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theoneforwriting · 3 years ago

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Rampage

Day Three

Prompt: Rampage

Villainous July Enemies and Allies

Note: yes that is Amphibia XD

Norman Osborn was long gone by the time the height of the battle occurred. Stark’s androids had only increased in numbers, their last hope getting rid of the source powering all of the this.

“Mary” Peter screamed as he dodged another blast “grab the Crit!”

Mary Jane’s eyes widened as she realized how close she was to the object that has caused all this chaos. Heart pounding she full on sprinted, the camera she had brought to originally report on said battle broken beyond repair as she had to use it to defend herself.

“Got it!” She yelled, yanking the odd cube from its stand causing everything around them to come to a screeching halt.

“Go Mary go!” MJ yelled.

Peter’s heart swelled in hope. So much had changed in only a day. So many secrets had been revealed. Mr.Stark’s true intentions with the Crit Charger. Literally everyone he knows discovering that he’s Spider-Man. With the power source for the android soldiers gone he can finally-

“Not so fast.”

Peter’s blood ran cold.

There stood Tony Stark not even looking nowhere near as worn out as the teenagers with a malicious grin on his face.

“You’ve all got spunk, real hutzpah, but this all ends now.” In his grasp Stark held Harry over a ravine created during the battle.

“Tony-“

“No Underoos you don’t get to say anything, you know I saw a real spark in you, someone who could finally see my vision for the world.”

“Tony!” Peter pleaded. All the nights he spent with Mr.Stark raced across his vision. The hours spent in the lab together working in perfect harmony, the movie nights where they laughed until they cried, Tony calling him his kid.

“Put back the Crit or this bastard learns how to fly.” Stark threatened.

In some sick sense of hope Peter called out to Mary Jane.

“Mary do what he says!”

“No don’t, I’ll be fine!” Harry protested.

“I’m sorry Harry.” Mary plugged the Crit back in and slowly walked over towards her friends with her hands in the air. The androids flickered back to life and waited forever their orders.

“Okay Stark you have what you want now please just put him down he’s my best friend.” Peter added on the last bit trying to appeal to the humanity he believed that the man before him had. After all, isn't that what Tony thought he was doing,helping humanity?

“Peter…” Harry said softly.

“That’s the thing about friends isn’t it?” Stark’s smile looked genuinely happy “the more you love them the more it hurts when they go.”

Now holding Harry directly over the ravine Stark spoke

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

Harry fell.

No one here could fly.

No one here could help.

He could hear his friends around him screaming. Ned was shaking his shoulders. Mary was screaming. MJ was comforting Mary. But all Peter could see was red. All his thoughts clouded over.

What did I miss? Peter desperately thought. Mr. Stark oiling his robots' gears with the utmost care.

What did I miss? Stark offering him an actual internship.

What did I miss? Tony ruffling his hair before carrying him to bed in what had unofficially become his room.

The Crit’s light started to throb in time with his heart. Light flooded all of Peter’s senses.

“No…” Tony said in hushed awe “it can’t be.”

There Peter stood looking impossible with the power he had.

“Give him back.” Peter’s voice echoed even though there were no walls.

“Give him back!” Two androids near Peter instantly disintegrated as he took off towards Stark.

Stark took to the sky and Peter followed. Tony trained him but Peter also had tricks up his sleeve. Blowed take on either side as they danced back and forth. Stark’s repulsors being useless against whatever aura surrounded Peter.

“Give him back!” Everyone on the ground could only hopelessly be on lookers as the rest of the androids also went after Peter.

Buildings were decimated and the androids stood no chance as Peter continued his onslaught.

Damages surrounding them appeared that could only have been done in hours were done in a few minutes.

Peter took Tony’s hand swinging him around to slam him into the ground.

Peter stood before him, the power around him starting to flicker.

“Give him back.” He put his foot against Stark’s arc reactor crushing it.

“Give…him back…” his voice started to trail off the mysterious power he had draining away.

As black seeped into Peter’s peripheral‘s he had a last few thoughts.

Give Harry back…

Give my dad back…

Please

All Peter could see was black.

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kittybellestark · 3 years ago

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It’s Real If It’s Real

So here’s a lil thing to try and get me to write again, i did it in 30 minutes so it isn’t v much and i didn’t proof read it bc it’s 1am so my bad

uh i dont know if this needs a trigger warning ?? it’s just peter struggling with reality so lemme know if i need to add one

Read on AO3

“I’m sorry Peter but I just don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

The words weren’t real. They weren’t. They couldn’t be. Ned did not friend-break up with Peter. That’s just not possible. There was- no. Peter and Ned have been best friends through everything, they’ve been best friends since Peter was 6 years old and transferred schools. Peter called Ned’s parents Mom and Dad, and had a key to their place. Ned’s parents kept snacks that Peter liked in their cabinets. That type of friendship doesn’t just end.

Yet the words rang true in Peter’s head. Repeating themselves over and over. Tormenting him, laughing at him. It felt real. Like the truth had dug itself into Peter’s bones and said it was home. It settled inside of Peter and made him feel sick. It felt like a brick was inside of his stomach and his head was filled with fog.

Ned wouldn’t have actually said that, right?

Peter knows, he knows he’s been struggling. Struggling to separate reality from his own twisted nightmares. He’d always been imaginative, creating stories in his head, running through his biggest insecurities and things he wished he were true. Maladaptive daydreaming, that’s what Peter’s therapist said when he was 12 years old. But he always knew the difference. He had known, if something happened or if it was just another story he created.

Then Beck had to go and ruin it. Beck destroyed Peter’s sense of reality. The illusions were intense and so real- Peter was stuck in them for so long. He didn’t know anything was fake, that none of it was real. Peter was tricked. Beck tricked him into thinking he had gone off planet, that he died in Mr. Stark’s arms. The his body was being pulled apart piece by piece. Peter believe in his soul that he was dead for five years only to come back into a war zone and in turn watch Mr. Stark died. Everything felt real, the sound of the heart beats, the smells. It was so real.

It became even more real for Peter when May had become sick. Except that wasn’t the real May. It was just another illusion. But it felt like her. It smelled like her shampoo. Fake May knew all their inside jokes. Fake May ended up dying from cancer. Peter watched May die a horrible death. It had all been so real. Yet it was all fake. A bunch of illusions and some drugs that was being vented into the room Peter was kept in. Beck manipulated Peter, made him live through a false-reality and had Peter watch his family die.

Peter’s ability to trust people, to trust himself and his senses was stolen. Peter couldn’t tell the difference anymore from him taking a shower and him thinking about the act of taking a shower. Peter hardly even believed May or Mr. Stark were real most of the time. He watched them die, he heard their lasts breaths. How was he supposed to believe that was fake. Beck could still have him and Peter would be none the wiser.

He needed to learn to trust himself. His sense of reality, no matter how skewered it was. Peter couldn’t go through the rest of his life wondering if the floor in front of him was real or if he’d fall down a ravine to his death. He just needed confirmation first. Someone who could tell him that Ned actually said those words out loud. That’s all he needed.

“Mr. Stark?”

FRIDAY paused the TV and Mr. Stark looked across the couch to Peter, giving Peter a smile. This was real, Peter knew that, he knew that this room in the tower was real. There were no illusions.

“Was Ned here today?”

Peter didn’t know what answer he was hoping for. He didn’t want Ned to stop being his friend, but Peter also didn’t want this to be something else his brain tricked him into thinking it was true. Peter wanted his friend, but he also wanted to trust himself. It had all felt so real, like Ned was there, sitting on the next couch over, bouncing his leg, refusing to meet Peter’s eyes. It sounded like Ned and it looked like Ned. They were best friends, and best friends don’t just stop being friends that easily.

“No, he wasn’t kiddo.”

“Does that mean Ned and I are still friends?”

The whole thing could have taken place at his and May’s place. Ned standing at the apartment door, May in the kitchen. Peter would have invited him in and Ned would of declined, staying in the hallway, hands holding onto the straps of his book bag. Ned would be wearing his confidence hat, and he’d move once to get out of the way of Ms. Lila- Peter’s neighbour- so she could go to the store.

Or it could have happened at school. Was Peter going to school? May and Mr. Stark could have made to decision to keep him out of school until he’s got a better sense of reality. Wasn’t that decision made for him? Peter was pretty sure it was. Which was why he was at the tower. If May wasn’t home Peter stayed at the tower because no one wanted Peter to be alone. So Ned couldn’t have friend-break up with Peter there. It was either here or at the apartment. Someone would have witnessed it happening.

