#nor did I know how big Mayhem would be

[ubtendo]

How tall is Branwen? Does she have any hobbies? How long has she been that mother bear's cave?

(Watch out, there's gonna be a sketch art of Branwen and Mayhem)

OHHH bunch of questions OKAY

Hmm. Well harpies aren't considered a very tall species, I think she would be around average human height so maybe 1,65m (5ft 5). Probably a bit below that.

Well besides hunting, (which is essential for her survival) she likes to mess with the poor soul who find themself on this side of Drakkar, just like how she met the team actually. Other than that she oddly find enjoyment in collecting bones, whether she gathers them from her own pray or she find them around her hunting grounds or cadavers.

She actually wasn't that long at the cave before the team showed up. She was just stopping there on her flight to get to the fisher village to hunt some fish on her own, since food is scarce around this part of the land. The team conveniently showed up and hadn't noticed her there on top of the cave. She could tell that they weren't from here and she was thrilled to give them an unsettling welcome.

AHHH I have to thank you so much for asking all about her, I really enjoy fleshing out her character and this helps with thinking about stuff I haven't considered yet!!!

Here's a little bonus of Mayhem and Branwen meeting (HA told you I'd get back at you >:D but I still have to finish an actual drawing of her)

[dyns33]

Fight Club part 2

Part 2 of my little Tyler Durder x Reader

Because of Project Mayhem, people tend to believe that Tyler Durden likes chaos. That he is the embodiment of chaos.

He likes to see others lost, but he is never lost himself. He is completely in control. He knows what's going to happen, because that's what he decided. An agent of chaos, following a straight line. No one seemed to have understood this.

So I was the only person in the world fully aware that if Tyler Durden was in prison, it was his choice.

It's a mistake to think that cutting off the head of the Mayhem project would stop everything. Even though he is the creator, Tyler did everything to keep his beast running without him. A brainless creature, space monkeys, who know perfectly well what their master wants without him needing to speak.

Plus, Tyler won't have his head cut off. His monkeys are everywhere, in the police, among the juries, behind the walls of his prison. He is surrounded by his followers, who ensure his safety.

If he wants, he can go out. It is obvious that he sometimes goes out, for a few hours, a few days, without the authorities being alarmed.

I know this because I know Tyler very well. Without knowing why or how after all this time, I know him. I hear him in my head sometimes. I feel his breath on the back of my neck, a presence as reassuring as it is frightening.

I know him, so I am always careful even if he is in prison, even if he is far away, even if it has been almost a year.

He haunts my thoughts. My nights. I can still see us on that beach, on the plane, in the house. I miss him, and that's what scares me the most. I have to be wary of everything, and myself first.

Jack is still outside, faithful doggie, psycho boy, who probably gives the orders when the leader sleeps in his cell. I don't think they're looking for me. I am dead and buried. But all it takes is one mistake for everything to change.

That's life. People. I'm not perfect. The mistake came one day. It all started with a heart attack on a bus.

Nothing weird, I wasn't even on the bus. Like every day at the same time, I had my coffee on a terrace, my only little moment of relaxation.

The bus passed the café. I didn't even see it anymore. I didn't see the man fall, nor the people around him become alarmed. It didn't matter to me in the slightest.

That was bad news for a federal agent, because the man who had just died was a well known space monkey. Big Bob. Kind Bob, a bit stupid, who continued to obey by traveling all over the country spreading the word of Tyler Durden.

He had seen me. This came as a shock to him, since he was the one who found my body.

It could have ended there, but one of the feds were obsessed with Tyler. With his organization. He wondered if Bob had been murdered, so he went his way, he took the bus, and he saw me too.

We had never met, but when he approached, I knew immediately why he was there.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead.” he said to me as he sat down. Everyone was Tyler.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

He took out a Polaroid photo. Tyler loved Polaroids. He had quite a collection. I know because Marla talked about it sometimes, to annoy Jack. Intimate photos, all the people he had fucked with, in erotic positions, during the act.

We had never fucked. We barely shook hands, and even though I knew what he wanted, there had always been a distance between us. The walls and the ceiling.

I didn't know Tyler took a picture of me while I was sleeping. He had written down my name on it. I wondered if Marla or anyone else had seen it before the police. I wondered how I felt, knowing that he had taken this photo, and the meaning it had.

"He doesn't talk much. He doesn't like me to show him this photo, but he told me it was his heart, and that it was buried under the house. We found a body. You have an explanation ?"

I had tons of explanations, but I didn't want to share them with the agent. Tyler wouldn't have liked it, and I didn't like it either.

“Tell me about him.” he insisted.

"No."

“You know what he’s up to.”

“As much as you.”

“Give me something, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

"I don't know anything. We met on a beach, he put me up for a while, then I left. Don't tell him you saw me. It won't do you any good."

My mistake was not to believe that the agent would be intelligent enough to listen to my request. He listened. He didn't tell Tyler that I was alive.

No, my mistake was harder to see, seeming insignificant for several days, until I woke up in the middle of the night.

Even if he didn't tell him I was alive, the agent would still tell Tyler about me, hoping to get a reaction. He already knew from the picture that I was special, a point that needed to be pressed, and he wasn't going to stop.

So he was going to talk about our meeting. He was going to talk about the beach.

No one knew about the beach, except Tyler and me.

Since Tyler never told anyone, he would know everything without the agent needing to speak.

There was a bit of panic when the newspapers announced the escape of the leader of Project Mayhem. Speculation regarding his intentions was endless, ranging from bateriological terrorism, to bombing buildings, to assassinating the president.

Only I really knew why he was out there after all this time.

Contrary to what others think, he never wanted to take control or destroy the world. That wasn't the goal of Project Mayhem. Tyler had a vision on a human scale. He only likes to play, among other things.

If I dreamed of him, he dreamed of me. The difference was that while I was running as far away from his cell as possible, he had no reason to leave since he thought he knew where to find me. He still had his picture, and his memories.

Bob really had a talent for breaking things.

I could have continued to flee. It would have been less easy now that the agents of Chaos knew I was alive, but I could have tried. Like a new game. But I didn't like Tyler's games.

I decided to wait for him in my apartment. It was his move. It was always his move.

When he knocked on my door, he thought about bringing beers and pizza. He did this with Jack at home sometimes, at first. When there was still just the club.

He didn't say anything when he saw me, as if he always knew he would see me again one day. Maybe he knew.

Dinner passed in silence, facing each other, waiting. It was his move. I won't start. He seemed to understand it. He decided to make an effort.

“You remember the beach.” It was not a question.

“A guy building a giant hand, you don’t see that every day.”

"I guess not. You broke my heart. But I forgive you. I didn't think you remembered."

“We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t remembered that.”

"Maybe not."

“I’ve always wanted to ask you, why this hand ?”

"I wanted to talk to God. Since he didn't answer, I decided to steal his hand. When I was finished, I looked at what it was pointing at and I saw you, looking back at me. Then I knew it was you."

"What me ?"

"It was you." he only repeated, as if I should understand what he meant, and the worst thing was that I understood perfectly what he meant.

Silence returned, as I finished my beer. All this was far too intimate, more intimate than his photos. More domestic. Something was seriously wrong with Tyler Durden.

I didn't know if I should talk about all the other things I knew. That would have made the situation even worse.

“I don’t like chaos.” was the only thing I could say.

"No one likes that, you'd have to be a moron. You never like what's necessary."

“Nothing is necessary.”

"I love you."

I vividly remembered Jack and Marla, two idiots who danced and screamed, unable to clearly admit how they felt and preferring to trample romance with cigarettes and condoms.

I had often judged Jack because of this. Not anymore. I wanted to slap my face with my hands and disappear, as Tyler started to smile.

Since I didn't need to say what I already knew, he didn't need to say what I already knew. I knew it from the plane. Since his invitation. From his bed above mine. Ever since he took a picture of me sleeping.

He didn't need to say it. We weren't talking about that. It was a new rule. Unfair.

“This can’t end well.”

"As always. Like everything. Endings are never good, that's the tragic thing. And yet, life goes on."

"I wanted to talk to you on this beach. It would have been different if I had."

"We would have fucked like dogs in your hotel room, I would have beaten up your asshole boss sooner, and the world would have burned down on its own. I'm glad you didn't talk to me."

I had sometimes dreamed of another path. I was stupid enough to have hope. Tyler was destroying hope, that was his reason for being, providing total freedom.

I wasn't sure what I was. I still am not today. His heart, maybe. His poor heart.

[vera-king-hrfl]

Heat of the Night part 8.

Apologies, but neither @crowwolf nor myself know anything about rugby. We just thought it was funny. Please don't come for me if I got stuff wrong, I tried to keep it kind of vague.

CW: poorly described sportsball

A few minutes before the game between the Rivington Roeths and the Lower City Lizards is scheduled to begin, Cal is standing near the sidelines of the brightly lit field, talking to Max and Dammon, when a familiar blaze of orange hair catches his attention. The handsome, muscular green elf is approaching with a big grin. "Hey Cal! Fancy meeting you here." 

"Hykyath? I didn't know you played for the Roeths." He sticks out his hand and the wood elf shakes it enthusiastically, seeming excited about the match.

"Yeah, just transferred. How long have you been with the Lizards?"

"About two years now." Cal elbows the bigger man. "I didn’t know you fielded elves, Max."

Max looks from the tall elf to the taller tiefling, grinning. "Yeah, he's a little small for how we play, but he's fast as a fucking antelope so I decided to give him a chance. Don’t hurt him too much, eh, Cal?"

Cal chuckles, and Hykyath feigns offense. "I'll have you know I'm pretty big for an elf. Don't go easy on me; you might regret it."

"Certainly bigger than that one." Dammon is looking at the stands on the other side. "Hey Cal, is that him?"

Cal follows Dammon’s gaze and sees the slender drow, in his ripped jeans, a fitted pearl grey sweater, and little white sneakers. He's emerging from the drinks kiosk with a cup in his hand, and looks back over his shoulder as Cal watches. 

He turns back to the guys and smirks. "Yeah, that's Ryldinn."

Max. "Holy shit, Cal, that guy is gorgeous. How did a bumbling little doofus like you manage to hook up with him?"

"Only little compared to you, Max. And, well, he kinda came on to me."

Hykyath looks impressed. "So you two are dating now? Good on you, Cal!"

Max looks a bit jealous, but his words are good natured. "Really. What you got that I don't, and how much you selling it for?" He grins, the caps on his tusks making the expression comical, and Cal snorts. "The guy with him isn't bad either."

Cal turns to see Astarion, in high-waisted charcoal grey slacks and a powder blue t-shirt, a matching jacket thrown over one shoulder. The pale elf had just emerged from the kiosk with a beverage of his own and is following the drow to their seats. Max whistles with appreciation. "Spiffy."

"I thought you weren't into that."

"I said I wasn’t into you, bud. I'd make an exception for that little angel." 

Cal grins and slaps Max on the shoulder while Hykyath laughs at the big man's description of the bitchy pale elf. "I'll introduce you after the game and you can try your luck." He looks back, seeing that Ryldinn had noticed him. The drow waves, just a subtle little wiggle of his fingers in front of his chest, and sips from his cup. Cal grins at him and mimics the gesture. 

The half-orc beside him chortles, and Dammon smacks him in the back of the head. "Hey Cal, time to start. Keep your mind off his ass and in the game, okay?"

Cal punches Dammon back, in the stomach, and the older tiefling grunts in an exaggerated show of pain. "Ooof, oh no, Max, I'm down! We'll have to forfeit."

The huge man just snorts and shakes his head, starting toward his team with Hykyath. "You’re both mental. Think I'm gonna win me some money tonight."

The game starts shortly after, a melee of big men running about, tackling each other, an energetic display of masculine mayhem, yelling and grunting. The two petite elves watch the scrum, trying to figure out what's happening. 

"Hykyath seems to be doing well. I thought he was mad when he said he was going to be doing this." Astarion sips his drink, then smirks. "You know, if I'd known there would be so much thigh on show I might have done this sooner."

"Really?" Ryldinn looks at the incognito vampire with a raised eyebrow. Astarion’s eyes match his shirt today, a soft blue that bring his appearance closer to what the half-orc had seen. 

"No. But it makes this barbaric display less intolerable."

"You wanted to come." 

Astarion huffs. "There are a lot of very large men here Ryldinn. You tend to attract the wrong kind of attention." 

"Oh, I can handle that."

"Yes but this is a new suit. I never got the stains out of the last one. Besides. I want to be ready to call the medics when Hykyath gets mangled." 

"Who wears a suit to a ball game anyway?"

"Well, I don’t know, do I? Im not exactly hip to what the beer swilling masses are doing." 

They chat more while watching the players try to mow each other down, Ryldinn with interest, Astarion affecting boredom while sneaking peeks at the players' legs. They attract some looks, but nobody bothers them.

Ryldinn is more invested than his friend, fascinated by the heavy muscles of Cal's legs, the aggression, the speed and power of these men. And his tiefling seems to more than hold his own among them. He's barely paying attention to Astarion as the game progresses.

"Violent sport, really." The drow just nods a bit, the straw of his drink caught between his lips, absently gnawing at it when something exciting happens. 

"What are you doing to that straw?"

Ryldinn pulls the straw from his mouth and looks at the sad, mangled thing, then shrugs and flips it over. "Wasn't paying attention."

Eventually, it's halftime, and the players retreat to their respective huddles to plan the second part. The Roeths are up by five, Dammon and Max loudly encouraging their teams to be more aggressive, faster. After ten minutes they organize themselves again and the confusing game resumes, Cal taking a position nearer to Dammon. The ball is passed to Hykyath, who proves to indeed be as quick as lightning. Cal is surprisingly fast for his size as well, however, and manages to take the slightly smaller elf to the dirt, there's a pile up, and after a few minutes of wrestling the teams reset further down the field. 

