#right now i am sure it's just nonsense to her giant ears

[pippindot]

"I love you more when you pee outside 🥰"

- things u say to puppies

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 46

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"-is open!"

Before Stormy could finish warning Northern, the ship linked to somewhere else in space. Detecting hard vacuum, the open airlock slammed shut.

"Where's Fen??"

"She's not aboard Northern. She must have jumped out right as we linked away."

"We have to link back!"

"No Northern. There's no way we can link back that accurately. Best case we'd appear outside the ship and be ripped to shreds by their point defense."

Zhe looked up. "What's the worst case?"

"We'd link back half in the ship and half in space.

They were silent a moment, imaging that. Back in the early days of wormhole technology, people experimented with how precisely they could link. It turns out that calculating an exact point in space in a constantly moving universe is difficult. The further you link, the harder it is. There is a realistic limit of a few kilo-lights just because the variation on where you'd wind up is so great you might end up in the next star system over. Or worse, inside a gas giant.

"Okay, so no linking back. What do we do about Fen?"

"I'm afraid we're going to have to leave her there for now Zhe. There's no way we can rescue her right now. I think we should stick to the plan and find Gord and let him know what we learned."

Crossing her arms, Northern sat into the command chair - Fen's chair - hard. "I don't like it, but I agree with Stormy. There's nothing we can do right now."

She looked over at Zhe. "Don't worry. We'll get her back. I promise."

Zhe turned to face Northern. Her large, expressive ears and wide eyes meant for collecting low light in the forests of their homeland stared at her. Her cat-like ears flicked, and she nodded - a human gesture. "I trust you, Northern. We'll do it your way for now." She turned back to her station and then after a moment, back to Northern. "How are we going to find Gord?"

At that, Northern smiled, "I have a hunch I know where he is. Stormy are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I am, Northern, but what about bringing the BI?"

"It'll be fine. It's not like she'll be able to lead anyone back." Northern waved her hand dismissively. "She won't even be the first BI there."

"BI?" Zhe's eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Biological Intelligence. You call us AIs, we call you BIs." Stormy answered. "It's not an insult... most of the time."

"Okay, but where are we going and why would I not be allowed?"

"It's..." Stormy paused, searching for the words. "It's a place that is supposed to be just for us. Somewhere we can exist outside of the empire's influence, outside of their attacks."

"Oh." Zhe's brow furrowed for a moment. "Would it be better if you dropped me off on the Heap?"

"You don't want to come?" Northern's eyebrows raised.

"No, I do, but I also don't want to cause more problems. You could drop me off, and send a beacon when you have things figured out. I'm sure Dad has some work for me. Now that I've run with a crew he'll probably let me sign on for more jobs."

Northern shook her head. "Nonsense! You can come along with us Zhe. It will be fine."

"But what about-" Stormy interjected.

"It will be fine."

"If you say so." Stormy didn't sound so sure.

****

Stormy Days linked back into space deep dark of interstellar space. Zhe got on the scanners and searched. "Where are we Stormy, there isn't anything here?"

"Look harder, Zhe. Search for something running slightly higher than ambient, about a million klicks out."

"I still don't see... hold on!" Zhe fiddles with her console. "I see a large structure, way bigger than any Starjumper, nearly the size of an orbital, or a... colony ship?"

"That's what we're looking for, I'll set a course."

"What is it?" Zhe looks up from the console at the large screen. At this distance, even with high magnification it just looks like a mass of darkness among the stars.

Northern chuckles. "Originally? It was the human colony ship Mt. Baxter. Sometime in their flight, they passed through a gamma ray burst and everyone died. A group of AIs found the ship coasting through space and slowed it down. Now, it's... a safe place for us. If we can say anywhere truly is 'home' for us, this place is Home."

Zhe watched as they flew in. As they flew closer and closer, points of activity would flare, scan them, and then go dark again. A few times, she noticed that as they went dark the points would start moving. Point defense that always changed positions. The people that lived here did not want uninvited visitors.

The second thing she noticed was the size. She had never seen... anything in space this large short of the largest orbitals, like the ones the Humans had in Sol. High Mars Hyacinth was larger, but only just. This structure was easily thirty kilometers long and ten in diameter. It was also rotating slowly.

Other than the intense security, getting in was simple. Stormy apparently knew what to say when and to whom, and all the defenses stood down, and when they reached the massive structure, a door on the side - large enough to swallow a Starjumper - opened, and they slid inside.

The hangar for the former colony ship was equally massive. Zhe estimated it was fully a quarter of the ship. Docked along the edge were ships of all shapes and sizes. Most people know about the Starjumpers - the ancient human ships meant to soar between stars before wormhole generators were built - and the dreadnoughts - the massive warships built on a Starjumper chassis but bristling with weapons. Zhe couldn't believe the variety of ships here. All kinds of shapes and colors and designs! All were docked here in neat rows.

Stormy led them to an open space near the middle of the dock and gently guided them in. As they got close, she swung the ship around on the maneuvering jets to orient with the 'floor' of the massive structure and they set down with a light bump. Among the clanks and thumps of docking and the whirring of unknown things, Stormy walked out into the Command Deck. "Come on, Gord said he's going to meet us."

At the end of the airlock, a small runabout waited for them. They climbed in and puttered towards the entry to the structure proper. Sure enough, Gord was standing, waiting for them, his brow furrowed and his arms crossed.

"Stormy gave me the broad strokes. Helen took Fen?" Gord looked over them. "Oh, hello Zhe. Welcome Home."

"Uh, thanks Gord. Don't worry, I'll keep your secret."

"I never worried about it." Gord's eyebrow raised just a tiny bit. "Come on, let's get out of this hall."

He led them into a large open space, filled with open areas, plenty of seating, plants, and other pieces of nature. Zhe could have sworn she heard running water.

Striding quickly, he led them further and further into the structure. Zhe didn't know much about human architecture, but all of this felt old. There was something about the halls, the lighting, the furniture that made the place seem ancient. It might have been the fact that there were hardly any people. As they walked Zhe looked around and maybe saw fifty people total. In a place as large as this, she imagined you could go days without seeing anyone if you wanted.

Gord approached a large, heavy looking door. Nearly an airlock, but they were deep inside the structure. He stood in front of a panel, obstructing the view, and after a second, it slid open. "In here please." He gestured. Northern, Stormy, and Zhe walked in, but instantly the door slammed shut on them.

Lights flicked on in the room, and there was a large table, comfortable looking chairs and a pitcher of water. Along one wall was a series of paintings, they looked like Earth to Zhe, at least what she knew of it from videos and images. The other side was a large, thick window. Gord stood on the other side of it, glowering.

"I apologize for this, but you three are most likely contaminated from your contact with Fen and Helen. We're already cleansing Fen's frigate and if I can't get complete assurances that every single nanoparticle is gone, I will not hesitate to dump it and destroy it."

Stormy sighed and fell into one of the chairs. She spun another around and put her legs on it, crossing them. Northern sat at the other end and tilted the seat all the way back, looking at the ceiling. Zhe remained in front of the window. "How long will we have to stay here, Gord?"

"As long as it takes, Zhe. We're not well equipped to meet the needs of BIs here, but we're busily printing facilities for you, and we'll be able to print up some compatible food. It won't be cuisine, but it'll keep you alive."

"But what about Fen? She was captured!"

"According to Stormy, she opened the airlock herself and jumped out right as you were escaping Helen's dreadnought." He turned his back on Zhe. "She hardly was captured."

"Gord, you don't meant that! You know that she had the Nanites, they must have made her do it!" Zhe sniffed and her large eyes welled. "She wouldn't do that on her own! You're not going to go get her?"

Gord took one large step towards the window and loomed over Zhe. His anger clear in the tinny speakers overhead. "And how, Zhe, would you like me to do that? Do you know how many AIs are here?"

Zhe shrank back from Gord as he glared. "Uh, I counted around fifty people?"

Gord sighed and - seemingly realizing what he was doing - took a step back. "There are sixty eight of us. More than there's been in centuries, but still, not an invasion force."

"But, all those ships-"

Gord strode back up to the window and shouted,"Are empty Zhe! They haven't moved in centuries. Bare husks, waiting for their AIs who will never come." He started pacing. "The Empire murdered us, Zhe. I was carrying around a duffle that carried the memory cores of every AI I could find. The fact that you and Fen managed to find two more than I had no idea were even alive is frankly amazing."

"So all these people are..."

"Are new bodies I had printed for them with Spyglass' help. They're all old friends, and they are traumatized, Zhe." Gord continued pacing. "I said we were going after the Nanites, but we just don't have anything to send after them. What can we do?"

"You have Meredith and her retinue! You have the Empress of Sol."

"Hah. Empress of nothing. We've already heard the news, Helen has declared herself Empress Regent. She's wasting no time at all consolidating her power. Meredith and her friends are just six humans among trillions. Meredith has a hard enough time staying sober." He shakes his head sadly. "I had no idea her ship was so well stocked."

Zhe sat down heavily. "So that's it then. You're going to hide."

Gord nodded. "Yup. Seems to be the most prudent course of action. I may have talked a big game before, but I was caught up in the moment." He chuckled a bit. "I think it's Fen. Something about her causes people to think that the impossible might just be possible. Now that she's captured though, who knows. Helen will probably declare her 'Empress' and rule from the shadows. The Nanites will get what they want, and we'll wait it out. I'm old Zhe. It's not the first time I had to lay low for a few centuries."

Northern lifted her head and looked at Gord. "Actually, we learned more about the Nanites from Fen before she... left. They consume energy and come from a universe without a lot. They entered ours as a way to look for other universes."

Gord turns his head slowly and regards Northern. She's sitting at the table, leaning back, her face long and her hair rumpled. Even though most AIs don't really have to sleep, it can have a restorative effect and some do. Northern looks like she hasn't slept in weeks. "They do what?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"They consume energy. Fen said most of their civilization is around a white hole in their universe. She said they weren't planning on consuming this universe, just using it to look for another."

"And you believed them? Northern why would they spend all this effort building empires and making people make Gates if they were just going to look for another Universe? Why do they need our Universe at all except as a source of power. Fuck." Gord swore.

While they were speaking, a person came up to Gord. She was tall, with long silvery hair. She looked familiar to Zhe, she might have been with Gord before. She couldn't remember her name though. They couldn't hear what was said - Gord turned off the mic - but she saw his face contort and he was clearly angry. He said something sharply to her. She nodded once, sharply, turned on her heel and walked out.

"Fen's ship is contaminated. The Nanite concentration is too high to easily contain, so we're going to purge. I'm sorry folks, but the ship it too dangerous to leave. You can't get your stuff from it either. We'll print you some clothes and a new pad and things." Gord glanced down to his own pad as he was talking. "Ah, and it seems you are contaminated as well Zhe."

"Me??" Zhe's ears were high and taut, facing forward, her tail poofed out involuntarily.

"Yes, you have a high concentration of Nanites. I'm surprised you haven't been feeling the effects of them." Gord looks up at her and narrows her eyes. "You haven't been feeling the effects of Nanites, have you, Zhe?"

"I wouldn't even know what it would feel like. I never even knew they existed until recently."

"Hmm." Gord's fingers danced over his pad and he concentrated intensely on it for a moment. "Okay. Look. If you were anyone else, we'd just kill you, and be done with it. But you're friends with Fen-" Gord gestured "-and Northern and Stormy. They're contaminated too, but we can just offload them and get them new bodies. They're already uploaded. We can't do that to you." Gord shuddered slightly. "Never again. Anyway, we're going to try something."

Before Zhe could say anything there was heavy clunk, and vents popped open in the ceiling. Heavy black smoke poured into the room, pooling onto the floor. When the smoke touched Zhe, it felt almost thick, like water, but was still some kind of smoke or vapor.

As soon as the smoke touched Zhe, she lost control over her limbs, she lept onto the table and crouched down low, snarling at Gord. "You think you can defeat us? We have had millions of years. You're barely three thousand yeas old. You have no chance."

'Zhe' looked back at Stormy and Northern and sure enough, they looked lifeless. She peered closer and she saw that both were in their same positions as before leaning back head on the back of the chair.... with ten fine wires leading from the chair to the back of their heads.

"They're long gone. Don't worry about them. We'll have new bodies printed up in a day or two." Gord looked again at his pad and adjusted something. "I swear, keeping you alive through this is going to be a hassle. I hope I can see Fen again just do I can gloat to her about this."

'Zhe' felt the room grow heavier. Gord had adjusted the gravity. She was pulled onto the table and as she struggled the smoke rose higher and higher until it touched the rest of her. As she screamed, it poured into her mouth.

[battymommastuff]

Hey Mom!

Titans x Batmom

Prompt: Dick Grayson forgot to call his mother, so she shows up to the tower.

"Richard Grayson!"

"Oh shit..." Dick said when the voice of his adoptive mother filled his ears. Jason, who was with him perked up instantly and bolted out of the room. He ran by Rachel who raised a brow then was even more confused when she saw Dick walking with a look as if he was in trouble.

She followed him to the main room of the tower where she saw a woman being hugged nearly to death by Jason, "I missed you so much Ma!" Jason exclaims earning a snort from Hank who walked into the room with Dawn at his side. Jason quickly cleared his throat and backed away.

"I missed you too little bird, now where is my other bird?" She asks then looks behind him seeing her oldest son trying to hide from her. She crosses her arms and glared daggers at Dick who was doing everything to avoid her gaze.

"Who is that?" Kory asked quietly from behind Hank and Dawn. The woman was wearing a long black coat with suit pants and a deep blue silk button up shirt. Her black heels looked untouched and brand new. She was gorgeous.

"Y/N Wayne, wife of Bruce Wayne." Dawn explains then grins when she sees you walking over to your son.

"Dick." You say sternly uncrossing your arms and lifting your son's face. He smiles sheepishly then scratches the back of his neck, "I haven't heard from you in a week. Want to explain?" She asks then gestures for her other son to approach. Jason without hesitation makes his way over to you and you wrap your arm around his shoulders placing a soft kiss on his head.

"Sorry Mom, It's been hell."

"So I've heard, but that's no excuse to not let your worried mother that her boys are still alive." She scolds softly then opens her other arm. Dick smiles softly then wraps his arm around her waist and she pulls him close.

"My baby birds, when did you both grow up?" She whispers placing her hands on their faces. Everyone watched with amusement as they both melted under their mom's touch.

"Holy shit! Y/N Wayne!"

You jump then turn around seeing a boy with bright green hair running towards you. He grabs your hand shaking it happily while talking so fast you could barely make out what he was saying.

"Gar...breathe." A girl with dark hair and a red gem on her forehead says as she pulls him away. You laugh lightly then turn back to your boys who were both smiling at you. It was the first time you had them both together, and it was wonderful.

(Later)

"Mrs. Wayne, this is too much. We should be cooking for you." Dawn gushes as she sees the kitchen island full of food. You heard about their diet and started cooking a giant dinner.

"Nonsense, and call me Y/N my dear." You respond then hand her a few plates, "Set the table while I fetch the children?" You ask and smile when she does just that.

You walk down the halls knocking on doors and telling everyone to go to the kitchen. You were passing the area where they kept their suits, and saw Dick sitting there staring at the spot that his suit use to go. You sigh then sit next to him.

"Does Bruce know you're here?"

"Well with the tracker he put in me on our wedding night, I'm sure he'll figure it out."

Dick nods then rests his head on your shoulder. You hold his hand in yours then use your other to wrap around his shoulder, and rub his head," I remember doing this when you were young, it was the only way I could get you to sleep." You whisper then rub his arm, "Usually then something was troubling you..." You trail off then look at your son waiting for an answer.

"I'm not Robin anymore Mom, who am I?" He asked then looks at you with those big doe brown eyes that he use to look at you with when he was younger.

"Well...you're Richard Dick Grayson, adopted son of the Wayne's, former Robin..." He cuts you off with a look and you giggle softly.

"You need to figure that out on your own Dickie. You aren't a kid anymore. You'll know when the time is right."

Dick smiles then rests his head back on your shoulder.

"Hey Bro, could you stop hogging mom, and come on? I'm starving, and mom made some good fucking food." Jason said as he poked his head between the two of you. He grabs you hand and pulls you up, and you grabbed Dick's.

You hoped that you would have more of these moments with them...many many more.

[prettyboypucey]

Weird ~ G.W.

Summary: George is gorgeous. Charlie is a meddler. The snow is cold. (this summary sucks...just read it) 

Pairing: George Weasley x Y/N 

Word Count: 2,404 (who do I think I am?) 

Warnings: mentions of bullying. mentions of food/eating. george is unknowingly triggering? reader cries. idk? let me know if i missed something. 

A/N: part 2? maybe? translations are for romanian via google translate. do not come for me if they are hella wrong. 

Translations: draga - darling; dragoste - love; tampit - stupid 

     I had never been normal. From the time I was a toddler I had stars in my eyes and dirt on my knees. While the other kids in my grade were playing with dolls and dressing respectably, I was riding imaginary dragons and wearing mismatched socks with dungarees and a butterfly headband. Normalcy evaded me even further when at 11 years old, I got a letter declaring me a witch.

     When I first came to Hogwarts I spent the majority of my time alone. It appeared that even children who could wave a stick around and makes things fly wanted nothing to do with the colorful little girl. Meeting Luna Lovegood in my second year was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Here was a girl who allowed me to be exactly who I was with no judgments. And then she introduced me to Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley, and suddenly that little girl who thought her only friends would always be the rocks she painted faces on, had found her people.

     Of course, being friends with Ginny Weasley meant knowing her many brothers. So after graduation when I went off to Romania to work with dragons it made me feel slightly better knowing Charlie Weasley would be there. He quickly took me under his wing and became the older brother figure I had never had. After working together for three years, and electing to stay at the sanctuary for the last two over the holidays, he had finally convinced me to come home with him. I was reluctant to leave the sanctuary - the one place I truly feel safe (despite the massive fire breathing creatures).

     Charlie had warned me that being with one or two of the Weasleys was very different from being with the entire Weasley clan. Obviously I knew Charlie and Ginny, Ron had always been nice to me, and I had met Molly a handful of times in passing. However, Bill was known to be quite intimidating, Percy was supposedly very no-nonsense, and the twins (albeit never cruel) had a reputation of being hell-raisers.

     Apparating to the edge of a marsh with Charlie by my side I could see the rising structure haphazardly balanced slightly ahead.

     Pausing, I glanced at the back of the familiar red covered head, “I don’t know Charles, maybe I should just go back. I really don’t want to be a burden.”

     Charlie very quickly rounded behind me to continue guiding me towards his home, “No, no, no, no, no. No. You’re not a burden to anyone draga. Keep your head up and if any of them give you grief - remind them of the giant, winged beasts you can feed them to.”

     Quickly placing a kiss to the side of my head Charlie bounded ahead again to open the door and announce your arrival. Before I could toe off the first boot to leave next to the dozen other pairs in the entryway, a pair of arms had flung around my neck.

     “Y/N! I missed you so much!”, Ginny pulled back, keeping her grip on my shoulders, to inspect for any major injuries.

     I held onto her elbows, keeping her close, “Hi Gin, I missed you too. A lot. I’m loving this new look by the way.”

     She reached up to brush the now short locks behind her ears. A grin on her face as the two of us looked the other over for the first time in months. Ginny was wrapped in a pretty baby pink sweater with shades of red and white running through it. The material was soft against my palm as I hooked it around her crooked elbow to follow her into the living area.

     “You know”, she started, “I was starting to think maybe Charlie had let you get eaten or burnt to a crisp in the land of dragons. It’s been so long since you’ve come to see me or left the sanctuary.”

     “I’m sorry Ginny. It’s just that after everything, I had to keep myself busy.”

     Ginny’s smile softened into one of understanding. The war had taken a part of all of us. Although Fred had recovered after many months, that fear of almost losing such a vital part of their family had rocked the entire Weasley family to its core.

     “I get it, I do, but I worry about you. I just want you to know you’re not alone Y/N.”

     I pulled the girl into another tight hug, “I know.”

     Ginny pulled away first, clearing her throat, “Okay! Now that’s out of the way - it’s time to introduce the one and only Y/N L/N to the Weasley’s.”

     I hummed, “Hmmm and which of us should be more scared?”

     “Oh definitely the Weasleys.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

     Meeting the Weasley family had gone much better than expected.

     Molly had opened her arms and home to me as if I was one of her own children. By the time the night was over she had me stuffed full of warm food and drink and donning my very own coveted Weasley sweater, the lavender initial in the middle marking it as my own. Arthur had been very interested in my muggle parents and upbringing, questioning me about the functions of a rubber duck. Bill and his wife Fleur were the most stunning couple I have ever seen, and not nearly as intimidating as people portrayed them. Fleur was pleased when she found out I spoke a bit of conversational French and promised to have me over to Shell Cottage (apparently they have an amazing collection of wind chimes that I am dying to see). Percy was a bit more refined. Completely polite and friendly but he seemed reserved. Ginny had explained in one of her letters how much guilt Percy carried after the Battle of Hogwarts over how he had behaved in the years leading up to that day.

     The twins were much different than I remembered them being from the few times we were around each other in school. The physical differences were clear - George’s missing ear and Fred’s dragging limp were both signs of the prices they paid in the war. More than that however, they had matured greatly. They were still happy and made sure to pull at least two pranks over the night, poor Molly nearly lost her voice after they blew up the turkey. However, there was something in their eyes that had been dimmed. Especially in George.