“Yeah, Pete, you are still friends. Ned was just asking to come over remember?”

“Oh,” Peter still had his friend, that should be good news, “right. Right.”

Taglist: Send an ask/Dm if you’d like to be added!

@peter-is-a-bean @friendshapedcastiel @dead-inside-pt2 @they-were-cloudsinmycoffee @parkersjiggle @7peternotparker7 @thatonecrackheadshipper @kevinthewoman @faline4you @lynxshinon @narutoyaoifan @pastelwheeler @thecrazymarvelfan @bonjour-gays @thebestqueenoftheworld

#irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #May Parker #ned leeds #quinten beck #hurt peter #confused peter parker #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #peter parker whump #peter parker is precious

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agentrouka-blog · 4 years ago

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Hi! When Sansa got her first period she burn the beddings implicating fire n blood. Do you think she will loose her maidenhood to Jon or does it signifies another thing? She has fire n blood imaginary in her chapters.

While I agree in principle that Sansa has more than a few hints that her eventual partner will be a certain trueborn Targaryen (”the dragon’s heir”, Sandor’s cloak stained with fire and blood,...), there is little reason to assume that Jon will come to openly embrace his Targaryen ancestry and actually wrap Sansa in a Targaryen cloak. The cloak remains hidden at the bottom of Sansa’s chest, after all. He is a hidden prince, but he’s the biggest Stark stan of them all and his foreshadowing leans toward remaining an official bastard, if not becoming a Stark outright. So these images already tell us that his true parentage will be steeped in conflict.

And while it’s very likely that Jon will be Sansa’s first (and probably only) Lover, I actually think that the specific scene you are talking about is not a hint about that.

(Other things surrounding that scene, though.. I go into much detail further down.)

The scene of Sansa’s first moonblood in ACOK actually mirrors the scene of Dany’s miscarriage in ADWD. It’s all steeped in panic, violence and horror. Not happy imagery for sex.

Women swarmed over her like weasels, pinching her legs and kicking her in the belly, and someone hit her in the face and she felt her teeth shatter. Then she saw the bright glimmer of steel. The knife plunged into her belly and tore and tore and tore, until there was nothing left of her down there but shiny wet ribbons. When she woke, the pale light of morning was slanting through her window, yet she felt as sick and achy as if she had not slept at all. There was something sticky on her thighs. When she threw back the blanket and saw the blood, all she could think was that her dream had somehow come true. She remembered the knives inside her, twisting and ripping. She squirmed away in horror, kicking at the sheets and falling to the floor, breathing raggedly, naked, bloodied, and afraid. But as she crouched there, on her hands and knees, understanding came. “No, please,” Sansa whimpered, “please, no.” She didn’t want this happening to her, not now, not here, not now, not now, not now, not now. Madness took hold of her. Pulling herself up by the bedpost, she went to the basin and washed between her legs, scrubbing away all the stickiness. By the time she was done, the water was pink with blood. When her maidservants saw it they would know. Then she remembered the bedclothes. She rushed back to the bed and stared in horror at the dark red stain and the tale it told. All she could think was that she had to get rid of it, or else they’d see. She couldn’t let them see, or they’d marry her to Joffrey and make her lay with him. Snatching up her knife, Sansa hacked at the sheet, cutting out the stain. If they ask me about the hole, what will I say? Tears ran down her face. She pulled the torn sheet from the bed, and the stained blanket as well. I’ll have to burn them. She balled up the evidence, stuffed it in the fireplace, drenched it in oil from her bedside lamp, and lit it afire. Then she realized that the blood had soaked through the sheet into the featherbed, so she bundled that up as well, but it was big and cumbersome, hard to move. Sansa could get only half of it into the fire. She was on her knees, struggling to shove the mattress into the flames as thick grey smoke eddied around her and filled the room, when the door burst open and she heard her maid gasp. In the end it took three of them to pull her away. And it was all for nothing. The bedclothes were burnt, but by the time they carried her off her thighs were bloody again. It was as if her own body had betrayed her to Joffrey, unfurling a banner of Lannister crimson for all the world to see. (ACOK, Sansa VI)

I mean… “Madness took a hold of her.” And then she gets fire happy. The fire and blood in this scene harkens more of Dany, more of rape, miscarriage, still-birth and death than of anything life-affirming or positive.

But, to get positive:

There is plenty of Jonsa to be had, though, in the chapter transitions.

THEON IV -> JON VI -> SANSA IV -> JON VII -> TYRION XII

Jon’s chapter embrace Sansa’s, while he himself is flanked by two of his foils.

Theon IV has this:

Mercy, thought Theon as Luwin dropped back. There’s a bloody trap. Too much and they call you weak, too little and you’re monstrous. Yet the maester had given him good counsel, he knew. His father thought only in terms of conquest, but what good was it to take a kingdom if you could not hold it? Force and fear could carry you only so far. A pity Ned Stark had taken his daughters south; elsewise Theon could have tightened his grip on Winterfell by marrying one of them. Sansa was a pretty little thing too, and by now likely even ripe for bedding. But she was a thousand leagues away, in the clutches of the Lannisters. A shame.

End of chapter:

“Prince Theon,” Maester Luwin entreated, “you will remember your promise? Mercy, you said.” “Mercy was for this morning,” said Theon. It is better to be feared than laughed at. “Before they made me angry.”

A prince of mercy, linked to marrying Sansa and ruling Winterfell, Gotcha. Next up? Jon.

Jon VI chapter opening:

They could see the fire in the night, glimmering against the side of the mountain like a fallen star. It burned redder than the other stars, and did not twinkle, though sometimes it flared up bright and sometimes dwindled down to no more than a distant spark, dull and faint. Half a mile ahead and two thousand feet up, Jon judged, and perfectly placed to see anything moving in the pass below.

You’d think this was referring to Ygritte, who is “kissed by fire” and will later be eulogized as “Well, the hottest fires burn out quickest." But. There are a ton of Sansa-in-the-Eyrie references.

A red fire in the mountains, sometimes bright, sometimes dull, but never twinkling, very high up…

The wash her aunt had given her changed her own rich auburn into Alayne's burnt brown, but it was seldom long before the red began creeping back at the roots. (AFFC, Alayne I)

The chapter then has Jon climbing up in the mountains with Stonesnake in a way that mirror’s Sansa climbing down the cliffside in her escape from King’s Landing in ASOS, and later her descent from the Eyrie in AFFC. Jon later also climbs the Wall up, while Sansa is only ever described in detail climbing down. These two are destined to meet in the middle at some point.

This is also the chapter where he meets Ygritte (*spits*) who is the hot and dangerous kind of fire. But:

“Fire is life up here,” said Qhorin Halfhand, “but it can be death as well.”

There is more than one kind of fire.

I cannot quote everything here, but the language is just incredibly similar to the Eyrie descriptions.

There were wonders here as well. He had seen sunlight flashing on icy thin waterfalls as they plunged over the lips of sheer stone cliffs, and a mountain meadow full of autumn wildflowers, blue coldsnaps and bright scarlet frostfires and stands of piper’s grass in russet and gold. He had peered down ravines so deep and black they seemed certain to end in some hell, and he had ridden his garron over a wind-eaten bridge of natural stone with nothing but sky to either side. Eagles nested in the heights and came down to hunt the valleys, circling effortlessly on great blue-grey wings that seemed almost part of the sky.

The waterfall screams Alyssa’s Tears while the natural stone bridge references that little stone saddle bridge that is crossed by Catelyn on her way up and by Sansa on her way down. Where she hears the ghost wolf big as mountains.

But back to transitions, end of chapter:

“Do it,” she urged him after a moment. “Bastard. Do it. I can’t stay brave forever.” When the blow did not fall she turned her head to look at him. Jon lowered his sword. “Go,” he muttered. Ygritte stared. “Now,” he said, “before my wits return. Go.” She went.

What does our prince do? Show mercy. Which, of course, does indeed entrap him with the wrong partner.

Followed by Sansa IV:

This chapter is choked with horrible abusive imagery for Sansa.

