#she's grown more confident and her stature shows it <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[causenessus]

TUMBLR'S SILENCING ME AGAIN but just know this was so good!!! I think it's always difficult writing like testy waters between the two love interests in contrast to like slow burns and things like that but eggy you're doing amazing!! and you will continue to do great and you are so cool <3 I love this so far your writing is immaculate and I love that you are always trying new things with new tropes and ideas and all of your characters are always unique AND RAHHH I AM YOUR NUMBER ONE SUPPORTER FOREVER!!!!!! (I hope none of this comes off badly or rude!!!!!!!! i just wanted to say that I think you're doing great <3)

GET BACK CHAPTER ONE

step one: acknowledge that you fucked up

masterlist

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE

akaashikeiji (12:45:32): class is killing me lore_biblio (12:47:12): rather be there than work. guy in historical nonfiction has been here for 45 mins lore_biblio (12:47:18): i am on aux tho & i put how soon is now on a loop. so silver linings ig akaashikeiji (12:48:02): that guy'll probably leave before the song finishes once

He sees her, and his heart stops.

Shoyo is, at once, struck at how different she is. She's sitting behind the counter, laptop propped open and fingers rapidly tapping against the keys (writing, he can only imagine, some brilliant, complex argument about a foreign novel he has never even heard of). And the differences are all he can see.

The slopes and lines of her face have, subtly, elongated, aging her, maturing her. The way her shoulders sit, dropped and back, posture neat, make her seem more sure, more commanding than the hunched over, finger-twiddling bundle of nerves that he once knew. The tight, screwed up expression of concentration is lit-up by the blue light of her laptop screen, bright and cool, contrasted with the dim, yellow lighting of the bookshop. And he's awestruck.

Two years, Shoyo has to remind himself, it's just been two years. It's not a lifetime. He knows her, he tells himself. Even if she's changed. It couldn't have been that much. He knows her.

He wonders what differences she'll notice of him. Will she drag her gaze along the new-found broadness of his shoulders? Will she note the changes of his voice, the few inches he has grown, or the way his skin has been deepened by the sun? Will she recognize him as the person she once loved, or will she regard him as a stranger?

Shoyo takes a deep breath, and steps forward, ready to find out.

She doesn't look up at him as he approaches, and his grip on the zinnias in his sweaty palm tightens. The closer he gets to her, the more his mind empties, the more his mouth dries.

The smell of old, dusty books makes Shoyo sniffle, he can't stop it. Her head shoots up at the sound, fingers freezing over the keys of her laptop, and wide, startled eyes settling over Hinata Shoyo, who stands a just behind the counter, bouquet of flowers, just for her, in his hands. He swallows a lump in his throat. "Hey."

Hey. He wants to slam his head against the wall.

It seems to take her a second to realize that it's him. He can tell the moment she does, though, because those wide, startled eyes narrow, and her lip furls in disgust. It's enough to make Shoyo take a step back. "Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me."

Some sort of animalistic instinct inside of him screams that he is in danger. His body knows something is wrong, his gut tumbles and the amount of sweat his palms produce doubles. But every conscious thought he has tells him to keep going, don't stop, don't let her go. He raises the zinnias to her. "I, erm, I got you these."

She blinks, staring directly into Shoyo's eyes. "I don't want them."

Shoyo wets his lips and shifts his weight between his feet, flowers dropping back down to his side. It's a little forceful, his movements mechanic. It knocks a petal or two to the ground. "Okay, well, then, maybe, we can talk? Maybe after you're done with work?"

Her expression is so unfamiliar to him. Features that he knows, but that are still so different to him, twisted up in a hated that he never, not once has seen on her. A kind that he wouldn't ever have imagined would be fixed at him. "Why would I want to talk to you?"

He remembers how little she spoke the night before he left. He remembers how intensely she protested his departure, before resigning to acceptance a few weeks before his flight. Shoyo can see it clearly, in retrospect. Her expression back then had seeds of the one she wears now. It started then, and has since grown. He was just too stupid to notice it.

She hates him. She really, really hates him.

"I just," he starts. "I just thought that, I dunno, I mean-"

"Don't come back here," she cuts him off, and returns her gaze back to her laptop. "There's nothing I have to say to you, and nothing I want to hear from you."

His hands are shaking. There's a numb sort of disbelief that spreads over him. Shoyo nods, eyes falling to the ground, and he places the zinnias on the counter before he turns on his heel, and walks right back out the door.

extras!

yachi showed up and hugged yn in the back room for about ten minutes while she cried before she went back up to the counter and unlocked the door

and yachi stayed there for the whole rest of her shift; she made her put on a different song tho

the man in historical nonfiction was there for an hour and twenty-seven minutes (yn timed it) just browsing and looking through books (just like me fr)

hinata ran back to his apartment with all of his unpacked things and did an entire reevaluation of their entire relationship together and the past two years

lwky i hate this

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @guitarstringed-scars @ahdbodhr @nbcvs @garfieldissocool @shoyobub @iheartpinky @choerry-picking @mollyrolls @yogurtkags @yuminako @rockleeisbaeeee @michivrse @19calicos @bailey-reeds @staileykout @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @loveelylacey @atsumuenthusiast @alpha-mommy69 @acowboykisser @milesmoralesluvs @3lectraheart @s1ckntwist3d @dailyakira @lvtilzs @miliondollagirl @strxwberri-s @kokoblep (taglist is closed, if i was unable to tag you please check your settings and your username, if i cannot tag you for two chapters in a row you’ll be removed from the taglist)

[edgeray]

Part 1: Sweeter Than Wine(Nico Robin x Fem! Reader)

Part 2

A/N: First post on here :3. This is the culmination of me when I was downbad for like two nights straight. Can you tell how gay I am? This is just 2k words of self-indulgence, I love Miss All Sunday so much, there needs to be more content on her. Who doesn't love a sexy cowgirl?