Astarion leans toward Ryldinn as the men go on the attack again. "Do you know what's going on?"

Ryldinn shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"Hm. I suppose not. Oh, look, your boyfriend is going against that huge green fellow." 

The half-orc has the ball now, dodging through the opposite team with startling agility. Cal takes an oblique angle toward him, there's a crash like two tankers colliding, and the pile covers them. Then they reset with Cal’s team controlling the ball. 

Ryldinn is practically vibrating now, the sight of the strong young tiefling plowing through the other men making him feel a bit warm in his sweater, and he takes a long drink of his iced latte to cool himself. 

"Ryldinn." Astarion’s voice intrudes on his ogling smally, like the vampire is ten seats away instead of practically in his lap. "Ryldinn!"

"Hm? Yeah what?" 

Astarion huffs, noting the way Ryldinn’s thighs are pressed together, how he's squirming a bit in his seat. "What in the Hells is wrong with you? Were you even listening to me?"

Ryldinn chuckles. "No." He holds up his cup and frowns at his slightly shaky hand. "I think the vendor gave me caffeinated."

"Oh... well, shit." Astarion sighs and runs a hand down his face. "Wretched hells... you're going to fuck that big sweaty tiefling, aren't you?

"As soon as mortally possible."

The pale elf hmphs, glancing back at the game in time to see Cal’s team score. Ryldinn sets his cup between his knees to clap, and Astarion rolls his eyes. The game is now tied, and there’s a chance for an extra two points for the Lizards. 

"Fine, just... remember what we talked about. I don't think..."

"Shh shh..." Ryldinn stops the chatter with a hand on the pale elf’s mouth. "Just let me enjoy this. We'll worry about all of that later."

The game ends with a writhing pile of sweaty men heaving over the goal line, there's a whistle, and everyone detangles themselves from each other with difficulty, laughing, play-fighting, and hurling good humored insults. The Lizards have won by two points. Ryldinn stands, clapping and bouncing on his toes a little, and Astarion sighs and gets to his feet as well, trying to pick Hykyath out of the group of rowdy guys. The players eventually break apart, some heading toward the locker room, some chatting in groups and splitting off to approach friends or family in the stands. Hykyath and Cal are walking toward the two smaller elves, smiling and ribbing each other, when Cal decides to remove the soft caps on the sharp tips of his horns, and then his shirt. 

Ryldinn watches, going a bit still as the fabric is slowly pulled up his ruddy torso, revealing a lovely pattern of bumps and ridges on the sweat-slick chest and ribs. The sides of his cup compress a little, threatening to spill the remains of his latte on the floor, and Astarion catches his hand. "Watch that, you'll get coffee on your shoes."

Ryldinn makes a little sound, almost a whimper as Cal turns around to wave at some others, holding his shirt by his side. "Heh... fuck the shoes. I have more shoes. What are we talking about?" The tiefling’s ass is round and firm, the little love handles only adding an extra frisson of excitement to the powerful torso. Imagining what it might feel like to grab Cal there is throwing the drow completely off, and then he turns back around, coming closer, and Ryldinn has to sit back down for a second. 

"Your fucking... oh never mind." The pale elf turns back to the other men, trying for an air of aloof unconcern, but it slips a little as he sees what Ryldinn had, and his eyes widen marginally. "Oh my. Are you sure about this, darling? The man looks like he could satisfy an ogress."

Ryldinn shakes himself and stands again, moving to the edge of the stands, weaving through the departing crowd, trying not to stare at the substantial bulge in Cal’s brief shorts. "I may not be able to walk straight, but I'll be godsdamned if I'm not going to try."

The elf and tiefling reach them, and Cal hugs Ryldinn over the railing, briefly, while Hykyath and Astarion share an air kiss. Ryldinn smiles, lowering his eyes and trying to control himself as Cal addresses them. "Hi, sweetheart. Hi Astarion. So what do you want to do now?"

The pale elf starts to answer, but Ryldinn interrupts him. "I was thinking we could go back to my place for a while..." 

Cal grins, looking adorably shy and cute. "Uh... yeah. I'd like that. I need to shower, but then I'll..."

"Please don't," Ryldinn interrupts. "I like you the way you are now."

Cal raises his brows in surprise. "You do? I mean... okay, if you're sure."

The drow leans closer and inhales deeply. "Oh yes, I'm sure." His eyelids flutter slightly. "Mmm I shouldn't have done that. Alright, go get your stuff and say farewell to your friends. I will be here." Cal nods and starts toward the locker room, Ryldinn’s final, sensual words drifting to him through the cool night air. "Don’t keep me waiting..."

Hykyath contains himself until the tiefling is out of sight, then claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle. "That was interesting, Ryldinn. I guess you do have a type."

Astarion huffs and rolls his eyes. "A type? I thought you were going to start humping his leg, darling. Could you be just a touch more subtle? It's embarrassing. Maybe I should just..." He starts to reach for Ryldinn’s cup, but the drow snatches it away. 

"Uh uh. I'm thirsty," he says, taking another sip from the straw.

"You don't say." He sighs. "Fine, fine. I'm going to leave now, though. This is painful to watch. Call me tomorrow, alright? Meet me outside, Hykyath. After you shower."

"Mhm." It’s obvious that the drow isn’t really paying attention, though, so the vampire just throws up his hands and leaves while Hykyath retreats, chuckling, toward the locker room.

The tiefling shudders a little at the suggestive tone and speeds up, pushing through the door into the room where the other men are changing and getting cleaned up. He goes to his own locker and starts throwing his stuff in his gym bag, leaving out a clean shirt. Max and Dammon are a few feet away, and stop their conversation to watch him pack. 

"Hey Cal, what's the hurry? You getting laid or something?" Max is grinning at him, but his smile, and Dammon’s, fade into surprise when the young tiefling answers. 

"Looks that way."

Dammon whistles. "Well, shit. Uh, don't let us keep you."

Cal grins, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he zips the bag and tugs on the shirt. "Oh, I'm not."

The two men look at each other, their grins returning. Max chuckles. "Aren't you going to shower first?"

"Nope!" Cal shoulders the bag strap and heads back toward the door. "He says he likes it. Later, guys."

A loud, adolescent sounding Woooooo follows him out of the room and he chuckles to himself, returning a high-five from an approaching Hykyath, before the guys are forgotten and replaced in his head by Ryldinn’s silky legs, Ryldinn’s tight ass, Ryldinn’s soft lips. The man himself is still standing where he was, leaning against a post, but the pale elf had vanished. "Alright, babe. You ready?"

Ryldinn smiles sweetly and vaults easily over the railing, falling into step beside Cal, heading for the trolley stop. "You have no idea."

[nei-ning]

Big thing I didn't like about tmnt mutant mayhem. Making them too much like stereotypical teenagers. Taking away their otherness that I relate to. I relate to you saying your not like other stereotypical teens so much (though I did have crushes and would like a relationship even though I never had a serious one). What I mean by otherness I mean that their loneliness, their being mutants relates to my disabilities and personal loneliness so much.

I feel like I wasn't typical teenager at all, ahaha :'D After all I lived 17 years in isolated rural forest area. I had only one friend in middle school, I sucked at school, I had zero interest about smoking, drinking or going to school's disco (one reason for others to bully me more) or about dating. I wasn't, and still aren't, all that social because, hey, you can't learn social skills when you are being kept at home 24/7, not letting you go see friends, not allowing to have friends to come to visit you nor any of your family members. My father was very strict, keeping us isolated that way. And this was back in the days when there were no cellphones, computers or internet. Sending letters was only way to keep contact to "outside world". I want a relationship too and I damn right hope we both get the best ones! :D <3

I can relate to you, in some way, when it comes on loneliness. Like I said, I was kept in isolation by my father so in that kind of way I know what loneliness is. I only had my siblings but no any connection to either of my parents.

But about the turtles: I think one of the biggest thing about them and their stories actually is the fact that they are, and should / needs to be, isolated / lonely. That's part of them and their story, how they long to be with normal world but can't. But it also should be a good teacher to us all that no matter how we look like, we all ARE part of society, mutant or not (so to say). There are people who suffer from weird illnesses, making them look "not normal" and therefor society is instantly like: "EW! You look disgusting! You are a monster! You are not normal!" etc. which is absolutely wrong. We should never judge or isolate others (or ourselves) simply because we don't "fit" in the "norms" (which are ridiculous human-made things anyway). We automatically fit in because we are on this planet with everyone else. We are they. They are us. We all are one and connected. None is actually more different than the other, no matter how we look. Only thing what really matters is how you treat other people: With kindness, love and compassion or with hate / fear/ judgement and rudeness.

We need to learn to love, accept, help and support each other. Just like April (and many others) learned to love, accept, help and support the turtles, no matter what <3

(I hope I made some sense since I feel I confused / lost myself as well during writing this, ahah!)

[spaceyaceface]

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader WIP

I’m much too excited about this fic, I needed to put a part of it out there to share that excitement! Here’s quick excerpt under the cut. It’s a fake dating au where both the reader and Sebastian are too big of idiots to realize they’re in love. I’m already well over 5k words and still have two pages of outline I haven’t written yet... if you’d like to be tagged in the finished oneshot in a few days, let me know!

Ominis and Sebastian walked side by side back to the Slytherin common room. Y/N had departed a while before them, needing to catch up on a bit of her homework. 

“Seems like an interesting plan the two of you have conceived,” Ominis said. 

“Interesting indeed. Though I do have to say, it was pretty much just Y/N who conceived it,” Sebastian replied easily. 

“I do have to say, it’ll be… fascinating to see the two of you pretend to be a couple.” Ominis sounded thoughtful.

Sebastian frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, if I’m honest, there’s been times I thought the two of you might have something between you.” Ominis tilted his head to face Sebastian a little bit more. “Never certain of it, though. Should I have been certain of it?”

His frown deepened. “Are you trying to say that one of us has feelings for the other?”

Ominis shrugged. “More or less. Any truth to that?”

Sebastian found himself thinking about the thought of that. Truth be told, he hadn’t done much of it before. He enjoyed spending time with Y/N, of course. It was always fun to throw her off by saying something unexpected. What was more was how well she did the same thing back. It kept him on his toes, always letting him expect the unexpected. She was talented, too, of course. He’d never forget that first duel they had, nor the ones they fought side by side in afterwards. She was an incredible witch. Beautiful, too, though that was common knowledge among most of the students in their year. It was just a fact. A statement. Y/N was beautiful, talented, funny, and exciting. Sebastian knew all of these things–-that didn’t mean he liked her, did it? 

He realized there had been a bit too much of a pause after Ominis’s question. He quickly spat out the conclusion he had drawn to. “No, Ominis. She’s my best friend, right beside you. I haven’t felt that way, and I seriously doubt she’d ever feel that way towards me. Purely platonic.”

Ominis nodded, seeming like he expected as much. “Figured. Was just curious if this whole arrangement would bring anything out of the two of you. Perhaps it’s for the best—if the two of you really did start courting, I have a feeling the very walls of Hogwarts would have their days numbered.”

“Are you saying we’d be an awful couple?” 

“Awful, or perfect together. I don’t think the castle would stand a chance at your mayhem in either case.” 

Sebastian chuckled before changing the subject. What he had told Ominis had been true… hadn’t it? She was his best friend. They were nothing more; never had been, and never would be. 

So why was he so glad Ominis couldn’t see how flushed he’d gotten at the thought?

[harrison-abbott]

One of the popular boys wanted to beat me up. I found out this news because one of the girls came and told me ... when I was in the playground eating some chocolate raisons. 

“Why does he want to?” I asked her.

She shrugged. 

“I don’t know but you better not go to the bus stop at the end of the day because that’s when he’s gonna do it.”

Uh hu, he was a poppy lad, everybody seemed to love him. They called his name. Hollered his fame; the school turgid in the annals of pre pubescence.

I did not know how to get home without using the bus. 

Nor was there any adult to help me. 

I had gym class that afternoon. Where the lads played basketball in the loud orange gymnasium. I stubbed a finger on the ball. The short sprightly pain was a precursor to the beating I imagined that would take place in public mayhem maybe three hours henceforth. 

The P.E. teacher was the old guard retro likeable gruff sports coach you can imagine from countless sports movies ... except, he was actually real.

A pisstaker but he was cool with the kids. 

I thought about going up to him to speak to him about the fight thing. But I didn’t have the verve. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to say to him to get him to protect me.

Gym class was followed by physics class. I had no inkling for physics or any of its equations or experiments or batteries or mechanics ... or the airy room wherein we sat on stools ... [with the bald six foot five physics teacher who openly flirted with the pretty girls in the class, that, we all liked (the boys, as girls) and he liked them as well. But, he was in his forties and we were teens. 

And the girls thought it was creepy as well. But, he was a teacher, right? And therefore had his powers. He could meet with the parents on parents’ night and not have to do any of that perverse sexual stuff, and he wore his suits well and his shoes often squeaked at the right pitch with their leather pop].

Obviously I couldn’t say a damn morsel to the physics teacher.

And then that class ended. And there was one final chapter of geography at the very end. I liked geography. With the geordie plump woman who could never control her oral volume. Nice woman, though. 

I could never be a teacher. I’m a freak, fuck up. Never have been good with people in any way and children are the worst kind of people and they hate me the most. Bullied all my life. Throughout family hood child hood adulthood, blah blee, a complete muck up with no deserved right to survive.