     His twin almost died that night, and it reflected in George’s eyes each time he looked at his older brother. It was clear that he was still afraid because whenever Fred left a room George followed, never letting his brother out of his sight, and if he happened to lose track of him a panic began to swirl in his brown orbs.

     I was in the middle of watching as George yet again made his way to Fred’s side, clapping a large hand on his twins shoulder and throwing his head back in laughter.

     “So which one are you staring at dragoste?”, Charlie whispered as he appeared out of nowhere.

     I ignored the burning in my cheeks as I looked away from the scene in front of me.

     “I am not staring at either of them tampit.”

     “Mhmm, sure, absolutely, I believe you.”, after a quick pause he said, “It’s George isn’t it?”

     I turned and scoffed at him, “No!… How did you know?”

     Charlie let out a chuckle, “Because I know you my little dragon. I also know my brother, and just between us, he definitely likes you as well.”

     At this I let out an incredulous laugh and glanced back to where George was now telling a story, his hands moving animatedly. There was no way that George Weasley had even a remote attraction to me. He was kind, strong, clever, and so bloody gorgeous it truly was a privilege to look at him. And I am…me. Nothing special. Just a girl who had more dragon friends than human ones and whose hands were covered in scars and callouses and whose socks never matched and had never even kissed a man before. So no, there was no way that George Weasley would ever like me.

     “Hey. I know that look Y/N. Stop those thoughts right this bloody second.”

     “Charles it really is annoying when you read me like that.”

     Throwing his arm over my shoulder he began to lead me towards the twins, “Yes I know and I am sorry in advance but this needs to be done. Fred!”

     Charlie’s voice had gone from a rushed whisper to a jovial shout when we reached George, Fred, and Ron by the fireplace. George’s smile as he turned to look at us sent a million butterflies off in my tummy.

     “So Freddy, I was hoping you could help me out with a top secret project tomorrow for mum and maybe show me around the joke shop. I heard you added some new displays that I want to check out.”

     “Sure Charlie”, Fred glanced at George as he spoke, “I’m sure we can make some time for our favorite brother.”

     Ignoring Rons protest, Charlie gripped my shoulders and pushed me in front of him, “Actually George I was thinking you could stay here and show Y/N around the area. She mentioned wanting to talk a walk tomorrow and I would hate to disappoint her on her first Christmas out of the sanctuary.”

     “Um-”

     I interrupted the rejection coming from George, “No please, I would hate to be a bother and make you be stuck with me all day. I’m sure Ginny can take me.”

     George smiled and shook his head, “No it’s completely fine Y/N. I would be happy to show you around.”

