has appeared three soldiers and two enhanced, they've been responsible of assassinations of important politicians some ex-Hydra high ranks and even done some terrorist attacks, their moves are always deadly precise and organized, the avengers have encountered them a several times. The only intel they have is that the leader is called the Dark Tiger, his fighting style and armor like T'achalla's of course in no way as advanced as the king’s. He is always flanked by two soldiers (suspected super soldiers) they are always acting like shields to him, the intel says that this two are new advanced versions of the Ice Wolf and Winter Soldier (mocking the fallen ones with the names). The first enhanced posse’s electricity generation and telekinesis her code name Dark Mist, the other one poses archangel wings, can create energy blasts and has teletransportation, code name Dark Angel. The last members of this team are two 4’0 tall black wolves, one of them has bionic front limbs with long sharp claws the second one has bionic back limbs and bionic front paws they are always close to the Dark Wolf and the Dark Soldier. --- [Avengers Compound]

The avengers are gathered in the kitchen and dining table, some of them eating others talking. Wanda is currently talking with Natasha. As the news are playing in the background. *Breaking news, the truth about S.H.I.E.L.D's last failure*. The avengers pay no mind, since the Hydra mew group showed up some TV hosts have taken as their mission to talking crap about them. *... Well Charles, guess what we have here, you know about the rumors of the Wolf and the Winter Soldier, the Avengers said that the 'former' Hydra soldiers are on an undercover mission. Well unless this mission involves going to hell with no ticket back..." Everyone halted what they were doing. Steve turns up the volume. Wanda's eyes turn red in anger while Natasha schools her features. *An anonymous source has leaked footage of a carnage almost two years ago...* The video shows footage of the fight *As you all can see the almighty heroes and S.H.I.E.L.D agents had their asses busted, but hold on, the best part is coming...* All the avengers stop what they are doing to look the news, they make their way to living space. "...The Wolf and the Winter Soldier were the chosen bait, they stayed back and end up blown to pieces, the last thing you see is Thor and Vision recovering some of their weapons and their masks all the items bloodied and beaten. And we are not done yet, this anonymous source was kind enough to reveal that our ‘beloved’ Wolf was in no way a hero, she was a high ranked Hydra member, high in the command chain, Y/N was a captain known as the Ice Wolf. Responsible for this* A large file package is shown. *She did all this with no brain washing or mind control, she was a mercenary, a cold blood mons...* the sound is turn off. Nat tries to calm down Wanda who right now is livid and crying. Pietro goes to them to engulf them on a big protective hug, his voice is full of anger “I’ll be right back, I’m going to kill him”, when he tries to rush out of the door Clint halts him with a hand on his chest “Hold your horses speedster, think before you do” Pietro groans in annoyance and goes back to his twin holding her close and kissing the crown of her head. "F.R.I.D.A.Y trace the source and shut down the news broadcast, erase everything available on the red". Rushing heel clicks can be hear nearing, Pepper comes running "Tony turn off... Guys... I'm sorry". A hologram is displayed in the middle of the coffee table. *Stark we need to do damage control*. "I'm on it, F.R.I.D.A.Y is taking down everything" Tony says jaw set and voice stern. *Call a press conference, Rogers take care of that mess. Be prepared for an attack, Hydra is making a move* the dark skin man says his voice hinted in anger. --- [Hydra base] --- *Message delivered sir, the avengers are calling a press conference*. *Tiger, ready your unit, you are crashing their conference, make sure is a big play, don't kill them yet*. *Yes, sir*.

The bulky Russian man walks to the living room of the safehouse "Company we have a mis... Mist where the fuck is Angel?!".

"She is playing with her sex toys".

[Angel's room]

I can hear a female voice chatting, her voice is quite lively and lately is the only thing that's reminds me I'm alive, most of the time I just feel pain and my body moving, others I just feel an overwhelming cold, on the best days I get glimpses of what Hydra wills me to do. Never in my twelve years serving them I felt like an asset, now I'm just that, and seems that Bucky couldn't avoid this fate again.

"What ya think Bucky, should I pretend is you this time or Wolfy?" She gets close to me.

My voice is barely a broken whisper "Last time... Was Buck".

"Oh?" she tilts her head "Hey Wolfy did I lowered the poison that much?" she only jiggles.

Our bodies are slumped against the wall, handcuffs keep the arms above our heads, the ankles are shackled too, collar and chain included.

She gets close to straddle my lap and lean in to whisper in my ear "As soon as they find out about you I'll help them get you back... Now behave he is coming" she presses a button of the controller.