Warnings: Reader uses female pronouns, Robin may be OOC, Reader is also highkey downbad (I'm sorry, I was projecting), alcohol drinking, pet names(?), if there is more that needs to be added to this please feel free to tell me

Chatter, laughter, and the smell of alcohol filled your senses as you sat on the bar stool, enjoying your drink in one of the bars at Whiskey Peak. Your pinky tapped against the glass of your cup repeatedly as boredom filled your mind. Despite all the drinking and hooligans surrounding you, nothing about all of this was entertaining to you. After all, this happened almost every other week. Naive pirates would come to Whiskey Peak after having just gone through Reverse Mountain and get ambushed by the hundred or so bounty hunters. Then it'd be the end of those little pirates’ journey before it really even started. It was honestly pitiful, and quite frankly, you've long grown tired of throwing up a party and a facade for every unfortunate pirate that stopped by. You were tired of these events even though you yourself were a bounty hunter. 

Another pirate crew crushed, what a pity, she sighed as she watched as an orange-haired girl and a moss-headed swordsman drank nearly the entire bar dry. Silence and solitude surrounded you, feeling an empty void within. With a sigh, you turned to your glass and twisted your wrist to observe the swirling of the liquid. 

At first, you didn't notice her when she entered the bar. No one did. But then there began whispers of awe and admiration and that was when you finally looked up from your drink. 

Your heart halted in your chest as your eyes laid upon the woman who sat herself a few seats away from you. You immediately related to all the dumbstruck stares from your fellow Millions, because how could you not have been infatuated at first glance? Pitch-black shoulder-length straight hair, sun-kissed skin, a skimpy outfit that did wonders in showing her goddess-like stature, and the sexiest cowboy boots and hat met your eyes. But what drew you in wasn't just her physical appearance but the aura that she gave. Seductive confidence exuded from her form and sitting posture even as admirers (including you) ogled at her. 

It felt wrong to be staring at her so openly but you couldn't help it–the more you observed her the more she captivated you. 

You were never a believer of love-at-first-sight but this had to be pretty damn close. Warmth began to blossom within your abdomen the longer your attention lingered on the new woman and your ears burned at the realization of all the thoughts you were having as you continued to watch her. You snapped your head away from the woman finally when your fantasies became more lewd and you tried to wash those erotic ideas away with your glass of alcohol. You shouldn't be thinking those things for a woman you've never even met, you scolded yourself, shame overwhelming your being. You closed your eyes and tried to shuffle your thoughts on the woman away, hoping for the pitter-patter of your heart to similarly be shooed off.

“Can I buy you a drink?” A low, sultry, feminine purred beside you, the kind of voice that instantly made you want to fold yourself in half. Your eyes flew open as you spun your head towards the direction of the voice and your heart jumped out of your chest when the woman you were fawning over was seated adjacent to you. It's the first time you were able to get a glance at her face and heat instantaneously swarmed your cheeks, your breath hitching at the sight. Soul-piercing ocean blue eyes stare back into you, a smirk played on her perfect lips as she leaned her cheek against her hand, which was propped up by her elbow on the counter. Her body was turned towards you while she leaned against the bar counter so that your eyes could roam freely over her entire front. Her body language oozed with unwavering sensual assurance and from the way she's smirking at you, she most definitely knew it. You desperately attempted to stop your focus from wandering down, knowing if you did you'd probably see her cleavage and at this point, you weren't sure if you'd risk a stroke in front of her just to see it. 

“Yes,” you nervously stammered out and a low rumble reverberated from the ravenette's throat as she chuckled. It's music to your ears and you just want to hear it again. She turned to the bartender and requested two glasses of red wine while you instinctively slouched upon feeling the envious weight of other Millions’ stares on your back. 

"I hope you don't mind wine, I prefer my drinks on the sweeter side," the alluring woman stated, her smirk growing just a bit when she faced you. 

"No, wine is good," you shake your head dumbly, feeling humiliated by your lackluster response. "Thank you," you remember to thank her a moment later. 

"Of course. How could I stop myself from buying a drink for such a cute little thing," she replied with a voice laced with honey as she beamed back at you. 

You flushed and turned your head away to hide the abashed expression on your face. Your body can't help but be filled with ecstasy at the compliment and your knees couldn't have ached more to be on the floor in front of her. However, you couldn't divert your attention from her for long when she reached out her hand to grasp onto your chin and forcibly but gently tilted your head up towards her gorgeous face again. 

"Don't be so shy. I don't bite, I promise. Unless you want me to," the woman whispered as she leaned close to your face, the distance between you only a few inches apart. Her thumb stroke across your bottom lip and impulsively, your tongue swiped against her thumbpad. While embarrassment smacked you across the face, the woman's smile only grew more. 

Her next words had you nearly falling out of your seat. "Good girl," she purred and something inside of you stirred. 

"What's your name, sweet thing?" She asked as her thumb repeatedly caressed your lip in a circular motion. Like an idiot, your words stumbled over as you tried to recall your name for a second.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Miss All Sunday." Her voice and every word were laced with syrup despite the shockingly big reveal to you. 

"Miss All Sunday?" You repeated quietly as you remembered faintly that Miss All Sunday was the vice-president of Baroque Works. Your world stopped spinning as you came to the realization that you were majorly crushing on one of your bosses, the second highest on the ladder as a matter of fact. You've heard of her, through the rumors of other Millions–how ruthless and powerful she is, yet all you've been fantasizing about is if she's the same way in bed. Oh, how she could snap you in two and you'd thank her, wouldn't you, you taunted yourself in resignation. 

"What are you doing here?" You wondered out loud, compelling yourself to rid of all the lewd thoughts. 

"There's something I need to take care of here. But it can wait for a little bit, I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of beauty in my eyes," the vice president commented. Your entire face flushed at the compliment. The hand on your chin wandered down and her fingertips scraped against your neck, then down to your shoulders, to your sides, and grazed against your hip until it rested upon your thigh. Your thighs clenched tightly against one another and the reaction amused her. Feather light warm touches danced on your skin as it sent tingles of pleasure throughout your body. 