     “Okay great! It’s settled then!”, Charlie looked rather too pleased with himself and obviously missed the look exchanged by his identical younger brothers.

~~~~~~~~~~

     The next morning the Burrow was a flurry of movement as everyone began their day. Apparently Charlie and Fred weren’t the only ones on their way out. The others still had some last minute gift shopping to do and Ron was spending the day with Hermione’s muggle family. After breakfast, a quick wink from Charlie, and a slam of the front door - George and I were alone in the house.

     The two of us stood facing one another in the living room for a few awkward moments before George spoke, “Well, um, did you want to head out as well?”

     “Oh sure! Yes, let me just grab my boots really quickly.”

     George led me out the door and onto the snow covered path towards the small, iced over river. Nothing was said for a while, the only sound was the crunch of snow under our boots and the occasional sniffle from one of our red noses. I was mentally imagining all the ways I was going to kick Charlie’s ass when he got back for suggesting a walk in the middle of winter when we came to the top of a hill and stopped.

     Everything as far as the eye could see was blanketed in sheets of white. Stomping my boots down into the fresh snow, I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the snow gave way underfoot. Feeling a pair of eyes on me I remembered that I wasn’t alone and turned to see George watching me with an unidentifiable look on his face.

     “Sorry, sorry. That was - I don’t know why I did that. I liked the feeling of the crunch of the snow I guess. Sorry.”

     George grinned, “You don’t have to apologize. It was cute.”

     I could feel my face flush at his words. His smile grew even wider at the sight of my heated face. My gaze dropped from his pretty face down to my boots. I could feel the thick socks I had on beginning to grow cold and wet from how long we’d been outside. Looking back up I could see George’s deep eyes glaze over. Assuming it was because he had been apart from Fred so long I glanced out at the view one last time before turning back the way we came.

     “We should probably get back. We’ve been gone a while and my toes are getting wet. I feel bad enough that Charlie forced you to do this anyways without you getting frostbite or something. I’ve had frostbite, it’s not fun. And now I’m rambling. I’m sorry. Sorry”

     George was shaking his head at me and said, “You are so weird.”

     Ouch. My chest tightened and the small smile I had been wearing dropped from my face. If I had been able to see past the tears forming in my eyes that were making my sight blurry, I would have seen George’s face do the same. Unfortunately, all I could focus on was that word. Weird. Strange. Abnormal. Freak. 

     Weird weird weird.

     The walk back was silent. A thick tension surrounded you both as thick snow flurries began to swirl down in the midmorning air. Just as thick was the lump forming in my throat as I fought back tears. I know I shouldn’t let his words affect me. He’s just some guy. But deep down I also know that he’s not just some guy. This is George fricking Weasley. With his stupid perfect face and gorgeous eyes and his loyalty to his family. I couldn’t help but be enamored with him from the moment I walked in the Weasley’s front door. So it hurt to hear the man I liked call me that nasty word that has haunted me my entire life.

     When we finally reached the Burrow, George tried to reach for my arm but I pulled away and ran into the house. I could hear that some of the others had returned and really wanted to avoid a confrontation. Once again, luck wasn’t on my side. Charlie came walking out of the kitchen and saw me in the entryway. His face immediately became concerned at the sight of me and he lowered the sandwich he had from his mouth.

     “Draga?”, Charlie’s voice followed me as I finally reached the stairs and launched upstairs.

     As I reached the first landing I heard him speak again, his voice rough and hard.

     “What did you do?”  

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[philtstone]

[definitely not rehearsed, totally spontaneous prompt-giver voice] Sam & Bucky, "nudging the other one"

[definitely not rehearsed, totally spontaneous prompt responder voice] here, have some uninhibited nonsense

"Just be normal about it."

"I am being normal about it."

"You are not bein' normal about it. This is the opposite of normal, oh my God --"

"Is everything alright?" asks their host.

Their host, who happens to be the King of Wakanda. Sure, Sam spent plenty of time in this country as an international fugitive, but he's never been formally invited to Royal Dinner before.

He stops hissing annoyed jibes through the side of his teeth and offers T'Challa his most winning smile.

"Everything's fine."

Bucky glowers. Like he's been doing for the last three hours. Sam wishes one of them had had the power of prophetic vision or something, so he didn't have to open his big fat mouth five minutes after the talon fighter got into the air and he was trapped with the most betrayed version of his best friend in a tin can in the air for a hundred minutes at a time.

T'Challa raises a single eyebrow. Sam aggressively nudges Bucky's unfortunately unyielding arm with his elbow and tries not to wince. 

Bucky says, "Fine," through the most obviously gritted teeth in the world.

"Hm," says the Queen Mother. Of literal, actual, Wakanda. Sam could be cranking up the charm right now, getting his flirt on, but no, he's having dinner with the giant White thundercloud hovering at his now-bruised arm. Vibranium and discrete elbow nudges do not mix, which Sam finds personally offensive. "How are the plantains, Captain Wilson?" asks Queen Ramonda. "Have you tried them? Chef Thebe is trying a new recipe, and I understand you know something about cooking."

"A little, yeah," says Sam, trying not to make it too obvious that he's rubbing his elbow.

"James?" prompts Queen Ramonda, pointedly.

"The plantains are obviously great," Bucky grits out, as brightly as a person possibly can when their whole face remains in a determinedly distraught position.

Sam pushes some food around on his plate. Ramonda tilts her chin and takes a long drink of wine from her glass. T’Challa, clearing his throat lightly, opens his mouth ���

"A lot of things in life should be obvious," Sam says, before he can stop himself.

King T'Challa's other eyebrow joins the first, and Ramonda pauses with her fork halfway to her mouth. Sam regrets every decision he's ever made as Bucky's bottom jaw drops open like a real life version of that dumb Pokémon meme Sarah's kids love so much.

"Obvious? We’re talking about a betrayal of trust here, Samuel." 

“I was encouraging your hobbies! That’s a thing good friends do!”

“You just sat there, and watched me – we had multi-national video calls with that fucking thing in the background –”

"It was a joke, man!" Sam splutters. He figures spluttering is a perfectly acceptable response to this. "I thought you'd have figured it out in like ten minutes! How did you not figure it out in like ten minutes!"

"That’s not the point!" Bucky says, crossing his arms and looking miserable. "No way! Six months! Six months. You watched me mist that thing for six months --"

“Excuse me for imagining that the most dangerous assassin of the twentieth century would’a noticed the physical makeup of a gag gift his dumbass friend bought him. I thought you were playing along!”

“For six months?!” Bucky says, now red around the ears. “God I can’t believe you. I can’t believe –”

“It was a funny joke. It was a funny joke, okay? I thought we were both in on the joke! You’re acting like I killed your cat or somethin’ –”

“Who also watched me mist that plant for six months!” says Bucky, more aggrieved now than ever. He waves one hand in the air in a very New York-flavoured gesture of emphasis; T’Challa visibly chokes over a bite of his appetizer and has to bring a napkin up to his face to hide it – “She probably thinks I’m some kinda giant idiot now –”

Which is just unfair, and Sam wishes more than ever he hadn't said anything in the first place but Bucky'd been so clearly concerned that he was leaving his slow-growing windowsill collection of plants unattended for more than twenty-four hours --

“Gentleman,” says the King, recovering from his recent brush with near-asphyxiation; his voice is slightly strained, though Sam can’t say that isn’t from the poorly concealed amusement dancing in his eyes. “Perhaps you would like to desist from airing out any embarrassing personal stories in the minutes before Shuri arrives to dinner.”

Sam’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click and Bucky’s eyes widen comically in alarm.

Ramonda says,

“Fa, you are not serious, I know what this must be. Mahlubandile. Surely this is not about the little plastic house plant that sits on your window ledge in calls.”

"What?" Bucky chokes.

She turns with regal innocence to Sam. “I see it every so often when he has conferences with Shuri or the Dora. I did not realize it was a gift, Captain. The pot is quite beautiful.”

There is a long moment of stunned silence that is only broken by T’Challa, when he gives up all pretense and begins laughing properly into his lap, his napkin held between pinched fingers against his forehead. Sam brings a slow hand up to hold against the bridge of his nose. Bucky looks nothing short of poleaxed.

This all happens just in time for Shuri to flounce into the room, out of breath and skidding.

“Sorry I am late, uMama! What have I missed?”

“Nothing important,” says Ramonda severely. “But really, Shuri, to work this late when we have guests. Tcha. Sit, and behave. Now, Captain, you were telling me about the food in Louisiana. I am sure it is most flavourful …”

**

Mahlubandile -- term of endearment; the clan has increased by one (affectionate)

[busycryin]

Disinhibition

Pairing: Benjamin ‘Benny’ Miller x Reader 

Word Count: 2k 

Warnings: Injury, bad words, mentions of sex. 

Summary: Benny gets injured and loses his filter.  (Not that he had much of one to begin with)

Note: This is self indulgent fluff. I regret nothing. I am in love with all of these men. 

It was never your idea of a fun Friday night - watching Benny get the ever living shit beaten out of him. 

Until six months ago you’d never have even set foot in an event such as this, but here you were, beer in hand watching the brother of your best friend take an uppercut to the face in a fight you think he was winning. 

To you Benny was the gentle giant; a sweet guy who topped up the window wiper fluid in your car when it got low or the guy that gave you the last hot dog at the barbeque because he knew you secretly hated Frankie’s burgers. In this ring he was one hundred percent the warrior you’d heard stories of as a mask of icy calculation had descended across his features. 

The outside world was shut out; it was just him and his opponent in the ring.

His opponent just so happened to be a gorilla - there was no other way to describe the mans body as his arms were thick chords of muscles covering bone - somehow managing to make Benny look lithe. 

You were still new to this but you weren’t quite sure how he was even in the same weight class.

Christ, this was bad for your blood pressure.

You couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering around your stomach despite the fact that for every hit Benny took he landed two. The two were locked into a hold on the ground, you didn’t quite understand what was happening, but Ben had somehow got the upper hand. It was as he held the man down that the bell finally rang and you released a breath you didn’t realise you were holding; the round was over. 

Santiago, another friend of Will’s who was standing beside you and Frankie, blew out a heavy breath. 

“This is a fuckin’ close one.”

“Guys fuckin’ huge.” Frankie echoed your thoughts whilst taking a sip of his beer. 

Will was bent over Benny talking into his ear as the younger of the duo desperately chugged his water bottle. He looked absolutely exhausted, your heart was beating madly in your chest; you decided to remain silent. 

All too soon the break was over and the mouth guard was back in place protecting those pearly whites that were often directed at you in a half-smirk/half-grin concoction that always signalled he was up to no good. 

“Don’t worry, Guapa! Ben’s got this, he’s one tough sonovabitch.” Frankie patted your back reassuringly. Somehow you weren’t convinced but you smiled at both of the men, nodding enthusiastically and draining your half full beverage. 

You knelt to place your cup under your seat, rising finally as the bell rang, signalling the beginning of a new round of torture. Your hands interlocked nervously in front of your mouth flinching at every hit the other man landed on Benny. 

You felt Santiago pat your shoulder and shoot you a smile whilst he cheered for the younger Miller. “He’s got this, Y/N.” He spoke, repeating Frankie’s earlier reassurances.

Benny did not have this. 

As was made evidently clear a couple of minutes later when the two were grappling on the ground, his opponent had got the upper hand and was above him trying to get him to submit. But Benny being Benny wouldn’t give in, despite being banged to rights. 193 pounds didn’t seem so heavy right now as his opponent twisted his arm to the ground, his thick legs wrapped around Ben’s torso. 

Your heart dropped as you could’ve swore you heard the crack of bone over the crowd. Finally Benny tapped. 

The fight was over, he’d lost. 

Santiago had thrown his hat off raking his fingers through his hair in disappointment “Mierda! I thought he had it!”

“That guy was fucking massive, I hope he’s okay.” You mumbled when you realised Ben was still sitting on the padded ground. 

“Let’s go see, eh?” Frank gestured towards the ring where a medic had now entered, tailed closely by Will. You had to stop yourself from racing to his side as sat injured in the ring.

You see, you and Benny had a complicated relationship.

Well it wasn’t that difficult, simply put Ben was a bit of a slut, now you didn’t judge him. Live and let live, you say, but casual sex just wasn’t your thing. Especially not with the brother of your best friend. You’d come to rely on your easy friendship with the older Miller brother so you avoided your relationship with Ben going beyond flirting - your friendship wasn’t something you wanted to fuck with on a whim. 

So, a strange friendship in limbo was where you and Benjamin Miller firmly remained. 

Benny was pulled up into standing, his face was pale as the MMA medic inspected his arm. The man shook his head at Will as they walked, both supporting the injured man. 

“-dislocated, he’s gonna have to go to the ER.” The three of you caught the end of the conversation as you followed the trio. 

“He okay?” Frankie questioned first “Going to the hospital?”

“Yeah, the idiot pushed himself too far. Popped his shoulder out of the socket instead of submitting.”

“Shit, Ben! Are you okay?” You asked, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine Y/N.” He grunted ever the hard headed soldier, his face was laced with pain even as he tried to be impassive in his agony. 

You backed off at his clear dismissal, not wanting to push him whilst he was in such pain.

“We’ll meet you there, yeah?” Santiago questioned.

In the end, you and ‘Pope’ sat in the hospital chairs for an hour or two waiting. Frankie had waited for an hour before he had to get back to his family, the two of you had insisted he get back. It wasn’t fair on Mama Morales to have to look after the baby on her own. 

Santiago was the friend of Will’s you knew the least. He was always kind but he simply was never around. He came and went as he pleased much like an outdoor cat, but in the short time you’d been around him you knew he was a nice guy. Two, going on three hours alone talking about nonsense had pretty much cemented that as you now sat in the waiting room playing go fish, waiting desperately to hear some news about your - What exactly was Benny to you?

Your crush? No. You weren’t in Kindergarten.

Your friend? No. Not enough.

The guy you had incredibly strong feelings for - the kind that made that tingle in your stomach when he laughed at your jokes but you can’t tell him because he’s a man whore who can’t commit to one woman? No. Abit long, not to mention a complete overshare. 

Your person.

You were waiting desperately to hear some news about your person when finally Will rounded the corner. You stood before you realised what you were doing.

“He okay?”

“Yeah, he’s good. Asking about you Y/N, come and see him?”

“Of course.” You reply picking up your purse. 

Both you and Santi follow Will through the winding hospital halls. You hear Benjamin before you see him.

“I wanna rock and roll all night and party everyday! ” His usually melodious voice is hoarse and slurred, he sounded somewhat drunk as he butchered the rock song from his favourite band.

“I love you too, man.” Will says with a small smile on his face as he sits on one of the chairs beside the bed. 

“He’s had some anesthesia. He’s pretty high right now, so brace yourselves.” He’s sitting up in the bed arm wrapped in a sling, staring up at the ceiling as he sings (shouts) when you round the corner.

“Will, you’re back!” He lights up as he sees his brother “I love you.”

However Will is forgotten instantly as soon as Benny catches sight of you. “Will! This is her, Christ, its the angel I fuckin’ told you about!”

“Calm down, Ben.” Will still has the smile on his face but he tilts his head to the other patient behind the curtain being subjected to his younger brother's lack of an indoor voice.

“How are you doing, Brother?” Santi questions, sitting on the chair to the other side of him. 

He looks at Santiago. “Pope! Have you seen her? She’s so gorgeous, man. She’s here.”

You chuckle as you walk to stand beside him on the bed. He instantly takes your hand in his good one and pats the bed beside him. You can’t help but acquiesce despite the cloudy look in his eyes. It’s like the lights are all on but nobody's really home.

You hop up, facing him sideways on. You’re not about to cuddle the man in front of Will and Santiago, no matter how desperately you’d like to.

“How you feeling, Soldier?”

“Better now you’re here, Angel.” You can’t help the snort that comes out at his words. 

“I’m glad I can help.”

“You could help me in another way y’know Y/N.” He smirks in a way that is so completely Benny you almost forget he’s delirious. 

“I think you might regret this when you have a filter, lovely.”

“You hear that Will?” Benny’s whisper isn’t quite as stealthy as he believes as his voice is barely quieter than a shout. “She fuckin’ called me lovely, I’m fuckin in there man!”

“...No way...” Will replies simultaneously trying and failing to keep a straight face.  “Y’know Ben you might want to calm down, you might be making Y/N uncomfortable.”

“Y/N… Oh god Y/N. She's gorgeous man, inside and out and her tits -Man her tits are-” He makes a growling noise. 

“Ben!” Will admonishes whilst Santiago is looking on, his hand covering his mouth desperately trying to contain his chortles. “I think you should get some rest buddy.”

“I’ma do that. I’ma put my arms down, my head back and get some rest.” Benny tells his brother resolutely all whilst nodding his head and in his defense he does just that… for a grand total of ten seconds before his blue eyes reopen and fix on you. 

“Y/N?” Benny ‘whispers’ whilst tugging on your hand that is still firmly locked with his good one. 

“Mmh?”

“I think we should have a baby.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. We can have like 6 babies and I’ma’ fuck you so good every single night for the rest of our lives and we can have our own barbecues and I’ll cook you up the hamburgers special.” You can’t help it as your eyes widen exposing the whites in their entirety. You’re trapped somewhere between laughing and mortification as you know there’s no way in hell Will and Santi didn’t hear that.

“I’m not a baby machine dude, six kids is alot for my body to handle.”

“You’ll think about it?” He asks his eyes heavy as they lock on yours.

“Moron,” You chuckle whilst raising the hand which is not currently his prisoner and push the strand of dirty blonde hair from his eyes “You get some rest and I’ll give you all the babies you can handle, big guy.” 

“If I go to sleep am I going to die?”

“No, Ben. You won’t die.” You can’t help a final giggle at his expense, apparently Benjamin Miller without a filter is quite the character. Finally he closed his eyes, his strong much larger hand still wrapped around your own as he drifted off.

A few moments passed and nobody seemed to know what to say. Every suspicion they’d had, had been confirmed. You hoped to god they weren’t going to tease him about it.

“Don’t make fun of him too badly when he wakes up, fellas.” You mumble awkwardly, your eyes not leaving his face. 

“That’s my line.” Will pipes up from his seat when you finally meet his eyes. “My brothers a stubborn guy, he’ll see this as a screwing things up with you Y/N/N.”

“He never said anything. The guy’s impossible to read.” 

“Nah, you’re just too close to it, is all.” Will supplied - ever the guiding light in your world recently.

“Well. We’ll see, won't we?” The guys start discussing the fight, about where Ben went wrong - something you didn’t really want to think about for a long time - or in the very least until his shoulder was healed. 

Finally during the lull of conversation as they’re both checking their phones you go to ask Will when they’re releasing the giant moron when Santiago finally speaks up. “So, Y/N. You and Ben mind naming one of the kids after me? I figure with 6 of em’ you can spare at least one for the namesake.”

Tag List:

All - @benakenalove

[mygodyouredivine]

The Hell In Your Eyes - 3

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

Word Count: 4836

Previous Chapter

Loki is annoyed.  

Loki has sat through thousands of years of political dinners, exchanging thinly veiled insults under a layer of diplomacy, all while smiling through his teeth. Loki has spewed sensical nonsense, charming naive, innocent maids and sweeping young stable boys off their feet. Loki has endured Odin’s wrath — in all its horrible glory — countless times, and never once had he shed a tear, nor had a single cry escaped his lips.  

The whole of Asgard had coined him the Dark Prince — and who was Loki to disappoint? 

He had long since learned people saw what they expected to see. 

And so as the entire realm rejoiced in his demise, as Laufey left him to die, as Odin condemned him for eternity, as Thor abandoned him, as Frigga had sided with her husband again and again and again, Loki maintained his carefully constructed front.  

Yet one encounter with a mortal, and he had unraveled at her feet.  

If physically kneeling before the wretched creature wasn’t enough, he knew she had seen past his mask. By the time he had regained his composure, he was sure she had seen him.  

It won’t happen again.  

Loki is a god, and gods do not crack. Gods maintain their image, regardless of circumstance. Gods do not show weakness, do not show vulnerability.  

This is a lesson Loki knows well, a lesson etched into his skin countless times by Odin’s hand.  

And yet for each time Odin reinforced this lesson, the very same lesson was burned away by Thanos a thousand more. 

Loki tried, he truly did. Loki maintained his godly facade for an impressive amount of time, resisting as his body was taken apart over and over and over again. Perhaps it wasn’t as long as he thought. Loki feels as if his entire life was spent doused in agony, spent with his flesh melting off and his bones withering away. 

Ultimately, a god is no match for a Titan.  

But a mortal is no match for a god.  

And yet, Loki has found himself at her feet — at her mercy — twice. 

Even after, Loki couldn’t bring himself to summon his cruel exterior. Perhaps it had to do with the way she had waltzed into his space, all soft and defenseless, carrying that deplorable drink as if it was the elixir of eternal life (unfortunately, it tasted just as divine). Perhaps it was his body, still sated and full for the first time in months, reminding him of the food — the debt — he owes. Perhaps it was the way she held out her arm towards him, even though he could see it shaking.  

Whether it was any of these things or none at all, Loki’s cool mask of indifference was rendered utterly useless at her delicate, mortal hands.  

Loki hates her.  

His hatred fills every fiber of his being. It’s a scalding, fiery hatred, much unlike the frozen excuse of Loki’s heart. His frost giant heritage seems to reject her very being.  

Loki hates her voice, hates her hands, hates her. He hates how she makes him falter when there is no place for mistakes.  

Loki’s thoughts are interrupted by Thor, who enters Loki’s quarters without an ounce of hesitation — ever the righteous, confident, arrogant bastard. 

Ah, but Loki almost forgot. Thor is not the bastard — Loki is. How despicable; for really, Loki can not even call himself a bastard. Yet, ‘the Bastard Son of Odin’ has a certain charm to it. Perhaps another false title for his collection.  

“Loki!” Thor booms, “Here are your clothes that Lady Angel washed. You should be grateful brother, for she offered of her own volition — ” 

Is it so surprising someone would offer to help Loki without external influence?  

“ — to see and visit you! You are doing well. I am happy to see you are finally making an effort to get to know all of our friends — ” 

Thor is happy? For Loki, or for himself? Why must Loki, even now, strive to prove himself to Thor? Why is Loki’s worth solely dependent on Thor’s judgement?  

“ — and Lady Angel is absolutely wonderful. I am delighted to see you two getting along so well! I can’t believe you finally made a friend— ” 

At this, Loki’s composure cracks for the second time that day.  

“What am I? A pathetic child wandering aimlessly through a school corridor? A helpless hatchling at the mercy of others — groveling for the bare minimum? Who are you to congratulate me for ‘making a friend?’ She is not a friend ,” Loki spits out. He can feel his teeth grinding against each other, his fingernails once again digging into his palms. “She is nothing more than another worthless mortal, unworthy of even breathing the same air as I, and yet you suggest I be grateful?” 

Thor advances on Loki, his eyes hardening. The atmosphere is tense; unlike the typical bickering between the brothers, Loki identifies something distinctly different in the way the air vibrates. The space between the two gods crackles. “Watch yourself brother —” 

Brother. The word grates upon Loki’s nerves. How can Thor so carelessly throw the word around, even knowing of its false implications — implications and lies Loki foolishly believed.  

Sometimes Loki wonders if Thor does it on purpose.  

“Do you hear yourself Thor? Bending yourself over backwards to defend this wasted excuse of consciousness — you are the King of Asgard. What is she? She is nothing.” 

And now Loki is no longer staring at his brother, but the ceiling of his prison. His back is slammed against Stark’s hardwood floors and there is sharp ringing in his ears, likely the result of the crack in the floor right behind where his head is currently embedded.  

Loki almost laughs. 

Truly, it is comical — comical that even now, Thor’s first instinct is to physically threaten Loki. As if Loki doesn’t almost enjoy it. 

But Loki’s laugh catches in his throat, prevented from escaping by the large hand tightening around his airway.  

Thor’s hand is around Loki’s neck — a mirror of His. 

A thousand years Loki has known Thor. A thousand years of childish brawls, foolhardy battles, pointless arguments. How many times has Loki betrayed Thor? Thor betrayed Loki? And yet, Loki believed he knew his brother’s character.  

A thousand years Loki has known Thor, but never once has he thought Thor to be cruel.  

Oh how wrong he is.  

Thor’s hands are gripping Loki’s neck and for the life of him Loki can’t breathe. He tries to draw air into his lungs — lungs that are screaming with a familiar ache — and fails. Phantom pains flicker across his entire body and somehow, in the second before his vision goes black, Loki manages to croak out a strangled wheeze of a laugh.  

Loki is once again strapped upon a bed of coals, once again stabbed with blades of flame, once again torched with fire so hot he freezes. Loki remembers the only other time he begged — begged and pleaded for the sweet mercy of death, all while knowing death was a pleasure he was never to be granted.  

Loki is once again kneeling — boneless — at the feet of a Titan, looking up into a face promising endless pain, a face painted with the patience of a thousand moons and splattered with the ruined blood of a Frost Giant. 

Loki did not know that a Frost Giant’s blood could boil. 

Ah, but the Mad Titan knew, and he ensured Loki would never forget.  