I feel the burn in my veins increasing, slowly my mind drifts away.

She fakes kissing your neck as the door is slammed open.

"Angel! stop fucking them, we have a mission".

She groans in annoyance "Fine" pressing another button the shackles are open.

"Soldats! Gear up" he shouts, voice full of anger. Methodically like robots, both of you get up and walk out of the room following orders.

They wip you both before heading to the mission.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, as I said buckle up and twist your undies.

I might post another chapter this week, since my holydays end this week.

PART 6

#wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #quick silver x reader #avengers x reader #shield x reader #story of the ice wolf #part 5

26 notes · View notes

jisoyoon-blog · 7 years

Photo

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 | 개성 ( character development 001. )

NINE PROMINENT TRAITS

Reticent: not revealing one's thoughts or feelings readily.

Hesitant: tentative, unsure, or slow in acting or speaking.

Perceptive: having or showing sensitive insight.

Benevolent: well meaning and kindly.

Repressed: characterized by the repression of thoughts or desires.

Ambitious: having or showing a strong desire and determination to succeed.

Adroit: clever or skilful.

Energetic: showing or involving great activity or vitality.

Affable: friendly, good-natured, or easy to talk to.

JUNG’S THEORY: INFP: THE DREAMER

INFPs are introspective, private, creative and highly idealistic individuals that have a constant desire to be on a meaningful path. They are driven by their values and seek peace. Empathetic and compassionate, they want to help others and humanity as a whole. INFPs are imaginative, artistic and often have a talent for language and writing. They can also be described as easygoing, selfless, guarded, adaptable, patient and loyal.

STRENGTHS

Warmly concerned and caring towards others.

Sensitive and perceptive about what others are feeling.

Loyal and committed - they want lifelong relationships.

Deep capacity for love and caring.

Driven to meet other’s needs.

Strive for “win-win” situations.

Nurturing, supportive and encouraging.

Likely to recognise and appreciate other’s need for space.

Able to express themselves well.

Flexible and diverse.

WEAKNESSES

Don’t like to have their “space” invaded.

Extreme dislike of conflict and criticism.

Strong need to receive praise and positive affirmation.

May react rather emotionally to stressful situations.

Have difficulty leaving a bad relationship.

Have difficulty scolding or punishing others.

Tend to be reserved about expressing their feelings.

Perfectionistic tendencies may cause them to not give themselves enough credit.

Tendency to blame themselves for problems, and hold everything on their own shoulders.

MORAL ALINGMENT NEUTRAL GOOD

A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them.

A neutral good character will keep his word to those who are not evil and will lie only to evil-doers. He will never attack an unarmed foe and will never harm an innocent. He will not use torture to extract information or for pleasure. He will never kill for pleasure, only in self-defense or in the defense of others. A neutral good character will never use poison. He will help those in need and works well alone or in a group. He responds well to higher authority until that authority attempts to use the law to hamper his ability to do good. He is trustful of organizations as long as they serve his utilitarian purpose. He will follow the law unless more good can come from breaking the law. He will never betray a family member, comrade, or friend. Neutral good characters are indifferent to the concepts of self-discipline and honor, finding them useful only if they promote goodness.

Neutral good is the philosophy that goodness should be advanced by using whatever means provide the most benefit. It is a philosophy of altruistic consequentialism. This philosophy holds that people should behave altruistically and balance the needs of the collective as a whole and the needs of the individuals making up the collective. Neutral good can also be associated with act utilitarianism and ethical altruism.

ENNEAGRAM: TYPE SIX: THE LOYALIST ➜ WINGED BY SEVEN ➜ SELF-PRESERVATION

QUICK OVERVIEW

BASIC FEAR: of being abandoned.

BASIC DESIRE: to have security.

THE HEAD CENTRE: moves away from others - out of touch with the centre.

ORIGINAL LOSS: "i was too rebellious.“

DECISION: being obedient and loyal allows you to survive and be loved.

SELF-IMAGE: "i am faithful and responsible.”

COMPULSION: to establish security by obeying the rules.

VICE: sloth in self-reliance.

VIRTUE: courage.

HIDDEN COMPLAINT: i am dependable and i follow orders, although other people don’t.

KEY MOTIVATIONS

Want to have security, to feel supported by others, to have certitude and reassurance, to test the attitudes of others toward them, to fight against anxiety and insecurity.