A shuddering sigh left you and you're silently begging for her in your eyes, for more of her, for the entirety of her. You want to greedily soak up everything she can give you and more. She momentarily turned her gaze away from you once the glasses of wine arrived and a disappointed whimper involuntarily escaped your throat. Your pathetic noise earned you a few squeezes on your thigh. 

"Would you like a sip?" She inquired as she held onto a glass in her other hand. You nodded slightly and reached out your hand, however, she didn't pass the glass to you. Instead, she brought the glass to her lips and had a sip. She leaned in and using the hand on your thigh as support, she closed the distance between you. 

One moment, your lips were bare and cold, and the next, it was met with Miss All Sunday's mouth. You gasped into the kiss and the vice president used the opportunity to pour the red wine from her mouth into yours. The sweet flavor of the beverage overwhelmed your taste buds while the woman in front of you fervently pressed her mouth against yours, each kiss deep like she was savoring the sensation of your lips. Her tongue danced on your lips to request entrance and you swallowed the drink she so generously offered you to allow her in. She immediately dominated your mouth, her tongue exploring every nook and cranny without so much of a struggle from you. You moaned softly against her and tried to press yourself closer to the woman. 

The heat in your stomach exponentially grew and the sensuality of it all only made you want to surrender yourself to the woman more. One hand uselessly gripped onto her arm while your other hand clenched around the seat of your chair. Meanwhile, Miss All Sunday's other hand found her way behind your head, making it impossible to escape from the kiss as she ensured you were as close to her as possible. Not that you'd want to escape of course. 

You wanted to memorize every texture of her soft lips that unrelentlessly ravished you. It's the sweetest, most relishing thing to you, sugarier than any dessert you've devoured, and more decadent than the most gourmet of meals. And you were getting this for free? You wanted more, no, you needed more, damn the lightheadedness that began to settle in your head. It’s intoxicating the way she took over all your senses, the way you're disarmed with just one kiss, the way she has your entire form trembling, the way your mind is filled with the eternal necessity that is her. She stole your breath not because she's not allowing you to breathe but because suddenly your oxygen supply is Miss All Sunday. But then her mouth leaves your lips and it's only then that you realize you need to breathe oxygen. You gaze at her with half-lidded eyes and a bit of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, and you can tell that she's pleased with the mess she's reduced you to. 

“M-miss,” you mumbled, hungry for more. You were drunk off of her kiss.

“You want more? What an insatiable girl,” she coyly smirked before her eyes scanned around her surroundings. “Looks like we've gained an audience.” 

Her last statement sobered you up a little and you too looked around and saw many of the bar's customers scrutinizing you in covetousness. You ducked your head in mortification but the vice president of Baroque Works only chuckled, and she raised a hand to her purple felt hat. “How rude of them to intrude into a private show.” 

Her fingers clasped on the brim of the hat and she removed it from her head, before bringing it to the side of your face, essentially creating a shield from the onlookers. You pondered why she was doing that before she leaned in, this time her lips more aggressively crashing against yours and you were caught off by surprise again. Her free hand that was once on your hand cupped your cheek gently, trailing her thumb over your skin. The way that her hat censored the passionate moment from everyone else in the bar only makes it so much more intimate–like a secret shared between just the two of you. It made your heart flutter excitedly; Miss All Sunday, for all how powerful she is and for all she could easily obtain just for being Baroque Work's vice president, was focusing solely on you and you alone. You were the only one that captured her attention and she was kissing you stupid again, making the rest of your world so trivial when she had you in her hold.

It seemed like hours before she parted from your lips, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as you panted for air. Her cerulean eyes softened when she took in the entirety of your expression and she licked her lips sensually. “You're so sweet. Such a good girl.”

“Sweeter than wine."

And she drew you in again. 

---

I have a sequel to this. Might post it if I feel like.

[eigwayne]

A Little Spoiled (The Untamed fic)

Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing “what if Jiang Cheng was, like, Wen Qing’s sugar zongzhu?” smut fic that kinda grew some plot.

AO3 Link: chapter one | chapter 3 Tumblr Link: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

In this chapter: The pair's bath is delayed by exploration- not of a place, but of each other. AKA. the porn that the plot grew out of.

Heads up, this is basically one long first time sex scene. It took forever to get them out of their clothes, though! I didn't quite get the fumbling and awkwardness I was originally planned but I just couldn't leave Wen Qing hanging, so JC had to make a decent showing at least some of the time. They'll get more confident and comfortable with each other if/when they meet up in the future, but for now, they're just two overthinking virgins.

Even if you're not feelin' the love scene (I know, sometimes the mood isn't right), there's a short bit of fluff in the last scene of this chapter that I recommend.

~*~

Jiang Wanyin’s hands trembled as he loosed her sash. The servants had come and gone, the bath was filled, and they were alone again. “Let me help you,” Jiang Wanyin said in a way that was both request and demand, and here they were, Wen Qing standing before him while he fumbled with her clothing.

‘There’s no way there was anyone before me,’ she thought, and it pleased her more than it probably should.

Once he got a layer off her, he dropped it to the floor carelessly. He held his breath whenever some of her skin was revealed. So did she. It was like the mere act of breathing would disturb the heavens and make the other disappear. But they were simple, ridiculous humans, after all, and so breathe they did, and so far neither of them had disappeared.

And then she was down to her last layer, with Jiang Wanyin nearly fully dressed. ‘That was not the plan,’ she thought, but there hadn’t actually been a plan. She put a hand on his chest. He froze.

“Do you want me to stop?” he said, voice low and breathy.

“I want you to catch up,” Wen Qing said.

He looked at her, his eyes wide and dark and full of the things he never said aloud, and he inhaled, and the eerie, reverent air between them was broken. He started removing his top layer and she eagerly reached out to help him. His robes soon joined hers on the floor.

He stopped at his underclothes, though his hands went to the ties as if he was going to remove it, but was hesitant to actually do so.