Such was my thinking when I went up to the bus stop at the end of that day to go and meet this boy who was going to pummel me.

There as an expectant crowd. Box office lines. Carnival glee. That kinda enticement in the air.

I saw the big famous boy standing there ten yards away. He had this posse of lads behind him. Ready to back him up in case things would go wrong.

I weighed about nine stone at this point. Was “skinny like a model” and all of my previous violent escapades had resulted in me as the loser. And yet, he was still afraid of some repercussion. 

It surprised me. The whole icy silence across the crowd. I thought they would all be baying and yomped up on gore. But, all was ... ticktocking in soft pedals, as you’d listen to a clock on a high wall, the fat hand clicking by the seconds.

He came up to me.

I shivered as he approached. What was I supposed to do? There are videos you can watch of boxers thrusting these fists into each others’ faces. It’s as stupid as videogames. And they made one of those bare-knuckle competitions legal in some State recently; I saw that on the news: and there were pictures of the combat, the stage all bathed with blood, and three hundred people watching hungrily. And I thought, what’s the satisfaction in watching anything like that?

He hit me in the face.

It felt psychological.

I thought it was supposed to knock me down but it didn’t. 

Eighty eyeballs were watching. He struck me again. I just took it. It was horrible. Among the worst photographs. There was this tremendous zeal in me - to smack him right back. Hollywood punches. Uppercut. Muhammed Ali. All of that shit which is never real. Ali’s fights weren’t real either. He was a boxer. 

The bus appeared at the end of the street.

He’d hit me twice in the face. I hadn’t retaliated.

This meant that he’d won.

He smiled, and slapped me playfully on the cheek. And then left. 

The bus came and the forty folks got on it, including me. And throughout the whole journey all I could hear was the mass relish about this amazing battering.

[badgerwithagun]

Some of these questions have been answered. I will try my best.

Sir sparkle puff was created to show Claudia and the gang how to find Aaravos’s prison, and also as a sacrifice in exchange for Claudia freeing him.

The corrupted sun seed was a powerful weapon which enchanted Viren’s army. Aaravos likely doesn’t care about conquering Xadia, he wants to cause chaos to spite the startouch elf council.

He brought Viren back as a transaction with Claudia, and he didn’t know about Viren’s visions, so thought he would continue being useful. As for Viren’s second death, it could have been collateral whilst Sol Regem destroyed Katolis, or a punishment for turning away.

He wanted Viren to take Zym’s magic for 3 reasons. It would make Viren really powerful, making it easier to find Aaravos’s prison and free him. It was against the natural order, and would definitely piss off the startouch elves. It was likely also to punish the arch dragons who imprisoned him.

Aaravos was trapped by the Arch dragons. I don’t know if it was a ruse or an epic battle.

Aaravos hates Avizandum because he played a major role in trapping him, and was his main warden thanks to the mirror.

Luna Tenebris was presumably killed by Aaravos.

Queen Aditi of the Sunfire elves was going to decide who should be the ruler of the dragons after Luna Tenebris died, so Aaravos killed her, almost causing a war between the elves and dragons. Apparently he swallowed her, but I don’t know if he meant that as magically or literally, since he is very big.

It is implied that Aaravos taught humans dark magic as part of his vengeance.

The humans were driven to the west because the elves and dragons hated dark magic. The novelisation says the unicorns were driven to extinction by humans. It is also likely this is connected to how one human dark magician was able to blind Sol Regem, who was at the time king of the dragons and the most powerful creature in Acadia. That tends to concern people. Originally they were going to be wiped out until Someone convinced Luna Tenebris otherwise.

I don’t think the other startouch elves are dead, since apparently their deaths cause asteroids. It is odd that they didn’t know about what Aaravos did or try to stop him.

There are two humans I know who helped stop Aaravos. A child who found out that Aaravos was the one causing so much mayhem, I think there’s going to be a book or something about that, and the mage who designed Aaravos’s prison. It is possible we will learn about her via flashback.

Whilst Aaravos has seemingly just been causing chaos to spite the star touch council, it is likely he craves a more permanent revenge. It should be pointed out that this would likely create more asteroids and destroy xadia.

Frankly I kind of hope the sun fire capital stays the way it is. They have made a lot of progress in rebuilding, it would be like if after the American revolution, after building New York and signing the declaration of Independance and all that, the Americans just packed up and went back to Britain, Spain, etc.

Karin and his followers were defeated in battle. We saw some were taken prisoner in the last episode. We also saw Karim’s trampled crown in the credit images, but I don’t know if that’s just a metaphor or not.

Kim dael is currently still alive, and bound to serve the sun fire throne.

During the time skip, Rayla was searching to see if Viren was still alive. It is possible she was following Claudia’s trail across Xadia, but we do know she briefly ended up in the pirate place. To give her credit, Gandalf spent 17 years hunting Gollum and trying to learn if the ring was Sauron’s ring in the books.

Star magic is one of the primal sources, used by creatures like star touch elves and unicorns. It might be the most powerful one, or it might just be that startouch elves are the most ancient and attuned to their primal source.

Lisa is…somewhere. She divorced Viren, and since he had the high ranking position of court mage, and neither Claudia nor Soren know where she is, it is likely she went to another human kingdom.

It is very likely we will learn more about Kppar, since the next season will likely be labelled ‘Darkness’ and there is a spare quasar diamond. One for Runnan, one for Aaravos, the 3rd for kppar. There is also a book about Claudia and siren exploring the puzzle house I think.

All in all we shall have to wait and see.

Edit: some people say that Sol Regem’s dead mate was Luna Tenebris, but there isn’t much evidence for that.

Dragon prince season 7

All the things which have to be explained in one season because the Others didnt do shit:

Why create sir sparklepuff

Why currupt the sun seed

Why bring back viren / why kill him later

Why absorb zim

How did aaravos get trapped

Why does aaravos hate thunder

What happened to the moon dragon

What happened to the old sun queen

Where does dark magic came from

Why were humans Driven out / was there more to the story or did just someone see dark magic and decide it was evil

What happened to the other Star elfs

Who were the other people in the Flashback ( the human girl who helped trap aaravos )

What is aaravos plan / only destruction and if so how does he plan to accomplish that

What is with the corrupted sun kingdom will it stay like this

Is Karim group still alive

What is with the blood huntress

Where was rayla all this time

What is star magic

Where is lissa

What did kppar do to his arm, to hate magic

Will kppar get relised

= not all have to be answered

And of curse have an actual fight scene with amazing progression in the hear and now, where the future of the characters has to be put in.

I am afraid for season 7 because it feels like a school project where you do everything in the end and than have to much to do. It can not answer all questions while keeping the plot going. So i fear they will just forget things like, ( the dragon prince is uninportant from here on out and it doesnt Matter that we spent 3 season Hunting it and 3 not finding something that could explain why we dont need it anymore )

Please post more questions if you can think of some or answer some questions with serie not book facts ( things should be answered in there as well )

[kayssweetdreams]

Mirror Mirror Mayhem Ch 2

Mei stared in shock at the girl on the other side. She looked and sounded exactly like her...except this girl seemed to have muted colors, plain clothing and a bite in her voice. The most striking difference was that there a dragon hair pin where her lotus clip would have been.

Snapping out of her shock, Mei pounded on the glass separating her from the real world "Let me out of here!" She shouted out. The reflection just had a smirk on her face "Fat chance. I'm finally out of that stupid mirror prison. And there is absolutely NO way I'm going back in there now." She spat. The real Mei glared back at her "But I'M the real Mei!!" She shouted.

"Not anymore you're not." The reflection retorted. "Mei? Mei? Where are you?" They heard Rebecca ask out "Well Well, It looks as if my 'Friend' is looking for me." The reflection said "NO! I'm her friend!! Let me out!!" Mei yelled out, but the reflection didn't heed her words, instead, she just gave a mocking wave and sauntered away...much to the real Mei's displeasure.

The other Wonder Stars however, didn't know of the switch that took place, and were looking for Mei "Where is she? I get that the Theater Basement is big, but not big enough to get lost in!" Leo said as he narrowly avoided a peculiar suit of armor. "Maybe she just found something that caught her eye?" Kaylo asked, trying to sound optimistic.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow "For twenty minutes? It better be something REALLY 'interesting'" She said, getting suspicious. However, that's when they saw the reflection walking towards them "Oh! There you are Mei! We were just looking for you!" Emma said cheerfully. 'Mei' gave a fake smile "So was I! Thank goodness I found you!" She said with false optimism.

Rebecca gave 'Mei' a very hard stare. Something was OFF about her...and it wasn't just the change in wardrobe. "So. How we doing so far?" The reflection asked "Oh! Well, we're almost done down here in the basement. We just have a few more things to sort out." Trisha Jane said. The mounds of various items had all been put in its...somewhat proper place, as the ??? Pile was taller than the other two.

"We just need to figure out what this little...doohickey is." Kaylo said, holding up a very peculiar looking box. It was about the size of a small present box, and it appeared to have had various symbols from Wonderworld on it, but these were some that the children had never seen before. "Let's show this to Balan before we make any assumptions." Trisha Jane said.

'Mei' looked at the box with intrigue. She had a small hunch about what then box may be "Do you think I can hold it?" She asked, reaching for it from. "Um sure Mei. But after we get this thing to Balan." Rebecca said, still having a uneasy feeling about her 'Friend'. The real Mei meanwhile, was trying to get their attention "GUYS!! WAIT!! I'M IN HERE!! SHE'S NOT THE REAL ME!!" She yelled, but those outside the mirror couldn't hear her...nor see her.

The kids meanwhile had managed to track down Balan, who was trying to remember what everything in the ??? Pile did or was. "Hey Balan!" Leo said, getting his attention "We found this box thing in the piles. Do you think you can tell us what it is?" He asked, as Kaylo gave him the box. Balan studied the odd looking box before his eyes went wide with horror

"Oh dear. If you open it, please think twice. I think that is the Armageddon device."

Mei belongs to @sundove88

Rebecca belongs to @thehypercutstudios/@thehyperrequiem

Trisha Jane belongs to @lovelyteng

[thetaoofbetty]

anons, i'm putting your asks under the cut for length💜:

1.

The thing with BAs is that they want to scream "my ship was endgame!" even if there wasn’t any development that got them there. They know BA has been given dust but they won’t admit it to themselves. Like, look at them now scrambling because they haven’t gotten anything romantic from them but still want to act so sure of themselves.

—comparison is a thief of joy and all that. maybe this is who b/a is and they should stop wanting to see what they've seen in other relationships on other teen shows or what they've seen from bughead and varchie. they wanted childhood friends to lovers, no? maybe this is what riverdale thinks that is. and we should respect the fresh new ships that shook up the show and gives us a different perspective that broke the monotony of what riverdale always was, right? you know, the mysteries, the saving of the town, murders, and general mayhem? so glad the show did away with all of that for this new and different experience.

it's all so....

They wouldn’t care if BA had zero romantic scenes and end the series with a baby because they love the "endgame" label better and is this crazy desperation that has them believing what those C list writers from RVD tells them on social media. They are desperate for that baby even when they probably know it’s not happening. If this was this kind of huge amazing thing that’s going to happen to BA, the apparently endgame of the series, why tease it so much and not leave it to surprise? RVD is screaming at you that nothing is what it seems but they firmly believe a baby is happening in the real time line. That baby will be a Vale thing and they won’t like it at all despite the fact they made those theories themselves, not one else.

—oh for sure, it's always come off like it's first and foremost a competition for them. i've gotten harassed enough over the years to see that they only come around to be smug, they usually turn tail when it goes bad for them. it's too bad that they're not just legit enjoying their ship. they've done the worst for that ship over the years tbh. is it my notp? no. i don't even hate archie the way a lot of people do. but they sure made me dislike them, you know?

i gotta be honest, if it were bughead in this situation right now, i would be waiting for the boom. just the history alone of them almost always spoiling big b/a storylines that don't go the way they think it will should have been enough for them to be wary. that and the fact that they don't actively spoil big bughead or varchie storylines weeks in advance? how is that not a red flag to them?

i have never been like, oh they shouldn't theorize. of course they should! they should have as much fun with the show as everyone else but they're not interested in the show, they're interested in b/a and seem to be truly annoyed right now that it's not the b/a show. did they think that b/a would get the usual varchie, bughead, betty, and archie storylines and the other main character would just...sit it out? that's never been how it works on the show.

i've said it a hundred times but i don't get the obsession with the baby. babies aren't anchors or band-aids. really, the hyper focus on it sort of squicks me out a bit tbh.

🍔👑🍔👑🍔👑🍔👑🍔

2.

seeing rvd is actually crazy how much lack of development those "new couples" are having. specially the one they claim has been the "endgame" all alone. like, they truly don’t have any depth into their relationship at all. they don’t talk about anything, important things are happening and they don’t acknowledge each other, they don’t have any romantic moments nor scene that aims for their development as a couple like bugvarchoni used to have before. we used to have scenes where BH/VA/CH addressed some issues in their relationship or the effects of situations at least 3 times during the season. but this new couples are soulless. they don’t feel passionate or excited to be in a relationship, they just *exist* to the point it doesn’t even matter because it doesn’t change any dynamic.

—it rings hollow for me a lot, tbh. i'm biased but not totally lacking in objectivity. archie's behavior makes sense if he can't feel anything physically or emotionally but you're not wrong, none of them come off like they're excited to have started these new relationships. and i know s5 was almost nonstop misery p/orn but this season has had a lot more energy and none of it is coming from within these new relationships.

i feel like the writers used the "those are adults and very mature" thing to just jump the whole development and not giving them anything to work towards. like, even when BH was way past the year in a relationship and you would argue the "honeymoon" phase went away you could still have them cuddling and having some sort of physical touch even in group scenes but the writers are truly just giving BA bro beer nights, scenes for plot exposition and call it a day. it’s tragic almost. TJ has the most boring relationship, they are just roommates that are together for economic necessity, you would think they have years as a couple and tired of each other but realistically they have a few months together (?) so they would be in the early stages of relationship.