Loki recalls the moment he let go — an eerie echo of his fall from grace, his fall from the Bifrost. And he remembers the horribly invasive power of the scepter, along with the blessed relief and utter disregard for self preservation that followed. 

And it is this — the relief — that plagues Loki. He does not fool himself; Loki may be the God of Lies, but he has no reason to lie to himself . It is not the destruction of New York nor the deaths at his hand that weigh upon his shattered mind. No, it is the fact that Loki found solace in his actions.  

Make no mistake — Loki does not rejoice in his crime, but nor could he say he regrets it. 

For if Loki were given the choice, he could not — would not — choose to spare Midgard at the cost of his own sanity. 

(But Loki was never given a choice.) 

Alas, Loki is already insane. 

The Mad Titan has taken so much from Loki.  

Physically, Loki has long since disregarded his own body. He remembers the beginning of his torture, when he still held the title of 'Prince of Asgard,' when he spoke with arrogance and oozed of indignantion. Oh how naive he had been. When the first whips had landed across his skin, Loki's thoughts could never have anticipated what the coming months would entail. Loki did not once stop to consider how he would escape the clutches of his captor — oh the confidence he held! — but instead lamented the scars he would surely have to bear. Dimly, Loki recalls worrying over his marred skin, irritated at the blemishes he would surely have to cover when taking future lovers.  

Loki scoffs.  

Loki does not recognize the man who spent time thinking of lovers. Or of his physical appearance. Or of his interests. Or of any other insignificant pleasure that ultimately contributes to the annihilation of a soul. 

(Even now, Loki carries with him an irrational fear of physical touch — a seed planted by the Mad Titan that Loki cannot gouge out, not even if he tore open his very being.) 

In fact, Loki wondered if his corporeal form had even existed anymore. But most of all, more than the ruination of his physical form, Loki mourns the damnation of his mind. 

Ultimately, the Mad Titan did triumph over Loki. For no matter how many times Loki escapes, fakes his death, runs away, he can never evade the visions that haunt his mind, the voices that infect his thoughts, the termites eating away at what remains of Loki’s sanity. 

(If Loki were given a choice, he would have chosen death again and again and again.) 

Alas, Loki was not — is not — given a choice, for suddenly he is not lying on a bed of coals, but on his apartment floor again. Thor has since removed his hand from Loki’s neck and Loki half wishes Thor just kept it there. Just kept on squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until Loki died on that bed of coals.  

Loki wonders, if he were to die at Thor’s hand, would his brother feel remorse? Or perhaps, more realistically, relief?  

Unfortunately, Loki is not dead, and Thor is gazing at him, concern evident in his gaze. As if Thor wasn’t the one who put Loki in this condition — wasn’t the one who greedily snatched all of Odin’s affection, wasn’t the one who pushed Loki out of favor, wasn’t the one who led his brainless minions in a brash suicide mission, as if Thor wasn’t the one who stared Loki in the eye as Loki let go into the abyss.  

As if Thor wasn’t the first domino in a long ripple effect that eventually drowned Loki in his sins.  

Thor was the smooth pebble that young children skipped over lakes, just barely skimming the surface of a tempting downfall — nevertheless gracefully leaping unscathed across the reflective waters. Yet Loki was the jagged, unskippable rock, destined to fall through the air and fall through the water with no hesitation. Loki has long since come to terms with this simple fact.  

No longer does Loki resent his brother, for he understands: light can only shine in the presence of darkness. And if Loki is condemned to darkness — so be it.  

Loki does not resent his brother, but oftentimes Loki despises his lightness . What some might say is endearing — the inability for Thor to give up — is just a burden. Even now, Thor still thinks he can change Loki, can fix him. Thor still thinks that by vouching for Loki and providing Loki a place to live and surrounding Loki with Thor’s friends that he can mend Loki’s broken soul and bring back the brother he once had. Thor is still in denial — he refuses to grasp the very simple concept that Thor’s brother — the Second Prince of Asgard, God of Lighthearted Mischief — is long dead. And so Thor continues to try. But light yelling into the darkness does not change it.  

And even now, with Thor looming above Loki, Loki does not resent his brother.  

But Loki resents Thor’s very being — the core of who Thor is. Thor is a duality; one of naivety and compassion, yet tainted — or perhaps embellished — with a smidge of cruelty and arrogance.  

And as Thor is speaking to Loki, mouth forming words Loki is too tired to hear, Loki simply lies on the floor, limbs relaxed around him, throat sore, and does the only thing he can do when feeling so utterly empty.  

Loki laughs.  

______________________________

Midgard is rather charming in some regards.  

Loki will eventually have to investigate the laundry process, for he has just now made the curious discovery that freshly dried clothes are warm . He suspects they were warmer right after they were dried, but he can still feel the presence of the heat, lingering within the very fabric of his garments. He wonders just how much they were heated up to — would it have burnt his frozen hands at the peak of its fiery glory? 

No, Loki’s hands are too well accustomed to fire now. 

But he doubts that her hands are. He envisions Angel pulling his clothes out of the dryer, her hands touching the same clothes that he has worn, that he will wear, that he is currently touching.  

Yet is it entirely possible Loki is standing around, imagining a scene that never played out, for it was not Angel who brought Loki’s laundry back to him, but his dearest brother. Looking at his pile of clothes again, Loki takes in the telltale signs of Thor. The messily folded shirts stare back at Loki, mocking him.  

He wonders if she ever even did any part of his laundry. Perhaps she only offered it as a way to ease the uncomfortable tension that had arisen earlier. Or rather, (and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought) she lugged his laundry basket downstairs and dumped it straight into Thor’s arms. 

Why else would she refuse his help to accompany her?  

A twinge of something rises up within Loki as he realizes she accepted Thor’s offer to bring his clothes back. Or, much more likely, she had pushed the task onto Thor in a desperate attempt to avoid encountering him again.  

Not that Loki could blame her. 

And yet the uncomfortable sensation within Loki only grows, and he realizes that he feels something akin to disappointment. Loki cannot allow himself to feel disappointment. He had long since learned not to expect anything from anyone — or perhaps, much more cynically, to only depend on — to trust — himself.  

Trust, Loki knows, is a fickle concept the naive embrace. Trust itself is ill fated, the certainty of an inevitable betrayal the same as the certainty that one day everyone living on this cursed realm will perish.  

Loki hates Angel. He hates how she pretends to care for him, hates how she imitates Thor, hates how she always finds a way to break him, and Loki hates how Angel makes him feel.  

Loki's silent anger boils inside of him — like the steady countdown of a ticking bomb — manifesting itself out of him as the laundry basket is violently launched across the room. 

He hates how he feels absolutely no satisfaction at the way the freshly clean clothes scatter across the floor, hates how he lost control, and hates how the damned mortal forces him to feel emotions he does not want to feel . 

Sometimes all Loki can do is hate. 

______________________________

The heat from the clothes have long since seeped into the floor. 

The sun is just now setting, dousing Loki’s room in a fiery glow. Warm light spills across Loki’s bookshelves, his impeccably made bed, the clothes strewn around his floor. Loki sits on the ground, bare of his illusions, allowing himself to just be .  

Staring across the room, he notices tendrils of light carefully curling around the air, miniscule particles of dust dancing in the golden glow. This is a gold Loki enjoys. Unlike the brash, loud character of Thor’s gold — of Asgard’s gold, this is a much softer, gentle color. The comforting hue reminds Loki of his mother, and against his will, he feels a wall of despair beginning to build within his chest.  

For a second, Loki loses himself as the wall crashes over him. He drops his head, allowing his hair to dangle in front of his face, obscuring his view of the floating particles. He feels like a child — wants nothing more in this moment than to run to Frigga, for her floral scent to fill his senses as she envelopes him in her arms. What Loki wouldn’t give to have Frigga’s delicate fingers comb through his hair just once more, for her soft lips against his forehead, murmuring words of comfort.  

But he can’t have that. Instead, here he is, sitting on the floor of a glorified prison in the midst of a community of people who hate him, with nothing but Thor to act as his buffer. 

Looking up, Loki gazes at the honeyed light as it glides over a particular heap of clothing. He watches, mesmerized, as the light gently moves, unhurriedly bathing each corner of the fabric in its rich glow.  

If he were still on Asgard, Loki would most likely have been reading, thoroughly immersed in some story or another. The sun would have showered his pages in its quiet glow, lighting the words aflame. He would have taken a stroll in his mother’s gardens, breathing in the sweet scent of her flowers as he sat in his favorite hidden alcove. He would have taken out his book and continued to read, read until the golden hue of the sun was replaced by the tender shine of the moon. Only then would Loki return, serenely walking back to his chambers, stopping only to retrieve a cup of tea, and resume his reading on his balcony.  

Loki wants that. 

Loki wants an afternoon to himself, with no worries plaguing his mind. 

Loki wants to be able to read, and to do so in an environment which permits him to let his guard down. 

Loki wants to sit outside, surrounded by flowers, and watch as the sun transitions into the moon. 

Loki wants to indulge in a hot cup of tea as he watches the moonlight spills across the pages of his book. 

Loki wants so many things — and he can’t have any of them. 

Standing up, Loki decides he has spent enough time reminiscing over what he cannot have today. He feels sticky and hot and cold and hungry and all he wants right now , is a long shower.  

And so Loki walks over to the same pile of clothes, now dull and abandoned by the sun, gazing disapprovingly downwards. Thor is truly an imbecile, for he has not even managed to separate their clothes correctly. Loki is currently staring at a dark green sweatshirt, one he knows for a fact he has never seen before. Tiredly, he tosses it upon his bed and scoops up a clean change of clothes, then turns around and trodds slowly into the bathroom.  

______________________________

Water droplets rain all around Loki, swiftly sliding down his body. 

He doesn’t particularly enjoy showering — it reminds him too much of another substance: denser, stickier, and much more red, trickling down his skin. Loki much prefers baths. Baths, however, render their subject very much vulnerable, and Loki does not fancy risking any more vulnerability than strictly necessary.  

So Loki is standing in the shower, unabashedly soaking up the shallow warmth the water provides. Surely if Thor could see him, his brother would lecture Loki on wasting Midgard���s precious resources. But, Loki reasons, if Stark truly possesses the excess of wealth he boasts of, Loki’s water usage will not be of much concern to the man. And so this is a luxury Loki will grant himself.  

The shower is one place where Loki feels the safest, where he allows his thoughts to wander and drift into otherwise forbidden territories. Today especially has been challenging, and even his muscles seem to ache, the fibers pulling away from each other, trying to rip Loki apart from the inside out. His mind is exhausted, filled with swirling thoughts of Frigga and Angel and Thor, with the occasional Odin and Titan intruding whenever a particular body part cries out.  

And as Loki gazes down at his body, the disfigured canvas of scars stare back at him and he attempts to soothe away the countless aches. No matter how much time has passed and how much magic Loki pours into himself, the pains never seem to retreat. Rationally, Loki knows it doesn’t make sense. He knows his magic is fully capable of healing himself, knows that by all accounts he is healed.  

But Loki also knows he does not imagine the sharp pains coursing through his veins.  

He is fighting himself — the part of himself that does not want the pain to stop. Because all Loki knows is pain, and he fears the absence of pain almost as much as he dreads its glorious presence.  

Loki raises his head, allowing for the stream of water to bruise his face. And if Loki’s closed eyes leak the occasional tear, no one would know.  

______________________________

Loki’s self destructive spiraling is abruptly cut short by three succinct knocks from his bedroom door. Still soaking in the shower, Loki debates whether or not to answer; after all, he truly has no desire to see his brother again today. Or preferably, ever again. Unfortunately, Loki is all too aware that if he does not answer the door to let Thor in, Thor will simply let himself in. And if there’s anything worse than seeing Thor, it will be seeing a displeased Thor while Loki stands nude and wet.  

Reluctantly, Loki turns off his shower, changes into his freshly washed ‘sweatpants’, and leisurely walks towards the door. He is honestly surprised Thor hasn’t invited himself in yet. He is more surprised when he finally opens the door and is promptly met with — not Thor’s brutish face, but the goddamned mortal.  

She stands there, in front of his door, barely out of arm's reach. Loki can’t help but drink her in. He notices her hair, laying loosely around her face, framing her profile. She’s sporting a sweater, much too warm for the present weather. Its collar is stretched out over years of use, teasing his eyes with a fraction of her collarbones peaking through. Her legs are barely covered by absurdly short shorts, and Loki feels the back of his ears heating up. Hurriedly, he averts his eyes, falling down to her feet, once again hugged by soft looking socks — mismatched.  

His scrutinization is interrupted by her voice; so soft.  

“Hey! Sorry if I interrupted you. I heard you were in the shower but I was going around taking everyone’s dinner orders. We’re getting Chinese.” She tilts her head to the side, lifting her chin ever-so-slightly, distractedly exposing the tantalizing skin of her neck. She swallows, and Loki’s eyes discreetly follow the bob of her throat. “I was just wondering if you wanted anything?” 

It takes a moment for Loki to register her question and another for him to process it. She is going to order dinner? For him? And she is asking him for his preference? Loki has not had the privilege of preferring anything in a long, long time. Damn this mortal. 

“I am not familiar with this particular cuisine, nor Midgard’s in particular.” 

She meets his eyes then, and only after does it occur to him that her eyes had been previously glued to his abdomen. His abdomen, he realizes which has been bare this entire interaction. “That doesn’t answer my question.” 

He forces himself to roll his eyes, running a hand through his still dripping hair to hide the scarlet his ears have surely become. “I am saying that I do not have a preference, woman.” 

She lifts her shoulders briefly in a gesture Loki has come to associate with Midgard’s daftness and promptly moves closer to him. Instinctively, Loki takes a step back, then curses himself for doing so. He truly must be losing it, backing away from a defenseless mortal. But she doesn’t push further, instead tilting her head at that angle again, asking him another question.  

“Can I come in?” 

Loki hesitates. He doesn’t understand her motives, doesn’t know if this is a trick the Avengers have set up or perhaps a test designed by his brother. All he knows is that Angel is staring at him with her eyes wide and innocent and completely devoid of deceit.  

Angel must carry magic or Loki must be possessed by the Mind Stone again, for against his will, Loki steps to the side, allowing her to brush past him. The sleeve of her sweater comes into contact with Loki’s stomach, and he jerks away.  

Awkwardly, Loki closes his door and turns to face the mortal, noting how hilariously out of place she looks, standing in the midst of Loki’s domain. With a wave of his hand, the previously scattered articles of clothing fly onto his bed, meticulously folding themselves. Angel’s surprised, quiet gasp does not escape his notice. She walks towards his bed, small hand landing on Thor’s sweatshirt.  

“Take that when you leave.” Loki internally bristles at his own tone, noticing how Angel’s shoulders locked up when he spoke and did not relax when he stopped. “Please,” he adds. 

To his surprise (again), Angel approaches him, sweater in hand. “Why?” 

At this, Loki is caught off guard. Without warning, he is overwhelmed by distaste. His patience has been tested over and over again, and he does not have even a drop more to deal with this mortal’s incompetence. His hatred for her rushes back, multiplied a thousandfold. Who does she think she is and why will she not leave Loki alone? Why must she cut short his relaxation, intrude upon his personal space, inquire after him when he knows — he knows — she does so unwillingly? Why is she holding up Thor’s goddamned sweater, pretending not to know why Loki hates it so? As if she doesn’t know it belongs to Thor. 

In fact, Loki is positive she is intimately aware of whom it belongs to, undoubtedly so. He hates Angel, hates her for reluctantly offering her help, hates her for her smoothies, hates her for asking him about his preferences. Briefly, he envisions snapping her neck. Effortlessly. But the image makes him recoil, bringing about not satisfaction, but horror.  

His fists clench, his broken fingernails once again digging into bruised skin. It costs Loki an immeasurable amount of self control not to simply throw her out, hurl her from his quarters. Instead, he snaps at her. 

“Girl, do not test my patience. I am warning you, it has been a very long day and if you do not exit extremely promptly, it will not end well for one of us.” 

Loki hates the way her shoulders tense up again, hates the way she physically flinches away at his dismissal.  

Loki hates how though he can sense her increasing heartbeat, her nervousness, Angel still looks him in the eye and informs him, in a terrified voice coated with forced calm, “I’m sorry to hear that Loki. I added this sweater into your laundry after it was done, but I should have known it would not have been welcome.” 

Loki hates how she then drops her eyes, staring intently at her mismatched socks.  

“I’ll just leave your dinner outside.” 

Loki hates how she leaves, her hands gripping Thor’s — his — sweatshirt tightly, footsteps moving at a much brisker pace.  

Loki hates how Angel closed off, how he closed her off.  

Loki hates how Angel clearly did do his laundry. 

Loki hates how Angel thought of him, giving him an extra sweatshirt, offering him a choice for dinner. 

Loki hates Angel more than he hates Thor, more than he hates Odin. 

Loki hates Angel more than he hates the Mad Titan.  

The only person Loki hates more than Angel is himself. 

Fuck. 

______________________________ 

We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.  

- Charles Bukowski 

______________________________

Previous Chapter

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Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

[clnriswood]

DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Four

a/n: so glad to be back! things start getting a bit more, uh, intense -- but stay tuned for p5 bc it’s about to get vv steamy hehe.

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret  @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive

X

If matters had been bad between Draco and the girl before, it was safe to say that the strength of their bond now was at an all time low, underground, even. On his end, she was a thieving traitor who was joined in Potter’s ranks against him, and in hers, he was a treacherous snake who was incapable of trust and had been solidified into his cruel habits. Their last encounter, at quidditch tryouts, had been the worst yet. It went something like this: Draco, as he left the field of Slytherin’s recently finished tryouts, jeered some nonsense about “any old fool who can swing a bat (Y/N played the role of beater) being allowed onto the team,” which was met by a swift reply from Y/N, who suggested cooly that Draco’s groin should be her bat's next target. This had led to quite the eruption of bickering between both of the teams, one which Madam Hooch, who was entirely fed up with both houses, abruptly put an end to. After that, the girl simply rode the wave of Draco Malfoy induced rage, and during the tryouts, envisioned the barrelling quaffles to be differing versions of his arrogant head. Shockingly, by an act of God, it had worked. Or, not really. Really it was months of training with Cedric over the summer that won her a place on the team, but, well, the rage certainly helped. And yet, despite it all, a nagging truth scratched relentlessly at the back of her brain. And this truth was that somehow, despite it all, Draco Malfoy was the thing of which she was apparently most attracted to.

“Whaddya reckon?” the voice of Ronald Weasley interrupted the girl’s drifting thoughts.

She and her three Gryffindor comrades had just escaped to the side of the Great Lake following the end of their first week of classes. Desperate to get the last of the sun before the soon to come autumn leaves and grey skies, the quartet had stripped free their thick robes and laid out a crimson picnic blanket upon which they sat surrounded by goods. Around them, other Hogwarts students of every year had done the same. With bellies now full, they’d thrown themselves happily back, their chins all turned towards the bright blue sky. As it was, Ron sat beside Hermione, who sat beside Harry, who sat beside Y/N. As they watched the ginger, he jovially made a stream of rainbow colored bubbles fly forth from the tip of his weathered wand.

“What’re you going to kill Voldemort with multi-colored bubbles?” Harry choked on the last pumpkin pastie with a snort.

“Harry!” Hermione scolded, poorly attempting to conceal her own giggles.

“Laugh all you want,” Ron said, “some girl is going to fancy this, I’m telling you.”

Suddenly Hermione wasn’t laughing at all, and she’d gone quite pink, the girl noticed. Next to her, Harry turned into his elbow to cough, which was really just an attempt to cover the big stupid grin he was wearing. The girl chuckled and batted him away with the back of her hand. He winked in reply.

“I want to go for a stroll,” Harry beamed suddenly, sitting upright in a flash.

“Lovely, shall we come?” Hermione began to stand.

“No!” he protested quite loudly. Then, “sorry, just want a quick chat alone with Y/N, if you don’t mind.”

The girl arched a brow at the jet black haired boy beside her, reluctantly standing and throwing Hermione a confused stare as she padded slowly alongside Harry and away from her other friends. The boy drifted farther from the patch of red blanket and closer to the water’s edge, where the grass was long, green, and swampy around their shoes. For a moment, the girl caught sight of one of the Giant Squid’s long tentacles, and she watched as it went sweeping against the surface of the black water and sending ripples across its inky surface.

“What is it then?” she said when they had gotten far enough away.

“What is what?” Harry said stupidly.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she replied gruffly.

“Ah,” Harry scoffed and shook his head, “just said that so we could give Ron n’ Hermione some time alone together.”

“Oh?” the girl answered quizzically.

“Totally fancies him,” he continued excitedly, “not that she’s ever going to admit it, mind you.”

The girl felt her lips split, “really?! I did always wonder… though I couldn’t be sure.”

“I’ve spent the last five years watching those two fight, believe me, I am,” he wrinkled his nose with a grin. “Duck,” he added.

Without hesitation, the two friends bent their knees, covering their heads as the Giant Squid sent a tentacle soaring into the air and slapping the water, making millions of airborne droplets come cascading over them. Knowing the system well by now, the girl snapped her wand up, creating a clear arc above herself and Harry. The dazzling white stream of magic sheltered them safely from the Squid’s tidal wave, repelling all liquid outwards from its top. From around the shore, the sound of unsuspecting student cries of surprise echoed loud in reply.

“Anyways,” the girl stood cooly, like nothing had happened, “I assume this means I shouldn’t be saying anything of it to Hermione?”

“Absolutely not,” he said, “she’d throw herself into the lake if she knew we knew.”

The girl laughed. He wasn’t wrong.

For a few minutes they walked, quiet as they enjoyed the hot sun on their skin. Behind them, though she only snuck a quick glance, Ron and Hermione were bickering; apparently Hermione had made bigger bubbles than Ron and he’d taken it as a personal attack. The girl shook her head, letting the moment pass her and the fresh air flow through her lungs before she spoke again.

“Harry,” she started nervously, “there er, is something I actually wanted to speak to you about.”

He stopped walking, sinking his hands into the pockets of his pants as he sighed deeply with understanding, “you mean you causing a row with Malfoy?”

The girl froze in her tracks, “you knew about that?”

“Well apparently you weren’t too quiet about it,” he smiled half-heartedly. “I just… don’t understand what you were doing with him in the first place,” he admitted.

The girl felt her throat go hard, “dunno that myself, really.”

He blinked at her with his big green eyes, awaiting her explanation patiently.

“I- I just,” she started unconfidently, pausing to think. “I’d noticed there was something off about him. I just wanted to see what it was about.”

“And you think Malfoy’d tell you if there was?” Harry said, voice thick with doubt.

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “I know because he -- well, because he kind of told me so.”

Harry’s mouth dropped, “he did?”

“Yes,” she repeated, feeling her face prickle with warmth.

“So what does he,” Harry began, bewildered, “does he fancy you or something?”

“No!” the girl blurted, tucking her windswept hair behind her ears and finding her eyes suddenly glued to the muddy ground. “Of course not!”

“That’s brilliant!” Harry realized, ignoring her completely as he came quickly to an understanding of how this newfound information could play to his advantage, “and what did he tell you?!”

“Erm,” she gave a weak sigh, eyes back on him, “he said he knew I was working with you and told me to shove off, basically.”

Harry’s expectant smile faltered, “oh.”

“Yeah,” she gave him a reluctant glance.

“But you’re not,” he said confusedly.

“Yes I know that,” she echoed.

“Oh,” he said again.

Harry began walking once more, letting his thoughts brew a little before he continued. The sun’s rays were hitting his glasses hard, sending bright beams of light refracting off of them. The Gryffindor chewed his lower lip thoughtfully and gave his head a scratch.

“So then, if that was all, what was it that you’d wanted to tell me?” he said at last.

“I wanted to ask you how I could help,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and keeping her eyes forward on the nearing edge of the lake.

“You want to help me?” he asked.

“Course,” she shrugged. “I still believe he’s off, or up to something at least. And you seem to be the only other one around here who's noticed it, I’ve heard.”

“You’re right,” he affirmed, “and given that Malfoy’s got some sort of soft spot for you or something, I bet you’d have more luck than me finding out what exactly that is.”

“Er, yes,” she voiced hesitantly. “Only, I think I stomped the soft spot out when I called him a fool,” she said. “And he seemed to have taken it a bit personally.”

“Has he?” Harry said with mock surprise.

“You know he spat on me in the hallway the other day?!” she recalled suddenly. “I mean, literally spat on me. Him and his goons were by the courtyard when it happened,” she recounted sourly.

“Ah, the Malfoy rain,” Harry grinned knowingly.

“The what?!” she gaped.

“Ron calls it that,” Harry continued without hesitation, “because it’s like rain… but from his mou-”