‘His scars,’ Wen Qing thought. ‘He is self-conscious, still.’ Instead of pushing him, she removed her own top instead. There she stood, shirt in her hands, her upper body bared in desire for the first time. A wave of shame filled her- what was she doing, they weren’t married, he was definitely a mistake she shouldn’t make. But she’d made her decision, and the heat in his gaze made her bold again.

She dropped the shirt to the floor and spread her arms slightly, trying to tell him, ‘Look, Jiang Wanyin, I am yours for the night’ without saying it aloud again. Aloud was too shameless.

He got the hint. His first breath was shaky, like he never expected to see her unclothed (he in fact hadn’t, and kept expected to wake up from this dream, but he wasn’t going to admit that aloud any more than she was). His eyes raked over her and although she felt her cheeks heat up, she resisted the impulse to hide herself.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Can I…?” He didn’t elaborate but she nodded anyway.

She expected him to reach out- her more experienced acquaintances said men always went for the breasts first. But Jiang Wanyin enveloped her in his arms, in one of those close, clinging hugs that were so, so comforting. She could feel the soft fabric of his clothes against her skin, the hardness of his arousal against her stomach. He must be aching to be touched, and yet he chose to hold her close first, not moving, not rutting against her, just holding her like she was precious.

Her eyes felt hot, stinging with tears, and she pressed her face against his neck as if to hide. ‘How dare he,’ she thought. This was her fantasy- that proper young gongzi from Cloud Recesses, grown in stature and confidence, looking at her and touching her with real affection. How dare he be everything she wanted, even if it was just for a moment. How dare he be everything she couldn’t keep!

She seized his face between her hands, palms on his cheeks, and dragged him down for a kiss. She nipped at his lips and he opened up for her, compliant and eager. ‘How dare you, Jiang Wanyin!’ Her kiss was fierce and he just took it, shifting his hands lower to let her move. She circled her arms around his neck and pressed against him like she wanted to melt into him.

She ran out of breath sooner than he did, focused as she was on other things besides breathing, and she panted against his mouth. He held her up like her weight was nothing.

“I’ll rewarm the water later,” he said, taking a step toward the bed, guiding her backwards.

“Wash my hair for me once you do,” Wen Qing demanded. He took another step.

“Later.” Another step.

“Scrub my back.”

“Of course.” And another.

“Kiss me again.”

“With pleasure.” And this time he led the kiss, searing and deep, as they sunk onto the bed together. His embrace loosened and his hands slid to her waist. He looked at her again like he wanted to say something, something sweet that would break her heart or sour to rouse her anger. She couldn’t stand either option.

“Touch me, Jiang Wanyin,” she demanded before he could speak. He ran his hands up her back and kissed her again. She arched against him, not as tight as before, but enough so her bare nipples rubbed against the fine fabric of his shirt. The contact made her moan and she tried to bite it back. She failed.

But the sound got his attention, by the way his fingers crested over her ribs. He broke the kiss to gaze in wonder as his hands cupped her breasts.

“Beautiful,” he said in a low voice. He squeezed gently, and shifted his fingers. His thumbs brushed her nipples and she arched into his touch. “Is that good?”

“It is.” She ran her hands up and down his chest over his shirt. She wanted to feel his skin, hoped he would get the hint.

He didn’t, or ignored it to kiss her again. His lips trailed over her cheek to her neck. She tilted her head to give him better access without even thinking about it, her hands going to his shoulders. His hair felt like silk, sliding over her skin as he moved.

The feeling made her stomach tighten, below her lower dantian even- the ache of desire. ‘Even his hair sets me aflame!’ she complained to herself. It was all his fault, for being so maddeningly handsome. She squeezed his shoulders, interrupting his worship of her collarbones.

(Worship, and apology, for letting her get so thin and her collarbones so sharp. But this was another thing he didn’t say and she would never find out.)

“Do you want something?” he said, and although his breath hot against her skin, she shivered.

“Kiss me again,” she demanded a second time.

He crawled back up to hover over her and bestowed a brief kiss to her lips. Then he shifted, his knees between her legs, and settled over her. His hips slotted against hers, his weight pressing his arousal to the junction between her thighs. She sighed, the pressure of his body easing the ache of want and building it up all at once. And then he kissed her, deep and hard and only a little toothy.

She remembered to breathe but forgot to be angry at him, so this kiss was long. He put one hand on her breast and didn’t break it at all. She tightened her arms around him and still he kissed her. His hips rubbed against her, tantalizing through their last, thin layers, and she kept the kiss going through his soft moan. He only broke it to trail smaller kisses down her neck, the opposite side from earlier. This time he went all the way to her breast and that almost made up for the loss of contact when he moved his hips. She bit her lip and writhed when his tongue timidly brushed her nipple for the first time. It made him bold, and she found she liked bold Jiang Wanyin.

Bold Jiang Wanyin nipped and sucked and squeezed until she couldn’t hold back her small noises anymore. Bold Jiang Wanyin thrust his other hand into her underpants and although Zidian’s bracelet caught on her waistband and he clearly had no idea what he was feeling for, he explored her flesh like he was determined to learn.

“Not so rough right now,” she scolded him, but her voice was so breathy, it didn’t carry much weight. He nodded or maybe nuzzled her breast, and said nothing, so occupied was he with her nipple, but his fingers were gentler so she knew he understood.

“Oh,” he said when his fingers parted her lower lips. He buried his face between her breasts. “You’re so warm.” He moved two fingers and she squeaked.

“Was that good?” he asked, tension back in his voice. His hand stilled.

“Yes,” Wen Qing hurried to assure him. “Please.”

“Can I take these off?”

“Please!” Now of all times he was being polite?! He sat back on his haunches and gently tugged her remaining clothes off. His lips parted in wonder as he looked down at her. Wen Qing didn’t squirm under his gaze- she had her pride, and she’d invited this, she wasn’t going to hide- but it was a near thing.

He leaned down with a soft murmur that sounded like, “Beautiful,” and kissed her forehead. He trailed kisses down her body and she ran her fingers over his hair. It still felt like silk, and smelled faintly floral, like an expensive hair oil.