—the writers have definitely avoided dealing with the conflict they caused. it just comes off as lazy. they did what they did just to break them up for a time jump and then most of the fallout landed directly on bughead in s5 because they swept the rest of it under the rug with archie leaving for the army for varchie? okay. the time jump ended up being wasted potential and then they just flipped the script for the event? as if no one would notice or side eye that? alright.

they did all of that to get us where we are and then they make the new relationships boring on top of it? the audacity.

BAs spent 6 years saying that all the BA crumbs the writers used to stir up the pot just meant "slow burn and endgame" compare to the well developed relationships between BH/VA. if they weren’t so annoying i would feel sad that they are being handle not even leftovers. rvd isn’t making any efforts – the scenes they used to write were you had couples making actual efforts in their relationship aren’t happening for BA. the only thing they have looking forward is that baby that isn’t even gonna happen at all, if it was so important it wouldn't have been spoiled already. it’s sad. imagine waiting 6 years only for them to not even acknowledge their relationship.

—what precedent gave them the idea that a handful of interactions over 4 years, usually for romantic drama with their other partners plus a 4 episode fwb arc was going to give them some sort of slowburn endgame? they love to compare tv shows to rvd, right? what tv show gave them that? i'm not even being facetious, i may not watch tons of tv but i cannot, for the life of me, think of any teen drama that had a couple seriously date the other two mains for 4 years before getting together in s6 and staying together. and it's certainly not been any of the couples they compare b/a to.

if the show cared about their ship the way they insist, i simply don't think they would write it the way they do.

3.

anon, i saw your message but it poofed when i went back but i agree, he's too media savvy for that. if anyone thinks they aren't giving some sort of talking points—e.g. "i'm so glad we've had the opportunity to explore" or "has been fun to explore"—i don't know what to tell them. no one thinks it's weird they're all sort of saying the same things about these relationships? take the old ships out of it that distract from what they're not saying about the current ships, you know? add in a couple of the more obvious but polite diversions or jokey answers? i have questions.

[sunshineandaisies]

Blueberries & Chocolate Chips

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Note: Happy Mother’s Day to all the baby mommas, the fur mommas, the plant mommas, and all the momma’s in between!

You woke up to the sound of giggles floating through the open door of your bedroom, and the sound instantly tugged the corner of your lips into a sleepy smile. You slipped from bed, stretching your hands over your head and chasing the grogginess away before quietly padding down the hall to the kitchen where you’d find the source of the happy giggles. 

You paused in the mouth of the hallway, leaning against the wall and taking in the sight before you. Amongst a mess of pots and pans and mixing bowls was your boyfriend and daughter, whispering and giggling and causing general mayhem in your apartment’s small kitchen. 

You had introduced Bucky to Lucy only five weeks ago, but they were already thick as thieves. 

Lucy was perched on Bucky’s hip, his metal arms holding her securely in place as he moved around the kitchen, searching the cupboards - for what, you didn’t know - and quietly asking Lucy if she wanted blueberries or chocolate chips in her pancakes.

When you had met the super soldier six months ago, you never in your wildest dream pictured the scene that was playing out in front of you. Sure, there was an instant attraction between you and Bucky when you met him in the bar that night, but you both had some very prominent baggage; you had a young daughter from a failed past relationship and more student debt than you wanted to think about, and Bucky- well, he had a lot of demons that he was working through. 

And somehow, despite the baggage, what you had thought would be a one night stand turned into the best relationship you’d ever been in, one that was full of honesty and trust and understanding (and pretty mindblowing sex, but that was neither here nor there). 

Despite some initial hesitation to introduce Bucky to Lucy after you’d decided to give a real relationship a try, you pretty quickly realized that you had absolutely nothing to worry about. Like most people that spent a decent amount of time around the four-year-old, Bucky was very quickly wrapped around her tiny finger.

He brought her a teddy bear the first time he met her, and if that hadn’t been enough, Bucky spent hours coloring pictures of Disney princesses with her while singing along to the soundtracks from Moana and Frozen while you cleaned up from dinner. You decided you loved him then and there, and Lucy seemed to feel the same, asking if ‘Bucky could come play with her again tomorrow’ that night when you tucked her in for bed.

The man was attractive as hell, funny, helped save the world a couple times (no big deal), and great with your daughter. He was the total package, right? Not to toot your own horn, but you were pretty damn proud of yourself for snagging James Buchanan Barnes.

Your silent observation of Bucky and your daughter was brought to an end when Lucy finally took notice of you. 

“Mommy!” she greeted happily, tapping Bucky on the shoulder to gain his attention to pointing to the other side of the room at you. “Mommy’s awake.”

Bucky turned to face you, a spatula in his hand. “So she is,” he noted with a smile. “We were planning to bring you breakfast in bed, doll.”

You raised your brows, pointing over your shoulder with your thumb. “I can always go back to bed,” you offered. “I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

“Nah,” Bucky said with a small wave of the spatula, as if he were shooing your suggestions away. He nodded his head towards the stools at the island. “Take a seat, doll. Watch us work our magic.”

“Your magic, huh?” You did as you were told, sitting at the counter and folding your arms in front of you on the granite surface. “And just what makes it so magical?”

“Love, Mommy!” Lucy answered excitedly. “Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips?” Her repetition of Bucky’s earlier question had you and he sharing soft smiles. “Bucky says blueberries are better, but I think chocolate chips are better.”

“Maybe Mommy can be the tie breaker,” Bucky suggested, an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. 

You raised a brow at him. “Is that right?” You feigned deep thought, drumming your fingers on your chin before grinning at the pair. “I don’t know, Lu. Maybe some coffee will help Mommy think better.” 

“Coming right up, doll,” Bucky told you before shuffling over to the coffee pot. You could hear the two whispering to one another as they prepared your coffee just how you like it, and the sight - the absolute domesticity of it - made you feel so warm and fuzzy inside and holy shit you loved this man so much. “One cup of coffee for the pretty lady.”

Lucy giggled as she pushed the mug of coffee across the counter towards you, splashes of liquid spilling from the mug from her less than careful actions. “Blueberries or chocolate chips, Mommy?” 

You hummed, considering your options. “What about blueberry and chocolate chips?”

Her big doe eyes widened in surprise. “You can do that? Bucky, I want blueberries and chocolate chips like Mommy!” He nodded his agreement, and looked at you, his eyes crinkling in amusement before the pair turned their attention back to the pancake batter to add the requested sweets and fruit.

You smiled into your coffee as Bucky and Lucy laughed at his failed attempt to make a Mickey Mouse shaped pancake. Watching him with your daughter was very, very quickly becoming your favorite past-time. Who would’ve thought that the super soldier was a big teddy bear beneath all the muscle and gruffness?

You continued to watch them with rapt attention as they worked together to make breakfast, and within ten minutes, the three of you were sat around the small table in the kitchen, enjoying your breakfast together. While blueberries and chocolate chips didn’t go together as well as you had hoped when you made the suggestion, Lucy had a bright smile on her face as she happily shoveled the syrupy pancakes into her mouth. 

It made you smile, and seeing you smile made Bucky smile.

His hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing lazy patterns over the back of your hand. “Happy Mother’s Day, doll,” he breathed, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in a chaste kiss.

“Ew,” your daughter giggled as she watched you and Bucky. “Kissing is gross! You’re gonna get cooties, Mommy!”

[from-the-dark-past]

Interview with Anders Ohlin in The Black Metal Murders: English translation

Translator’s note: Black metal-morden (English: The Black Metal Murders) is a radio documentary from 2017 produced by Radio Sweden (download). It’s about Mayhem and the Norwegian black metal scene in the ‘90s and contains interviews with Jørn “Necrobutcher” Stubberud, Kjetil Manheim, Eirik “Messiah” Norheim and Anders Ohlin (Pelle Ohlin’s younger brother). 

Here, I’ve translated the parts where Anders Ohlin speaks into English (from Swedish). I’ve added time-stamps and short descriptions for the different sections of the interview. 

I am working on translating the interviews with Necrobutcher, Manheim and Messiah and will post them soon. 

1:51 - 6:35 [Talking about him and Pelle getting into extreme metal]

Anders: We’d started listening to hard rock and it was… We’d, like, worked through all of those… Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. 

Narrator: It’s the mid-1980s in Västerhaninge, a suburb of Stockholm. Pelle Ohlin lives here. He plays in the extreme metal band Morbid and his stage name is Dead. Pelle has introduced his five-years-younger brother to hard rock. Together, they’ve worked through all of the main bands. 

Anders: And you, like, hungered for this… This Other. 

Narrator: The ‘Other’ that younger brother Anders is talking about is extreme metal; music that is faster, darker and harder. A progression of hard rock. Music that isn’t easy to get your hands on at this time. Anders is in his early teens and has gotten his first girlfriend. 

Anders: It was my first relationship and it was super-exciting, and I was at her house, she lived in Jordbro, which is, like, the neighbouring suburb. 

Narrator: Anders’ girlfriend’s older sister has an LP that Anders simply must show his older brother Pelle. 

Anders: It was, like, you knew it was good music, and it was that Destruction record. 

Narrator: Anders sees the German death metal band Destruction’s cover and it’s enough for him to understand that this must be good music. [...] 

Anders: This. This here isn’t Judas Priest and it isn’t Iron Maiden; it’s something else. I’ve got show this fucking record to Pelle. 

Narrator: Anders nags [his girlfriend’s older sister] to borrow the LP. He’s allowed to, but only for the day, so he bikes home in the rain from Jordbro to Västerhaninge as quickly as he can. 

Anders: And it was like [excited noise], like a cartoon; the evil wolf, their eyes bulge out and we both ran -- because we hadn’t heard the LP, only seen the cover -- ran to the record player och then Mom walks up and is like: ‘Stop! You’re forbidden from using the gramophone.’ And it was like, fucking hell, is it going to die here and then we explained to Mom -- ‘This is an extreme record and we’ve borrowed it for the day and it’s going back tomorrow,’ -- and Mom was super-harsh and was like: ‘It doesn’t matter. [...]’ And then we started negotiating and agreed that we could record the LP onto cassette [because you don’t need volume for that]. So, it was on full-blast the entire night and we recorded it and stood bent over the record scratches and were like,‘Shit, this is good stuff’. 

Narrator: Pelles hard rock style stands out against the usual sweatpant-Bagheera-jacket [style], not least the music. 

Anders: The ideals that existed at that time were that you were supposed to look like Arnold Schwarzenegger, which neither he nor I did [laughs]. You were supposed to be handsome and cool and have some fucking helipad on your head. 

Translator’s note: Anders is talking about a flat-top haircut commonly referred to as a ‘helikopterplattafrisyr’ -- helipad haircut -- in Sweden. Think H.R. Haldeman. I’m not sure what the English term for this haircut is. 

Narrator: Anders and Pelle are apart of a small subculture; extreme metal, with subgenres such as trash metal, death metal and black metal, which provokes with its satanic and morbid symbols. Pelle’s band Morbid pushes the limits of what music can sound like. With his stage-name Dead, Pelle sings on the demo December Moon. The new subculture is not embraced by the adult world. 

Anders: Like, we faced this fucking cultural oppression as hardrockers. It was that time-period… And especially if you wanted to do something that was worse than hard rock; it was completely judged. 

14:52 - 15:53 [Talking about Pelle being bullied] 

Anders: He was beaten at school and to such an extent that he actually died for a while, or however you put it. 

Narrator: There’s an explanation to Pelle’s obsession with death. At 13, he was bullied at school and once, he was beaten so badly that his spleen burst. Pelle’s brother Anders Ohlin tells the story.

Anders: He was beaten to death and had some near-death experience as he was laying in the hospital and he kept coming back to that all the time, and I think you can see that as some sort of theme in his songs too. Like, it’s always about the fact that he was actually there and touched something that he doesn’t know what it is, and that was the engine in all that. He was definitely [at the bottom of the pecking order] at school, precisely because he was a bit… He had his special... his special style and was, like, uncompromising, and that was what singled him out, I’d say, markedly from other teenagers. 

18:07 - 18:30 [Talking about Pelle’s depression]

Anders: He would neglect to eat, just to get a cassette tape out or arrange a gig somewhere. 

Narrator: Anders Ohlin, Pelle’s brother. 

Anders: To be a bit harsh, I think that the others gave up at some point. And that’s my personal interpretation. That he suddenly turns around and notices that he hasn’t got the gang with him. And I think that destroyed him. 

21:50 - 22:30 [Talking about Pelle’s suicide] 

Anders: At first, I was actually really pissed at him… Or, like, angry, enraged. I thought that he’d abandoned us -- which he has. That it was so shitty of him; to just take off and leave this big fucking abscess to the rest of us that just kept growing and growing as the years passed. 

Narrator: Christmases become especially painful for the Ohlin family, because that was the time Pelle usually came home. 

Anders: No one felt good on Christmas Eve. It was like a fucking ghost all Christmas. Brutal. So, I remember that I couldn’t celebrate Christmas at all for a very long time. 

1:06:39 - 1:09:31 [Talking about how he and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him and his life today]

Anders: All of his Swedish friends see him as this exuberantly happy guy that spews ideas and is funny and has a sense of humor and stuff. Then, it’s like a line is drawn when he goes to Norway and they see him as introverted and mysterious and, like, difficult. And that’s two opposite images. 