The southern sky was black with smoke. It rose swirling off a hundred distant fires, its sooty fingers smudging out the stars. Across the Blackwater Rush, a line of flame burned nightly from horizon to horizon, while on this side the Imp had fired the whole riverfront: docks and warehouses, homes and brothels, everything outside the city walls.

Even in the Red Keep, the air tasted of ashes. When Sansa found Ser Dontos in the quiet of the godswood, he asked if she’d been crying. “It’s only from the smoke,” she lied. “It looks as though half the kingswood is burning.”

While more destructive fires burn, Sansa is surrounded by false partners, false heroes: Tyrion, Dontos, Littlefinger, the Hound. The smoke hides the stars.

More references to mercy:

The last time King’s Landing had fallen, the Lannisters looted and raped as they pleased and put hundreds to the sword, even though the city had opened its gates. This time the Imp meant to fight, and a city that fought could expect no mercy at all.

That red fire high up and perfectly placed to see anything below?

Turning back to the stair, Sansa climbed. The smoke blotted out the stars and the thin crescent of moon, so the roof was dark and thick with shadows. Yet from here she could see everything: the Red Keep’s tall towers and great cornerforts, the maze of city Streets beyond, to south and west the river running black, the bay to the east, the columns of smoke and cinders, and fires, fires everywhere.

Isn’t this beautifully done??

Sansa encounters the Hound, they discuss the joys (and lack thereof) of killing. (Hint: big contrast to merciful Jon.)

It’s follow by Sansa’s moonblood nightmare night/morning and her panic attack arson reaction.

This is followed by her breakfast with Cersei where they discuss flowering, childbirth, Robert v. Jaime, Joffrey and love. Emphasis is put on how her brother (ahem, lover, father of her children) showed her devotion in connection to childbirth. Jaime is Cersei’s love. While she denounces the subject to Sansa, she certainly values it for herself.

End of chapter:

Robert wanted to be loved. My brother Tyrion has the same disease. Do you want to be loved, Sansa?” “Everyone wants to be loved.” “I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. “Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

Followed by: Jon VII.

(Gotcha, someone heard Sansa wants to be loved, and went me me me, I can be your sweet poison, baby.)

Opening:

It was dark in the Skirling Pass. The great stone flanks of the mountains hid the sun for most of the day, so they rode in shadow, the breath of man and horse steaming in the cold air. Icy fingers of water trickled down from the snowpack above into small frozen pools that cracked and broke beneath the hooves of their garrons. Sometimes they would see a few weeds struggling from some crack in the rock or a splotch of pale lichen, but there was no grass, and they were above the trees now.

More language that straight-up mirrors the Eyrie chapters. Sansa can’t see the stars, Jon can’t see the sun, hidden int he mountains.

More discussions of mercy.

“If I had needed her dead, I would have left her with Ebben, or done the thing myself.” “Then why did you command it of me?” “I did not command it. I told you to do what needed to be done, and left you to decide what that would be.” Qhorin stood and slid his longsword back into its scabbard. “When I want a mountain scaled, I call on Stonesnake. Should I need to put an arrow through the eye of some foe across a windy battlefield, I summon Squire Dalbridge. Ebben can make any man give up his secrets. To lead men you must know them, Jon Snow. I know more of you now than I did this morning.” “And if I had slain her?” asked Jon. “She would be dead, and I would know you better than I had before.”

We see who they are by what they do.

In later chapters: Sansa sings for mercy even for her enemies, treats her enemies (bit for the very worst ones) with compassion and kindness. In ASOS, Ygritte murders an unarmed old man they come upon almost exactly the way Jon came upon her. We’ll just let those two things speak for themselves.

Jon goes wargy and has a Nightmare of a false partner and a panicky reaction of his own:

As he lifted his eyes to the ice-white mountain heights above, a shadow plummeted out of the sky. A shrill scream split the air. He glimpsed blue-grey pinions spread wide, shutting out the sun . . . “Ghost!” Jon shouted, sitting up. He could still feel the talons, the pain. “Ghost, to me!” Ebben appeared, grabbed him, shook him. “Quiet! You mean to bring the Wildlings down on us? What’s wrong with you, boy?” “A dream,” said Jon feebly. “I was Ghost, I was on the edge of the mountain Looking down on a frozen river, and something attacked me. A bird . . . an eagle, I think . . .” Squire Dalbridge smiled. “It’s always pretty women in my dreams. Would that I dreamed more often.”

Shadows in the sky? Drogon. Dany. Scary.

They are stalked by the Wildlings, the warg eagle, they cannot escape. Just as Sansa will not be able to escape. The trap Jon laid for himself when he spared Ygritte is slowly moving shut. Mercy, that two-edged sword.

End of chapter:

When dawn broke, Jon looked up into a cloudless sky and saw a speck moving through the blue. Ebben saw it too, and cursed, but Qhorin told him to be quiet. “Listen.” Jon held his breath, and heard it. Far away and behind them, the call of a hunting horn echoed against the mountains. “And now they come,” said Qhorin.

Bad things are coming.

Who’s coming? Tyrion XII.

Tyrion is coming, he won’t know it for a while, but he is coming for Sansa, like Ygritte is coming for Jon.

Chapter opening:

Pod dressed him for his ordeal in a plush velvet tunic of Lannister crimson and brought him his chain of office. Tyrion left it on the bedside table. His sister misliked being reminded that he was the King’s Hand, and he did not wish to inflame the relations between them any further.

Tyrion is dreading his own oncoming encounter with Cersei. We learn that Theon’s lack of mercy has become public: Bran and Rickon are reported dead. This endangers Jaime.

“I still hold Sansa!” the queen declared. “We still hold Sansa,” he corrected her, “and we had best take good care of her.”

Tyrions wants them to take good care of her. Ygritte promised Jon could join the Wildlings if he wanted to switch sides. Mercy? In reality, they are pressured into marriage or sex. In ASOS, this happens to Jon and Sansa, respectively.

More on false lovers: Cersei threatens Tyrion’s partner - but the false partner! She threatens Alayaya, the whore he pretended to see, when he was really going to see Shae.

Her hands were bound with rope, and they’d gagged her so she could not speak. “You said she wouldn’t be hurt.” “She fought.”

No mercy for cities that fight back, as Sansa speculated earlier.

“Sweetling,” he said, “you must be brave. I am sorry they hurt you.” “I know you’ll free me, my lord.” “I will,” he promised, and Alayaya bent over and kissed him on the brow.

Theon promised mercy, and lied.

Sansa is promised escape, it is a lie.

Alayaya is promised rescue - it is a lie. She will be whipped and shoved through the gates naked when Cersei releases her.

He visits Shae:

“The Lady Lollys—” “She’s asleep. Sleep’s all she ever wants to do, the great cow. She sleeps and she eats. Sometimes she falls asleep while she’s eating. The food falls under the blankets and she rolls in it, and I have to clean her.” She made a disgusted face. “All they did was fuck her.” “Her mother says she’s sick.” “She has a baby in her belly, that’s all.”

No sympathy for a rape victim, much like Ygritte doesn’t comprehend the concept. But the theme of sexual violence and pregnancy continues.

Who will show Lollys kindness later? Sansa.

We see how rare mercy and compassion actually are. How rare and precious.

End of chapter:

When she felt him go soft, Shae slid down under the sheets and took him in her mouth, but even that could not rouse him. After a few moments he stopped her. “What’s wrong?” she asked. All the sweet innocence of the world was written there in the lines of her young face.

Innocence? Fool, she’s a whore, Cersei was right, you think with your cock, fool, fool.

“Just go to sleep, sweetling,” he urged, stroking her hair. Yet long after Shae had taken his advice, Tyrion himself still lay awake, his fingers cupped over one small breast as he listened to her breathing.

The imagery here is reminiscent of Jon and Ygritte in ASOS, Jon V:

They shared the same sleeping skins every night, and he went to sleep with her head against his chest and her red hair tickling his chin. The smell of her had become a part of him. Her crooked teeth, the feel of her breast when he cupped it in his hand, the taste of her mouth . . . they were his joy and his despair.

Fake love, wrong partners. What Tyrion wants is what he thought he had with Tysha. Something innocent and true. What he has is false. Much like Jon will eventually realize with Ygritte: who she is and what he has is very different from what he thinks it is, what he actually wants: something innocent, something true. As rare and precious as mercy.

Sansa, our resident prophetic genius is right: Everyone wants to be loved.