“Disgusting!” she gave her friend a shove, making him cackle.

“I’m surprised this is only your first time,” he chuckled, “I’ve been getting the treatment since my first year.”

“That’s foul,” the girl curled her lip.

“Yes, well,” Harry shrugged, unfazed.

The boy-who-lived adjusted his glasses, pushing them up his skinny nose before stopping at the water’s edge. The surface had gone completely still, making the water look like nothing more than a black sheet of paper. It was beautiful, she thought. Harry stared too, before turning back to her, his smile gone and his face hardened with seriousness.

“Y/N,” he started softly and gave a stiff sigh. “Whatever he says, or whatever he does, that soft spot is still there. Vulnerability like that doesn’t just go away, y’know?” he said. “If he had it before, he can get it again.”

The girl looked at him. There seemed to be some kind of knowing in his green eyes. It made her heart lurch nervously.

“And how might that happen?” she asked.

Harry shrugged, looking her dead on, “you’ll just have to make him get it back.”

. . .

“Well,” she tried, “how do I look?”

The girl stood before a large gold framed mirror in her room, her other self glaring steelily back at herself from within the reflective surface. It was late in the afternoon now. Yolky orange light rays seeped from the half-circle windows that encircled the girl’s bedroom and filled the space with a hot haze. One window, with its peeling paint flakes, had been forced open, providing a comforting breeze and the smell of fresh grass to the dormitory room. The circle shaped room, with its exposed brick walls, thick cream carpets, and vine stuffed walls, seemed like the nicest place for her to be at the moment. But, with Slughorn’s unfortunate dinner party approaching at an alarming rate now, the girl was soon to depart and had found her stomach turning faster and faster the closer her deadline approached. Truthfully, she’d take reading an old book whilst tucked sleepily away into her thick sheets over this charade any day of the week. And, judging by the look on her face, this feeling wasn’t one she was successfully concealing. The girl curled her fingers over her faded wooden dresser, sucking in a slow breath as she reluctantly brought her glittering eyes back up to the mirror before her.

She wore a flowing sheer cream dress, one with long sleeves and little patterns embroidered into its circumference. Wanting to stay casual, she’d thrown on her usual scuffed black boots, but swapped her school socks out for ruffle trimmed white ones that peeked over her shoe’s tops. Her hair was in its usual messy state atop her shoulders, too. Behind her, Hannah Abbott stood with her arms crossed, her head tilted as she looked her friend over.

“Erm-” Hannah started unsurely.

“Oh no,” she said, turning around with wide eyes, “is it that awful?”

“No!” the blonde assured her with a wave of her hand. “Just, well, come here.”

The girl stepped timidly closer, nervous as her friend procured her wand, looked her over, and then gave it a flourish. First, the girl’s hair started magically flattening, before finding itself lifting dreamily from her shoulder tops and into a thick bun, one with a huge loose french braid on its side, and with stray pieces dangling at the front to frame her face. Smiling with like, Hannah then stuck her tongue cheekily out and shortened her friend’s dress a noticeable chunk of inches, so that it stopped flirtatiously at the tops of her legs.

“Oi!” the girl laughed in embarrassment, throwing her hands nervously over her front.

“Oh loosen up,” the blonde giggled, looking pleased with her work.

“I’m rarely out of robes,” the girl huffed, turning back to the mirror.

“Exactly,” her friend said from over her shoulder. “You only get so many chances to show those legs off to Cedric Diggory.”

“WHA-” the girl clapped a hand over her mouth in shock, spinning around. “HANNAH!?”

“Oh please,” Hannah said, sinking down onto the plush yellow quilts that were draped over her bed. “Like I haven’t seen him trying to sneak a peak before.”

She felt her face go red quite suddenly, “excuse me?”

Hannah smirked, leaning against one of the four oak posters that closed in around her bed. She twirled her hair around a finger with glee as she blinked slyly at her friend. Wordlessly, she closed her eyes and waved her friend off towards the Common Room.

“Well,” she shrugged, “go on then!”

The girl glared daggers at her unattentive friend as she cautiously approached their room’s door frame. She stuffed her hands in her dress pockets nervously, her feet feeling as if they were sinking through the now goo-like floor with every step. The green vines that trickled down the large woody door waved their tails in an encouraging goodbye.

“Well,” the girl decided with a smile, “I’m going to throw up.”

“At least wait til’ you’ve gotten out of our bedroom,” Hannah said, leaning back in bed with a sigh. “I’m not cleaning up your vomit.”

She snorted, shaking her head as the door slammed tight behind her, and she went tapping quietly down the stone staircase and out into the Common Room. There weren’t many students around, as many of the non Slug Club members had the luck of eating their normal meals and going about their usual after-dinner-weekend plans, unlike her. Cedric was already awaiting her however, and he looked incredibly dashing in his white button up shirt. The shirt was peppered with little black dots, and had its first two buttons undone, so as to expose just a hint of the god-like collarbones Cedric was sporting. His gold streaked chestnut hair was stood just a little straighter than usual, like he’d attempted to neaten it before giving up shortly thereafter. Still, it was quite cute.

When he saw her, Cedric’s face became the sun, his lips splitting into that dazzling smile, and dimples coming to life across his lightly bronzed skin. From above her, one of the hanging plants whistled, not for the first time that year, she noted.

Cedric tilted his head towards the creature, “yeah, what it said.”

The girl chuckled, off put by the flattery and finding it hard to keep looking at the deathly attractive boy before her.

“Ced,” she protested bashfully, worming her fingers nervously around in her dress pockets.

He smiled wider, if possible, and put his own hands timidly into the pockets of his black pants.

“Sorry,” he chuckled warmly, letting her come to him. “You look lovely.”

They met in the centre of the Common Room. With the sun practically set now, the only light was from the flickering of the massive fireplace’s flames, which cast shadows over the hollows of her friend’s cheeks, jaw, and lips. For a moment, neither said anything. Instead, they just looked at each other. It was Cedric who cleared his throat first.

“Erm,” he said, “shall we?”

“O’course,” the girl responded awkwardly, trailing Cedric out of the Common Room and into the deserted halls.

The two were quiet as they made their way around corners and over moving staircases. Neither spoke, or looked at each other, really. Halfway up a moving staircase, Peeves had attempted to toss a water balloon onto the two, but Cedric stopped the thing midair and sent it flying back at the ghost, who cackled as it went through his stomach and splattering against a wall. The two friends couldn’t help but give a laugh there. One of the portrait’s, which was just nearly missed, screamed defiantly at the friends in protest. Then, about a minute later, Cedric and Y/N turned into the corridor outside Slughorn’s, where they ran into none other than Harry and Hermione.

“Hullo,” Harry grinned.

“Mate,” Cedric scrunched his nose with a smile, the two boys clapping a hand together in greeting.

“Y/N!” Hermione beamed, “you look lovely! You too, Cedric.”

Hermione was wearing a pale pink blouse, Harry a black button up. Both looked nice for the occasion. Also, both looked a little nervous.

“You as well,” Cedric and the girl replied in unison.

Hermione smiled, mumbling, “nothing really,” or something like that.

Harry, uninterested, had jerked his head towards the girl, “I take it you’re not interested in being here, either.”

“How’d you know?” she chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

“Well, me n’ you are only here because Slughorn fancies our dead parents-” he began.

“Harry!” Hermione gaped, slapping her friend upside the head so as to shut him up.

The girl let out an explosive cackle, going weak in the knees with laughter, “he’s not wrong you know.”

Harry rubbed his head as he flashed his teeth at her and raised a hand for her to slap hers against. She did, making the two only laugh harder.

“You two are awful,” Cedric said with alarm, gaining a supportive nod from Hermione.

It had seemed that the group’s commotion had drawn the attention of Professor Slughorn, who poked his head out from around the entrance of his room. He wore, on his body, a quite excessive frayed brown blazer with his black pants, and on his face, an almost terrifyingly supportive smile. When he smiled in such a way, his forehead creased with a set of expressive little lines, and he looked somewhat like a happy frog, she thought.

“Dear boys and girls, you’ve arrived!” he declared loudly.

“We have,” Harry echoed in an obvious reply.

“Come in! Do come in!” Slughorn chuckled joivally, ushering his students into the room he’d cleared for them.

It was an interesting sight to see. In the middle of the room, a huge polished oak table had been set up, around which just over a dozen large and eloquently carved wood chairs stood. Students of every house had gathered; notably, Blaise, one of Draco’s henchmen, and Neville, their friend. The table had been filled with large glass mugs, which were topped to their brims with seven massive scoops of decadent chocolate ice-cream each, atop which were further chocolate shavings. Neville, who looked just about ready to faint, sighed in heavy relief as his friends pulled aside chairs next to his own. Instantaneously, Slughorn began his unsurprising fire of questions. First he spoke to two dark haired Ravenclaws the girl was unfamiliar with, then the boisterous Marcus Belby, and finally he landed his beady little eyes on Hermione.

“My parents are dentists,” Hermione blurted nervously when Slughorn asked of her.

The girl slid her mug forward, dipping her silver spoon uninterestedly into the dessert and swirling it around dismissively. Beside her, Cedric was taking polite tastes of his desert, and, beside him, Harry was uncomfortably shoving spoonfuls worth of ice-cream down his throat. The girl snorted, elbowing her friend, who snapped his gorgeous hazel eyes to hers, his lips crinkling into a little smile as he shifted his attention over to Harry. Cedric nudged Harry, who lifted his chocolate covered face up slowly.

“What?” he said defensively, his voice low so as to be unheard as Hermione continued speaking.

“Is that a dangerous profession?” Slughorn asked the frizzy haired brunette.

“Erm… no,” Hermione said awkwardly.

Everyone, including Cedric, stared at her in awkward silence.

“What’s a dentist again?” Cedric said through the corner of his mouth.

On either side of him, Harry and Y/N tried miserably to stifle their giggles. Luckily for them, a perfectly timed interruption shifted the attention away from the two, and instead to Ginny Weasley, who had just entered the room sporting a cute black dress and some unfitting red eyes. Harry scooted loudly back in his chair, emitting a deathly screeching sound that matched perfectly with the absolute silence of the room. Hermione put a hand over her mouth, a smile spreading beneath her fingers.

“Ah, Miss Weasley,” Slughorn beamed, “come in!”

“Sorry,” she replied through a mumble, “not usually late.”

Harry let out a loud grunt and scooted back forward in his chair as if unaware he’d done anything odd. The girl looked first at the-boy-who-lived, then to Ginny, her brows furrowing in confusion as her eyes travelled. Next she looked to Cedric, who mirrored her expression, and finally to Hermione, who flickered her eyes indicatively at the two Gryffindor’s before turning her nose back to her food.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn said loudly, refocusing his attention once again to the girl.

Her eyes darted forwards to her professor, “yes, sir?”

“Your parents,” he said, “tell me a bit about them, will you?”

It had been expected, of course. But she’d dreaded it nonetheless.

“I’d rather not, sir,” she tried.

“Please,” the old man quite literally begged.

“Uh, well erm, she started awkwardly, not knowing where to begin. “They both died when I was quite young-”

“Yes, actually about that,” Slughorn fed in, “how was it your father passed? There was little heard of him after he joined You-Know-Who’s ranks.”

The girl was quite taken aback. How bold of him. Actually, how rude.

“Er,” she blinked frustratedly, “an explosion, I think.”

“Go on,” the professor encouraged.

Everyone, not just Y/N, it seemed, wasn’t comfortable with such a discussion. What was the point of asking such things? How did this add a shine to his little collection of trophy students? Mostly, though, how was it that the man was so oblivious to his indiscretion?

“The Ministry notified me about it when it happened. He took out a bunch of muggles with himself, they said. Only, they didn’t do much reporting on him because...”

“Because?” Slughorn persisted.

“Sir-” she tried again.

But the professor looked absolutely carefree as he took a large spoonful of ice cream in with a wave of his small chubby hands, “do tell us, Y/N, we all want to know.”

The eyes of every student in the room were glued eagerly to her, whether in mild interest, discomfort, or both.

The girl felt her whole body heat up. She’d never disclosed the second part of that story with anyone before, let alone a whole damned Slug Club. Flustered, she blinked rapidly, turning her head left, right, and back left again, as the left was where the door was. And by God, did the door look good at that moment. She could feel the blood rushing to her ears, her feet preparing to bring her to a sprint, a nervous glimmer soak her brow, and yet, just as she’d decided to stand and run, something stopped her.

Beside her, the girl felt one of Cedric’s large hands snake under the table and take a reassuring hold of her wrist. It caught her off guard, the way he’d so swiftly done it. The boy’s long fingers dipped straight into her own, first landing on her wrists for a soft little rub, then sliding right up into her palms, where he closed his fingers in on her own. His hands were wam. Warm and rough. This settled her hard beating heart, if only for a moment. And that was all she needed.

“Sorry professor,” she responded flatly, “but no.”

Her eyes scanned those of her classmates more confidently, and most all of them glittered back proudly in reply. Across from her, Slughorn released a disappointed sigh, before continuing on his little train of questions and peppering Cedric with his next rounds of interrogation. Of course, Cedric was as cool, calm, and collected as ever. The boy put on his most handsome and proud lopsided smile as he answered the professor’s questions of -- well, honestly she wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. For while he spoke, Cedric had released her fingers and found himself absentmindedly tracing the patterns on his friend’s hand, not that anyone could have known. And she, incredibly flustered, but more comforted than anything, let him. Only when dinner ended did the boy retract his touch.

. . .

“Excellent,” Harry declared, the second they’d stepped foot outside of the dungeon. “You were excellent, Y/N.”

The jet black haired boy gave his friend a huge slam of appreciation to the back. He, Cedric, Hermione, Neville, and Y/N were making their tired escape from Slughorn’s party. Together, the group made their defeated and slumped ascent out of the dungeons.

“Thanks, Harry,” she half laughed and half grumbled. “I couldn't have done it on my own.”

Her large bright eyes flickered up to Cedric’s glowing ocean ones, and they twinkled adoringly at her in silent communication. Beside her, Hermione raised a quizzical brow, though, truth be told, Y/N wasn’t paying her much attention at that moment.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting an invite back, though…” she’d muttered dryly.

“It’d be his loss,” Cedric fired back confidently, earning a half smile from his favorite girl.

She’d gone to say something else, but her lips had hardly opened when she saw him.

Draco. Draco, with his snow white skin and blue-grey eyes, was heading their way. This was unsurprising, given that they were on Slytherin’s side of the castle. Honestly, he was the last thing she’d wanted to be confronted with at that moment, and judging by the look on his sallow face, it went both ways. As he drew nearer and nearer, his hands stuffed into the black folds of his robes, she waited for the blades of his sharp words to slice her, for him to mouth insults her way as he had so frequently loved to do. But, shockingly, the boy was quiet. In fact, it seemed he had no plan to say anything, but rather to snake right past them, silent and unheard, like a figment of their imagination. He’d almost done it, actually, but the girl had other plans.

“What?” she said, stopping dead in her tracks.

Draco had just passed her, and gone deathly still.

She turned on her heel, asking again, “what? Not going to say anything?”

The boy turned slowly to face her, his icy eyes narrow with dislike, his teeth clenched so hard she could see the definite pulse of his hard jawline beneath his porcelain skin. Beside her, her friends all warily stopped walking, their faces clouding with concern. Apparently, they all thought it better to not acknowledge his existence. The snow white boy blinked silently, keeping his pale lips pressed harshly together.

“What? So now that you don’t have any goons around, you’re no longer interested in making a show out of us?” she asked with a bitter chuckle.

Malfoy’s nostrils flared, a hard grimace taking shape on the curvatures of his perfect mouth.

“You know what I think, Draco? I think you don’t actually care for it. I think you only do it for others to maintain some sort of facade. And I think, you’re too cowardly to face us alone.”

“Y/N,” Hermione tried, “don’t fire him up.”

Draco flickered his narrowed eyes to Hermione, then settled back on Y/N’s. Finally, he spoke.

“Much to Granger’s disappointment,” he started softly, “you don’t have the power to fire me up.”

Her lips split into a sour smile, “don’t I?”

“Y/N,” Cedric huffed with concern, “just drop it.”

Now Draco’s eyes were on Cedric.

“You, however,” he drawled, “are all very easy to fire up.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate, but, as she should have expected, was beaten to it.

“Diggory,” he began, “congratulations on giving your little girlfriend an express pass onto the Hufflepuff quidditch team. I expect she returned the favor nicely with her mouth.”

Cedric flushed a bright red, his nostrils flaring, and eyes growing cold with distaste. This enraged Y/N, yes, but it enraged Cedric more. Before he had the chance to fight back, however, Draco was onto his next target.

“Mudblood,” he mouthed, addressing Hermione. “Did it hurt when Potter here beat your pompous, self righteous self to the Felix Felicis? Is that why you’ve told everyone that he cheated his way to it?”

“N-no,” Hermione replied unconvincingly.

“Shut up,” Neville added.

“You,” Draco chuckled, snapping his attention mechanically to Neville, his lashes fluttering to the beat of his laughter. “Longbottom, please. You’re so pathetic, I could almost find the sympathy to feel bad for you. Everyone can. But, I really needn’t say anything for you to know that, do I?”

Harry had a hand on his wand now.

“Go ahead,” Draco dared, focusing now on the boy-who-lived. “You’re awfully more of a milksop than one would expect of a Gryffindor,” he said, “so you won’t. Especially not on my side of the castle, where you’d be under professor Snape’s jurisdiction.”

He had a point. About that second part, of course. Slowly, Harry released the grip on his wand.

And then Draco’s eyes were back on the girl, and they were a cold stormy gray, touched lightly with a hint of mild intrigue. The girl felt her fingers shaking now, practically aching to take form into a fist. But she had to stand her ground. She had to prove his lack of power over her.

“And you,” he finished with a heavy sigh. He brought his eyes up to her friends before saying his next words. “As of late, this little thing has been of most interest to me.”

Everyone seemed to have frozen in place, including Y/N, who was capable only of blinking up angrily at him, her jaw tilted up so as to be able to reach his searing and curious gaze.

“And d’you know why?” he arched a silver-blond brow, stepping closer to her.

He looked like he wanted to touch her. Wanted to force her jaw up within the tight grasp of his hands. Wanted to step close enough that her heaving chest would bump against his own. But a flicker of his eyes to her friends stopped him, and instead he just stood there, about a foot apart from her, his hands still buried in his pockets.

“Because,” he continued bemusedly, “unlike everyone else here, you have a secret.”

“And what’s that?” she dared lowly.

Draco’s lips split into an awful, cruel, smile.

“You like having me put you in your place.”

There was silence.

The girl wanted to speak. She’d tried. But only a mute and incoherent stutter toppled forth from her agape lips.

“Fascinating,” his lips stretched wider yet, his voice dropping lower yet, “isn’t it?”

And then his hands withdrew from his pockets. Draco let his slender and silver ring clad fingers find themselves on the bend of his knee as he lowered his height so as to be level with the girl’s fiery stare. For a moment, he just let the blazing blue sear of his scrutiny make its way across her face. She could smell his cologne invading her lungs, the inexplicably alluring scent of Draco Malfoy growing vile to her. He lowered his voice, then, so that only she could hear his almost inaudible murmur.

“This little game of ours,” he whispered. “I quite enjoy it.”

Then he raised a finger, a long and slender index finger, and tapped the tip of her nose.

She just stared at him, and it was a long and wordless encounter. His icy blue eyes pierced straight through her own and into the depths of her soul. He seemed eager to see her either crumble beneath him or expel with rage, but what he did not expect is what she said next.

“Incendio.”

Suddenly, her dress was on fire.

Draco leapt back in surprise, his brows knitting as the base of the girl’s cream colored clothing went up in flames. Around her, her friends all gawked and toppled back in shock. In her right hand was Draco’s wand, plucked straight from his pocket only a moment ago.

“Catch,” she grinned, throwing the boy his wand.

The blond chuckled in bitter surprise, “and what does that achieve?”

“A spell search will reveal that you just casted a fire charm on me,” she gaped in mock shock as she extinguished the flames on her dress with a newly learned Aguamenti charm.

Beside her, the faces of her friends told her they were utterly lost. But it was alright, they’d soon find out what had happened.

Draco let loose a chuckle, “and you think Snape is going to believe that, from you?”

“Sure I do,” she shrugged, “because I also did.”

“What-” he began.

“Incendio!”

Now it was Draco whose clothes erupted in flames. Quickly, he stifled the orange licks up his robes with his own water charm. Now it made sense. The boy’s pale face had gone flush with rage upon realizing what she’d done.

“Oh no,” she shrugged sarcastically.

And then they heard the footsteps. No doubtedly, Snape was on his way to see what the commotion was about. From behind her, her friends all gaped, impressed. Then, on her command, they took their cues and bolted, cackling as they disappeared down the hall and away from the scene of the crime. In front of her, Draco’s mouth trembled with a newfound sense of rage. His white and slender figure slumped slowly with defeat, knowing he’d been outsmarted.

“What?” she teased.

He practically snarled, his eyes alight with a blazing hatred.

“I thought I couldn’t fire you up, Draco?”

. . .

“Our detention will be next week!” the girl exclaimed.

Beside her, Julian, Hannah, and Ernie all roared with approval, the group meeting their large mugs of butterbeer together in celebration. After being issued a lovely disciplining from professor Snape, the girl had headed back to the Common Room in her tattered dress, only to enter a hero to her friends, who’d heard of the encounter from Cedric. Together, by the light of the dying fire, the group celebrated the girl’s triumph over Draco Malfoy. She could only assume that somewhere, on the other side of the castle, a set of Gryffindors were doing the same.

Now, by the dim light of the fire’s embers, the group had jovially devoured a set of gooey celebration biscuits and leaned back lazily in the overstuffed armchairs of the Hufflepuff Common Room. From above and around them, plants snored lazily as they embarked upon their nightly slumber. Slowly, one by one, her friends departed for their beds, until it was only Cedric and Y/N who remained in the Common Room. Cedric was unusually quiet as they left. In fact, he’d been unusually quiet the whole evening. It’s not that she hadn’t noticed, but rather that she didn’t want to. And so, upon being left alone with him, she said nothing. Finally, after a minute of deathly awkward silence, he spoke.

“So. What was all of that about then?”

He’d said it softly. And not the way he usually did when he spoke softly to her. No, he sounded outright disappointed in her.

“What d’you mean?” she arched a brow at him.

Cedric sat stiffly upright on the squashy yellow couch, his ocean blue eyes set forward in thought. His previously neat goldish brown locks had found themselves resuming their usual messy state atop his head, with one little curl springing forth attractively upon his forehead. He still wore his button up, but his hands were folded gently upon his lap in an odd manner.

“I mean,” he continued softly, “why would you do what you did tonight?”

He turned now, his stare intense as it bore into her own. The girl found her throat closing up, and her chest tightened with uncomfortability.

“You went explicitly out of your way to rile Malfoy up. And then- and then you make some feat of landing yourself in detention with him.”

“It was about time someone stood up to him-” she began.

“No, but that’s not why you did it,” he interrupted, hurt.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, or to him, really. The boy looked weakened, his handsome figure bent over with a sort of sadness, casting a rather sad looking silhouette over the dark wooden floors of the Common Room. She’d opened her mouth, but upon meeting his eyes, stopped. They were strained. They were strained and ever so softly moistened with hurt.

“Is it?” he asked, more quietly this time, the look on his face desperate for her next word to be ‘yes.’

But it wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” she admitted begrudgingly, her shoulders falling. “Something about him just gets me going, Ced. Now more than ever. It’s- It’s because I know he’s capable of better.”

“Is he?” Cedric said with a raise of his brows.

Cedric, more than anyone, knew how to see the good in people. And Cedric, now, voiced doubt for the redemption of Draco Malfoy.

“There’s just something different,” she exhaled, feeling far too guilty to hold her friend’s gaze.

“I see that now,” Cedric agreed. “I do.”

She blinked up curiously at him.

There was an eerie silence. Aside from the faint chirping of crickets, the rustling of the flora and fauna upon the stone walls, and the gentle crackles of the dying fire, the only thing to be heard was her own faltering breath.

“But not about him,” he said. “About you.”

Her heart sank.

“I see it, you know?” he murmured lowly. “I see the way you look at him.”

“Ced-” she tried.

But he wasn’t having it.

“And I know in that… in that look, you know?” he continued. “There’s something different.”

Her heart was racing now. Cedric had never talked like this to her before, and the feeling was one she was unfamiliar with. And then there was the way he was looking at her, which hurt. It hurt because he was hurting. It hurt because she didn’t know why it hurt him. And then, this certainly wasn’t a revelation the girl had either expected or wanted to be confronted with, of course. But more to the point, to have it told to her like this, by the person she loved most in the world, was too much.

“How would you know that, Ced?” she murmured, the sound of hot blood in her ears making her dizzy.

“Because,” he started.

Then he stopped. His lips quivered and his lashes fluttered, a tell-tale sign that this next act was going to injure him further, that his next words weren’t ones he could take back.

“Because it’s how I look at you.”

[ghostwise]

In the days following his final encounter with Danarius, Fenris seeks no company or conversation, yet both seem to find him regardless.