Narrator: The Pelle Myth is associated with a lot of darkness and death but that’s not how his brother Anders and Pelle’s Swedish friends remember him.  

Anders: I think that’s been the devastating part, but it, like, helped him build… strengthen that myth. It’s hard being that funny dude and saying that you’re, like, Satan. It’s hard, it becomes, like, silly. 

Narrator: Anders is often reminded of Pelle. Usually because of happy memories but also because of that image that he is fighting to remove; the image that Øystein took of Pelle’s corpse which spread because it became the album cover of a Mayhem bootleg, Dawn of the Black Hearts. The image lives its own life on the internet. 

Anders: It’s difficult. It’s very difficult. 

Narrator: Pelle’s fans often want to become Facebook friends with Anders; he receives 3-5 friend requests per day. Sometimes, the people sending the friend requests have themselves shared the image on their social channels. 

Anders: You say you want to be my friend yet you have an image of my brother from when he’s just killed himself and like… body parts all over the wall. Would you think it was okay if I had an image of your brother like that? ‘What,’ they excuse themselves. ‘Oh, fuck, I’d forgotten that I had that image, that’s… Of course, I’ll remove it and I’m ashamed.’ 

Narrator: When Anders asks people to remove the image, most do. 

Anders: I’m terrified for when my children will start to Google those images… Øystein’s parents inherited the rights after Øystein died and [Øystein’s dad] has destroyed the images and I’ve received the rights, gotten to take over the rights from Øystein’s dad, so if anyone uses them in any form is printed media, I can sue the shit out of them. 

Narrator: It’s a small comfort every time one of Pelle’s fans tells Anders how much Pelle means. 

Anders: Most often, they have some story. They tell me how they’ve had a tough period in life and how they’ve, like, really been at a crossroads or something and feel that they received guidance from Pelle’s music. That warms -- That makes you happy. That really warms your heart. 

Narrator: Pelle’s grave is well-visited and every now and then, there’s a handwritten letter or a box of snus by it. 

[liquid-luck-00]

Magical Mayhem

Day 16: Magic @maribatmarch-2k21

Ao3 *** Here *** Part 2 *** Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette may or may not have been messing with the spells in the grimoire. She also may or may not have accidentally reversed the spell binding the kwamii to the miraculous. In honesty that relieved almost all of her stress and weight that was thrust on her.

Unfortunately, the kwamii decided to each placed a blessing on her. That had led her to her current predicament. Sure Hawkmoth had been defeated but that didn't solve the liar Rossi problem. Her previous friends were no more than acquaintances at this point. Her own parents believed the liar over her.

So when her classmates, Lila finally getting her hands dirty, pushed her down the stairs, she let her magic wash over her. A duplicate fell and crumpled at the foot of the stairs. The right leg and left arm were in an unnatural position. Blood pooled from the head, growing ever larger. She herself went invisible and floated above them all.

No one moved, no one said a word. Not until a scoff and footfalls of one Alya Cesaire descended the stairs. "Really girl," she stepped into the pool of blood and grabbed the girl by her hair pulling her up. “Stop faking for attention. No one believes you.”

“Miss Cesaire, please have some respect for the dead!” Madame Mendeleev broke the tension, a sharp breath was heard from the collective in the courtyard.

“She is just faking it.” Again she rolled her eyes. No one noticing the three silvery orbs circling the scene, nor that every phone, computer, tablet, television was streaming this event.

“She is unresponsive, there is no movement of her chest meaning she isn’t breathing, and... and the pool of blood is too big. She is dead.” The teachers voice was no more than a whisper but it didn’t need to be.

"She can't be..." Alya dropped the girl’s corpse she just noticed she was holding up, bloody foot prints retreated with her.

"But I am dead." Marinette said as she floated above the corpse, glowing slightly, transparent, and wispy. "For those of you who don't know me, my name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I was the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous jewels. I was the hero of Paris, Ladybug." She smiled sadly around her.

"End Transmission." she blinked out of existence. "oh wait." She returned. "A blessing and a curse." Two of the three silvery orbs descended and landed in each hand. One exploded in green and landed on those who hurt her not only physically, mentally, and emotionally. The other spread red and descended on most of the world's populace. "And freedom." the last orb showered silver and all Kwamii on earth were freed. The spells to bind them erased.

And with that she once again let her magic flow within her body and left Paris behind her.

In hindsight, that might not have been the smartest idea. Magic attracts magic after all. Granted she found that out when she was submerged in glowing green water.

She pulled herself out of the pool. "Okay note to self, don't do that again." she muttered to herself, but her exit was short lived as there was a sword at her neck.

"Who are you and how did you get in here?" A boy's voice growled at her.

"Alternate question." She offered, "Where am I and what is that?" was asked while pointing at the pool she just exited.

He didn't respond to her, at least not verbally, instead he pushed her to get up and walk with the sharp end of his blade. She didn't see anyone on the walk, but there were constant auras, it was almost claustrophobic. They got outside and then things clicked.

She was no longer in her world, the fact that the acid green pit was fueled by chaos magic, was an after thought in her mind, to the cliche looking ninjas in front of her.

"Nanda Parbat." slipped from her lips. "The home of the league of Assassins, The Lazarus Pit," turning to the man in front of her, “Ra's Al Ghul, the Demon's head," turning back to the boy. "Damian Wayne, the next Robin." The two males hadn't responded to her. "Great I got pulled into a comic book world." she huffed in a muted whisper.

"How do you know that child." was sneered by Ra's finally breaking the silence.

"I apparently know a lot of this world," sass not failing her, she shot back. A vision of an attack that would happen in maybe an hour flashed in her mind. "Have fun with that Ra's." she smirked. "see ya around Wayne." she teleported away.

This time she had a better handle on her powers, granted she never really used her powers before this. She just knew what they where and what they did. How she had so much control may have been because of how magic worked with the miraculous in her world. But here it was completely different, magic had another way of working. Which might be how she had popped into a red cushioned armchair in-front of a roaring fire and two people?

A man had blue eyes, blonde hair and a kept, unshaven looking beard. He wore a long tanned duster jacket, white button down, tie, and slacks. And a woman(?) who had purple skin with darker purple markings. A fin? horn? crest? in a darker purple still. With a magenta cape.

"Um... Hi," she awkwardly. "I'm still trying to figure all this out."

"You are not of this world are you?" The woman asked. Mari shook her head in response. "What world are you from?"

"I have no idea and before this morning I never thought I'd answer that." she chuckled nervously.

"Bloody hell, then how did you get here?" The man decided to cut in.

"Would you believe that tiny pocket gods blessed me with magical powers and now I'm here in a completely different world, which I could have sworn was a comic book world before this morning." she began to ramble.

"Kwamii." The woman spoke. Marinette had looked up and nodded to the question. Was it even a question, it seemed more like a statement. But the woman continued after her nod. "They are present in a few other universes but not in this one."

'Huh' was the answer by both Marinette and the man.

"Your raw capabilities and affinity with magic seems to have been amplified by these blessings." the woman continued.

“Alright why don’t you show us what you can do love," standing, grabbing a cup from next to him, he waved her to follow. "Name's Constantine. Your's?"

"Marinette." she answered swiftly with a small smile.

"That," pointing at the woman, "is Black Orchid, or a bloody pain depending. She is the incarnation of the house itself."

"House?" she mused aloud. “Oh the House of Mysteries. I think I remember a bit but not much on it,” she scrunched her nose and tried to remember. “Ya no apart from the Dark timeline movies I've got nothing."

"What do you mean by that child," Orchid asked from beside her.

"Well in my original world this was all a fictional, a world with several incarnations and timelines." She rambled again.

As they entered a large room, Constantine had her attempt several spells. He then proceeded to lecture her on correct pronunciations, visualizations, and everything in between. Suffice to say that was how her magical training started in this new world, her new start.

She is down one abusive environment. Gained powers she is just learning to control. Got a new drunk uncle who can function like her on just as much caffeine and limited sleep. A sentient home that may be smarter than her phone and even more badass. And the knowledge that an asshole demon head just got his ass kicked. Unfortunately, she knows how this will play out, but just how much can she change without disrupting the timeline too much. Or if this even one of the timelines written out from her world, guess she will just have to live and find that out herself.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Gifts from the Kwamii

Tikki = luck

Plagg = destruction

Trixx = shape-shifting

Pollen + Wayzz + Longg = magical capability

Nooroo + Duusu = flight

Mullo = Languages (understanding + speaking)

Sass = foresight

Roaar = enhanced strength + stamina

Fluff = borrow/time/speed force

Kaalki = teleport/gate

Stompp + Xuppu + Ziggy + Barkk + Orikko + Daizzi = immortality

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug

[tinydooms]

How about "like drowning" with Evy and Jonathan?

I've changed it "like drowning" with Rick and Jonathan, and I promise, no more World War One stories after this one for a while!

Content Warnings: talk of war, descriptions of gruesome dreams

A Slug of Brandy

Cairo, February 1923

Jonathan sat at the kitchen table, looking at a bottle of brandy. It was a new bottle, unopened, a fine expensive cognac with a beautiful dark amber hue. It would be excellent in a cocktail, a Sidecar or a Stinger, perhaps, and even better on its own. But Jonathan didn’t actually want the alcohol, though a snifter glass sat ready and waiting. What he wanted was the forgetting.

The nightmares had begun again. Jonathan had had a respite from them over the Christmas holidays; the combined tumult of cataloguing the artefacts from Hamunaptra, Evie and Rick’s wedding, and then the holidays themselves had left Jonathan tired enough to sleep through the night with no room to dream. Sleep like the dead, he thought grimly, and bared his teeth. If only.

Footsteps in the corridor. Jonathan reached to hide the bottle, then let his hands drop. He hadn’t opened it, nor had a drink since a single glass of wine at dinner. There was nothing to hide.

“Hey,” Rick said, coming into the room. “You still up?”

Jonathan shrugged. “I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. You?”

“I never dropped off,” Rick admitted, coming to stand beside him. “I think my tossing and turning was beginning to annoy Evie. She growled at me.”

Jonathan grinned. “Join me?”

Rick pulled out a chair and sank down, stretching his long legs out under the table. Unlike Jonathan, he hadn’t bothered to put on a dressing gown and was clad only in pajama trousers and an undershirt.

“What’re we drinking?”

“I am not,” Jonathan said, more austerely than he had intended, “drinking.”

Rick looked at the bottle and glass, at Jonathan’s white face, at the way his hands were shaking ever so slightly. “You want me to pour it down the drain?”

“It was expensive,” Jonathan muttered; this was sure to stop Rick in his tracks. Indeed, his new brother-in-law made a wry face.

“Then never mind,” he said.

They lapsed into silence, two men who were not quite thirty hiding from their demons in a cool and quiet kitchen.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Rick said at last.

Jonathan shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell, really. I dream of mud and bodies and dying screams, just like any bloke who served.”

It wasn’t quite true, but he wasn’t sure that he wanted to relive the nightmares in his waking time.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I have those. I’ve got one really nasty one, too, that keeps coming back.”

“I’ve got one, too,” Jonathan admitted. “When I was shot. I… There was a shell pit to one side of me, filled with gas. Barbed wire on the other side. I couldn’t go forward or back, and the ground was all mud. I was terrified I’d fall into the gas, you know? The ground was giving way.” He swallowed. “I dream that it does, that I drown in the gas. It happened to so many men.”

Rick nodded. His face was bleak. “Yeah. It did.”

They both contemplated the bottle of cognac, sitting there unopened and dully gleaming. Jonathan shook his head. “Brandy drunk isn’t nice drunk,” he murmured.

“No,” Rick agreed. He reached for the bottle, sliding it closer towards himself, and fiddled with it. Jonathan looked over at him.

“I’ve told you mine,” he said. “What do you dream of?”

Rick turned the bottle this way and that in his hands. “When I was at Gallipoli-- It might actually have been a successful campaign if it had happened three months earlier than it did. But it was mayhem. The Foreign Legion was there, God only knows why--it was mostly Australians and New Zealanders, people of English descent. We got mixed in right away. And it was hot, and there were rats.”

Jonathan winced; there had been rats at the Front, too, grown fat and sleek and as big as house cats from feasting on the dead. Rick continued, eyes looking forward into the past.

“There was a skirmish, a charge; we had to retreat. We were always retreating. The Turks kept us under constant fire, so we couldn’t go back for the wounded. And there was this kid, this baby--he could only have been seventeen, eighteen--he’d had his legs blown off and he was stuck out there, and the rats…”

Jonathan’s stomach turned over. “Oh, god.”

“Yeah.” Rick swallowed. “He might’ve survived, but we couldn’t get to him, and the rats were going for him, and he was screaming, and I--I took my rifle and I jumped up to the top of the trench and I shot him dead.”

Jonathan put his hand on Rick’s arm. His new brother’s hands were shaking.

“They thanked me, the other guys, for putting him out of his misery. They were all crying and I comforted them. It was clean, at least; he didn’t even know what hit him.”

Jonathan could imagine the aftermath of that horror: the men weeping for their friend, thanking the big, seemingly tough American for doing the only thing there was to do, none of them thinking to ask how he was in the aftermath. 1915. Rick would only have been, what, twenty-two?

“That’s what I dream about, when it gets bad,” Rick continued. “Only in my dream, I can’t pull the trigger, and I have to watch him being eaten by rats. I could sense it lurking tonight. That’s why I didn’t go to sleep.”

Jonathan stared at him. “Did you speak to anyone about this, when it happened? A chaplain, or somebody?”

Rick shook his head. “No. There didn’t seem to be any point. It was done.”

“God,” Jonathan muttered.