The fact that Jon’s chapters are basically hugging Sansa’s flowering and shielding her from the two pervs who want to do all the things she is narrowly escaping and having nightmares about is sort of.. important. THAT is a hint that he will protect her from such a fate, that he will take the things he learns from Ygritte and put them to a worthier use, when he and Sansa both end up meeting in the middle.

#jonsa #sansa stark #jon snow #tyrion lannister #theon greyjoy #asoiaf

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starkerforlife6969 · 6 years ago

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Tony takes the two hexahedronal dice dubiously, rolls the slats of dark blue in his fingers, and stares at the board.

His paladin hovers at the edge of square two: the Uncertain Cliff.

He chews on the inside of his mouth for a second, and thinks that maybe, he should’ve stuck to football. “So, I can…” he glances up, to the enthusiastic and eager eyes of Peter, Ned, Flash and MJ. At their expectant (and in MJ’s case: inpatient) faces, he feels his cheeks get a little red. He clears his throat and clenches his sweaty palm around the dice. “I just roll?”

“You just roll,” Peter promises reassuringly, and Tony feels a little burst of relief. He’s fourteen. He shouldn’t need comforting from a thirteen year old, but whatever. He’s hanging out with thirteen year olds. He used to be popular. What happened?

“Anything higher than a seven and you’ll fly straight across the ravine,” Ned pipes up, and Tony nods.

Higher than a seven. Right. He can do that. Except- “What if I roll a six?”

Oh god, he feels so stupid. What is he doing here? What is he actually doing here? In the empty once-storage room in the dark, dusty, forgotten corners of the school when he should be outside in the sunshine playing football with everyone else?

He knows why, of course. It has something to do with the honey eyes and the hopeful smile of a one, thirteen year old: Peter Parker.

“Your character tumbles to the bottom of the ravine,” Flash answers, “but you’ve got enough reviving potion as long as your injuries aren’t five plus.”

“Which they might be,” MJ teases ominously, and Ned elbows her with a look.

“He’s trying!”

“Oh god,” she rolls her eyes, “just roll.”

Great. MJ thinks he’s a loser. Tony swallows his apprehension and tosses the dice across the board. Everyone’s eyes follow raptor-fast until they stop and Tony feels a little thrill of exhilaration at the shiny thirteen dots gazing at the ceiling.

Peter and Flash break out into cheers. “Well done, Tony!” Peter beams, and Tony feels himself puff up a little with pride. Peter meets his eyes and they share a private, almost-moment, before Flash clears his throat.

(Tony knows why he’s here. These guys, even though they’re a grade lower, treat him better than the people in his year. They don’t treat him like he’s the most popular, richest guy in school. They treat him the way he feels: gangly, a little spotty, and too proud. They treat him like a doofus, and he can finally relax)

They turn to the dungeon master obediently, and Flash basks in the attention. His voice is hypnotic when he speaks: “Alright. Tony sails across the ravine and is faced with two paths. One leads to the home of a doctor who’s said to have the potion to save your friend, the other leads to a series of caves that legend says house the crystals of life. What do you choose for your company?”

“The doctor!” MJ cries earnestly, and Tony blinks a little at her passion. He hadn’t thought she was that into it. “We can win him over, we’ve saved enough charm-“

“The crystals are stronger than the potion! If our friend needs more than an eight the potion won’t be any good!” Ned sighs, shaking his head in dismay.

Peter lowers his head a little in respect, and pushes his little mage figure so it rests just under Tony’s shadow as it’s cast across the board. “Whatever you choose, Paladin.” He murmurs demurely, and Tony feels a little flood of arousal. Peter’s cheeky grin says he knows it too.

Ned follows quickly. He upturns his palms and waits.

MJ too, looks to him with her knight ready for his choice.

It’s a little intoxicating, if Tony’s honest. His skin prickles with the choice as he weighs it up in his mind.

Flash cocks an eyebrow expectantly, and Tony nods his head, and takes a breath: “The Doctor. We want to see the Doctor.”

Flash grins, and leads them down the story on the left.

***

Tony’s mom makes him drink a glass of orange juice a few months later, because he looks a little pale.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her he isn’t sick. That he just hasn’t tanned the way he normally does by playing football out in the sun at lunchtimes. He doesn’t quite know how to tell her that he’s about to write his first quest and take his seat as Dungeon Master. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s a paladin and he’s planning on marrying his mage. He doesn’t know how to tell her that his grades in everything have gone up and that he wants to quit the football team.

“You should have some juice too, Peter, darling,” Maria murmurs, as she pours some for Peter too.

Peter sits at the counter and blushes, ducking his head and accepting it gratefully. “Thanks, Mrs Stark,” he chirps, and Tony feels a rush of affection so strong, he blurts out:

“Mom, I’m dating a mage.”

Peter nearly chokes on his juice, and Maria pauses on her journey to the fridge. She stops, and turns slowly. “You’re dating Paige?” She asks carefully.

He can feel the tips of his ears turning red, and he shakes his head. “No, I- I’m dating a mage. Level 7. He’s- it’s- he’s-“ he points at Peter, who’s staring at him in a mix of amazement and horror. “It’s Peter.”

“Ah,” Maria smiles, waving them off. “I knew that.”

Tony shoves his hands into his pockets, pulls out the two special octedronal dice he had to cycle all the way to Hudson’s to buy, and holds them out for Peter. “Marry me?” He asks quietly, holding them both out for him, and Peter smiles so hard he looks like he might burst and he says:

“Only if you role higher than a one.”

***

i love you guys

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fatal-instinct · 5 months ago

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Original Vs Spoofy

#fatal instinct 1993 #fatal instinct #noir film spoofy #home alone #armand assante #ned ravine

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spiral-depths · 5 years ago

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Essentially the government officials for the Crag layer. This photo was taken some years ago and a good number of them have left or died by this point, but this was the most famous group. Each of them represent a different branch of magical study and are responsible for different mechanisms of the state based on their abilities. Bios for each individual below:

>Quo (she/her), Seraphim, biological affinity Grew up in the militaristic wastes of the Abyss and became a Sentinel, one of the most feared forces in all of the Crevasse. However in traveling around she came to realize that the way of life she'd acclimated to was not the one she wanted for herself and she defected and joined the Crag society to train her magic. Over the years her dedication and all consuming affection for those a part of her new existence proved to be enough to land her a seat on the council itself as chief medical officer. >Maryam (she/her), Dryad, ethereal affinity Maryam had had a somewhat boring and uneventful childhood as many of her kind did in their home village on Precipice. She took up the role of the town matron solving domestic disputes and providing care for the children. She was often looked upon as a wise figure and in many cases even their leader. When the Craggians invaded Precipice, her town was one of the first they attempted to occupy. Were it not for her guidance, stern gaze, and leadership her town would have perhaps suffered a much worse fate than the one they did. But many of the higher ups took offense to her protest and took her as prisoner back to Crag. She did not fight nor even disagree with their choices, and Crag decided to make use of her complicity and moral judgement. She now serves as the head judge on the council. >Ned (he/him), Pixie, environmental affinity Growing up in the slums of crag he knew little but almost constant hardship and strife as every day brought a new calamity for his family. To make things worse his family had been sucked into one of the slums many cults that promised them a better life only to just make what little they had that much more difficult. Ned came away with loads of trauma, anxiety, and frequent panic attacks but he is one of the most talented self taught enviro-mages alive in his time period and a master at disaster preparation which landed him his own seat on the council as head domestic development designer. >Cain (he/him), Nekomata, communication affinity Cain did not grow up with much, but neither did he grow up wanting. His family was well enough off the not have to worry about their basic needs but not much else. Cain was expected to take up the family business but he always dreamed of a better world far away. After unlocking his affinity he began to entertain himself listening to the various goings on in the world, and eventually his abilities reached the lecture halls of Crag. He taught himself more and more listening to everything within reach and eventually he was able to take advantage of shipping negligence to sneak a ride to the place he loved the most, the university. His talents impressed all there and he was allowed to be an honorary student. Eventually he graduated and became a professor at the very same school. His knowledge and understanding landed himself a seat on the council as dean of the university. >Hashab (they/them), Orothri, transportation affinity Not much is publically known of their background other than they came from Ravine. Most of their actions remain unknown and untrackable due to the nature of their abilities (discrete movement via teleportation?) and no one is quite sure what to make of their lack of a shadow. But one thing is certain and its that they are exceptionally good at resourcing and connections. There seemingly isnt any task that they couldnt complete given enough time and money. These talents landed them a seat on the council as chief trade commissioner. >Narancia (he/him), Pixie, elemental affinity Narancia comes from a place of wealth, never having to have ever worried about their well being or prosperity. In his school life he was always lauded as being the most enjoyable person to be around, and little else. That is until he discovered he had a talent at a certain kind of magic that up until that point had only been theoretical: non-contact continued activation. Magic in the Crevasse usually requires the individual to maintain a connection with some object or have previously made contact with it, however Narancia can seemingly fire off a projectile from his finger and have it continue to be active even while floating freely just in the air. This ability landed him a strong media presence which he took advantage of landing him a spot on the council as president of domestic relations. >Kensha (they/them), Smogtail, projection affinity Kensha grew up well enough off for their family to constantly immerse them in art and culture. They began creating their own works at a fairly young age and began to grow in popularity enough that by the time they were 16 they already had contracts with major entertainment businesses. As their portfolio grew more and more so did their popularity, eventually landing them a seat on the council as head of cultural development. Which really just translates to "they make things, display them, and have parties", so essentially nothing different than what they normally do. >Kati (they/them), Dryad, gravitational affinity Originally from a Precipice town, Kati's family were traders who'd take the town's produce and other crafts and transport it down to Ravine, but they'd have to go through Crag to do so every time. Kati grew to love the sights and sounds of the city and began to spend most of their time there. They were exceptionally skilled at networking and before they knew it they were acclimated enough to essentially be just another Craggian. They took classes and trained their magic, and were an active fighter for the betterment of the other citizens when their lives needed improvement. Given their extensive list of influential connections and their position as a voice for the people its no wonder they landed a spot on the council as the head of the equity commission, a title created just for them. >Obolique (she/her), Asteri, dejure affinity Having grown up in one of the tribes on Precipice, Obolique had been immersed in strong senses of morality and dedication. She learned to hunt with her fellow Asteri in service to her Polari and life was simple enough that way. When some of the other tribes began hoarding their water supplies from the other groups within the Crevasse to inflate its value, she stood against the decision. She believed that their actions, while laborious, were a service to the rest of the known world just as her services to her Polari had been. This lead to her outcast and the stripping of her tribe title. She quickly joined forces with the invading Craggians and now serves on their council as chief strategist and head of the civil servants that patrol the cities.

#Spiral Depths #crag #seraphim #pixie #dryad #orothri #nekomata #asteri #smogtail #avian #deer #mouse #bobcat #fox #goat #ferret #bear #furry #anthro #world building #art

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scorp10n1 · 1 year ago

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Ned in Peril 5- Danger at Deadman's Creek!

Chapter 9- The Gates of Hell!

Ned Carstairs learns that he has inherited a ranch in Colorado, USA and travels over there to see his new property.

But upon arrival he is targeted by outlaw Blackjack McGee who repeatedly tries to eliminate Carstairs. McGee is working for a mysterious individual who wishes Carstairs eliminated.

During one such incident Ned is rescued by ranch hand Billy Carson, but both are captured and left bound and gagged to a runaway wagon, heading straight down a slope into a ravine!

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efterslapp · 6 years ago

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Resa till Krakow och Slovakien 20-28.5.2018

Seniorutskottet valde att företa årets långresa till Slovakien med Göran och Muška Stenius hemma från Grankulla, därför att deras koncept passade precis för oss. Bekvämt avstånd från Finland men med massor av okända orter, med historia, kultur, natur, god mat och till och med lite teknik. Det trevliga sällskapet är ju också en viktig komponent på våra resor, och det stod vi för själva. Görans koncept är välprövat. Han och Muška har dragit flera liknande resor och alltid i samarbete med Ingves&Svanbäck, som har egna bussar nere på kontinenten under våren. Visst blir det lite dyrare så, men å andra sidan känns det tryggt med en finsk resebyrå som ansvarar för allt och med en chaufför som talar hemlandets tungomål, fast med nykarlebydialekt. Sune hette han. Vi hade dessutom en extra chaufför med oss som bröt omisskännligt på närpesiska. Robert hette han och han var på fd polis på inlärning som chaufför för Ingves. Trots på förhand tämligen dystra väderprognoser utmärktes hela resan av ett fantastiskt soligt och varmt väder. Vi fick en åskskur i nacken i Nitra och lite regn första förmiddagen i Bratislava.

Söndag 20 maj

41 förväntansfulla deltagare checkade in på AY 1163 till Krakow omkring kl 19. Flyget avgick kl 20:25 och landade på tidtabell ca 21:30 lokal tid. En blå inhyrd buss avhämtade oss och förde oss till hotell Alexander ett par kvarter från gamla stan. Efter incheckningen samlades vi alla i hotellets källare för en typisk polsk kvällsbuffé med gulasch och uppskärningar.

Följande morgon var väckningen tämligen tidig, för Ingves & Svanströms buss körde oss till Wielicka redan kl 8:30. Det var noga med tiderna för saltgruvan i Wielicka är en mycket populär sevärdhet i synnerhet nu då alla skolorna arrangerar klassutflykter före terminsavslutningen. Vår Krakow-guide hette Anna och hon assisterades av Justjina. Vi fick gå ner i schaktet sammanlagt ca 135 m och ca 2,5 km horisontella gångar. Så småningom började man förstå varför gruvan är så speciell. Man har brutit salt där sedan 1200-talet, och inkomsterna frångruvan stod under medeltiden för en betydande del av konungariket Polens intäkter. Senare var det ungrarna och Habsburgarna som for iväg med vinsten. Nere i gruvan finns enorma och otroliga salar med utsmyckningar i salt. Därför är saltgruvan ett UNESCO världsarv. Lyckligtvis behövde vi inte gå tillbaka upp till fots utan åkte med gruvhissar, som onekligen gav en viss klaustrofobisk känsla. Från saltgruvan körde bussen oss till gamla stan och vi promenerade i samlad tropp till restaurang Fiorentina för lunch. Därefter tog guiden Anna oss på en rundvandring i Krakow. Först delade hon ut ”lurhörar”. Tyvärr var de inte av samma kvalitet som i Gdansk i fjol. Hörbarheten inskränkte sig emellanåt till blygsamma 10 m, vilket dessvärre gjorde att många missade detaljer i guidningen. Vi inledde med att vandra upp till kungaborgen Wawel, där mycket var täckt av byggnadsställningar och presenningar. Vi fortsatte till universitetets medeltida innergård Collegium Maius. Guidningen slutade vid kanten av det stora torget Rynek. Därefter var programmet fritt och sällskapet splittrades. Somliga besökte St Mariabasilikan, andra gick runt i stan. Många gick på kvällen på någon av turistkonserterna, som arrangerades i åtminstone två olika kyrkor och gick sannolikt på middag i någon av de talrika restaurangerna i gamla stan.

Tisdag 22 maj

Hela dagen var i princip fri för individuella övningar fram till kl 15:00. Ett sällskap med Calle Geust i spetsen åkte till Krakows fina flygmuseum. Andra uppsökte museer i centrum, Kazimierz med de judiska kvarteren mm. Putte och Anna var sannolikt de enda som besökte Schindlers fabrik, som på ett mycket suggestivt sätt beskrev den tyska ockupationstiden. De avslutande orden på utställningen var ungefär att ”sedan kom Stalin, och det var en ganska besvärlig tid”. Bussen avgick alltså kl 15 och började söka sig söderut mot Tatrabergen. Slutligen körde den genom nationalparken och stannade genast när vi har passerat slovakiska gränsen, för chauffören måste omedelbart få en liten låda som registrerar alla körda km på slovakiskt territorium. Vi anlände till hotell Kukucka i Tatranska Lomnica vid 18:30 tiden. Vi checkade in och gjorde oss klara för rövarmiddagen i den vilda grannbyn Stara Lesna och restaurang Zbojnicka Koliba. Där blev vi genast välkomnade av rövarhövdingen, som bjöd oss på en brinnande dryck. Den inspirerade oss att sjunga ”Helan går”. En zigenarorkester spelade smäktande toner att dansa till. Snart kom rövarhövdingen och kommenderade fram Putte. Tillsammans med en representant för en annan grupp i salen begabbades dessa stackare och berövades hälften av sina kravatter. Som tröst fick de en sup. Till middagen serverades grillad kyckling och revbensspjäll. Det blev en mycket trevlig kväll. Onsdag 23 maj

Dagens första program var en flottfärd på floden Dunajec. Den om något krävde vackert väder, och det fick vi pessimistiska väderprognoser till trots. Vi körde till nationalparken Peninsky och äntrade flottar gjorda av ihop surrade pontoner. Sedan bar det av i ca 3 knops fart i närapå två timmar genom en av Centraleuropas finaste raviner mellan lodräta kalkstensväggar. Detta var en unik naturupplevelse med Polen på babords och Slovakien på styrbords sida. Väl framme monterades flottarna ned och transporterades till utgångspunkten för nya turistgrupper. Inne i byn Lesnica på 10 minuters promenadavstånd åt vi lunch bestående av flodens läckra foreller.