One by one his friends stop by unprompted, bringing food as well as their sympathy. He’s beginning to suspect they’ve devised a schedule for this, making sure someone comes around at least once a day to check on him. So when another knock comes at the door, and he is too tired to even feel anger, Fenris just curls further into his chair, deciding to ignore it.

The fireplace casts long shadows across the hall. The knock comes again, more urgent than before, and he groans, pressing his palms over his eyes. Today is not the day for this.

The truth is, he doesn’t have it in him to feign gratitude or play the part others are expecting of him. He doesn’t need to talk, as talking won’t change anything (contrary to what Renata thinks). He doesn’t need to get away, as his circumstances will be the same anywhere he goes (and Aveline’s voice rings clear in his mind, reminding him that her intervention is the only thing standing between him and a speedy eviction).

When did so much of himself become tied up in other people? It mortifies him. He cannot simply be.

He’s in a poor state, he knows that much. And again that blasted knocking—

Fenris rises abruptly, and finds that he’s shaking. He’ll tell whoever it is to come again another day. A man needs peace and quiet after what he’s been through. Surely they’ll understand that.

He opens the door, not knowing what he’ll say, just hoping it won’t be too unkind—and stops, seeing Leandra at the threshold.

Fenris sighs, and the fight goes out of him. The one person he could never turn away.

“I see my girls were right to be concerned,” Leandra says, looking him up and down. “Well. Won’t you give me a hand with this? It’s awfully heavy—and careful, it’s hot.”

He glances down to see a basket containing a stoneware pot, steaming, on the ground beside her. Wordlessly, he picks it up, and the scent of garlic and spices reaches him. It makes him a bit queasy. He hasn’t had much of an appetite, but he nods politely, stepping aside to let the older woman in.

“Thank you, my dear,” Leandra says. She lifts a hand towards him, then, thinking better of it, lets it fall at her side.

If he had known Leandra was coming, he would have tidied. She follows him quietly into the parlor, where he sets the basket down, and gestures to one of the seats beside the fire.

Leandra sits, and tucks a curl behind her ear. The movement draws Fenris’ eyes to the scar left there four years prior, that night in the foundry. They had come so close to losing her then, and the memory still makes him angry. Yet another thing magic nearly tore from him.

But she does not waste time. Hands folded neatly in her lap, she speaks.

“Renata told me what happened.”

“I see.”

Fenris sits down and laces his fingers together, looking at the unswept floor.

“I understand that you value your privacy,” Leandra continues, “But she’s worried about you. We all are. After all you’ve done for us… As far as I’m concerned, you’re family. That means you don’t have to go through anything alone.”

Fenris looks up at her, brow furrowed, not knowing what to say. This conversation is far beyond his means right now. Her words seem to float at a distance. He can’t grasp them, or relate to them, though he comprehends them on a surface level. He is beginning to wish he had turned her away at the door.

“Shall we eat?” he asks, feeling her eyes on him. He is not hungry, but at least his way he’ll have an excuse for not speaking.

Leandra has prepared a stew of spiced meat and tender potatoes. Little porcelain plates quickly produce themselves from the basket, and she readily fills two of these with the hot homemade food. She pours blackberry and anise cordial for them, and Fenris quietly thanks her, accepting his meal.

They eat in silence for a time. Long enough that the tension settles, and things almost seem normal. Except, of course, they never were normal to begin with.

“I love blackberries,” Leandra says, breaking the quiet. “I remember climbing the ivy-covered trellises of my neighbor’s house as a girl, just to pick the largest ones out of their garden.”

“They must have been tall,” Fenris says, staring squarely into his plate.

“No,” Leandra says, smiling. “I was just rather small. You may have guessed already, but my children definitely take after their father in their height.” She chuckles, as if proud of them, a small woman surrounded by a family of giants.

Fenris doesn’t smile, but he does think about ghosts.

Malcolm Hawke’s ghost has been a presence in his life ever since he met the man’s family, years ago. Sometimes he swears he could picture Malcolm in his mind’s eye, just from how often his family spoke of him. In fact, Leandra once insisted that Malcolm would have loved Fenris just as much as she did. But how could she know that for certain?

Fenris feels haunted. His life is full of ghosts now, including his own. Malcolm and Leto tormenting him.

He sets his plate aside, doubting his ability to keep the food down.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Fenris asks.

“Certainly.”

“Why did you leave your home for him?”

Fenris risks a glance upwards, and expects to see surprise on Leandra’s face, but she just looks at him thoughtfully. There’s no judgment in that face. He can ask her about such things without hurting her or being hurt, so he feels a surge of certainty, and continues.

“Why did you leave your family, your country, everything you’ve known—for a mage? Love is one thing, but his mere existence as an apostate meant he was endangering you by virtue of knowing you. I just need to understand. What form of love is that?”

Leandra sips at her cordial.

“The kind that stands in defiance of every other force in the universe.”

Fenris looks away, dissatisfied by the answer. Now it is Leandra’s turn to speak her mind.

“Love is just sunlight, Fenris; it cannot help that it shines. What we do with it—there’s the tricky part. Too much sunlight burns. Too little, and we wither. No warmth. No blackberry bushes. Of course there’s danger. Danger lurks in all things. That’s life. But the berry is still sweet.”

She punctuates this with another sip of cordial. This time, she’s stalling, carefully deliberating what she’s about to say.

“... But listen to me, please, just a moment longer: You need to find peace, for your own sake. You need not forgive your family. You need not even forgive mages. But find a way to move forward, while giving the pain the attention it needs—and no more. You are the one that matters. You are the one that deserves to know peace.”

Fenris is very quiet, and Leandra peers down into her drink, feeling that perhaps she has said too much.

The truth is, her heart is deeply broken for this boy. 

She cannot fathom the things he has endured. She wishes desperately she could reach through time and pluck him away before any of his suffering occurred. Four little children could have been in that home, with her and Malcolm. It would have been just fine.

She thinks about all those years in Lothering. She considers that if Fenris ever has children, they could very well be mages themselves. She remembers washing Carver’s dresses when he was a child, and wonders what he’s doing now, out there in the frightening world. She prays he is not alone.

Suddenly Fenris is kneeling in front of her, handing her a clean handkerchief.

“I am sorry,” he says, genuinely concerned. “I should not have pried.”

Leandra hadn’t even realized she was crying. Embarrassed, she wipes away her tears, before surprising him by pulling him into a hug.

“Nonsense!” she says, feeling him hesitate, then lean into the embrace. “You have nothing to apologize for, my dear, sweet, brave boy.”

[alwaysfangirlingish]

Title: Unwrapped gift

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader (But is more about Kol Mikaelson x Friend!Reader and Young Hope Mikaelson x StepMom!Reader)

Warnings: I wanted this to be a thing but I think I missed the whole point, so it may be just a lot of nonsense together :)

A/N: I may edit it later, I just wrote it and I’m sleepy, so... I hope you enjoy it tho 💕✨

Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please consider like, comment and reblog! ✨💕🥺

“Oh, here you are, Y/N,” Kol said, “My brother is looking for you,” He entered the room to see what I was doing, “I’ll tell Nik you’re taping your present.”

“I’m wrapping it.”

“There’s more tape than wrapping paper, luv,” He said, chuckling.

“Shut up, I'm trying,” I said before curving my lips, keeping my eyes on the present I was trying to wrap an hour ago.

This was going to be my first Christmas with the Mikaelsons and, more important, with my boyfriend’s six-year-old daughter, who seemed to hate me since the very first moment she saw me.

Hope was a cute little girl. Everybody loved her, I included, and she loved everybody, except me. For some reason, she didn't want me around, and I couldn't live knowing that, so... My goal for Christmas was to give Hope the best gift and win her affection.

“I don't think my niece will care about the gift wrap, Y/N,” He said, looking at me with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Well, I don’t care what you think.”

“It looks terrible.” 

“Shhh.”

“Just give her the gift unwrapped.”

“Kol, I’m tryi-!”

“I would hate it if someone gives me that rubbish for Christmas.”

“I just wanted this to be perfect!” I yelled, punching the pillow at my side with frustration before hiding my face in my hands.

The gift was a tiny painting lectern with some little canvas, but with the wrap looked like an enormous ball of paper. It was a disaster, I couldn't give her that for Christmas.

Some tears fell from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks and falling on the bedsheets. Later I felt Kol sitting next to me, rubbing my back up and down to calm me.

“Y/N, I didn’t m-”

“No, it’s ok, it's just... Today was a mess,” I said with a weak voice, still hiding my face in my hands, “First, I woke up very late,”

“Yeah, I see why it was a bad day,” He said, nodding. Everybody knew how bad it was if something messed up my routine.

“Yes, I also burned the food for tonight, so I had to do it again,” I said, taking my hands off my face, “And then my dress didn't fit me, so I had to fix it but I couldn't finish it because I had to go to pick up the presents,” I looked at him with my soaked face, “But then the old man at the store didn't want to give me my things, I don't even know why,” I sobbed, under his concerned gaze, “And when I got home, I finished everything but I forgot to wrap the present,” I said, patting my legs, and looking down, “I thought it wouldn't take much, but look at me now...” 

“I know how important this is to you, Y/N,” He said, “And I know you’re a control freak too,” I looked at him, pouting, “Sometimes things don’t go our way, and all we need to do is take a deep breathe and try again when we’re calmed, or just let go,”

“Have you tried any of that?”

“No, but I heard that from a tv show once,” He said, making me roll my eyes, “Look, I’m sure Hope is going to love you... Eventually, with a wrapped or unwrapped gift,” He smiled at me, kissing my cheek.

“Do you really think that?” I asked him.

“What happened with ‘I don’t care what you think’?” He raised an eyebrow, “But yes, I believe what I said,”

 “Thanks, Kol,” I said with a brief smile.

“What are brother’s in law and friends for?” He said, getting up from the bed and walking towards the door, “We’ll be waiting for you downstairs, so hurry.”

Immediately after the vampire left the room, I unwrapped the gift. He was right, the wrapping paper didn't matter here, I just stressed myself more and more.

I got out of bed to put on my dress, makeup and hairstyle as quickly as I could, which was about twenty minutes. I picked up the little lectern with the canvases and put a red bow on them, and went down to where everyone was, except Hope and Hayley, who I heard were still getting ready.

I went to the tree and left the gift there. I smiled to myself, realising that the little girl wasn't even here the whole time, so I could have simply put the gift behind the tree without her seeing me so that the gift would continue to be a surprise.

“You look ravishing, love” my boyfriend, Klaus, approached me from the side, placing his hand on my waist, drawing me towards him, leaving a kiss on my neck.

“Thanks, darling, and you look so handsome,” I replied with a smile before we headed over to where everyone was drinking and chatting.

Later, the little person who wanted to see the most came, calling everyone's attention as she entered with her cute and fashionable ponytail. She greeted everyone with a hug, happy to see her uncles, aunts and her father. The moment she saw me, her smile turned into a straight line and she only greeted me with a wave of her hand before running off into her mother's arms again.

Klaus hugged me knowing that it discouraged me, and whispered to me that soon she would feel comfortable with me, that she was shy, that it was not my fault, that I had to give her a little more time... Things that he already had told me, but I couldn't get on my mind.

All night I tried to interact with little Hope, I offered her food, offered her some of her toys if I saw her getting bored, offered her to choose a song she liked to put on the speaker... But she just ran the other way, or she would stare at me like I was annoying.

When it was midnight, we all gathered around the campfire as I had been told was a family tradition and make wishes. My wish was quite obvious: I wished I could get along with Hope one day. After making that beautiful wish, it was time for the gifts, and the little girl was very excited about it.

Hope got all the gifts, of course, she was the spoiled and dearest girl in the house. Her face of happiness when seeing all her gifts made my heart melt.

Rebekah and Marcel gave her stuffed animals, which she squeezed a lot. Elijah and Hayley gave her a toy she seems to have asked for a lot all year. Klaus gave her a portrait of her and a family heirloom that left her astonished as any six-year-old girl could. Freya and Keelin gave her a kind of giant dollhouse, in which she didn't waste a second entering and greeting all of us from the little window. Kol and Davina decided to give her some little witch things, which made her very excited, and she placed them in her dollhouse right away.

Now it was my turn, and I was very nervous. They had all been splendid gifts, and I only had one painting stand. With some insecurity, I put my gift in front of me and she looked at him carefully with wide eyes.

“Is it for painting?” She asked me, speaking to me for the first time that night. I nodded with a warmhearted smile as I stepped back and hugged Klaus. She smiled, approaching the gift, touching it with her little hand. “Am I going to paint like my daddy?” She asked and looked at me with a smile from ear to ear when I nodded again. She jumped with excitement and ran to hug me, thanking me.

A few small tears gathered in my eyes when I returned the hug, and my gaze went to Kol, who nodded as if to say 'I told you so'. Hope let go of me and ran up the stairs screaming that she would find her paintings and do a portrait of all of us.

The best Christmas in the world.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars #1-3

May, 1984

THE WAR BEGINS

Oof, here we go.

Just gotta replicate the pace that let me do the Hawkeye miniseries in one go, three times in a row.

This is probably too much effort considering its Secret Wars (or more accurately Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars) and maybe there’s not going to be a lot of big changes from this in the Avengers book to really justify it.

But we’re getting Jim Shooter writing the Avengers and his non-consecutive runs were a lot better than I had remembered. And it continues the theme he had from the Avengers book.

It just makes sense in a nonsense way to cover this story.

Last relevant time in Avengers! Acting Completely Normal Vision warned the Avengers about some weird, possibly hostile energy surges right in time for an energy surge to surge energetically in Central Park.

When the Avengers went to investigate, they found a weird structure that looked like a techy coliseum maybe. When some of the Avengers wandered into it (apparently the most bankable Avengers? Sucks to be Vision and Wanda, shrug) they vanished.

In the next issue, after several days, these heroes returned, speaking of a secret war they fought. Weird stuff like She-Hulk taking the Thing’s place on the Fantastic Four happened. In other books, Spidey got a cool new suit.

Would you know more?

After being raptured in their various books, the missing superheroes all end up on one of those distinctive structures like the one that appeared in Central Park, except IN SPACE.

Its cool that the Avengers will have some company.

We’ve got a terrific 3/4ths of the Fantastic Four, the X-Men (including Lockheed but not including Kitty Pryde for some reason), the Avengers, Iron Man, Spider-Man, the totally Articulate Hulk, and hilariously Magneto is also here.

Maybe Secret Wars is just setting up the most awkward moment in the universe, as a prank show.

I think I’d enjoy a big event that turned out to be a prank show at the last minute. The fan discontent. Imagine.

Everyone introduces themselves to each other but mostly the audience and Ben Grimm claims his new codename as the Easter Bunny.

Checking, marvel wiki doesn’t have Easter Bunny listed as one of Ben’s known aliases. Cowards.

Looking up into space, Captain America spots another one of the totally cool constructs and Professor X scans that it contains EEEEEEEVIL.

Specifically Amora the Enchantress, Ultron, the Wrecking Crew, the Absorbing Man, the Lizard, VICTOR VON DOOOOOM, Kang the Conqueror, Doctor Octopus, and Molecule Man. Also, hilariously, Galactus is there.

I’m more convinced than ever that this is a prank show.

You know what would be more hilarious? If Punisher ended up on this construct.

The distribution of villains is kind of odd though. Galactus and Doctor Doom map to the FF. Doctor Octopus and the Lizard to Spider-Man. Ultron, Molecule Man, and Kang are Avengers foes. The Absorbing Man and the Wrecking Crew can go a couple ways but started off as Thor villains. And Amora is usually a Thor villain but supposedly has chilled out around this time or at least is less of a pain than her horny sister.

No X-Men villains. Because Magneto is chilling with them in the generally heroic pod.

Also, all the heroes were raptured from Earth while the villains were grabbed from Earth, from space, from Asgard, resurrected just to be here, or from the FUTURE.

I know marketing is wagging the dog but be consistent, secret organizer who we don’t know yet.

The Thing points out that Magnet is off-sides, re: being in the hero construct, and Magneto is like ‘hey, chill out dudes’ and denies specifically doing murders.

Magneto: “I know not what power transported me here from my secret lair, nor why I was placed among you -- but I find it more appropriate to ask why such as you were judged fit to be placed in my presence!”

Oof.

Burn.

Then the conversation is put on halt on account of the wildest shit any of them have ever seen.

An entire galaxy vanishes but probably not due to a wave of anti-matter.

Thor: “It’s gone! Gone -- ! Swept away like dust before some unseen, giant hand!”

And then around that last star left unswept, various chunks merge together to form some sort of world, perhaps for battle.

A nice touch for later is that you can definitely see that one of the chunks is a stray chunk of city.

Some of the villains start squabbling because close quarters, ego, etc.

But Ultron goes hey we’re allowed to fight? I’m the best at that.

Ultron: “I am Ultron! I do not understand the events transpiring! I do not understand how I came to be resurrected... nor how I came to be here! Nothing computes... Insignificant! I am Ultron! My purpose is to slay that which lives. You are all living things, ergo -- Ultron must destroy you!”

With the benefit of having read all the Avengers up to now, I feel that Ultron got up on the wrong side of the resurrection a little.

He’s not not like this but he’s not usually this turned on?

(Then again, maybe he just came back cranky)

DOOM grabs and shakes Molecule Man to do something about this because given enough time even the mighty DOOM might fall before Ultron.

Ultron is famously annoying to defeat, what with that adamantium.

But Molecule Man is in therapy after the Avengers kicked his shit and Tigra yelled at him for being a punk. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

So Doom with all his brilliant genius tells MM a cool way to help out that won’t hurt anyone. Directly.

Using his Molecule Man power over molecules to lightly toss Ultron into Galactus.

So that Galactus goes ‘who the fuck scuffed my boots’ and rips out all the energy in Ultron’s Ultron.

He can do that.

Why wouldn’t he? If he can do that to a planet, he can do it to a pissbaby robot. Even one apparently containing more power than an atom bomb.

Then, because this is one of those plots where things are always thenning, a rift opens in the nothingness of space and a heavenly esque light shines out. A warbly voice commands the action figures beat each other up.

I mean. Its more like

The Beyonder: “I am from beyond! Slay your enemies and all you desire shall be yours! Nothing you dream of is impossible for me to accomplish!”

But you have to admire that this toy commercial of a comic book is being honest and upfront about being a story where action figures bonk off of each other.

Galactus just hears ‘i can finally shake off these persistent forever munchies’ and flies off to demand prepayment for action figure bonking, with DOOM following behind him.

The Beyonder speaks up warning Galactus that hey, personal space. And that a guy that can effortlessly wipe out a galaxy is gonna have a sweet barrier but Galactus wants the hunger pangs gone and does not listen.

DOOM recognizes a bad idea when he sees one once in a while and hangs back but still gets blown out of space by the force of Galactus bonking off the Beyonder’s barriers.

Captain America: “They were swatted back like flies!”

Professor X: “To the Beyonder, even Galactus is less than a fly, Captain!”

Interruption dealt with, the Beyonder gets the show on the road and sends the two constructs to different parts of the patchwork planet.

The Marvel Super Heroes And Magneto land on some hill and quickly make sure that there are no villains excepting Magneto around.

With Magneto around, the non-X-Men raise an objection to Magneto being around.

He sank a Russian submarine with all hands back in X-Men #150 but he insists that it was self-defense and also they started it.

The X-Men’s position is ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk plus we could use his help? The bad guys get GALACTUS, how is that fair?’

Well, they don’t say it but they’re probably thinking it.

And Hawkeye decides to be a little racist today.

Hawkeye: “You mutants stick together, huh? Well, sticking to a blood-soaked maniac like him doesn’t speak well of you, pal!”

Dude, Clint. Your dear old friend is Wanda.

Wait, why ISN’T Wanda here? Did the toy people really not want her? Fools. Her husband is toyetic as all get out.

Also, point of order, Wolverine? If anyone qualifies as ‘hey he’s a jerk but he’s our jerk!’ here its you.

Johnny “good life choices” Storm decides he’ll just kick Magneto’s ass and end the debate but yeah. Yeah, no. Magneto makes a fool of him.

And then Magneto decides eff this noise and flies off.

With Magneto alienated (good job, guys), Professor X decides this group needs some dang leadership and throws a nomination to Reed Richards. Reed defers since he’s thinking of Sue, left at home and not able to participate in the event.

Wasp, the cool leader of the Avengers, nominates instead Captain America.

Wasp: “We’re off in a strange land, up to our ears in a little secret war that may decide the fate of the universe! Some people don’t know me well! They might have doubts... and there’s no room for that!”

I’m baffled that there’s people here who don’t know Wasp who has been heroing since the 60s but sure. Cap(tain America) probably gets more crossovers and whatever.

I mean, heck, we’re talking a group of heroes consisting of the Avengers (who she already leads), the Fantastic Three (who she’s well acquainted with), and the X-Men (who I’m sure she’s met, although awkwardly its going to later be revealed that Wasp is in the Hellfire Club, but only the sex parts).

And I guess Wolverine’s extensive backstory with Cap doesn’t exist yet because Wolverine isn’t keen on him being the leader, describing him as the least of the assembled heroes. When Hawkeye is right there!

I kid because I love.

Meanwhile, DOOM wakes up adjacent to Galactus ankle and heads to a nearby fortress which he correctly assumes is where the villains have ended up.

Wait, the heroes get beamed down to a random hill while the villains get sent to an advanced fortress with weaponry and we later learn vehicles sold separately?

Kinda stacking the deck, the Beyonder.

You gave the villains GALACTUS and A FORTRESS PLAYSET right out of the gate.

The other villains tell Doom that they’ve (mostly) decided that he should be their leader. But Doom has bigger fish to fry than the prizes that the Beyonder is offering.

In typical Doomesque fashion, he wants the whole kettle. But the other villains what with their petty concerns think he’s too afraid to fight.

So he ditches.

He goes to steal-borrow a spaceship and even though he hates the thought, takes off to go talk to Richards. And then Kang shoots him out of the sky with a GIANT GUN THAT THE VILLAIN FORTRESS ALSO HAS? to stop him from allying with the heroes.

Said (marvel super) heroes see the distant explosion and fly as a group in the most hilarious way possible to check it out.

God, I have always loved this image. Its squished down into the bottom third of the page but its a delight.

They find Doom sprawled in the crash site, rambling that he’ll only speak to RICHARRRRRDS and about the Beyonder’s power. But Cap offends Doom mightily but offering him a hand up and because Doom sees pity in Cap and RICHARRRRRRDS eyes.

So he blasts the heroes and fucks off.

How very Bakugou of him.

And right as the heroes recover from that, a bunch of villains arrive to get this secret war started.

I have a fondness for this particular issue. For a long while, issue 1 was the only issue of Secret Wars I could find. So I just had the start of this story with all these non-Spider-Man non-X-Men heroes I barely knew cliffhangering into an attack by villains I really didn’t recognize except for Doc Ock and the Lizard.

It was a window into another side of the Marvel Universe. And for child me, this first issue worked perfectly to intrigue me. All these characters, the very straightforward conflict, all the complications that immediately pop up like Magneto, Galactus, and Doom. Alas, small child resources.

June, 1984

PRISONERS of War!

The heroes react slowly to the sudden villain attack but thankfully, the villains aren’t working together well. Unthankfully, half of the heroes were already knocked out by the first attack.

Meanwhile, over at Doctor Doom’s side of the plot, he flies back over to where Galactus just in time to see him finally rouse from being slapped down by the Beyonder.

Galactus floats to his feet and wanders off.

Doom: “He ignored me! As though I were a gnat buzzing at his feet! And so I am... Just as all of us, even Galactus himself, are but insects to the all-powerful Beyonder! Thus, the others have chosen to play the Beyonder’s simple game -- thereby, in effect, paying homage to him. Should I, too, pay homage? Should I worship at the feet of this god-like being -- or chose another path... one only Doom would dare!”

I think anyone that knows Doom knows which option he’s gonna choose.

He heads back to the villain fortress and finds Ultron’s deactivated body and decides Doom can use this.

Meanwhile, back at the first secret battle of the secret war, the heroes rally and start fighting back under Cap(tain America)’s leadership.

She-Hulk even gets a designated girl fight with the only female villain on the villain team.

I’d complain, I would. But at least She-Hulk isn’t the only heroine on the hero side.

She-Hulk: “Hiya! I’m the She-Hulk! You must be the Enchantress! Gee, I’ve heard so much about you -- ! You’re a not-nice lady!”

Enchantress: “A green woman? Is there no end to the varieties of mortals?”

The Enchantress magic slaps She-Hulk away and comments that she could crush She-Hulk physically but its beneath her.

Yeah, all Asgardians have some level of super strength, that’s right. Even the squishy wizards.

But all She-Hulk heard was, ‘someone I can really punch!’

She-Hulk: “I don’t often duke it out with someone solid enough to really unload on -- and slow enough to let me! Oh, wow! That was, like tubular, you know -- to the max!”

Uh. Jen, are you okay? Did you have a stroke? You don’t usually talk so much in Mario World secret world levels.