He took the bottle from Rick’s hands, opened it, and poured a slug of cognac into the glass. He slid it over to Rick.

“Just the one,” he said.

“Cheers.” Rick threw back the shot and put the glass down. “No more. I can’t get that way again.”

Jonathan nodded. He remembered the first night he’d met Rick, back when he was just a fellow miserable face at a bar, drinking to silence the screams in his head. It was like drowning, the grief and horror rising to consume one despite one’s best efforts to tread water.

“My mum,” he said, and Rick looked over at him. “My mum talked with me about it, when I came home. She said that the English didn’t care to heal the souls of their soldiers, and she was right. She helped me to mourn and to know that there was nothing I could have done differently.”

And it had almost worked--no, it had worked, right up until the day the news came that Mum and Father had died in an accident, that they would never come home again. That was the day that everything had fallen apart for good, as he had thought at the time.

“I think I would have liked your mum,” Rick said, smiling sadly.

“She’d have loved you,” Jonathan said, “and she would have agreed with what I’m about to say. You did the kindest thing for that kid that anyone could have done in that situation. You didn’t want him to suffer, did you? I would have wanted someone to do the same, if it were me.”

Rick looked at his hands. “He was just a kid. He shouldn’t have been there at all.”

“I know. They lied to us, Rick, to get us there, and then they butchered us like lambs at the slaughter. If anyone has guilt about what happened, it should be the bastards who sent us there, not you.”

“I know.”

They lapsed into silence. Sleep would be impossible for a few more hours, Jonathan knew; best to do something to get their minds off of the memories.

“Would you like to play a game? We have chess and checkers and backgammon in the library.”

Rick looked up. “Yeah, actually, that sounds great.”

“Which one?”

“Checkers,” Rick said. “I’m not smart enough to play chess.”

“Oh, balderdash,” Jonathan said. He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll bet you’re better than you think.”

Rick snorted. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Yep. Come along, old chap. I’ll show you how to do a Queen’s Gambit.”

He led the way out of the kitchen, leaving the almost-full cognac bottle in the middle of the table. They didn’t need it.

[oddsnendsfanfics]

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose – Kal-entine's Day

Genre: Fan Fiction

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Warnings: Fluffy Valentine’s Day

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Because everyone needs Kal and Moose in their lives. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! 

Henry Cavill Master List

Valentine's Day.

A day of love.

A day of romance.

A day for couples to declare their undying love, while single people sat at home with a box of chocolate sulking.

For the last few years, Henry was the latter. He was no stranger to sitting home on “the most romantic day of the year”, feasting on some chocolate from a heart shaped box. Although he didn't recall much sulking.

You on the other hand, were never one to celebrate or sit in on Valentine's Day. Even single, you found an excuse to go out for the evening. Oh the looks you would get, while taking yourself out for a fancy dinner.

This year was different.

It was going to be low key, but no doubt still fun. The best part, Kal and Moose weren't home alone waiting.

“I'm going to need you to do me a big favour, okay pig.” Henry glanced down at Kal who was sitting by his side, watching every move Henry made in the kitchen. “You and Moose need to be the best boys that you can. No mayhem this evening.”

Licking his lips and yawning, Kal huffed as his tail thumped heavily on the floor. He was slightly insulted, when had he and Moose ever caused mayhem? They were the most perfect best boys, ever! What did Henry think he was doing, talking as if they were a couple of uncultured stray dogs.

Walking along the familiar street, you glance down at Moose, sniffing along Kal's street he huffed and picked up his speed. Almost there! A few more minutes and he would be with his best friend, romping and stalking that damn green ball that made that atrocious noise every time it moved. Tonight, maybe, just maybe, they would finally give that thing what it had coming.

“Are you and Kal going to be good?” You ask the unconcerned dog. “Hmm? Play with Kal's toys nicely and not tear Henry's house apart?”

Moose snuffled, whatever that meant. Of course they would be good, they were always good. Ugh, humans.

Stepping onto the front stoop of Henry's home, you asked Moose to sit while you checked to see if the front was unlocked. It wasn't surprising that you would simply walk in, if the door was unlocked. Henry rarely knocked at your place, most times he would be in the house and standing beside you before you took notice.

“Knock, Knock.” You call pushing open the door. Moose whimpers and yips, tugging on his leash. Unhooking his leash, you laugh when he jumps forward nearly knocking into Henry as he tries to get to Kal. “Remember boys, make good choices.”

“Good evening,” Henry smiles taking your coat and hanging it. “I uh, I'm glad you could make it over.”

“Of course, thanks for inviting us over.”

Wow, this was awkward. As much time as the two of you spent together, it shouldn't be this weird or awkward. Biting your bottom lip, you follow Henry into the house, stopping on the way to the kitchen to give Kal a nice scratch behind the ear. He and Moose were already at home on the couch, a few toys between them, as they happily sprawled out.

“Be good, Moose.” You wag a finger playfully at the red aussie, giving him a kiss on the nose. “Wow it smells good in here.” Inhaling deeply, you take a moment to appreciate the smell wafting from the kitchen.

Henry smiled proudly, quickly kissing your cheek. “Spiced fish and coriander rice, with peas.”

“Oh my god, this smells like heaven. Did you make this?”

“Of course.” Henry laughs slightly. “I can't promise it will be the best, but I think it has flavour.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You tug at the sleeves of your sweater.

“Have a seat? Sorry to rush you, but I wanted to get this on the table, while it's still hot.”

“Are you kidding? I will never feel rushed when there is food.” Laughing you grab the bottle of wine from the cupboard, along with two glasses and tote them to the table. The usually cluttered table is clear of all debris, a soft grey linen cloth draped on top, along with an arrangement of rather lovely scented candles. “I like the look. Going formal are we? Shit, I should have dressed up.”

“Non sense, you look lovely.” Henry chuckled, he had put more effort into the meal and table than he had planned. All last minute of course.

“And you look...” You glance at his casual jeans and tshirt. “I like that red.”

“Flattery?” Cocking his brow, Henry held back a laugh. Teasing you. “You feeling okay?”

“I feel fine, now let's eat.” You gesture to the plates in his hand. The fragrant smell is torture, it should be illegal to make you wait to taste food that looks and smells that good.

Seated, you can't help but sit inhaling the aroma wafting from the plate in front of you. Evidently Kal and Moose have picked up that it is dinner time, their respective paw steps coming from the living room. Attempting to look innocent, Kal slides in under the table his large body bumping against Henry's legs. If he is trying to be stealthy it is not working out. Moose takes a bold approach, sitting a few inches from the table he lifts his head and sniffs.

A low growling noise, he licks his lips and bounces to his hind feet before sinking back down into a sit.

“Moose, go.” You wave him away.

“Kal, stop licking my ankle.” Henry shakes his leg, Kal's cold wet nose hiking up the cuff of his jeans. “Kal, go on.”

“Moose, you know better.” Eyeing the dog you can't help but smile. “Worse than kids.”

“I would hope my children didn't hide under tables licking my feet.” Bursting into a laugh, Henry shakes his leg away from Kal. “Kal, go on. Go on boys, I will feed you after.”

Dejected and clearly starving, the two dogs slink back to the couch. At least they had tried for a scrap or even a scratch. Ending their plans, they sulk the entire ten feet that they walk. Poor dears. How ever will they survive? Knowing that dinner is waiting for them, you feel no guilt or sympathy. Spoiled is the only word to describe the pair of them. Worse than children, getting everything they want and acting like they are ignored when they don't.

“If you ever want to quit acting, I think you have a career in culinary.” You compliment reaching for the riesling that Henry had nearly expertly paired with dinner.

“There is more, I have a raspberries and cream or...”

“Wait, there is more? Oof, I may need a moment to let this digest.” You laugh lightly. Henry had gone all out this time. “You have really spoiled me.”

“I may be bias, but I think you deserve it.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“I have my reasons, all which are very good but escaping me in this moment. Trust me, when I say, I thoroughly enjoy getting to make you dinner. It's nice having someone to spend time with, especially today. It's been a while since I've had someone to spoil on Valentine's.” Henry picked up his glass, taking a drink of his wine. Licking his lips, he coughed lightly. “The last few years I have been making today all about Kal. Kalentine's Day, if you will. A nice bath, a good grooming, extra time at the park.”

“Sounds like a great way to spend the day.”  

“It may be a bit late for the park, but I could offer a nice bath. Perhaps a foot rub?”

“All would be acceptable, as long as you don't take Kal's approach. I'm not much into having my feet licked.” You can't help yourself, it sort of slipped out. Nearly choking Henry in the process. Wine sputtered from his mouth, avoiding spitting it on you, he manages a napkin. His face red and his chest heaving with a silent laugh.

“Noted.” He gasps, caught between surprise and laughter. “Well, dessert then?”

Henry had tried to clear the table without your help, as if. Little good did it do, the second he stood you were on his heels carrying your plate into the kitchen. He rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything about it. He had learned not to argue with you, it would be futile. Keeping his protests silent, Henry watched as you loaded the dishwasher, humming quietly.

Dessert plated, Henry motioned for you to lead the way to the table. As nice as the table looked, you were more than happy to relax on the couch - even if it meant kicking Kal and Moose, the poor souls, to the floor. Diverting course, Henry followed, the two of you chatting about the latest family gossips. He was telling you about his nephew Oscar, when you gasped and stopped short.

Nearly bumping into you, Henry caught himself and both of the desserts that he had in his hand. On the floor of his living room there laid the evidence. All around were pieces of red and brown material. White cotton stuffing littered the room and the look on Moose's face told you nearly everything.

“Moose,” You groan looking at the stuffing flung around the room. The Aussie looking innocent, yet the clump of red material in his mouth is giving him away. “You tore up Kal's stuffy.”

“Stuffy?” Henry's eyes widened. “Oh shit. Shit.”

“What? What's wrong?” You watched as he placed dessert on the coffee table, rushing the to tall shelf that sat behind his couch.

At least he still had the flowers, well shit. His face fell when he found them smashed to the floor and trampled.

“Well,” He rubbed the back of his neck, gesturing to the mess in his living room. “Happy Valentine's Day. I had planned on giving you a present, but...”

“Oh, Henry.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I'm so sorry. I... Moose!”

“No, no. It's fine. It's not entirely his fault.” He glanced at Kal, holding the head of the teddy bear in his mouth, “There is only one of them who could have reached it. Eh, bear?”

“Boys,” You sigh and shake your head.  “Wait,” You glance curiously at Henry, giving him a sly smirk, “did you say you got me a gift? It's not my birthday. Nor it is Christmas.”

“No, but it's Valentine's Day.” Henry shrugged debating to salvage the gift or move on. “I wanted to do something nice, since....well.”

“Oh! Right.” You can't contain the smile that overtook your face in seconds. “I um, I honestly thought this was just us having dinner as...well friends?”

“And it can still be that, absolutely.” Henry nodded. “I don't want to impose or push anything.”

Stooping to pick up a few pieces of what used to be a teddy bear, you scratch Kal behind the ears and take a seat on the couch. "You're not imposing anything. I just didn't know what we were. Or if we were anything. I thought that I'd come over as a friend and...you know what, let's not bother with this now. We can talk later, sit let's have dessert. I am dying to try this raspberry cream.”

Henry sits beside you, reaching for the dessert bowls, to find one empty. “Moose,” he looked at the dog with red cream on his snout. “I swear to god,”  laughing, he hands you a spoon. “Care to share?”

“Well, well, well.” You take the spoon shaking your head, playfully. “Henry Cavill is sharing dessert?”

“They destroyed your present and this is the only dessert, the least that I can do.”

“I wouldn't be against that bath,” You scoop some of the cream from the bowl, “but no feet.”

“No feet.” Henry laughed, his chest rumbling and his eyes crinkling. “Got it.”

[lady-charinette]

The Stubble - Adrienette Version

A/N: Basically the Adrienette version of this.

@miraculous-elcie-fanfics You mentioned wanting to see the Adrinette version, ask and I shall deliver (tho very late ^_^)

Adrien Agreste was one to always care for his appearance, partly because it was part of his job, partly because he liked the feeling of being clean and well kept. 

The day Adrien Agreste decided to allow the hairs on his chin to grow out, was the day of Marinette Dupain-Cheng's execution. 

It was a stubble, no prickly hairs he used to have in the beginning of puberty, but a three day old, neatly kept stubble. He hadn't thought much of it, just wanted to see how different his face might look like if he allowed it to grow or kept it at its current length. 

He had the advantage of entering a secret pact with Nathalie once he got older, anything that wouldn't potentially harm his modeling career or himself, Nathalie would keep a secret from his father. And he knew as soon as he entered the car, his stubble was safe from Gabriel. 

When Adrien went to school that day, he hadn't expected as many reactions nor feedback as he got. 

Nino was the first to compliment him when they greeted each-other in the morning. "Morning dude! How was- DUDE!" the part time DJ grabbed his shoulders and moved Adrien this way and that, to gain the full three dimensional experience of staring at the new hairy addition growing on his friend's jaw. "Man, never knew a stubble looks so good on you! Awesome!" they fist bumped, Adrien feeling mildly flustered at the compliments Nino showered him with. 

"Thanks Nino! I think I'll let it grow for a little while, or at least until father notices." The boys laughed, it had become something of a running joke with how much stuff Adrien could get away with until his father noticed something. 

The longest that happened was 2 months and that was when Adrien dyed the front lock of his hair red, like Nathalie. His father's assistant had looked not only surprised but oddly humbled at Adrien's new hair color, and Adrien swore he even saw a hint of a smile when she first saw him with it. 

With Nino asking if he would grow it out into a full beard, the boys walked into school for classes. 