‘Like blooming lotuses,’ she corrected herself. ‘The master of Lotus Pier, and he is here, with me.’ She let her knees fall further apart, welcoming him, urging him to get closer to her. His hair slipped through her fingers and she reached for his guan to free it.

His lips closed over her nipple. Wen Qing let out a small cry, and the pin that held the lotus guan in place tumbled from her fingers and clattered to the floor. “I’m sorry, I’ll-“

“I’ll find it tomorrow,” he growled. “If you get up now, I’ll… I’ll pinch you!”

She almost dared him to, but he mouthed at her nipple in a way that was very pleasant, and it didn’t seem important. Zidian was much warmer now; she could barely feel it against her skin. He ran his hands over her thighs, his mouth still on her breast.

Wen Qing closed her eyes and lost herself in his touch. His silver crown was forgotten in her hand. He explored, not quite hesitant but not confident either, guided only by his instinct and what soft noises she let past her lips. She could feel him sit back after a bit and she almost scolded him, but that was when he finally touched her sex.

His fingers where warm and gentle and her whole body trembled. Her fist clenched around his guan. She opened her eyes to find him looking down at her with wonder. He touched her again, and when that made her sigh, again and again until bold Jiang Wanyin parted her lower lips and explored her folds with his non-Zidian hand, his eyes dark and hungry. It felt so nice, she ignored the embarrassing, wet sounds they made and focused on the small spikes of pleasure as he learned her body’s responses.

Then he rubbed just right, fingers on her clit like he almost knew what he was doing, and she cried out. “Jiang Wanyin!”

“Was that good?” He sounded worried. The silver guan bounced onto the bed and she reached up for him with both hands. She drew him into a kiss, fierce as their first.

He glanced away from her once they parted, uncertainty blooming on his face. “You didn’t say if it was good. Please. You have to tell me what’s good. I’ve never done this with- with anyone.”

He clearly didn’t like admitting that, but it made her feel special, even elated for confirmation of her thoughts, that she would have something of his. The aunties did say a man always held a soft spot for his first. She certainly had a soft spot for him already.

She kissed his forehead. “Neither have I. But it was good. I like your hands on me. Keep going. Please?” He groaned like this was too much for him, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. But he kept going. His fingers found a particularly pleasant spot and Wen Qing let out another moan.

“Oh.” Jiang Wanyin shifted his weight to his side to get a better angle. “You’re so… Wow.”

She was wet and aching for more, so she let his ineloquent murmurs go without comment. “Like that,” she moaned and clasped his wrist to push him into a rhythm. His breath was hot on her neck and Zidian’s ring dug into her hip where he held her, but he responded to every shift of her body. She taught him how she liked to be touched, how the slick dripping out of her could ease his movements, how those movements were more important than being inside.

She let go of his wrist at some point and clutched his back, her hands fisted in his shirt. He resisted every yank she gave on it, every implication that she wanted it off, but that wasn’t important for now. Her body writhed beneath him and she burned for release.

“How does it feel?” he said as she rocked her hips up into his hand. “Can you really… Could I please you just with this?”

“You could. But I hoped-” His thumb brushed her clit as he slid his fingers lower- on purpose or on accident, she didn’t care. It was like sparks shooting through her. She gasped.

“Hoped what?” And then he definitely did it on purpose.

She cried out, unable to hold in her voice, and he froze.

“Was that good or bad?” Even though her eye squeezed closed, she heard the concern in his tone.

“Good! Don’t stop!”

She was too close to care about much of anything. Later she would appreciate his attention to her comfort, but now? Now she wanted to feel him inside, crash over that edge.

“Keep doing that. I need you.” She pulled him close for a blistering kiss and dropped a hand to his wrist again.

He shook her hand off.  “You said you needed me. I’ll do it myself.” His voice was low and commanding, his breath hot against her lips. “Like this, right?” and he flicked his thumb and rubbed at her entrance.

“Good,” she repeated. It wasn’t how she touched herself but that didn’t matter anymore, as long as he kept moving. She was trembling, digging her fingers into him, arched up into his touch. He slipped a finger inside her. Her body arched, begging for more contact as she scrambled to grab his hand to guide him again. He thrust his fingers, two this time, until the pad of his hand pressed against her, and shifted his grip as he tried to follow her instructions, to keep his thumb moving on her. She whimpered, desperate, and bucked up against his palm.

“You’re so-“

His words were lost as she came, squeezing around his fingers with one fist tangled in his shirt and the other on his wrist. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

He stilled his hand and said, “Oh.”

She opened her eyes even though her body was still coming down off that first high, and said, “’Oh’ what?”

“Nothing,” he said on reflex. “It’s just, you’re so beautiful. And inside you-“ He shifted his hand and she gasped again, another tremor overtaking her.

“I want to feel you around me.” His voice dropped to a whisper and he moved his hands away to pull her close. He whispered like it was a secret, like she couldn’t feel his arousal pressed against her: “I want to be inside you.”

“It’s too soon,” she said with another moan. “I have to catch my breath. And… I want to see you.” She tugged on his shirt again, hoping he would take the hint this time.

He hesitated. She slid her hands under the hem and rested them on his stomach (it was so close to his lower dantian, where Wei Wuxian’s golden core spun within him, and yet not close enough to check it without him knowing. And the last thing she was thinking about now was a medical examination). She kissed him gently and said, “You don’t have to let me see you, but… It’s okay if you have scars.” And he trembled, clutching her tight. His face was turned towards her, tucked against her neck again, and his breath was unsteady on her skin.

“Jiang Wanyin-“

He interrupted her with a kiss, hard and needy. When he broke away, he sat up, tore off his shirt in one motion, and threw it aside. He stared down at her in challenge.

Wen Qing pushed herself up, her body still languid and slow from her earlier release. She reached out and brushed her fingers against the scars on his chest. They were healed as well as possible, but they would never fade completely.