➜ WINGED BY SEVEN: THE BUDDY

Sixes with a Seven wing are generally outgoing and may appear more overtly nervous. More plainly want to be liked and will pursue others in contrast to Five wing who pulls in. Can be charming, sociable, ingratiating. Have a faster tempo, stronger connection to Three. Often self-preservation subtypes, characterized by a personal warmth. Can have a cheerful, forward-looking drive and be disarmingly funny. Self-effacing, gracious and curious. When more entranced, may be self-contradicting and seem as if they want two things at once. Sometimes test others overtly, drive you crazy with mixed messages. It may be hard to follow what they’re saying. When threatened, one defense is to become impossible to please. When counterphobic, they tend to be accusative. Some get caught up in big plans that they hope will result in material security. Also can be insecure, irritable, petty, irrational, chaotic. Subject to mood swings, inferiority complexes, runaway fears. May have hair-trigger flare-ups of paranoia. Falsely accuse others and then seem not to realize it. Other times they plead to be taken care of. Sometimes defensively conservative in their lifestyle. Some struggle with appetite.

➜ SELF-PRESERVATION (SP)

Self-preservation Sixes often display a personal warmth that is meant to defang the potential hostility of others. If they sense aggression or disapproval in the environment, they may counterphobically zero in on it. Use humour, charm, self-depreciation to make friends out of possible enemies. Can flatter like Twos, play themselves down, work to maintain other people’s affection. Act vulnerable, invite rescue. Ingratiating, but more nervously dependent than other Six subtypes. Also less in touch with their own hostility. Their home environment is sometimes important. May feel like their house is a fortress against the outside world’s dangers. Worry about their ability to survive; have scary “worst-that-can-happen” fantasies

FOUR TEMPERAMENTS PHLEGMATIC

STRENGTHS

Calm, humble, discreet, flexible will of steel (flexible steel), thoughtful, patient, modest, a real sweetheart, accommodating, steady-paced, sympathetic, perceptive, faith in morality, very compassionate, assuming innocent until proven guilty, a good listener, open-minded, considerate, and empathetic to all

In common with melancholic: Polite, reserved, gentle, ethical to a fault, dependable, mysterious, quiet and stealthy, a deep poker face

In common with sanguine: Pleasant, forgiving, witty, easygoing, idealistic endurer, emotionally available, a good sense of humour, good with relationships.

WEAKNESSES

Indifferent, submissive, lazy, slow, shy and passive, slacker, indecisive and too yielding.

In common with melancholic: Timid and docile, scared of sudden change, stubborn (about certain things), easily embarrassed.

In common with sanguine: teasing, too compromising, forgetful, unable to find what's wrong.

STAR SIGN PISCES

Neptune signs, Pisceans have the tendency to be chameleons, to “match energies” with others, or become what others expect or want them to be. This enables them to blend in anywhere they want to. A Piscean can be the life of the party or fade into the woodwork, as they choose, and may appear very differently to others from one meeting to another.

PATRONUS RACCOON

Curiosity, secrecy, adaptability. Raccoon people have a tendency to be defensive, on-guard, ambiguous, and aloof. They can also be charismatic, involved, and unpredictable. Raccoon medicine is integrated with the idea of having the right 'mask' for any situation, and taking control over change. Raccoon is a symbol of disguise, transformation, and open-mindedness.

Jay is a boy with many secrets and many masks, he changes easily and can adapt to situations how he deems fit, having the ability to understand the person he’s talking with and giving them what they needs. Once he’s comfortable with the person and the side of himself that he’s shoving, he blooms, friendly and open-minded, enjoying the time he spends with that person.

BOGGART His white lies and past doings coming to haunt him in the form of; people he loves ( his fathers and close friends ), dying in front of him.

His biggest fear comes in the shape of his fathers getting dragged out of their home, a big fight follows, glass shards everywhere, droplets of blood marring the faces of the people he loves as they’re dragged away, it’s not just his family but every single people he ever cared about, looking at Jay accusatorially. What they’re thinking is crystal clear in their eyes — ‘it’s your fault, it’s all your fault’. No matter what he does, as he trashes and tries to reach them, they get farther away, a dark hand crawling around their throats, leaving them breathless. It’s Jay’s biggest fear, that all he has done, all the white lies he ever told will harm the ones he cares about, and bring them their demise — while he just stands there and watches.

x, x

#( hnnng idk what this is #i took psych so i wanted to give this a go? the links are super helpful dfkjh )#◣ 𝙳𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚁 𝙷𝙸𝙲 𝚃𝙸𝙱𝙸 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙸𝚃 𝙾𝙻𝙸𝙼 ┇ — musings. ◥#◣ 𝙰𝙱 𝙸𝙼𝙾 𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁𝙴 ┇ — headcanons. ◥

8 notes · View notes