Adrien hadn't expected anyone much to notice, maybe Alya, Marinette and Chloe. 

He didn't expect the whole classroom to erupt into mayhem as soon as he entered the room. 

"Adrikins, what did you do to your chin?!" 

"Woah man, looking beat!" 

"Don't you mean neat?" 

"Wow, Adrien that look suits you." 

"How did your dad allow this? Are you in trouble? Are you safe? Do you want me to lend you Markov to calculate your survival chance and estimate a escape route from your house until the police arrive?" 

"Max, chill." 

"Looking handsome there, Agreste!" 

Adrien smiled and blushed at the array of compliments and concerns, thanking everyone and quickly taking a seat at his desk. 

The teacher still hadn't arrived, so the class was free to be loud for a few more minutes. 

But there was one voice Adrien couldn't hear among the sea of his classmates. 

Marinette's. 

Slowly turning in his seat sideways, Adrien glanced back at Alya and Marinette, with Alya giving him an encouraging thumbs up, which Adrien returned. 

Marinette seemed oddly silent, curiously transfixed at a point on her desk, her ears red. 

"Marinette?" Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling oddly nervous when her eyes quickly snapped up to him. "Uhm, what....what do you think?" 

When Marinette only rapidly blinked instead of answering, Adrien quickly added:"O-Of my stubble I mean!" 

He knew she had liked Chat Noir's stubble as Ladybug, but would Marinette also like Adrien's? 

The mask did wonders to his appearance after all, along with the black leather. Despite the positive feedback from his friends, he might look weirder with it than he thought- 

"Chute!" 

Adrien's head snapped up so quickly to glance at Marinette that he felt something crack in his neck, a throbbing pain he would concern himself with later. 

"W-What?" 

"I-I mean, cut!" Marinette's ears were turning an alarming shade of red. 

Just like Ladybug. 

She also avoided eye contact as soon as he stared back at her. 

Did she call him cute? 

No, wait cut? He looked cut? 

Well, he did train more with his baton now that he knew how to activate all the upgrades to his suit and weapons, but he hadn't thought she noticed. 

A devilish grin spread his lips, one reminiscent more of Chat Noir than Adrien. "You think I'm cute, Marinette?" 

He could swear he saw steam coming out of her ears and he secretly enjoyed how her entire face light up as if on fire. "Y-Yes! I-I mean no! I mean-" 

Alya quickly grabbed her best friend's shoulder and clapped her mouth shut, giving Adrien a big grin. "What she means is, it looks great on you Adrien." 

Adrien knew it was Alya that said it, but at Marinette's red cheeks and rapid nod he could feel his own face grow hot. "Thanks Marinette." 

His smile lit up the entire room, at least to Marinette, something so pure and blinding that she forgot to breath for a second, if Alya hadn't flicked her forehead. 

"Ow!" 

"I know you want to rub your whole face against that stubble girl, but focus, we got a chemistry test right now. I know you know all about chemistry from experience, but what matters is this." Alya tapped Marinette's head with her pencil and the young woman pouted at her friend's jab before the teacher finally entered the room and announced the exam. 

Adrien, answering almost all the questions by heart, was still stuck on Marinette's red ears and blushing face. 

Which looked exactly like Ladybug's when she saw his stubble as Chat Noir. 

He definitely won't shave too often from now on. 

"Dude, stop grinning like that, it gives me the creeps." 

"Sorry, Nino." 

Bonus: 

Marinette wanted to tear her hair out. "TIKKI! What am I supposed to do?! First Chat Noir and now Adrien?! Is the world plotting my end? Is this a conspiracy?!" Marinette's voice was getting progressively higher and higher, until it outmatched Tikki's in squealing potential. 

"Marinette, calm down!" her kwami flew around her this way and that, trying to keep her friend in place before she broke something in her room, or herself.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! :3

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - xv (King!Steve Rogers x Reader

FINAL CHAPTER

Chapter Summary: The war has come, separating the king and queen for seven long months. 

Warnings: MAJOR character death(s), (complicated) child birth, angst, anxiety, FINAL CHAPTER

Word Count: 5k

BRING HIM LIGHT MASTERLIST

Thank you for riding this out with me, guys. xoxo

<- Last Part

The clashing of swords and hollers of men filled King Steven’s ears. The mayhem took his breath away. In all his years of battles and wars, he had yet to see something this destructive.

From what he was able to gather, the fighting had, thankfully, left the north. King Anthony and his armies were able to push Thanos to the northern border, but that didn’t mean York was winning. The scouts informed him that the enemy was able to cut York’s army to half its size. Steven was also told that Thanos’s army was steadily growing – it was as if every time one soldier fell, two would take their place. York and its king were tired and losing – in desperate need of an assist, whether Anthony Stark would admit that or not.

“Just like old times.” Lord James told his king with a bitter chuckle.  

“I’ll get you home, Bucky,” Steven promised. “Back to that lovely wife.”

“Well, my queen would have my head if I let anything happen to you. So, likewise, Steven. Likewise.”

It was different now – the two old friends knew that. Before when they rode off into countless wars together, only Steven had a woman waiting for him back home. Whether it was Margaret or Sharon, he still had a wife. But now, both men had two worried women waiting on them back in Brooken.

Before he had left to lead his men, you cried in his arms, begging him to come back in one piece. The somber moment witnessed by what felt like the entire country. They watched as you wrapped the white fabric – torn from your wedding gown – around the hilt of his sword, kissing the blade and praying for his safety. Brooken watched as their king kissed his queen one last time before mounting his horse and riding off. Everyone – but you most of all – wished for his safe return.

Steven’s eyes narrowed as he withdrew his sword and his fist wrapped tightly around his horse’s reins. Around him, he heard hundreds of swords being drawn from their sheaths. He raised his blade high into the air, kicking at his horse’s hind as he sped off into battle with his army marching behind him.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Days into the war…  

You sat at the fountain – the first place you laid eyes on Steven. The water was no longer running; the irrigation turned off for the cold, bitter winter. The flowers that decorated the garden had wilted away. Only a select few remained. You visited it every day, always with the intention of picking the surviving few. But you could never bring yourself to do it, scaring yourself into thinking that the flowers were Steven’s lifeforce. Instead, you opted to stare blindly at them as if they’d conjure up your husband like magic.

You heard footsteps approach but did not think you were in any danger. An assassin would be taking their strides carefully with light footsteps. This person’s steps were soft but in no way near quiet.

“(Y/N).” Your mother greeted as you turned to face her. She had Morgan in her arms. Your baby sister thrashing about in the thick garments that she was dressed in.

“Mother.” You smiled at her though she saw the sadness in your eyes. You stood and relieved her of the child, rocking slightly to help calm her. “She’s gotten big.” You looked over at your mother who smiled at you both with teary eyes. “Don’t you dare cry.”

“I can’t help it.” She smiled sadly. “Seeing my eldest and my youngest together… It’s heartwarming in this cold, cold times.”

“Did Harvey go with father?” You asked. “I would’ve thought he’d be safeguarded considering he is the heir of York.”

Your mother sat down at the fountain. Her hand nervously wrapped around the pendant of her necklace. You stopped your movements as you stared at her. She swallowed thickly and furiously dabbed beneath her eyes, attempting to stop her tears. She let out a shaky breath, the hot air materializing itself in the cold winter as thick white vapor. You frowned and asked her again.

“There’s something you have to know…” She whispered. You didn’t need to hear the rest of it. Her tone – the grief and the pain, feelings you were all too familiar with – gave it away.

“Mother – “

“You asked before your wedding where he was. Your father lied and told you he was too tired to travel… The truth was…” she took a sharp breath, a few tears fell. “He was too ill.” As if sensing your sorrow, Morgan began to thrash about even more. You shushed her, patting her back soothingly, wishing someone were doing the same to you. “We always thought he was healthy… He gave us no reason to believe otherwise. Then, days after you left, he started coughing up blood. He ran a fever for days, dropping himself into a coma. When the fever finally broke and he woke up, we were told he didn’t have long.”

“Mother, where’s Harvey?” You asked, your voice breaking because you already knew.

“He’s gone, (Y/N). He passed a month ago.”

You bit your lip to suppress the cry that nearly escaped. You continued to hush Morgan, lulling her to sleep. You closed your eyes, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” You whispered.

It was a terrible feeling. A closure that you will never get. It left an ache in your chest and the pain only increased when you realized if Steven died during this war, you may never get to say your goodbye either. You may never hold him again, nor kiss his lips. You may never see his smile and hear his laugh. You’ll never hear him tell you I love you again.

The realization pained you more than anything you’ve ever experienced.

And the fact you could do nothing but pray and hope made the pain twice as worse.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

A little over One Month into the war…

Brooken was left with a few guards to ensure your safety. You hated being cooped up in the castle. You felt useless. No word had been brought back about the progress of the war. Your mother encouraged you to take the silence as a good sign – because if things had taken a turn for the worse, Thanos would be pounding at Brooken’s doors, which he was not.

Nevertheless, it left you a worried mess. The ring, a reminder of your union, sat dauntingly on your finger. You often stared at it when you were alone. You’d nervously twist the ring around when you spoke to others – when you told your people that everything would be fine, hoping that they believed you.

“You worry too much,” Natasha told you as you stared into the distance. You often did this at night and in the early mornings. You wanted to be awake for his return. You wanted to be the first one to see him.

“You’re a newly wed lady. Shouldn’t you share my concern?” You asked her, twisting the ring around.

Natasha eyed you, wearily. She glanced down to your nervous fumbling and shook her head. “King Steven has never lost a war.” Your eyes widened as you rushed to your balcony’s wooden doors, knocking furiously on it. Natasha sighed and pulled you back in. “Everything will be right again, (Y/N). Worrying only makes you suffer twice.”

“I’d rather worry and suffer threefold if it meant my husband be brought back tomorrow – preferably alive,” you told her. You took two deep breaths as you tried to steady your breathing. Natasha noticed how you visibly winced and grabbed your lower abdomen.

“What’s wrong?” You waved your hand at her concern. The sharp cramping sensation was from stress – you were sure of it. “If you are in pain, we should seek a physician – “

“I’m fine,” you assured. “It’s from worrying too much, I suppose.”

Natasha frowned as she eyed you cautiously. Ever since the voyage that took the lives of Wanda and your unborn child, you had always worn loose fitting garments – you told her it was because you hated the way corsets made you feel breathless and trapped. However, this morning as she loosely laced you into the dress, she noticed how she didn’t need to pull the laces around your chest as much as she was used to – how your breasts had suddenly increased in size.

“(Y/N) …” She trailed off as you rubbed your stomach, trying to dull the pain. “When was your last blood?”

You frowned as you tried to think. You opened your month to answer but quickly closed it when you realized you had no idea.  “No…” You shook your head. You didn’t want to entertain the idea of bringing a child into this world – especially with Steven absent and not by your side.

“Could it be possible?” Natasha asked. “I mean the entire castle knows what you two do at night. You two are not shy when it comes to… keeping warm,” she smirked, “during the winter.”

You shot her a glare and she shrugged. “I suppose it is possible…” You whispered, rubbing small circles around your tummy. “But the idea… This is such a difficult time, Natasha. The uncertainty… Steven’s not here.”

“Yes, but the line needs to be continued.” Natasha said. You gave her a thoughtful glance, brows furrowing. “If Steven falls during this war – gods forbid it – Brooken will need an heir. Brock was next in line, but he’s gone now… If you’re pregnant, your child is the heir.”

“I don’t to live in a world without Steven in it,” you snapped. The idea alone sent chills down your spine.

Natasha nodded, understandingly. She, too, had a husband in this war – one whom she’d only been married to for two months. “But you must, (Y/N),” she whispered. “For, if you are pregnant, you carry a piece of him with you. The child of the north, an heir to both Brooken and York’s thrones.”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Two and a half months into the war…

The camp had a foul stench that hung in the air. The soldiers were spread about – wounded, exhausted, many both. The two kings tried their best to ration out what supplies they had left. Two and a half months into this war and it felt as if they were nowhere near victory though they were nowhere near defeat, either.

Both Anthony and Steven exchanged blows with Thanos in the past battles that ended with hundreds of men on both sides dead and no one declared victorious. It felt as if every time the north was close to winning one battle, Thanos would retreat – and vice versa.

It was a continuous tug of war that lasted months and showed no signs of ending any time soon.

Steven stared blankly as the moon rose. He thought if you were staring up at it as well. He wondered how many nights you’re spending sleepless and full of worry. He wanted nothing more than to just come home to you – to wrap his arms around your body as you slept curled up next to him.

His hands toyed with the fabric tied to the hilt of his sword. The white had been stained with mud, dirt, soot, and blood. He let out a shaky sigh.

“Miss her?” He turned and saw Anthony slowly approach. He watched as the York king slightly limp over to him and pat his shoulder.

“Just want to go home to her,” Steven responded with a sigh. He felt a bit strange confessing this to her father, but considering James and Sam had both been injured and were resting, he welcomed the company.

“You will.” Anthony told him.

“It feels as if this war will go on forever.”

Anthony chuckled. “What’s the longest war you fought in?”

Steven thought for a moment. He had fought in too many wars, but his first war against the long-vanquished country of Hydra was one he’d never forget. “Four years?” He said though it came out as a question. “Fought for so long the years became muddled together.”

“You married then?”

“It’s different now.” Steven sighed.

“You really love my daughter?”

“Without a doubt.”

Anthony smiled. “I didn’t think she’d get married. She’s too … sharp-tongued. That girl damn near offended every noble I introduced her too.”