‘If it were me, I would hate the people who did this, too,’ she thought. ‘I understand his hatred.’ She caught his gaze, saw as the anger faded, just a little (would he ever be free of it again?).

“You still want me, after everything that-“

“Don’t,” he commanded. “Don’t say it. I still want you.” His trousers strained over his erection. Wen Qing dropped her hands to his waist and freed him. Encouraged, he scrambled to remove his final layers and tossed it to the floor with his shirt.

It was the first time she had seen a man fully undressed and flush with desire- desire for her. It was a rush, to know that she had this power over him. But then, he had the same power, didn’t he? She felt the jolt between her thighs at the sight of him. She came around his fingers only a short time ago and already she ached to find out how he would feel.

He sat on the bed, calves folded underneath him, and Wen Qing straddled his thighs. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close with a moan. His erection was caught between them. “Please say you’re ready,” he said, his eyes squeezed closed. He rocked his hips, and she could feel his shaft against her, the wetness at his tip smearing against her stomach.

She tried moving against him. She was still very sensitive and the sensation of his length against her folds was almost too much. But she did want him inside her. She ached, and his fingers had been nice but they weren’t enough, and maybe she should be nervous but he felt so good against her, wouldn’t it be even better inside?

“Yes,” she said. She put her arms around his neck, draped over his shoulders, and kissed him. She rocked her hips, raising them up. She had to move, find that flushed, wet tip so he could fill her. She could feel it nudging against her, but it just slipped between them again.

“Hold on,” he murmured into her lips. “You’re moving all wrong.”

“I’m moving wrong? You-“ They both reached down, fumbling to steady his erection, getting in each other’s way and scolding each other between kisses.

“No, let me-”

“I’m perfectly capable-“

“Just hold still-“

“Maybe it would be easier if-“

“No! We started this way, we are going to-” Jiang Wanyin batted her hands away, held himself with one hand, and held Wen Qing by the hip with the other. She gave up trying to guide him and put her arms back around his shoulders.

“You’re being silly, you know,” she whispered. He grunted and shifted her forward. The tip of his erection rubbed her, slipping back between her lower lips, making her whimper with need when he nudged her clit. And finally, finally, when she was dripping wet and about to take him in hand herself, he settled at her entrance.

“Apparently you like it when I’m silly,” he panted. “You’re even wetter than before.” He pushed her hip downward, just a little, and the head of his shaft slid inside her. She clung to him, wordless gasps escaping her.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He was worried about her! The thought startled her. He was such a forceful person, she’d half expected him to just take what he wanted once they figured it out.

‘My young man is still inside him,’ she thought, remembering those shy smiles she treasured now, that she thought lost until recently. ‘The Jiang Wanyin that could have loved me.’

“I am,” she assured him. She smoothed his hair away from his face and smiled for him. But she also ached for him, burned for him to be inside her. The stretch she already felt was not enough. “I want more,” she said, leaning forward to nip his ear, since he seemed to like that, and press her breasts against his chest because she liked that. “More of you.”

Jiang Wanyin moaned like the words themselves stroked him. He pulled her hips down and surged up to meet her. She cried out. It didn’t hurt, after his exploring fingers and already coming once before; instead she felt stretched, a good stretch, and she was still burning for him but there was relief in having him inside. He groaned, low and deep, and she could tell he was as overwhelmed as she was.

She kissed him and shifted, accepting more of him. Oh, but she still wanted more, her body demanded release again. She lifted herself experimentally, just a little. He slammed her back down, using his grip on her waist to keep her sheathed around him, and started to move himself.

It was awkward, with their movements not quite matching at first. She dug her fingers into his back, trying to anchor herself and control their pace. He bit at her shoulder as he strained up into her. They almost had it, their bodies coming together smoothly, when they lost it. She lifted her hips when he pulled away, and he slipped out of her. She winced audibly- it was deprivation, losing the fullness she ached for just as she was building toward another climax, so much faster than before, and it didn’t hurt, not physically, but it was painful nonetheless.

He growled, also affected, and pushed her backward onto the bed. He crawled between her knees. “This was easier when you let me lead,” he said.

“I don’t want to wait.” She was so close; if he stopped, she might weep.

“Good. I don’t either.” He kissed her, demanding once again, as he reached between them. He steadied himself and pushed inside her again.

It was different with him over her. His movements were less restrained, but deep and hard, filling her completely. She couldn’t move as much, but then, she didn’t want to. “You’re so good like this too,” he said, his voice soft and wavering in her ear.

She didn’t bother with words. She put her arms around him, her hands on his back, and shifted her legs in a way she hoped was encouraging. It was, judging by how he held her closer, his lips and teeth against her neck, his hips stuttering against her. She felt herself cresting toward another orgasm and dug her fingers into his back, her nails against his skin.

His movements were wild and she gave up tried to reciprocate. She clung to him, each thrust of his hips rocking her whole body. He buried his face against her neck and clung to her when he came, pushing so deep, it made her mewl. She never knew she could make such a sound.

She felt like she was on fire when he stilled and her legs trembled with the effort of keeping them up. She squirmed, try to get any sort of movement against her clit, anything that would send her over the edge her body was on. But as he shifted, she scrambled to grab him and keep him close. “Not yet. Stay inside me,” she begged. “As long as you can.” She rocked herself up into him, her fingers digging into his buttocks, until she came. One of them whimpered, maybe both. Wen Qing definitely did when he pulled out of her and collapsed at her side.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stroking her arm. “Next time, I’ll take better care of you.”

Neither of them mentioned there might not be a next time, that once Wen Qing went back to the Burial Mounds and Jiang Wanyin went back to Lotus Pier, they might not be able to leave them like they did that day. But they were both thinking it. Jiang Wanyin pulled her close and hid his face against her shoulder.

‘That was an awful lot of effort,’ Wen Qing thought as she stroked his back, ‘but overall, nice.’ Even though Jiang Wanyin was a bit heavy, he was warm and she liked holding him. She stroked his hair for a long moment before she spoke again, because she had to break their peaceful (if slightly awkward) embrace.