I think maybe Jim Shooter didn’t have a good grasp on her. I don’t think he’s ever written for her. And the other heroes mostly don’t vary too much from generic hero speaking patterns. Add some smart for smart characters, add some rude to Wolverine, and so on.

The battle wraps up with Kang, the Enchantress, and the Wrecking Crew captured and the rest of the villains fleeing when the battle didn’t go their way.

Cap sends Storm off to scout for a cool playset that they can use as shelter and she does so, noting that the winds on Battleworld are super easy to control. Like Battleworld was created to create ideal fighting conditions for everyone. Pretty neat, the Beyonder.

Storm finds a particularly rad fortress (”Bigger than fifty-four and a half Pentagons, I’d estimate!” Wow!) and the heroes move in.

I unironically enjoy how toyetic this story is with the fortresses and the vehicles and the weapons. Because I’m almost positive that Mattel barely capitalized on it.

There were only two playsets. Pitiful.

Over in their new headquarters, Reed stashes the captured villains in some form of psychostasis which “works by controlling aggression through brainwave modulation!”

He also sticks Enchantress in a healing pod to address that nasty case of being She-Hulked right in the face. Nothing will salve her ego though.

Captain America: “It’s no wonder that the name Mister Fantastic is renowned for compassion as well as courage! You give added meaning to the word hero, Richards!”

Whenever someone loudly announces that Reed is super compassionate, it makes me feel like they’re overcompensating.

Nobody ever makes note of, say, Captain America’s compassion.

With the prisoners (of war? Is that the whole reason for the title?) accommodated, Cap calls everyone for a meeting in a cool meeting dome he found which has a small waterfall for aesthetic and so everyone has to yell to be heard.

Wolverine yells that they should mop up the rest of the villains and get this over with.

Not mentioning that in order to “win it” they’d have to kill the villains, which none of the heroes have shown any interest in doing so far.

Cap(tain America) replies that A) planet big and they have no idea where the villains got to. And B) the remaining villains slash antagonists are Galactus, Doctor Doom, Molecule Man, Doctor Octopus, the Wrecker, the Absorbing Man, and Magneto. Not really people you mop up.

In a fun logistics bit, Cap sends out a patrol to make sure the area is secure but he also sends out two additional groups to find  if there are any places in this fortress they can sleep and whether there's any... food.

Makes me imagine a Secret Survival War where the sides have to wrestle over limited resources.

Hours later, the villains that escaped the fracas arrive back at their fortress.

I’m sort of confused here.

Maybe it took so long because they had to make sure they weren’t followed. Or maybe because they didn’t have the sweet tripod vehicle anymore. But think about the flow of events of: everyone beamed down to Battleworld > Doom ditches the villains and gets shot down > heroes investigate and Doom ditches > villains show up for cliffhanger fight.

The villain fortress should be pretty close to where that fight took place. And then the heroes find a nearby fortress of their own so their fortress should be pretty close to the villain fortress. Maybe not in the same neighborhood but surely the same zip code.

Anyway, they find that while they were gone, Doom swanned in and renamed the place the Doombase.

If they have problems with it, they can talk to his Ultron.

Which I’m surprised he didn’t rename Doomtron.

Doom also tells them that he’s in charge now.

Absorbing Man: “Aw! Who gives a hoot! I need a meal an’ sleep! You wanna be in charge, Doom? Okay by me!”

If you think about it, this is just some steps added what the villains wanted all along.

They wanted Doom to be their leader but he told them he had bigger fish to fry and fucked off. Now he’s fucked back on and told them all that he’s their leader. They initially object before reconsidering due to Doomtron but, yeah, its all gone full circle.

Doom is a lot more cordial to Molecule Man though.

Doom: “Molecule Man... uh, Mr. Reece, I believe it is? I trust you were not inconvenienced.”

Molecule Man: “Well, being absolute master of molecules I can just assimilate molecules when I want, so I never have to be hungry, and I can just shoo away dirt molecules, so I’m always nice and clean -- but I am tired!”

Doom: “I have prepared a special chamber for you! I hope you like it!”

Molecule Man: “If not, I can always reconstruct the molecules -- !”

Heh.

Nice to see Jim Shooter able to follow up on the trajectory he sent Molecule Man on.

The rest of the villains head off but Doctor Octopus, the only other brain cell in this group, hangs back to talk to DOOM.

He wants to know what he plans to do about Galactus and then shows Doom on the biggest screen TV that Galactus is standing on a mountain glowing with an awesome power.

Doom just retorts that his plans are for his forces to triumph.

Doctor Octopus: Something tells me he’s got ambitions that dwarf merely triumphing in the Beyonder’s little contest! The question is whether he will destroy us in trying to achieve them -- or immediately after fulfilling them?!

Like I said, the only other brain cell in this group.

Meanwhile, while Magneto secretly sneaks into the hero fortress for Reasons, the heroes have a quiet moment that lets this Secret Wars biz really sink in.

Wasp: “I’d be having tea in my studio now, Jenny... And lunch on my patio tomorrow... This... um... situation we’re in... is kind of... much, you know? I feel there’s just a little thin wall inside me holding back a flood of despair!”

Its a nice touch, if intentional, that Wasp only admits this kind of thing now that she’s passed off the leadership responsibilities to Captain America. Its been a recurring character beat that she’s been keeping these sorts of worries to herself as chairwoman.

Over in another part of the fortress, Cyclops complains that he was right in the middle of his dang honeymoon when he was yanked into this event.

Cyclops: “I don’t know about you, Richards, but more than angry or afraid, I feel cheated! I -- I was on the verge of real happiness...”

Oof. This really sets the tone for his marriage with Madelyne Pryor.

Spider-Man and the Human Torch even have a little conversation.

Spider-Man: “You mean it doesn’t shake you, Torch, being here? What if we don’t get home?”

Human Torch: “The Fantastic Four have been off on space missions a couple of times, Spider-Man! We’ll get back! Believe me!”

I like when they’re friends.

So, I’m not sure what Magneto’s plan actually was. He was going to sabotage the fortress’ fusion generator as a distraction but Spider-Man’s Spider-Sense Spider-Alerts him to shenanigans afoot and he runs off to the power plant while Johnny Storm goes to get the other heroes.

Magneto decides to abandon whatever his plan was and captures Wasp as a consolation prize.

Gasp, another prisoner of war!

The Thing tries to give chase but inexplicably turns back to normal, smooth skinned Ben Grimm.

Also, Magneto escapes with the Wasp.

It’s like the aardvark says, you can get what you want and still not be happy.

Captain Marvel is holding the randomly anti-mutant ball for Hawkeye here and comments that none of the X-Men showed up to help stop Magneto.

Cap(tain America) tells her to belay that.

Captain America: “Let’s keep our minds on solving problems, not creating more!”

And they can’t even go after Magneto or rescue the Wasp right now because they have bigger problems: Galactus glowing with an awesome power and a massive storm that’s forming on Battleworld.

July, 1984

TEMPEST WITHOUT, CRISIS WITHIN!

The Beyonder has thrown in a nice stage hazard to keep things fresh in the form of a massive storm raging on Battleworld, with lighting that shatters mountains and winds that could tear someone’s limbs clean off.

Or perhaps its the unintentional result of just slapping a planet together out of random stuff you have lying around. The climate must be shot to shit.

I like it either way. Secret Wars has a lot of very toyetic collisions between groups of characters so its nice when Battleworld itself manages to be an obstacle.

Over in his giant U-shaped fortress, Magneto finally unwraps Wasp from the ball of random metal crap he has her in.

He lets her wander around until she finds him so that he can be all casual and eating a space scone.

Magneto: “Do not bother trying to attack me, my dear! My person is magnetically shielded!”

Wasp: “Well, la-de-da!”

Wasp: -blows up his space scone- “You think I have to strike at you directly to hurt you, monster?”

Hilarious spite, thy name is Janet van Dyne.

She also makes the point that magnetic shielding or no, she could bring this whole room down. Her being able to knock over a small house with her pew pew hasn’t stopped being true.

Magneto hastens to ask her not to do that because neither of them want to be out in the storm outside.

Besides, he just wants to talk! And flirt!

Magneto: “You are obviously a woman of intelligence and understanding as well as great beauty -- and I am not the monster you believe I am -- which is precisely what I wish to discuss!”

Wasp: “Oh? My intelligence, understanding and beauty or your non-monsterhood?”

Magneto: “Why... both!”

Back at the hero base (which is apparently ROUGHLY THE SIZE OF CHICAGO?? I want that playset), the storm has almost completely flooded the area, leaving just the top dome and such poking above the water.

The storm keeps dropping chunks of mountain at the base but Thor is standing on top, protecting it while grinning like a loon.

Captain Marvel even speculates that Thor could calm the storm but is whipping it up into a greater frenzy instead. Those storm gods, amirite?

Hawkeye is also standing by, with his explosive arrow, thinking to himself that if Thor fails, Hawkeye will totally save the day.

I don’t know whether that’s sad or endearing.

Mostly though he’s trying to distract himself from thinking about the new wife he left behind.

Cap, Reed, and Hulk are watching the villain base because apparently they do know where it is. The storm is keeping the villains in too but Cap figures they’ll pull one desperate attack as soon as the storm breaks.

They’ve already lost four of their dudes. Plus, Galactus isn’t a team player.

Spider-Man is just swinging around, enjoying how good for swinging the random technological pipes and tubes and whatsits are when he stumbles upon the X-Men having a secret meeting.

Professor X has decided, possibly on the basis of two (2) rude comments from Hawkeye and Captain Marvel, that the X-Men just don’t belong here and that they’d be better off going and teaming up with Magneto.

This... sure is a take.

Rogue comments that the Avengers don’t trust her because of that time she kicked their asses collectively. Which, hey, very possibly. They haven’t really had a thing to say about you though. They’ve mostly been grouchy about Magneto.

Which is kinda born out by the way he tried to blow up their base and definitely kidnapped the Wasp?? And is even now aggressively eating scones at her?

That’s the Magneto you guys want to go join because he’s more your people than the Fantastic Avengers and friends are?

You know, there’s a pattern I sometimes see with the X-Men where they loudly insist that the other superheroes don’t help them and don’t care about mutant stuff while at the same time doing shit like this.

“Should we get Reed Richards, smartest dick in the world to help with the legacy virus or the techno-organic virus Stryfe shot into Xavier? NAHHHH Beast can handle it.”

“Should we stick with the other superheroes or go hang with Magneto instead in a cool mutants only U-shaped fortress? Well, U is the coolest letter that isn’t X...”

If you squint, you can definitely see Krakoa all the way in the future.

Anyway, Spider-Man overheard all of this and goes ‘I’M TELLING!’

Wolverine tries to tell him that snitches get stitches but the thing is?

Spider-Man is ridiculous. He’s a ridiculously good combination of skills and powers which lets him make chumps out of entire groups at a time.

He’s embarrassed the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and now he’s about to embarrass the X-Men.

After making them all feel foolish, Spider-Man gets away and goes to tell Reed what that doody-head Xavier said when Xavier uses his psychic powers to just wipe the entire encounter out of Spider-Man’s memory.

Yeah, it’s to cover their imminent blowing off but also? I don’t think he wants anyone else to find out how badly his X-Men just got stomped.

Psychics are too OP, I tell you what.

In fairness IN FAIRNESS, the X-Men kind of have the right to fuck right off if they wish. I don’t even know what it had to be in secret. In fact, doing it in secret is a massive dick move of its own for reasons.

What would the Fantastic Avengers have done if the X-Men had just said ‘hey we’re heading out’? Would they have put them in stasis tube jail? I doubt it.

Professor X made the decision to handle this the stupidest way for whatever reason. That scamp.

Speaking of Magneto, he’s over at the U-Lair turning down a partnership offer from DOOM. So, hey, he has standards.

Wasp has become less ‘i’ll blow up this room and your breakfast’ about him over the course of whatever the hell they discussed in their offscreen chat.

Magneto even starts to make out with her and Wasp is like ehhhhhhhhhh what the fuck why not.

Why is this happening?

I guess he has a...................... magnetic personality?

Eh? Eh??

No, but seriously, I do have a theory that I heard someplace but it’ll have to wait.

What’s weird is that there’s a Marvel What If about some spinoff babies that come about if the heroes and villains got stuck on Battleworld and never managed to leave.

Wasp has a son with Human Torch. Which is pretty weird and comes from nowhere. I guess a lot can happen during a massive time skip. My point being though, its weird that they didn’t have a Wasp/Magneto baby instead given the weird chemistry they have here.

Meanwhile, over at DOOMBASE, DOOM has some women in giant tubes.

That’s So Doom.

Doctor Doom: “All is ready -- ! This alien technology, so rich, so subtle... so easily harnessed to serve my purpose... Energy, tapped from the raging tempest... And two mortal subjects who dare to gamble for power -- knowing that to lose is death, for truly, here I shall test the limits of power a human body can contain! With the throwing of a switch... so -- the die is cast! Hear me -- ! Power must be seized -- ! Crave it! Welcome it! Drink it in, despite the pain... or it will destroy you.”

And thus are Volcana and Titania created!

Talk about lasting effects of Secret Wars! Titania is going to be around forever! Mostly annoying She-Hulk!

Where did Doom find two random women to give superpowers?

Denver, Colorado.

No, seriously.

That city chunk we saw as Battleworld formed? That’s Denver, Colorado, USA, EARTH.

Why isn’t there a miniseries or one-shot about a normal ass civilian from Denver having to deal with OH MY GOD WHERE DID EARTH GO?

I actually read an interesting thing re: this scene. It exists because Mattel asked Marvel to introduce some new female characters so Shooter wrote in these two and a third who I’ll get to when I do.

Mattel then promptly used none of these characters for the associated toyline.

The toyline, in fact, used none female characters at all. It made toys of characters who weren’t in the story but did not have a single female character.

So its very weird that they asked Marvel to introduce some but I’m not going to knock the results.

Doom introduces these two new characters to the other villains.

Hilariously, Absorbing Man guesses that Doctor Doom just made women from scratch. Because doesn’t it sound like something he could do?

Volcana and Molecule Man immediately hit it off, her being attracted to his sensitivity and him being attracted to... positive attention at all, I guess?

He muses that he could easily stop the storm outside, because molecules, but his therapist told him to let nature take its course. “Unless Doom asks me to!”

And Titania and Absorbing Man. They don’t hit it off. She either wants to hit him or hit that and its not clear and it might be both.

(Spoilers: Its both)

Titania: “You! Absorbing Man! You look like the toughest man here! Get up!”

Absorbing Man: “Whatcha got in mind?”

Titania: “I’m going to do anything I want to you! Everything I always wanted to do to everybody who used to be bigger and stronger than me! Maybe I’ll just play with you... or maybe I’ll make you eat dirt... or maybe...”

Absorbing Man: “Woman, if you got somethin’ to prove, prove it tomorrow against the guys we’re fightin’!”

Titania: “You’re backing down?”

Absorbing Man: “Nope! I just ain’t getting up! I got nothin’ to prove... to a dame!”

Would you believe that they become one of the healthiest and most stable romantic relationships in Marvel?

Speaking of weird relationships, back over at hero base, Thor goes and pops the lid on Enchanteress’ healing tube because he’s bored and wants to talk to a peer. A god peer.

Enchantress is at first more characteristically worried about what her face looks like after being She-Hulked.

But she then creates a portal so she and Thor can go have a chat.

Later, it’s morning and Hulk has been too busy stressing over losing his Banner smarts to actually keep watch or wake up Cap for watch like he was supposed to.

So when the villains ram an airship into the hero base, the heroes are not at all prepared.

Titania hurls a giant slab of wall through the room the Terrific Three are sharing, breaking Johnny Torch’s arm and ribs and knocking out the other two. He manages to get himself and co out of danger by melting through the floor.

Meanwhile, She-Hulk is carrying a big heavy as she’s been doing since the previous night and is caught unaware by Volcana who blasts her off her feet and then collapses the room on top of her.

Doctor Octopus knocks out Captain Marvel who is in the hot springs dome but gets chased away by Hawkeye, claiming that long-range firepower is his weakness.

I’m stunned at the implication that Doc Ock is one of Spider-Man’s most dangerous foes but could be scared off by Hawkeye while Spider-Man could pretty easily drop Clint’s ass. There’s some rock-paper-scissors nonsense at play here.

Spider-Man and Iron Man are also taken unawares by Ultron but manage to hide under some rubble.

Hulk leaps into the fray at Molecule Man and Doom but Cap convinces him to fall back to a defensible position.

The villains reconvene with all the captured villains freed except Enchantress (since she fucked off to have a chat with Thor) and the heroes scattered and buried under various rubbles. How the fortunes of Secret War turn.

Sure would have been nice if the X-Men had been around to help or if they mentioned they wouldn’t be. Sure would have been.

Doom: “We have accomplished much here today! And to finish it, we shall level this place so that no stone remains on stone!”

No wonder Mattel didn’t make a playset of this base! Dammit Doom, you’re ruining the merchandising!

Follow @essential-avengers​ for more of Secret Wars! At this same pace! Its sustainable! This is fine! Like and reblog too!

[lazaefair]

Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet

Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes

poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.

lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT

sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES

lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress

sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise

lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype

sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude

lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.

sarah: YES

So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.

Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.

Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.

And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.

“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”

Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.

(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)

Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.

“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”

“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral. 

“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.

“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.

Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.

And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—

Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.

Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.

To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”

“Mm,” Andy agrees. 

So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.

“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.

“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.

“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.

“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”

The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:

His siren song.

His immortality.

What he gets in return:

Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.

Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.

Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.

The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.

“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”

Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.

“Holy shit. Did he just—”

“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”

“...”

“...”

“New best friend.”

“Obviously.”

Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.

Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.

Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.

Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.

(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)

It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.

“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”

“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—

Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?” 

“What?”

“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”

And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.

They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.

(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”

Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)

(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”

“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 10 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

Summary: Nandor attempts to use his powers of hypnosis to heal the reader’s broken brain, Nadja tries to be a good friend, and Guillermo gets something he’s been waiting for...

Warnings: Smut in this chapter!, Female Reader, Hypnosis, Blood drinking

A/N: I hope you like this part! I thought I owed you guys some smut and fluff after the angst of the last chapter...

---

“You are now under my command…”

Nandor’s voice is rich and thick like chocolate syrup. You feel as though you’re sinking under the weight of his influence, falling into his deep, dark eyes and beneath the surface of his droning voice. Your limbs grow heavy and relaxed. It should be a terrifying experience but instead you feel utterly at peace, relinquishing control. Trusting that Nandor will keep you safe.

The vampire swallows, watching the spirit drain from your face with a qualm of panic in his gut. He can do this.

He keeps his hand raised in front of your face, flourishing it as he speaks, “Attend to my words. You will remember the events of the night of the vampire rave. You will regain the memories that were erased from your mind. And...yeah that’s about it.”

He shrugs and lets his hand drop, bending forward to lean his forehead against yours as he holds your gaze, “And now you will awake with your memories healed and the pain gone…”

He leans away, biting his fist in anxiety as he watches you slowly rouse from the trance.

The nagging ache of your erased memories is gone, but in its place you’re momentarily assaulted with vivid images that flash through your mind’s eye like scenes from a movie. You experience the pulsing music and flashing lights of the rave as if you’re really there. You’re lightheaded and dizzy with alcohol and then...a voice making clumsy rhymes into your ear as hands drag you backwards into a shadowy corner. 

“Drug blood chillin’... ain’t no villain… just a quick sip, don’t gotta worry ‘bout killin’...”

Pain. Fear. And then a voice calling casually, “Forget it, boo.”

The memories fade and you finally come back to the present, looking up into Nandor’s worried eyes and smiling unsteadily. 

“It worked,” you say and then you’re falling against him, clutching the front of his shirt and shaking like a leaf.

“Of course it worked,” Nandor replies with a chastising tone. “You doubted me?”

You snort into the fabric of his shirt and hold on tighter. He lowers you both back into the coffin and gently closes the lid, groaning as he settles down beside you.

“Everything is alright now,” Nandor sighs. “Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, wiggling into a comfier position and then adding, “Nandor? Do you know a vampire who raps?”

Nandor’s body goes rigid beside you and he growls, “Fu-cking guy!”

---

The next night, Nadja sits in front of the camera with her arms crossed over her chest and a pout on her red lips.

“I have no idea why such a vibrant, wicked little warrior baby would want anything to do with Sir Snakes-for-Brains…” she shakes her head. “He’s like, ‘Oh! I am Nandor the Relentless! Look at my giant balls while I set your hut on fire!’ What’s the appeal?”

She rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. “But my stupid human child wants what she wants. And he has been making her very sad for days. Enough is enough!”

She jumps out of her seat and stalks down the hallway, trailing the camera operator behind her. As she nears Nandor’s door she catches her heel on the carpet and nearly trips.

“Fucking witches again!” she shrieks before throwing open the door to Nandor’s room.

Nadja freezes in the doorway and the camera guy films over her shoulder. 

Nandor has you laid out on the thick, fur rug next to his casket. His face is buried between your legs and your fingers twist into his hair as you arch your back. At the sound of the door slamming open you tilt your head back and shriek, “Nadja!”

Nadja’s face splits into a delighted grin and she swats the camera crew away behind her.

“My mistake, little chicky,” she trills, slowly backing out. When the door is nearly closed she pops her head back in and calls, “I never should have doubted your vicious seduction powers, mortal! You go girl!”

Nandor raises his head, his lips and beard glistening with your arousal and he whines, “Get out of here! Fucking hell…”

---

You hold out for about ten seconds after the door closes before bursting into giggles. Nandor breaks down with you, his brows arching up adorably as he wheezes with laughter. After a moment, he crawls up your naked body and settles down over you. The hard length of his erection brushes against your heated core and you whine a little with need. He rests his elbows on either side of you, caging you in with his strong arms and leaning down to lick a trail down your neck. Goosebumps erupt over your skin and a pleasant shiver runs down your spine.

“They won’t use that in the documentary, right?” you pant, caught between arousal and worry. You jerk your hips a little, seeking some friction, but Nandor presses down to keep you still.

He drags his fangs over the beating pulse in your neck before replying, “If they do I will rip off their heads and set fire to their villages.”

He twists his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull, pulling your head back to bare your throat. You gulp, overwhelmed with the need for him inside of you. In your fuzzy brain you’re not even sure it matters to you if it’s his fangs or his cock...you just need him.

“Maybe--uh, maybe we could try asking nicely first,” you tease. 

“You are going to make me soft, little mortal,” he complains, nudging your legs apart and lining himself up at your entrance. He presses forward just slightly, enough for you to feel the pressure and the promise of his delicious girth.

You reach down to run your hands along his sides, his hips, cupping his round buttocks and squeezing.

“You don’t feel soft to me…” you laugh and then he’s pushing forward, burying himself inside of you with abandon. His mouth falls open and he darts forward quicker than your eyes can follow, closing his mouth on your tender throat and biting down with a feral growl as he slams inside you.

Nandor shuts his eyes, gripped in the heady sensation of feeding during sex. Sex-feeding. If he’d known it could be this good he would’ve taken a human lover ages ago.

Nandor throws his head back, blood dripping from his chin and onto your naked breasts. He grips your hips, rolling his pelvis against you with unnatural speed until your thighs shake around him and he cries out with his orgasm. 