Steven chuckled. He always found your bluntness and witty remarks entertaining. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’ll get you home to her,” he promised, clasping his old friend’s shoulder. “Come now, Steven, we have battleplans to prepare.” He looked over at Steven. “Do you trust me?”

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Three months into the war…

The rounding belly became increasingly challengingly to hide – especially now that the bitter northern winter was ending, and spring was quickly approaching. Though word from the battlegrounds painted the war as gruesome and dark, the life growing within you was a source of light – of comfort – for you and your people.

The midwife, Jean, preformed a trick she learned from her mother. She tied your wedding ring to a string and held it above your swelling belly. She watched as the ring swirled in fast, large circles. “A boy!” She announced to you with a big smile. Your mother clapped excitedly as did Lady Natasha. You were a skeptic, of course, but the idea of bringing a miniature Steven into the world made your heart leap.

The pregnancy had brought you something new to worry about. Due to the trauma of losing your first child, you became extra cautious with this second pregnancy.

“Have you thought of names?” Natasha asked you as she plaited your hair. Your mother laughed at the question as she watched Morgan crawl around the bed with her array of toys.

“I don’t want to think of names,” you said, lowly as you nervously rubbed the growing bump. You noticed that you had forgone fiddling with your ring and had begun to rub your slowly rounding stomach when you became nervous. “What if it isn’t even born? I don’t want to be disappointed.”

Natasha gave you a sigh before nodding. She found that you had become quite the pessimist in the three months of the war. Though everyone tried to see the bright side of this situation, you had clung to the idea that everything would go wrong – as if you were preparing for the worst.

“Don’t think like that,” your mother scolded.

“I can’t help it.” You clenched your jaw before quickly unclenching it, thinking the tension in your skull could somehow harm your child. “Has anyone sent any word?”

“Besides the squire that vaguely reported that hundreds of died on both sides? No.” Natasha hummed as she finished your hair. “But you needn’t worry about the brutalities of war. You worry about taking care of yourself and that babe. Have you eaten? Shall I fetch you some food?”

“A lemon actually sounds delightful.”

Her nose scrunched up in disgust. “Just a lemon?” You nodded. “Alright then.” She chalked the strange request to pregnancy cravings.

“Oh, Natasha?” You called out. She hummed in response. “Perhaps you could also get me something sweet?”

“What a strange baby you will have.” She joked. “Strange, royal, and richer than anyone in Brooken. I’ll order the maid.”

You stood and walked over to your bed. Morgan had cooed at you, grabbing your hand and stuffing a doll into it. At such a young age, she had such a big personality – a common trait of Stark kids, your mother joked. She told you a story of how you always stuck your tongue out at diplomats and nobles when you were Morgan’s age – which nearly cost your father many trade opportunities.

You played with your baby sister, making up for all your lost time together. “You’ll be a great mother,” your mother said, suddenly. You smiled at her as Morgan became preoccupied in her own world. “You always took such good care of Harvey… and you took great care of Morgan when she was a newborn… You’ll be a great mother, (Y/N).”

“I hope so.” You smiled. “Perhaps, I should name my baby after Harvey? If it is a boy as Jean says.”

“What a lovely sentiment.” Your mother nodded.

“We can always conjure up a new name,” you smiled, rubbing your belly. “ We’ve got time.”

“Indeed, we do.”

Side note: I apologize that the gif depicts a woman with light skin. Please know that gifs/pictures used are no where near a representation of who the reader is/what the reader looks like.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Six months into the war …

Steven fell to the ground, exhausted from the duel and bleeding from his wounds. Thanos had successfully ambushed their camp – a surprise attack that left the dramatically dwindled down army hopeless and scattered.

He had no idea where Anthony had gone off to when he decided that he’d take on the Mad King on his own. Unprepared for the sudden attack, the Mad King had the upper hand, easily overpowering Brooken’s king.

Steven could hear Thanos’s army approach. In that moment, it felt as if it were one man versus the entire south. Was surrender really an option? No. He didn’t want to surrender to this monster. He just wanted to rest, closing his eyes as he followed the tempting beckoning of death.

He suddenly heard a laugh ringing in his head. Vivid images of his wife flashed before his eyes. Memories of her – her eyes, the feeling of her lips, her skin against his, her smiles, her laughs, “I love you, Steven,” – all calling his name, begging him to come back to her – pushing him to stand.

So, the Brooken King’s eyes shot open and slowly, he got up, refastening his shield to his arm to stop the bleeding from the large gash. Thanos raised his eyebrows with a sense of respect – whatever was driving this northern king must be something worth living for. And to Steven, you were.

“You want to do this?” Thanos taunted from across the field. He gestured to his army. “Are you sure, Rogers?”

Before Steven could respond, he felt the ground rumbling. Thanos’s brows furrowed as he felt the same vibration. Steven turned around and couldn’t help the relieved smile as he saw hundreds of horses approach. Allies from around the continent and even the world – from House Danvers to Wakanda’s reputable armies – all gathered together to take down one enemy.

The battle was long and well fought. Stark and the rest of the soldiers rejoined the battle. Everyone with one mission: strike Thanos down.

Swords clattered against swords and shields. Horses and people were slain. Bodies fell like leaves in the autumn. Steven had again exchanged blows with the Mad King – Thanos ultimately, rendering the Brooken King unconscious with a hard blow with the hilt of his sword.

Thanos raised his blade up, ready to separate the king’s head from his body when another sword stopped the attack. Anthony Stark’s sword hovered over Steven’s unconscious body, deflecting Thanos’s attempt. He lifted his sword up with so much force that the Mad King stumbled backwards.

“Stark.” He spat.

“Made a promise to get him back to his wife.” Anthony Stark shrugged. “I don’t like breaking promises.” Thanos cocked his head to the side with a menacing smile. “Look around you, Thanos,” he gestured to the carnage. Many of the bodies were of Thanos’s men. “You’re losing.”

“Are you making an excuse not to fight me?”

“I’m giving you a chance to surrender.”

The two men circled around each other with their swords drawn.

“Never.” Thanos snapped as he swung.

The clanging of their blades rang out throughout the entire field. It drowned out the other duels around them. Both drawing blood and taking turns giving one another fatal blows.

Steven had only come to when Anthony kicked Thanos’s sword away and plunged his sword through Thanos’s chest. His vision was a bit blurred but quickly cleared as he blinked furiously.

“Surrender.” Anthony seethed, kicking the Mad King to his knees. “Surrender.”

Thanos held his head in shame as he barked orders at his army, telling them to lower their weapons. Steven stared on as Thanos’s men hesitantly followed the order. The field was silent. Had Anthony did it? Was the war finally over?

“You win, Stark,” Thanos smiled, teeth bloody. Steven saw the man’s hand slowly reach behind him. His eyes widened as he tried to warn his friend, but it was too late. With the last of his strength, Thanos sheathed the sharp dagger into York’s king. “If I go, you go with me.”

“Tony!” Steven screamed. He ran towards them. With no hesitation nor remorse, he raised his sword and beheaded Thanos where he kneeled. He caught Anthony before he fell to the ground. “C’mon, Stark, stay with me.” He pleaded. He looked at one of the Danvers knights and ordered her to get a physician though he knew the attempt to save his friend was futile. Steven slapped Anthony’s cheek lightly as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Steve…” Anthony muttered. “Steve…”

“I’m right here.”

“Tell (Y/N) …” He trailed off, struggling to catch his breath. “Morgan… Pepper…” He heaved. “I love them all…” Anthony had a sad smile on his face. He was leaving York in his eldest daughter’s more than capable hands. Though he knew his wife would be devastated, he knew he was leaving them with no impending threat of a Mad King in the south. “Take care of ‘em, okay, Rogers?”

“I swear to you – on my life, on my marriage – I will.” Steven nodded. Anthony gave him a small smile and a nod before his eyes became unfocused and glossed over. Steven called his name three times – his voice breaking at the third and final time.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

Month 7 – one month after the war.

You were emerged in the crowd, hidden behind the hundreds waiting for their loved ones returns – though many may be disappointed and heartbroken. You prayed you were not one of them.

You were far along your pregnancy, too big to hide the swollen belly. The midwife told you that you had a little over a month left, still very adamant that you had son.

You craned your neck over the crowd, trying to get a glimpse of the approaching men. Natasha gasped as she let go of your arm, rushing through the crowd and into her husband’s arms. You smiled as they shared a tender kiss. When they parted, James glanced your way – you saw the sympathy in his eye and your heart dropped. Your husband was nowhere to be found and the way his best friend looked over at you did not ease your fears.

You clenched your jaw before pressing your lips into a firm line. Tears pricked in your eyes. Your mother’s free hand – the other preoccupied with holding Morgan up – rubbed your arm, comfortingly. You turned to head back inside the castle. You had no intention of crying in front of the entire country, but then your mother’s grip tightened slightly, keeping you in place. You frowned at her before following your eyes.

Relief quickly flooded through you. He was battered and bruised, limping as he walked, but he was alive. You hurriedly cut through the crowd – though as their pregnant queen, your people practically parted to give you way.

“Steven!” You gasped, running up to him.

He stared at you in disbelief. You were glowing in the sunlight – a true vision. But it wasn’t your beauty that baffled him. It was your rounded belly. His eyes watered as he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you into a long-awaited kiss. And after seven long months, you felt as if you could finally breathe again.

Foreheads pressed together, he nudged your nose with his a happy grin on his face. “You’re pregnant.” He whispered. You nodded – you felt so much joy in that moment you were sure your heart would combust. “You’re pregnant.” He repeated, breathlessly.

In the weeks that followed, you were in a whirlpool of mixed emotions. With putting your father to rest and trying to piece together what was left of the north, you were exhausted – not to mention heavily pregnant.

Though, it became easier to shoulder all the responsibilities now that your husband was finally home.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

His paced anxiously as he waited outside the bedchamber doors. He wanted nothing more than to be in that room with you, but the midwife told him it was not customary that the husband be inside.

Steven winced when he heard your scream. The pained shriek would probably haunt him more than his war flashbacks. “IT HURTS… IT HURTS.” You repeated like a mantra. “SOMETHING IS WRONG.”

Steven couldn’t take it. He pounded on the doors. Natasha had cracked it open, but he pushed through it, almost knocking her down. He rushed to your side, your hands desperately grabbing each other. “What’s happening?”

“Something’s wrong, Steven,” you wailed, shaking your head against the pillows. Your face was wet with tears and sweat, and your anxiety was through the roof. “He’s – he’s dying.”

“The queen is losing too much blood, your grace,” Stephen Strange informed him.

“Get him out.” You begged. “Godfather,” you croaked, pleading, “if it comes down to me or the child, choose the child. Do you hear me?”

“No.” Steven snapped. “I will not lose you.”

“Steven…” you cried. “Brooken and York need this heir to survive.”

“But I need you to survive,” Steven pleaded with you. You shook your head, jaw trembling as you cried in pain. “Whatever happens, you save her, Strange. Do you understand me?”

“I – “

“As Brooken’s king I command you – “

“I think you forget that I am of York and she is my queen first.” Stephen frowned at him. “You may be her husband, but she is my queen and I follow her orders.”

Your godfather went to grab surgical instruments and Steven sent a glare his way. “Touch her and I will kill you.”

“Steven…” You whined. He turned his head to you, worry written all over his face. “I love you…”

“Don’t – “

“No, no… I need to tell you that.” You whispered. “Please, say it back.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” He said. His voice was barely above a whisper as he took your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “(Y/N) – please…” His heart dropped when your eyes rolled back, losing consciousness as you succumbed to the pain.

“I have to operate, Steven,” Strange told him. “She ordered me to save the child.”

Steven didn’t pay him any attention as his grip on your hand tightened. “(Y/N),” he called. “I know you can hear me.” He choked back his tears. “You can’t die. Please don’t leave me. You’re strong – probably the strongest person I know. You can do this. I know you can do this. C’mon…” You were unresponsive, eyes rolled back, and your chest had stopped rising. “My love, please… If I lose you, I am left in the darkness. I will not know how to recover from this loss. Please come back to me, (Y/N). Please.”

You suddenly gasped, regaining consciousness as you sat up. “C’mon, (Y/N),” your godfather prompted as the midwife peered beneath the blanket that covered you.

“Your grace, we need you to push,” the midwife told you.

You screamed through clenched teeth. You grabbed Steven’s hand so tightly his went numb and turned white. “One more, big push, your grace!” You did as you were told, pushing through the pain in muffled screams.

And then the room was filled with a triumphant screeching of a newborn. You slumped back against the pillows, breathing heavily as the umbilical cord was cut and the child was cleaned and checked over.

Steven kissed your temple, whispering praises to your ear. He was relieved that you were okay – that you were alive.

“Queen (Y/N), King Steven,” Strange smiled, cradling the crying baby in his arms. “You have a son.” You reached out for him and your godfather gladly placed the baby boy in your arms.

His wails instantly calmed as he rested against your heart. You smiled down at the red-faced child whose eyes were fluttering close. Steven stared in absolute awe. “We made him.” He whispered to you. “You made him.”

You bit your lip. “Edward Harvey Rogers?” You suggested.

“Edward.” Steven tested, smiling. “Your father’s second name.” You nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Edward,” you cooed to the child.

“As have I,” Steven whispered. You turned to smile at him. He leaned in and pecked your lips before you turned back to take in the beauty of your child.

As you admired the baby boy, Steven admired you, his queen – his wife.  

It had been a long, treacherous journey to get here. He had stumbled through the darkness for far too long, but here you were – a beacon, a promise of happiness and a bright future.

The Queen of York and Brooken, the Queen of the North – the Queen of his heart.

The Queen who brought him joy – who brought him a child.

The Queen who brought him light.