Vi körde vidare genom det vackra landskapet och stannade i staden Kežmarok för att se en gammal träkyrka byggd i början av 1700-talet i enlighet med artiklarna från kyrkomötet i Sopron 1681, som tillät byggande av evangeliska kyrkor förutsatt att de var byggda på billigaste möjliga sätt dvs av trä och utan kyrktorn. Alla dessa ”artikelkyrkor” utgör numera ett UNESCO världsarv.

På vägen tillbaka till Tatranska Lomnica fick vi på vänster sida beundra utsikten över Höga Tatra en mycket kompakt och markant bergskedja, som finns avbildad på den slovakiska flaggan. En nationalsymbol alltså. På kvällen åt vi en läcker måltid i hotellets restaurang.

Torsdag 24 maj

Dagens avfärd från Tatranska Lomnica senarelades med en halvtimme så vi startade kl 9:30 efter frukost och utcheckning. Vårt första mål var passet Čertovica i Låga Tatra på ca 1250 m höjd över havet. Pausen var av tekniska natur. Vi fortsatte till Nitra, där vi åt en lunch på Unicafé, och där vi mötte Muškas kusin. Hon ledde oss upp på Nitras kyrkoberg för att bekanta oss med sätet för den första biskopen i regionen. Missionärerna, som instituerade biskopsstiftet var gamla bekanta från tidigare resor i både Ohrid och Bulgarien, Kyrill och Metodius. De påstods ha utvecklat kyrkoslaviskan och kyrilliska alfabetet under sin vistelse i Nitra. Där fanns också ett litet men rikt museum med skatter som hittats gömda i biskopspalatset. På våg tillbaka till bussen åskade det och dundrade. Lite våta blev vi, men regnet upphörde snart.

Väl framme i Bratislava och hotell Devin på Donaus strand utrustades en patrull för att köpa biljetter till fredagens symfonikonsert. Hela 26 personer hade anmält sitt intresse. Senare på kvällen åt vi middag i hotel Devins ministerkabinett.

Fredag 25 maj

Dagens första program var en rundtur med minitåget i gamla stan. Nu upplevde vi resans enda ihållande regn. Den sista gruppen fick vänta på tåget rätt länge i ösregnet och blev ordentligt våta. Väl inne i tåget var taket täckt och fönstren immiga. Det var inte så mycket man kunde se.

Bussen avgick kl 10:30 och vi körde norrut till byn Slovenky Grob där vi åt en aningen tidig lunch på restaurang Zlatej Hus. Menyn var mycket speciell. Först fick vi enorma mängder gåslever med bröd och paprika, därefter ett berg av grillad gås. Till detta serverades traktens goda lantvin. Två glas per person sades det, men vinet tog aldrig slut. Det var en oförglömlig lunch. Därifrån fortsatte vi till ett av Slovakiens mest besökta turistmål familjen Palffys slott Červeny Kamen en liten bit upp i Karpaterna. Det blev litet av en besvikelse. Ingen information fanns att få annat än guidens berättelser. Indrivandet av fotograferingsavgiften var viktigare än allt annat. Ingenting av familjen Palffys lösöre fanns kvar. Egentligen fanns det ingenting att fotografera.

Kl 19 var det dags för symfonikonserten i Bratislavas praktfulla Filharmoni. Huset från 1910-talet är en pärla i jugend, neo-barock och neo-rokoko. Musiken kan kanske klassificeras som aningen svårsmält av Saint-Saens, Rachmaninov och Debussy, men helheten var en fin upplevelse. En något mindre förfinad upplevelse var ölet och slovenska tallriken på ölstugan Prazdroj (Pilsner Urquell) efteråt.

Lördag 26 maj – en extra dag i Wien

Hela förmiddagen var fri. Göran ledde en grupp som besökte bl.a. Primatens palats med fin konst från 1500-talet och en samling fina och välbevarade gobelänger som presenterade legenden om Hera och Leander. Putte och Anna besökte Bratislavas borg med intressant utställning om den tjeckoslovakiska tiden 1918 – 1993, som gav ett bra komplement till Muškas berättelser i bussen.

Ungefär halva gänget år lunch på Prazdroj, medan resten upplevde Bratislava på egen hand.

Bussen till Wiens flygfält Schwechat avgick kl 16. Alla utom 14 personer checkade in på Finnairs kärra till Helsingfors. Bussen fortsatte till Wien och hotell Boltzmann, som ligger utanför ringen på norra sidan. Chaufförerna Sune och Robert bodde på samma hotell. Putte fixade ett kabinett på traditionsrika Plachutta runt hörnet från Wiener Staatsoper för alla 14. Vi frossade i wienerschnitzel tillredd som sig bör av äkta kalvkött.

Söndag 27 maj

Wien är en av Europas verkliga kulturstäder, och vi hade hela dagen för oss fram till kl 16, då vi måste bege oss med Ingsves buss till flygfältet. Det fanns ju tid att se något av stadens sevärdheter, t.ex. något av konstskatterna. Gruppen splittrades och alla gjorde sina egna val och har sina egna upplevelser att berätta. Några valde att besöka Sigmund Freuds museum, som inte var någon höjdare. Andra ville se pansarvagnar och några ville ägna sig åt tivoli- och cirkusnöjen genom att åka i Praterns anrika Riesenrad. Veterligen såg ingen Wiens mest berömda konst av Klimt för att nämna ett exempel. Några avslutade denna ljuvliga dag i Wien med att äta sparrislunch vid Schottentor. Flyget hem gick på pricken enligt tidtabell och vi landade kl 21:40.

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banditoxkenshin · 3 years ago

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Jessica Barnes

⚠️🚨WARNING! CONTAINS MARVEL SPOILERS🚨⚠️

Name: Jessica Lilian Barnes

Nickname(s): Jess, Jessie, Lilian, Lily

Age: Depends on fanfic

Gender: Female

Birthday: April 1, 1920

Race: American

Species: Human

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Accent: Slight Russian accent from her time with HYDRA

Languages: English, Japanese, and Russian

Height: 5ft 2in

Weight: 155lbs OC's Appearance Face-claim: Millie Bobby Brown

Skin Color(s): Fair

Hair: Brown

Hairstyles: Usually down the back

Eyes: Almond-Shaped

Eye Color(s): Brown

Unique Feature(s): Scar on her jawline from a knife wound by Red Skull, gunshot wounds on her chest OC's Clothing Style Gym: She wears her suit while she trains so she doesn’t lose her skill, but she also wears a crop top and shorts.

Swimwear: She wears a one piece because she’s insecure about her body.

Fancy: Jess loves to wear long dresses--it doesn’t matter what color, but she’s partial to red. She prefers flats to heels, but she will wear heels.

Pajamas: She usually wears one of Peter’s shirts or a hoodie and pajama pants.

Normal: If she isn't wearing her suit, she’ll wear a shirt and joggers.

Accessories: She has some necklaces that Bucky had given her in the 40s

OC's Personality Social: She’s an ambivert. She’s very charismatic and can converse easily, but she has a social battery, and Bucky and Peter have quickly learned when her battery is dying. She’s untrusting and prefers to listen rather than speak.

Bravery: She’s very brave, which is partially because of Reisu. She will run into a fight, especially when those she loves are in danger.

Rebellious: She’s very rebellious. As a child, she always tried to bend the rules and see how close she could get to breaking them. This transfers over to her adult life.