She felt warm and languid, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to leave his arms. But she felt wet against her skin- not just where they had been joined, but on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to look at him. “Jiang Wanyin?”

He dashed away the tears sparkling in his eyes. “Who’s crying?” he snapped, like it wasn’t himself.

Wen Qing laid her head back down and rubbed his back, keeping him close. ‘Good job,’ she scolded herself. ‘You have landed yourself a handful.’

But she hadn’t actually landed him, had she? In the morning, they would go their separate ways. She would take her qiankun bags of supplies back to her family, brew herself something to ensure his seed didn’t catch in her, and lie to Wei Wuxian’s face about whether she’d seen his brother again. Jiang Wanyin would go back to his sect, occasionally visit his sister, and pretend he cared nothing for anyone in Yiling.

But for now, she squeezed Jiang Wanyin tighter. “Thank you,” she said.

“It was good for you? It didn’t hurt?” he asked, mumbling into her shoulder.

“It was very nice, once we figured it out. You took good care of me.”

He sighed in relief. “The stories all say it hurts,” he explained.

“Not if the man is attentive,” she said as she pet his hair. “And you know what they say about believing things in stories.”

“I know! But what else do I have to go by?” He sat up with a huff. “I’ll should warm the bath water, before we’re too tired to move. Just… wait here.”

She arched her eyebrows at him but complied. He got up, puttering about for a moment. ‘The view from behind is not bad, either,’ she thought as she watched him. She wasn’t going to offer another round yet, but she did enjoy the elegant line of his back, the fall of his tousled hair, and the small, pink marks from her nails.

He heated the bathwater with a talisman and returned with a comb- not that comb, but a plainer, serviceable item of his own for traveling. He pushed the comb into her hand. “For your hair,” he explained unnecessarily. Then he knelt on the bed and slowly, deliberately, leaned down to press a kiss between her legs before he went back to the bath.

She sighed at his touch. ‘He should do that more seriously, someday,’ she thought, relishing the ghost of his kiss before she had to get up.

----

Jiang Wanyin helped her wash her hair, and scrubbed her back, and kissed her again, fulfilling all his pre-bath promises. He was drying his hair afterwards when he stopped and looked at her like he was struck by lightning.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice short, somewhere between worry and annoyance.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her, like it was vital information. “Never put on clothes again.”

She paused in her toweling to quirk an eyebrow at him. “And how will I go out in public? How will I wear all those trinkets you bought me?”

“Maybe some clothes,” he agreed.

She laughed, a single chuckle spilling from her lips, and he smiled like it was a benediction.

‘That smile is dangerous,’ she decided. It was soft and sweet and everything she didn’t dare bring back to the Burial Mounds. She wanted more of that smile.

In the end, they both dressed for bed, hair in simple braids in the hopes of preventing tangles, and nestled beside each other. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close before she could get comfortable on her own side of the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” she protested. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying! Is it so wrong to hold you? Maybe I want to sleep with you like this.” His eyes were indeed closed, and he made no moves except to hold her. The blanket wasn’t even covering him properly yet.

She fussed as much as she could until she was comfortable against him (and properly covered). They lay there in each other’s arms, listening to the muted sounds of the night outside the window, just like any other lovers with no duty or doom to interrupt.

“You can wear some clothes I guess,” Jiang Wanyin whispered, his voice mumbling and muffled against her hair. “So pretty without, but… my colors. Lavender, blue, violet… Silver jewelry. Bell at your waist… and a pavilion on the water of your own… but you spend your time… with me instead. Wei Wuxian… teaching our kids to shoot arrows… and A-jie’s making soup…” His words faded out. He was asleep.

“You want the simplest, most impossible things, don’t you?” Wen Qing said. She rested her head against his chest, and she let herself dream of a pavilion for two on the water and Wei Wuxian teaching children archery. And if she added A-Yuan to the little ones with their bows and A-Ning to help Jiang Yanli with the soup, well, that was her business.

Next Chapter

[marvels-agents100]

waltz (part 3)

pairing: bucky x fem ! reader

word count: 5709

trigger warnings: none

author’s note: so, it’s obvious the plot isn’t my own, and this part is very movie heavy (aka not much insert of the reader), but i promise it’ll get better as i’m able to add extra scenes! thank you for reading anyways!

It wasn't a shock to you when a full police escort guided the armored vehicles to Berlin. The Joint Counter Terrorist Centre didn't take any chances with security, not only securing everyone within protected vehicles, but having a long trail of police cars on each end of the transport. You knew it was completely overdramatic, but you knew who Bucky was now. Of course, most only saw him for what he was for the past seventy years, not who he had become since the fall of HYDRA.

You sat next to Sam, Steve on his other side and the man who you now knew as T'Challa in front of you. You kept your gaze out the window, trying to ignore the pain in your side while actively avoiding any confrontation with Steve. At that point, you weren't sure how he would ever forgive you for hiding Bucky, and you were even more unsure of wether you deserved his forgiveness. If the worry you felt in that moment for Bucky was only a fraction of what he felt all those years searching, then you couldn't even imagine the pain he had been going through. You knew that if you were in his position, you wouldn't forgive yourself.

"So you like cats?" Sam broke the silence.

"Sam." Steve scolded.

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat, you don't wanna know more?" There was a slight bitterness to his words- he was clearly holding a grudge.

There was a pause before Steve spoke.

"Your suit, it's vibranium?

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations," T'Challa spoke, "A mantle, passed from warrior to warrior. And now, because your friend murdered my father," your  eyes snapped to him at his words, "I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you, as both warrior and king, how long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?"

His voice held a venom that made your blood boil. You were half tempted to scream at him, shouting that Bucky was with you, in Bucharest, the entire time. You wanted to take T'Challa by the shoulders and prove to him how wrong he was, a complete disregard of his feelings in your actions.