He falls down beside you, gathering you into his arms and tucking you against his chest with a satisfied purr. You tilt your head back and press your mouth to his, tasting your own blood on his tongue.

“Do I still taste good...now that I’m all impure?” you ask, trying for a light tone, but somehow deeply caring about his answer.

“You taste delicious,” Nandor assures you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and lapping up the slow ooze of blood from your wound. He pulls back, smacking his lips and adding, “Sweet and salty. Like one of your human chocolate pretzel snacks.”

A smile tugs at your lips and you duck your head bashfully. He reaches a hand up to brush his fingers through your hair and you hum contentedly at the feel of his nails dragging along your scalp. 

“Well, that’s all you’re getting for now is a snack,” you sigh, sitting up and stretching your limbs, cat-like. You cover your mouth as a yawn escapes your throat. “I need to go bandage this…”

“Unless…” Nandor trails off, looking up at you with his big, liquid eyes full of feigned innocence. You remind yourself that your boyfriend is a 13th century Persian war lord.

“Unless…” you echo, smirking in amusement at him.

“You wish to make your unholy transition this very night!” Nandor enthuses, sitting up with an eager glimmer in his eyes. “In which case band-aids will be unnecessary.”

You roll your eyes with affection and respond, “We talked about this already, remember? My condition?”

Nandor’s shoulders slump and he looks put out as he replies, “Oh...right. You were serious about that?”

---

The camera is pointed at you as you lounge on one of the couches in the fancy room, biting into a green apple and carefully chewing before you reply.

“I told him he has to make Guillermo a vampire first.”

---

“Knock, knock!” Nandor singsongs, poking his head through the curtain that serves as the door to Guillermo’s tiny room. 

He finds his familiar seated on his sad, twin bed with his laptop open. He’s sipping a Yoohoo and listening to something on his headphones. 

“Master!” Guillermo exclaims, pushing aside the laptop and slipping off the headphones.

Nandor smiles awkwardly, his fangs biting into his lower lip, and asks, “Do you have a moment to talk, Guillermo? I don’t want to interrupt your computing machine time…”

“Of course!” Guillermo answers. “Is there something you need?”

“No, not at all,” Nandor sits down gingerly on the edge of the bed, awkwardly toying with the hem of his cape as he searches for words. “It is what you are needing, maybe. Guillermo, you’ve been a very good familiar to me… I know I have not always been the easiest vampire to work with…”

Nandor pauses for a beat, looking expectantly at his familiar until Guillermo takes the hint and rushes to insist, “Nonsense! You’re...you’re not difficult at all.”

Guillermo’s eyes flash to the camera and instantly dart away again. 

“That’s kind of you to say. But it’s true, I’ve been demanding and… maybe even a little insensitive to your needs. You’ve worked for me for many years and now, I think it’s time for a reward that reflects your service and loyalty.”

Nandor stops and watches Guillermo with a glint in his eye as he waits for his familiar’s reaction. For his part, Guillermo can’t help glancing at the glitter portrait hanging over his desk with trepidation as he asks, “Is it another...craft?”

Nandor scoffs and barely suppresses a grin as he answers, “No, Guillermo. It’s even better than a glitter portrait. I’m going to make you a vampire!”

Whatever reaction Nandor expected, it wasn’t this. Guillermo’s face lights up for a brief instant and then his eyes roll into the back of his head and he collapses into his pillow in a faint. 

Nandor jumps up, leaning over his prone familiar with a frown and exclaiming, “Oh no! He’s died already!”

---

Guillermo awakes a few minutes later, blinking his eyes open to see his master looming over him and flicking droplets of Yoohoo onto his face. 

“Oh, good, you’re not dead!” Nandor says mildly, sitting back and waiting for Guillermo to regain his faculties.

Guillermos’ voice comes out breathless, “You...did you really say you’re going to make me a vampire?”

Nandor smiles, congratulating himself on the surprise as he answers, “Yes! I’m really going to make you a vampire, Guillermo. Tonight. If you’re ready…”

“But…” Guillermo shakes his head slowly, trying to process this news. He’s delirious with happiness but after so much disappointment he can’t help but be skeptical. “Why now?”

“Eh…” Nandor grimaces awkwardly and flicks his eyes to the camera. “It may have been a condition of turning my human into a vampire...She won’t let me turn her unless I do you, too.”

“Oh…of course,” Guillermo sounds dejected and his shoulders slump forward. 

“Unless you no longer wish to become a vampire…” Nandor moves as if he’s about to leave and Guillermo jumps forward, practically throwing himself into his master’s arms.

“No! I want to be a vampire!” he insists, desperation in his tone.

“Very well,” Nandor throws his cape over his shoulder and turns toward Guillermo, “Prepare yourself!”

Guillermo, trembling with nerves and excitement, tilts his head to the side and answers, “I’m ready, master.”

---

A/N: Heeeeyyyoooo, I couldn’t let my baby, Guillermo, have another Jenna incident. I hope you guys liked this chapter! We’re closing in on the finale.

Tags:

@festering-queen @kandomeresbitch @strangestdiary @glitterportrait @scuzmunkie @redwoodshadows @sarasxe​ @rileyomalley

[cicaklah]

Nightly pool party in Haven Island. 47 and Diana are standing in the waist-deep water, each a cocktail in one hand, Diana's free arm around 47's waist for support, 47's free arm seemingly innocent in the water behind her. Diana tries to keep a neutral face while 47 fingers her slowly.

So this feeds into my current big fic, a retelling of haven but with the contrivance of it's front is a couples retreat. So Diana is there.

---

47 watches Ljudmilla as she cycles around the guests at the party, her filmy dress looking like an oil slick against her flawless figure. She's working every man here hard, which is intruiging, as the intro they had was that she was good at her job. 47 knows that men can be simple creatures when it comes to a beautiful woman not wearing very much, but she's missing far more than she's hitting tonight. The collected partners of the men have looks on their faces like they can't believe what they're witnessing.

Something has got her spooked. they probably don't have a huge amount of time left.

Standing hip deep in the pool seems to have put her off, or maybe it was Diana's performance at dinner that has given her second thoughts about making a move on him. Still, if she doesn't come back soon, he worries that he won't be able to put her off for much longer.

Thankfully, as if she could tell, there's a discreet splash and diana appears at his side again, her hands full of elaborately befruited drinks. "This is yours", she says quietly, "But don't worry, I made sure they gave me your rum."

They clink their glasses, and the sound catches Ljudmilla's ear. 47 leans in and gives Diana his report right into her ear, while keeping at eye on their target. She watches them for a long moment, but when Diana feins a laugh, she turns her back on them.

"Coasts clear", he says, just as Diana turns to face him. Their mouths brush, and even though theyve kissed now more times than he's ever kissed a single person before, it still thrills him like the first time. He likes the taste of rum on her tongue, and says so.

"perhaps I'll order a bottle for the room", Diana says. "47, about earlier..."

"I have no regrets" he says quickly. He doesn't want to have any conversation about what happened earlier. How a simple touch, something that should have been functional, that he had been trained to do, turned into the best fuck of his life, and how out of control he felt. How he can't regret it."

She looks relieved. Takes a long sip of her drink, and kisses him again. She's pressed into him, and it's too easy to use his free arm to touch her, slide his hand down her back and into the water. The water is dark, but not dark enough to hide everything he's doing, but he hopes that it sends a message.

Her ass is a perfect handful, and the elastic around the edges of her swimsuit is very stretchy. He receives no resistance when he squeezes, and it's a squeeze with intent, a grope, really. Their heights should pose a problem, but she's mostly leg, and it turns out his reach is enough that he can reach between her legs easily. He sinks two fingers into her from behind and hooks them just so, and she trembles with the effort to stay upright and not drop her drink.

He takes a sip of his drink to hide his smile, and then there's a ripple, and someone is walking towards them. Ljudmilla, of course.

"Mr and Mrs Rieper", she says, "I trust you're enjoying yourselves."

"It's a lovely party", Diana says, and 47 feels her clench around his fingers in warning.

"We're organising a day trip to a nearby island tomorrow, and I am seeing whether anyone is interested. Great diving, some deep sea fishing, and there have been known to be some giant turtles if you're lucky. Do you do dive, Tobias?"

"Of a sort" he says experimentally, "I can hold my breath for four minutes. It comes in handy." and the look Diana shoots him is pure filth. He pumps his hand once, and then pulls his fingers out so he can rub against her swollen clit firmly and smoothly.

"Well, perhaps we can tempt you to strap on... a tank, sometime", Ljudmilla says, the pause nonsensical and yet very, very clear. "See whether you're any good at extreme depths."

"I do try to keep my hand in." He says.

"I think we have massages booked for tomorrow", Diana cuts in. "In fact, please excuse us, it's been a long day. Perhaps we will be heading back now."

"Maybe another day then," Ljudmilla says. "Sleep well, you two."

"Im sure we will." 47 says.

"You will be the death of me", Diana says. "Are we going to talk about this?"

"I don't see what there is to talk about." He says, and pulls her close. "I think we're blending in fine."

The beach is empty, eerie in the moonlight, the air blood warm despite the hour. The sand is fine as powder, and it cushions his knees nicely as he drops down and pulls down her bottoms, and licks her from front to back, until she's all salt again, no pool water remaining.

They walk back in the shallows, and then climb up the back stairs to their cabin. In the distance, the lights of the party dance, but they don't notice them, too lost in each other once again.

[my-own-oracle]

Loving you- requested!

EDIT: this has been re-uploaded since my account was deleted! I am sorry for the inconvenience. 

Tfp bots with number 42-"I have never loved you as much as I do right now."

@a-bitchtm I love your enthusiasm, usually have a limit on the number of bots I have per request. But because I made you wait so long and I had a lot of fun with it, I did four of them. If you want to see any more, let me know. 

Ratchet

Ratchet was usually quite hard to approach: his no-nonsense demeanor often left interactions with the bot feeling flat, and with much to be desired. But he had been appointed your guardian, and a stubborn mech like the doc required a stubborn companion. 

You often spent your days at the base, watching the giant doctor work. But the evenings we're where the battles of stubbornness were indeed waged.

 You had been studying a map of your home city, it was only a state over and the proposed location of another artifact. You had been looking for a site that could hide, or be built around a 'mystical' cybertronian object. You had accepted this task, earlier this afternoon, but you still felt like you nad nothing. 

Ratchet was standing not far off. Mumbling to himself as he worked through the lines of gibberish, you recognized as cybertronian. You had tried to convince him to take a break and recharge a few hours ago, but he insisted he was fine. 

He wasn't. You could tell he was tired. His frame sagged, and his mumbling and squinting of his optics gave it away. A yawn caught you off guard as you checked your watch. 2:39 am. You had decided to keep him company. After all, you had work to do too, but your body was beginning to protest. Another yawn, you turned back to the maps laid out in front of you. 

"You need to go and sleep." Ratchet's voice filled the empty air, but his attention was still on the large screens. 

"So do you," you watched his helm shake slightly.

"No, I have to much to do."

"And taking care of yourself is also on that list." Ratchet turned to face you, and his optics looked dim. "Your tired, your frame is sagging," you raised a finger with each point, "your eye -ah optics, are dim and your starting to sway"'  

"You're infuriating. You are no better. You've yawned 36 times in the past two hours. Almost cycled off in to recharge 5 times in the past thirty, and if you want to call my optics dim, I would say yours have been snuffed out." His voice was firm, but it lacked its usual snark. 

"Since when do you keep such close track of me?" You stood up, waving your hand at his monitor. "You're always talking about how much more important your work is, but you're willing to use brainpower to keep track of the number of times I've started falling asleep?"

"It's my job to make sure all members of this team are in top form."

"All members?"

"Yes, "

"Then that includes yourself" He stammered a moment. Another sign to add to your ever-growing list. 

"Since when did you start fretting over an old mech?" A giant hand placed itself next to you, a silent offer. You climbed up, opting to sit in his open hand rather than trust your legs to hold you steady.

"Since the day I met you, Ratchet." He mumbled a response. You didn't quite hear it. 

"One more time, "

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." You smiled, and so did Ratchet. You loved his smile, he should do it more. 

"Then love me enough to go to sleep; if you go to bed, I will too." Ratchet grumbled and smiled. With a few taps to his computer, he turned off the monitors and headed off to his hab-unit with you in hand to get some rest. 

Bulkhead

Today had played out so differently in your head. The dream had been waking up to no excitement. There is no need to storm an energon mine, no world-shattering event to stop. Thanks to a school-wide trip, no teenagers making errors could cause huge problems. At the end of this uneventful day, you would have all the time in the world to go out and watch the meteor shower that was occurring at 2am. Instead, you had been sent out on a mission with Bulkhead only to discover at its end, that the ground bridge wasn't working. 

"Why did we allow her to come again?" You turned and watched Miko as she played a game on her phone in the back. She was sprawled out in the back tired out from the rock show she performed for you on the drive up and the hiking around during recon. 

"Because her school trip got canceled, and I have a hard time saying no," Bulkhead's voice quietly filtered through the cab. You chuckled, Miko seemed lost in her own world at the moment, so you decided to give her space.

"You are wrapped around her finger" You all round a bend before you talk again. "How far are we from the base?"

"A good day's drive. Maybe more if we want to avoid major cities." You feel like sulking, you were definitely missing that meteor shower. "What's wrong, did you have a hot date tonight?" 

The eye roll was a gut reaction, as was your smile. "You know I don't have time for that; besides, you're starting to sound like Wheeljack." 

"Seriously then." you sighed, shifting to slouch lower in your seat. 

"There's this meteor shower tonight." You didn't know how much of this Bulkhead cared about, but he had been the one to ask…" I was going to spend time researching the best possible location to watch it from and see if I could bribe Ratchet to bridging me there and back."

"But now you get to hang with us." Miko injected, while Bulkhead realized the source of your frustration.

"You'd rather be watching it, hm?"

"Don't take it as I don't want to spend time with the two of you," you gesture to the cab, "It's just since I was little I've always wanted to watch the 'falling stars' my mom talked about seeing once." 

"It sounds nice," You leaned deeper into Bulkhead's seats.

"More like boring, but hey, to each their own." Miko flopped forward over the center console. "Hey, let's play a game while we drive." You smiled as Miko tried to describe her road trip game to Bulkhead. You spent a moment pushing the meteors out of your head; after all, it was not every day you got to spend quality time with these two. 

     * 

"(Y/N). Can you wake up?" The question was light. Bulkheads voice breaking the silence during another of Miko's and your naps. The sun had set at some point, casting the day into a soft and comforting darkness, illuminated by the milky way's thousands of stars. "(Y/N), wake up." Your head jerked awake at Bulkheads prodding. When had you fallen asleep? You had wanted to keep the giant bot company through the night since he was determined to drive as long as possible. 

"Is everything ok?" you started looking around. Outside looked peaceful, and inside was quiet except for the snores emitting from the teenager behind you. "Has Miko been asleep the whole ride?" You looked back in disbelief. It looked as though she had moved, but you had no evidence that she had woken up. 

Bulkhead chuckled, "You're delusional if you really think Miko would sleep for the majority of a day." You swatted at the headrest of the seat next to you. "Ok, ok. She was awake for a while after you fell asleep. I tried to keep her quiet." 

You were touched at the effort that must have taken. Miko was loud and brash, keeping her occupied and quite must have been a handful to do while trying to drive them home. "Thank you, Bulk." you shifted to lean against his door. "How far out are we?"

The sound of tires on the paved road filled your ears, and you watched as the wheel moved to keep them steady. "Not too far, but I'm taking a slight detour." He sounded guilty, 

"What was going on?" Slowly, being careful not to jostle the cab, Bulkhead pulled over to the side of the road. You felt the locking mechanism move under your back. "Step out, will you?" You eyed the dash, curious as to what on earth Bulkhead could want this late at night. 

"Bulk what's-" a man materialized in the seat next to you. He was a big broad-chested man with dark skin and an Autobot tattoo on his right shoulder. His black wifebeater and green cargo pants screamed military and soldier in your mind. His body had materialized with his hands on the steering wheel, his arms relaxed, and his eyes gently closed. He was still for only a moment, and in that moment, your heart sped up. From what you couldn't tell, but it was hammering. 

His eyes opened to reveal an unusual blue color, one more resembling the color of the bot's optics than any blue you had seen in a human. The man wasted no time opening up the driver's side door and stepping out. Hesitantly you followed. "What-"

"What do you think?" The man kept his head upwards towards the sky, his voice was Bulkhead's voice, but softer... almost. "The lights from all the major cities are far enough away you should be able to see this meteor shower you wanted to see."

"Who-" 

"Then again," Not-Bulkhead surveyed the flat landscape. "Miko had said you probably wanted to watch from an elevated area." He hurried past you back to Bulkhead's parked form and began climbing the back to reach the roof. Watching this man climb up, your close friend snapped you out of your shock.

"Just you wait one moment-" you grabbed the back of his shirt. "What's going on here?" you tried to pull the man down "Bulkhead-"

"Come on (Y/N)," He reached down gently, swatting your hands from his shirt and finishing his brief climb to Bulkhead's roof. Turning to offer you a hand up. "You didn't want to miss this, right?" the way he said your name, the gentle giant way he was caring about you, this was Bulkhead. This was Bulkhead trying to show you the falling stars you had always wanted to see. 

"How do you know we'll be able to see them?" You took his hand and let him haul you up into his arms. Letting him guide you into sitting in his lap. 

"I had Miko call Raph, and he looked up on his computer where we needed to be." His voice rumbled from his chest into your back. You knew you had to be smiling like a crazy person. "Look," one of his hands, previously holding him in place as he leaned back, was thrust forward-pointing up to the sky. You caught the tail end of it. The fading streak across the sky. It was followed by another, then another, soon enough, the sky was full of streaking silver light, and your heart was swelling. You laid back, eyes never leaving the atmosphere above you.

"Bulkhead, I've never loved you as much as I do right now." His arms moved to wrap themselves around your waist. Together, you stayed there, watching the sky until the last one had sailed by, before moving back into the cab and starting off to finish the rest of the road trip home. 

Bumblebee

Bumblebee loved Fridays. It was the best day of the week, especially since you had moved to the base. Every Friday morning, without fail, you would wake up at 7am and head out to the roof of the base. There you would lay out a massive tarp and roll out an industrial-sized shop vacuum you had bought off eBay. And it always leads to this. 

7:30am  

Bumblebee sat in the morning sun, his doors open to the world. You sat in an old pair of jeans, your knees on the metal roof vacuuming out his interior. To Bee, this was the most relaxing feeling in the world. You meticulously vacuumed his seats, driver's side, the back then, passenger side, afterword focusing on the floor mats. That's what you were currently on. Woking the vacuums brush against his transformation seams. Dragging out a week's worth of sand, dirt, and grit. 

He always told you it was unnecessary to clean him this thoroughly, but you insisted. 

"Bumblebee, you drive Raph and me everywhere. We, all though unwillingly, fill you with all the nasty and dirty particles of everything we walk through in a day. The least I can do is clean you out." 

After nearly two months, the strange feeling of the vacuum had become comforting. The feel of the brush, relaxing. The young scout would never admit this to anyone, but he especially enjoyed what came after. 

The vacuum shut off, the silence overtaking the air. You stood up, pulling a small white rag from your belt. You dipped it into a bucket of warm water, wringing it out before slipping off your shoes and crawling into his cab. 

The rag ran down his dash, cleaning up the oil and dirt that came off human fingers. Your hand pressed delicately against his leather interior, studying yourself as you worked.

"Everything alright?" you were scrubbing a little more forcefully on his steering wheel.

"Yes, There's just something a little sticky, I bet it's from a soda." you sighed, shifting to sit in the seat. "I can't believe you let me and Raph eat in here yesterday." You took the dry end of the rag, tracing back over every spot you cleaned with the damp side. 

"I knew you would be careful and take care of me later." You climbed out, chuckling at his comment like it was a joke. Throwing the now 'dirty' rag off to the side in favor of a new one, dipping it in the same warm water you had before. 

He shut his doors, he could feel you as you sat down next to him. Your presents brushing against his EM field; his door sensors, the ones that made up his 'wings' as you called them, lighting up at the gentle touch you had as you worked off scuffs and paint from other bots and cars alike. 

The strokes began to blend together as his processor slowed down; he wanted to stay in this moment forever. The chilly desert morning and his (Y/N) cleaning off the grime from the week. 

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." He knew it was a strange thing to say, and an even more unusual way to thank you for all the work you were doing. But it didn't make the statement any less real. 

"I love you too." Bumblebee could hear the smile in your voice. Yes, if he had to pick any one moment to live in forever, this one was most definitely number one. 

Wheeljack

"I can't do this anymore." Wheeljack looked over, the thick book on your lap slamming shut registering in his audials. "This assignment doesn't make sense, this professor is a moron, and my school is a joke." Your hands were gripping the hair on your head. Wheeljack was no expert on humans, but he felt that that wasn't a good thing. "I'm done, I can't do this." he laughed to himself as you began shoving everything into the bag you took with you everywhere. "I can't do this, I can't. I'm done. I'm done." Your human optics are leaking a little. He watched as your face turned red, and your head shook back and forth.

He recalls Bulkhead explaining that leaking optics are a terrible thing for humans, It means there's something wrong. A soft whisper is let out amongst the noise, a whisper he wouldn't have heard if he wasn't so in tune with you.

"I'm a failure,"

Wheeljack was on his pedes faster than he had ever thought possible. You were hunched over that stupid bag, shoulders shaking. He had to get you back. He didn't know what exactly got you this upset, but he knew it had something to do with that university you kept complaining about this week. 

"Alright speedster, enough of that." As gently as a wrecker could, he picked you up. Dropping you from one hand to another. "No wrecker gets to sulk while I'm around, Stop your crying and brace yourself." The bot looked over to Bulkhead and the other humans as he walked to the center of the base. "Tell Prime: I'm going out."

Wheeljack gave you a soft toss upward, you yelped as gravity pulled you back into his open servo. "Ready?" You tilted your head, something he found cute but swore never to admit out loud. 

"What-what are you-you doing?" you stuttered between your tears.

"Fixing that look on your face." Wheeljack nodded to Bulkhead, who opened the base doors. Your bot tossed you up again this time a little higher, lurching forward he transformed around you, landing with you in his front seat. Before you could blink a seat belt was strapped around your torso. The two of you flying out into the desert. You watched as his speedometer climbed, 30 to 40. 50 to 70. 80 to 100. You were no longer on the road; instead, Wheeljack had turned out into the desert. The world was a blur out of his windows. He dared to look inward for a brief moment to check on you before returning his optics to his driving. Your soft hands were holding onto the seat and door. But the tears had stopped flowing, and a small smile was spread on your face. 

The wrecker pushed himself to go faster, he needed his speedster back, the one that laughed as he drove at unhuman like speeds that begged him to try and go even faster then he could go safely with you.  

150.

He was, for your sake, slowly climbing in his speed. Your grip loosened on his door, and he tightened the belt across your torso. 

170

Your body was shaking again, but not from tears, this was a familiar shake. This was you teetering on laughter. This was a shake Wheeljack loved to feel against his seats. 

190

"Wheeljack!" you were laughing. "I know you can go faster!" 

200

"I promised Ratchet I would go over 200 with you, he says it's dangerous." You hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Since when do you listen to the Doc-Bot?" Both hands were on his seatbelt, "I'm safe with you, come on, Faster!"

"I need you to say something first," He slowed a little, enough so he could glance inward again. "Tell me why you, of all people, would think you're a failure." Your face fell, not good, but necessary.

"I don't understand the work, my teacher wouldn't answer my questions." Your head sank. "She said I shouldn't be asking too many questions."

"Well, Frag her. She doesn't know what she's doing. It's obvious she's just bad at her job." you smiled again, "Now, if that's the only problem, I think we ought to see how fast we can outrun it." 

He gave a little yank on the strap, making sure your body was flush against his seat. 

He'd never tell you, but Ratchet had really freaked him out about hurting you. 

"Floor it!" 

He complied.

*

It was late in the evening, you both were tired, and your adrenaline had worn out, and Wheeljack knew he had burned through more energon than he should have. 

"We should call for a bridge." The car around you rumbled for a moment.

"Yeah, I'll patch us through." The two of you sat in silence.

"Are you even calling them?"

"No." You reclined his seat back. And listened to his engine idle.

"Thank you for making me feel better." 

"No big."

"Seriously. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you right now. Thank you."

His spark practically jumped, but he was grateful you couldn't see his faceplates. It would be nice to spend some more time with you, so you two sat in the quiet desert. 

Happy and content. 

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