Tidy: Jess likes everything to be neat.

Bookworm: She was a big book worm as a child, and she still loves to read.

Personality: Jess is like her brother in many ways. Smart. Charismatic. And a crowd pleaser. She’s very loyal to people, but after her experience with Hydra and being turned into a Winter Soldier, she’s very untrusting now. She’s scared of her own strength, but she’s slowly learning to come to terms with it. She doesn’t mind having to kill people though. She has a bloodlust that needs to be satisfied, but she can suppress it if she needs to, even though it’s uncomfortable. She’s still under the affect of her trigger words, and she can be turned into a Winter Soldier again if someone desires.

OC's Habits Overeating: Only when she’s stressed

Smoking: She picked up the habit in the 40s when cigarettes were popular. In more modern times, she still smokes cigarettes, but she also vapes. She’s been trying to stop the habit, and she only smokes when she’s very stressed or overstimulated.

Spending Money: She is very frugal with her money.

Gossiping: She’s not a goshipā--or a gossiper, as she calls it--but she does enjoy hearing drama.

Lying: She only lies when she has to.

Drinking: She drinks recreationally.

Cheating: Nope. She refuses to do it.

OC's Personal Life Occupation/Job: She’s a mercenary for the military. She was a war criminal, and this was her way of getting her name cleared.

Education: She grew up in the 40s so her education wasn’t great. Most of her education came from the Army.

Family: Bucky Barnes (older brother), Peter Parker (boyfriend)

Friends: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Ned, MJ, Tony Stark, Doctor Strange

Allies: Venom, Captain Marvel, the Guardians of the Galaxy

Best Friend: Natasha Romanoff

Rival: None

Enemies: Anyone trying to harm her, the world, or her family

History:

Jessica grew up under Bucky’s watchful eye. Always getting herself into mischief, she always going ways to bend the rules. She managed to sneak herself into the army where she vigorously trained as a solider. He tried for a week to convince her to leave, but she wouldn’t. She ranked up relatively quickly to a Sergeant, like her brother.

On the train, she watched her brother fall into the ravine, and she went off on her own to find Red Skull. She and him battled it out, but he nearly killed her, which gave her the scar on her jawline. Hydra had found her, and before Steve could get to her, she was taken away.

She was turned into a Winter Soldier and was sent to Japan where she resided and did missions for Hydra. When the civil war between Captain America and Iron Man occurred, Jess was sent to kill Bucky. He ended up convincing her to stay, but she still struggles with her Winter Soldier persona.

Unlike her brother, she has no problem killing people. She’s not a hero. She’s still a killer when she has to be.

She met Peter during the Civil War, and the two ended up falling in love when they were both 17. They ended up dating a few months after they met. Three years later, the blip happened. She was left behind, and she lived with Steve. During this time, Jess became a mercenary for the military.

When the Avengers brought everyone back, she wasn’t there. Peter frantically searched for her and found her in a desolate part of the world.

Her trigger words are: Aspire. Family. Tsunami. Twenty. Train Track. Perfection. Rebellion. Escape. Betrayal.

Fears: losing herself again, losing those close to her, spiders, flying, and her Winter Soldier

OC's Abilities Power/Skills: She can control the elements. She also has a demon inside of her named Reisu (Japanese for Wraith) that she can shift into.

Strengths: She gets a huge bloodlust from Reisu, and the more blood she sheds, the more powerful she gets.

Weaknesses: She’s loyal till the day she dies, and she trusts too easily. This has caused her to get betrayed more than once.

Equipment: She uses dual katanas named Sasayaki (Whisper) and Ryūketsu (Bloodshed). She can use sniper rifles or any marksman weapons too.

Alias: She’s a hero, but she kills people. So... anti-villain?

Name: Akumu (Japanese for Nightmare)

Costume: During her time with HYDRA, she looked like the Winter Soldier, but when she was in Japan, she wore Samurai armor with a straw hat and an Okami half mask.

Partner: She typically doesn’t have partners, but she will team up with the Avengers or Peter.

Tags:

#spiderman #spiderverse #the amazing spider-man #spider-man: no way home #marvel #captain america #bucky barnes #peter parker #movies #fanfiction #fanfic #imagine #Headcanon #angst #blip

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imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years ago

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A Hundred Lesser Faces: Fifteen

Section One {A Hundred Lesser Faces} what if Voyager!Claire had gone first to Lallybroch instead of directly to the print shop in Edinburgh? : [(One) (Two) (Three) (Four) (Five) (Six) (Seven)

Section Two {A Hundred More}, the aftermath of Claire and Jamie’s reunion, following their journey as they work to build a new life together [(Eight) (Nine) (Ten) (Eleven) (Twelve) (Thirteen) (Fourteen)]

Start of Section 3: {Begin and Tell}

Several days later

“Will you PLEASE be so kind as to explain,” I called as I let my skirts fall and tiptoed carefully back through the brush to where Jamie was holding the horses, “why it is we never have to stop for YOU to take a piss?”

“I’ve a twelve-gallon bladder,” he called back without missing a beat. “Had it made special for long rides.”

“HA bloody HA.” I drew up level with him, fumbling in my pocket for a bit of bread as he bent to tighten my horse’s girth strap. “Admit it: you’re an actual sorcerer.”

“Well, and If I were, I would hope I could magick wi’ more profitable stuff than piss.” He grinned at me over his shoulder, hair escaping his queue and hanging in his face. “I’ve been able to make water off the side of a horse since I was a boy, Sassenach.”

“What?” I sputtered, laughing through a mouthful of crumbs. “While still riding?”

“Tis a bit more difficult in breeks, ken, but wi’ a bit of careful wrangling, aye, it’s quite manageable.”

“Wrangling, mm?” I hummed, imagining John Wayne, lasso in hand, facing off with a ferocious horned beast intent on wreaking havoc. “How do you keep the wind from—”

“A man must choose his timing wisely, to be sure,” Mr. Wayne himself said as he straightened. “Do ye no’ recall all the times I’ve let ye ride ahead this past week?”

“So THAT’s what you’re doing! I always thought you were just after a pleasing view of my rear aspect,” I said, in mock-affront, giggling as I brushed off my hands and prepared to remount.

“Tis a most agreeable added benefit.” He touched my arm and placed a sweet, warm kiss in the tender spot where jaw met ear, sending warmth all the way down to my toes.

“Here, lass, wait a moment,” he added abruptly a minute later, preventing me from stepping back up into the stirrup. He was fishing about in his sporran and came out with a handful of coins, which he pressed into my hand.

I stared at it. “What’s this?”

“Money,” he called carelessly, walking around to his own horse.

I rolled my eyes at him over the saddle. “I can see that, darling, but why do I need it?”

“For the inn. The turning for Broch Morda is just ahead.”

“Inn?” I repeated, dumbly. “....Aren’t we going straight to Lallybroch?”

“No, we’re not.”

“But—Hold the bloody phone,” I said, moving around my horses’s head to stand in front of him. “Ever since Inverness, haven’t we been talking about ‘leaving for Lallybroch,’ ‘getting close to Lallybroch’ and all that?”

“A generalization, on my part,” he shrugged, making ready to mount up, “I’m sorry if ye were misled.”

“Apparently I WAS,” I said pointedly, alarm bells starting to ring. Jamie was not a man to make careless omissions. I caught his sleeve as he made to swing up. “Jamie, wait—”

“We’re not going to Lallybroch.” The finality in his tone said what the words did not.

“You mean not at all?” My mouth had actually fallen open. “Why ever—oh.....Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

Jenny.

His face was rigid with controlled feeling. “I’m no’ prepared to go knocking on the door and pretend as though all is well between us, Sassenach.”

“Well of course not!” I said, throwing up my free hand and letting my own tempests fly free, control be damned. “It isn’t all well, after what she did! But surely it’s better to go confront her and get it all out in the open! You’re not planning to shun her for the rest of your lives, after all.”

“Am I not?”

I was so stunned, I couldn’t immediately think of anything to say, and so just stood there, dismayed to see the mask of steel and spikes that had so suddenly hidden my playful Jamie of moments ago completely from view.

He had been very quiet on the topic of Jenny in Inverness and on our ride, only getting a sad, almost confused look about him in the few times her name was spoken. We’d not talked about any specifics pertaining to Jenny, either of feeling or plan for the future, but from that mournful look—so utterly foreign to me, on Jamie’s features— I’d presumed that it was primarily hurt and betrayal with which he had been wrestling in his heart. The expression on his face now, though, told me that even if that had been the case, hot fury had since claimed dominance within him, bordering on sheer vengeance.

“Jamie, come now,” I said soothingly, deciding to try and bring things back into a rational sphere. “She’s your sister, whatever else she may be, and I know how much you love h—”

“She’s a woman,” he corrected slowly, his consonants sharp and fearsome as his gaze, “who had enough hate in her heart to willfully see you and me consigned to misery apart for the rest of our days. I’ll no’ seek out reconciliation wi’ such a person.”

“But—”

“I’ll be on my way,” he said over me, “and you’ll stay at Broch Morda until I return.”

I nearly snarled ‘Oh, I WILL, will I?’ but settled for a, “Did it not cross your mind that I might want to mend things with Jenny?”

I honestly wasn’t sure that I had, before that moment. In fact, the entire way from Inverness, I’d used the long stretches of quiet to rehearse many a biting jab and condemnation to throw at the wicked woman’s feet when I saw her. That hot coal of anger had kept me warm and satisfied, justified in the knowledge that there would soon be reckoning, or so I’d assumed. There was nothing like a truly terrifying rage, though, in someone as large and dangerous as Jamie, to make one try to put aside their own vindictive glee and transmute calls for blood toward forgiveness.

From the look on his face, I honestly didn’t know what Jamie would do or say when next he saw his sister (surely he wouldn’t actually do her harm, but—), and that fact frightened me enough to have me grasping at any straws within reach. “I never thought of you as a petty person, Jamie,” I tried, “but this is—”

“’Petty’?” His nostrils flared dangerously. “Are ye truly telling me, Sassenach,” he snarled, “that if things had been reversed—if one of your own family had tried to keep us from—”

“I don’t have any family apart from yours,” I snapped, but then quickly groaned and rubbed my temple, seeing that line of argument going nowhere. “It’s the here and now that we have to contend with, Jamie! Surely you know there’s wisdom in that.”

“I may ken it,” he admitted tightly, “but my mind’s made up.”

We were both standing tight-strung between the horses, holding onto our respective reins as though they could anchor us from further outbursts.

Not a foolproof plan, evidently.

“So where the hell are you supposedly running off to while I hide at the inn?” I blurted, that ‘until I return’ finally clicking into place.

He spoke tersely but at once. “To speak wi’ Laoghaire. Break the news and hammer out an understanding wi’ her until Ned can arrive to settle things before the law.”

Well...Yes, that made good sense, I supposed.

Still, I was vexed enough to keep on the offensive, though I hated hearing the petulance in my voice. “All this time, you’ve been planning to just go off and leave me alone? Without even bothering to talk to me about it?”

“I am sorry for no’ being more clear about my intentions, but—” He was blinking hard and gritting his teeth. “Jesus, Claire, surely ye can understand that we canna be seen together in town, let alone let it be known that we’re sharing a room,” he hissed, telling me that he was just about as near the end of his rope as I was. “Risk the gossip getting back to Balriggan before I myself do?” He shook his head mightily. “You’ll go to the inn and wait there until I’ve gotten things in hand, and ye can greet Ned when he arrives, forbye. I’m sorry, but there’s no other way to see it all safely sett—”

“Of course there is, you brute of a man! Going to LALLYBROCH! Surely your family wouldn’t ever allow the gossip to—”

“CLAIRE!”

I fell silent, and could have cursed him for it.

He let go the reins and slowly stepped forward, cupping one hand to my face. The touch itself was gentle, but his eyes were deadly serious, in no way threatening, but no less terrifying for it. “I love you. With all my life and heart, I love you. Ye ken it to be so. But this is my sister; my marriage needing to be dissolved. I need ye to let me do things in the way I see fit, this time.”

Well, fuck you, too, I wanted to spit, but I gritted my teeth. “Fine.”

I realized too late that there had been a moment of soft pleading in his eyes as he spoke the last words. I watched in dismay as it vanished, leaving only hard coldness. Then his touch, too, was gone, and a minute later we were mounted, riding toward the crossroads in complete silence.

Damn you, Jamie Fraser, AND your wretched sister. And Damn you too, Laoghaire notFraser, while we’re at it. TWICE.

I’d known moments like this would come creeping in between us, sooner or later—the perfectly natural clashes and disagreements of married people, those moments of misunderstanding from poor assumptions and hasty conclusions; of wholeheartedly wanting to chuck the other person into a ravine for being a stubborn arse. Of course, those moments were inevitable ; I’d known that from the beginning. I had just hoped they wouldn’t come so soon.

Easy, though, Beauchamp. Take a breath.

I obeyed, letting the sharp snap of the mid-morning wind brace my churning temper.

This was a very unusual set of circumstances, I forced myself to keep remembering, with pressures of all kinds falling squarely on Jamie’s shoulders. I had, of course, had the advantage of months and months in which to prepare for our reunion, to set my affairs in order and rearrange my life with all loose ends tied. Jamie, though, had been taken completely and utterly unawares. It should be no surprise that it would be a bumpy journey, on his side, both logistically and emotionally.

I took another deep breath, feeling some of the ire evaporating. While I still thought (knew!) going to Lallybroch first to face the 60-inch beast head-on was the best course of action, I supposed I could find it in my heart to support his choice and afford him some control over how to approach his own tangled web, the one he was unraveling for my sake.

I was opening my mouth to say something, a gentle word or reassurance, if not apology (I wasn’t prepared to be that magnanimous yet), but before I could, we were at the juncture, and Jamie was turning his horse toward the left fork, toward the unseen Balriggan. He jerked his head toward the right. “It’s no’ far to the inn, a half-hour at most. Introduce yourself to the keeper as Malcolm, if they ask for a name. “

I nodded.

“I’ll come as soon as I can, or else send word.”

He opened his mouth to say more, closed it, inclined his head, and was off.

I exhaled in a great whoosh as I watched him ride off with speed, frustrated beyond measure both at him and myself. Don’t let the sun go down on your anger, mm? We would have at least one sunset, likely many more, before this mess was settled between us, not to mention the great behemoth of Laoghaire’s shock and reaction to weather, and a widespread scandal to mitigate once the word good and truly spread. Yes, it would be a long many sunsets, together or apart.

The impulse to go after him pulled tight and anxious in my belly—Go tell him you love him, you fool; wish him good luck in the dealings with Laoghaire; let him know you’re on his side—but fear and hurt won out, and I kicked up the horse toward the right, picking carefully over the rocks on the steeply-graded path.

We hadn’t climbed more than fifty yards when, without warning, an almighty screech rent the air. The horse was rearing beneath me practically before I could register the sound, let alone look to discover its source. I might have managed to keep my seat, but the horse was new, neither of us used to one another, and when she bucked, I went launching off over her right shoulder.

It was only by providence that the trajectory landed me in the bracken and not against the boulder two feet away at the edge of the path, else I would have dislocated my shoulder or broken my collarbone for certain. It was my army training, though—twenty-five-or-more-years aged, but still apparently sharp—that made sure I tucked the shoulder and rolled rather than throwing out my arm. Still, even without broken bones, the pain and impact of the landing was unbelievable. As I sat up, groaning, teeth-rattling shocks of pain were coursing up my spine and down to my stunned fingers and back. I curled the limp arm tight to my chest, trying to catch my breath, trying not to vomit from the pulsing lightning storm happening in my line of sight.

I heard a strangled sound, whipped my head around, and saw Jenny bloody Murray standing on the loop of the road above me, where I had been about to turn the horse before being thrown.

She was wrapped in a traveling cloak, the mule she’d been riding completely forgotten behind her, as was the basket that lay on the road, contents scattered. She was staring down at me as though at a ghost, but one that she meant to do battle with to her own death. “Is it you, Claire?” she demanded, voice high and deadly-fierce as her brother’s with shaking energy; a blazing valkyrie ready to attack. “Tell me this moment, are ye real?”

"Real enough for you to have gotten me chucked off a real horse, if you hadn’t fucking noticed!” I snarled, cradling my arm.

But damn her, the woman’s face completely fell and she burst into tears as she ran for me, sobbing, “Oh, Thank God, Claire!”

#A Hundred Lesser Faces #;mod Bonnie

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