But, you didn't. And you wouldn't. Because at the end of the day, T'Challa acted in a way you could imagine yourself reacting to the situation as he saw it. This man had lost his father, watched him die when it was not yet his time. Not only did he have the weight of a new loss on his shoulders, but he also had to walk into a role where he protected a whole group of people, how large you weren't sure, but you assumed that responsibility didn't come without stress.

Your heart broke for T'Challa, not being able to imagine the pain he had suffered in such a short period of time. In fact, all of the people that surrounded you- Avenger or not- suffered from pain in their own way, and while it is so much easier to act upon pain, you have to be able to step back and provide understanding for rash decisions and impulsive action.

Trauma is one hell of a drug.

Maybe that's why you hid Bucky away without second thought. You had to give him room to feel his pain, so he didn't act out as a result of unprocessed trauma. You only hoped that Steve could see that as well, eventually.

The Joint Counter Terrorist Centre was a modern yet industrial building. In closest comparison, you would say it looked like a Stark-made building, but everyone had been following in Tony's design standards for years, so that wasn't anything new. You exited the van you were transported in behind Steve, your eyes immediately catching the glass cage Bucky was being moved in. It looked like a tank, like he was a caged animal, a spectacle to see. It made you cringe visibly, your lips pulling into a grimace. Steve followed your line of sight, his eyes softening for the first time since he hopped into the passenger side of the car you stole on that Romanian highway, his Captain exterior crumbling instantly when he saw his oldest friend.

Bucky seemed calm. Pissed, hurt, and overall unhappy, but calm. He kept his eyes on the ground in front of him, trying to avoid any eye contact with either you or Steve. He had learned how to keep his emotions in check through training as a soldier, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to keep it together if he saw either of you. The game completely changed when it came to the people he cared for.

You- in some way that even he couldn't explain- had been able to break down Bucky's walls and see the person he hid underneath. He had allowed himself to be fully expressed around you, wether it was a full, beaming smile while he laughed, or the way he let himself feel refreshed as the voice of Billy Eckstine filled your apartment, or when he would try to apologize to you a thousand times in a single glance while also fighting off GSG 9 units. It was the small things, the micro expressions and whispered confessions that his former self, his darker self, would've forbidden. Somehow, someway, he had no problem exposing those hidden parts of himself to you. So, he kept his eyes forward, refusing to give his captors any inkling of what was going on inside his head. He was so tired of people picking his brain; he'd had enough of that for a lifetime.

You ripped your gaze away from Bucky, following Steve as he approached the five people waiting for the five of you to arrive. You recognized the three men standing in the background as soldiers, there for protection. To the left was a small-framed blonde woman you knew as Sharron Carter- someone you had grown to know when SHEILD initially collapsed. Apparently, she had been reassigned here with her job in the CIA while you were hunting for a former assassin. The man standing next to her, although short in stature, held a confidence and slightly threatening nature to him, and you immediately knew that he was in charge in this facility.

"What's going to happen to him?" Steve asked flatly as you reached them.

"Same thing that ought to happen to you. Psychological evaluation and extradition." The man spoke, no fear or wavering in his voice.

"This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander." Sharron introduced. Your eyebrow raised at him, a sneaking feeling in your gut making you believe that you shouldn't trust him. It wasn't something you could explain, but the way your stomach dropped when he began talking was a clear indication from your intuition that he wasn't on your side.

"What about a lawyer?" Steve asked, to which you had to hold back your scoff. It was a bold question, seeing as to how many laws were broken within the past day. Lawyers were completely out of the question at that point.

"Lawyer. That's funny." Everett spoke with a sarcastic grin. "See to it their weapons are placed in lockup." He spoke to Sharron without looking at her. "We'll write you a receipt."

"I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that." Sam threatened.

"Yeah, handle carefully, mine's borrowed property." You chimed in, "Also, you might not know me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), former SHEILD agent," Everett looked straight at you as you introduced yourself, a sarcastic and slightly venomous air to your words, "if it wouldn't, you know, be too much of a bother, I am in a significant amount of pain, having fought alongside what was mostly super soldiers only hours ago, and would like to see any kind of medical professional before I bleed out internally, thanks." You smile sweetly, almost enjoying the way Everett's eyes narrowed at you. Sharron fought a smirk, finding herself missing the way you always fought for the best treatment of you and everybody else, no matter what the consequence was. It was a trait you shared with Steve, and it definitely made the bond between the Captain and yourself stronger.

"Can we get someone upstairs, to look her over while they meet." Everett spoke to one of the soldiers, who relayed the message into their walkie-talkies. He looked back to you with a slightly annoyed look, then turned and began walking towards the elevator, you, Steve, Sam, and T'Challa in tow. Steve glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, and you followed his line of sight to see Bucky was looking back, his eyes flickering to you. It was only a second, but his once emotionless face looked so helpless, his eyes turning sad and his lips curving downwards. It made you take in a deep breath, giving him a small nod and the best reassuring smile you could manage. He returned the gesture before leaning his head back, a large, steel door closing in front of him.

It was always those small, unspoken looks that made you see Bucky as he truly was. He wasn't incredibly flashy in his personality, not in the way Steve said he was back in Brooklyn. He was reserved and quiet, but opened up as you grew to know him. Most of his communication was done through small smiles, emotion filled glances, or the occasional soft touch. It took someone with perception to see into the mind of Bucky Barnes, and you were the perfect person to do the job. There was so much pressure on him to be better, to be a normal person, that it was almost suffocating. He felt only a fraction of normalcy in Romania, something he didn't know if he'd ever get back. But you, your way of knowing what he felt before he even knew what he was feeling- it was something that shocked him every day. When he was with you, there was no pressure to be the person someone had assumed he would be. People always thought they knew who he was before meeting him- wether they expect someone cold and murderous, or even if they expect their long-lost best friend, full of wit and charm.

It was a fact that ate at his heart, especially now that he sat within the mess that he had created. His existence had driven Steve Rogers, someone who held high regard in the world he was thrown into, to break numerous laws and risk his life to save Bucky Barnes. And at the end of it all, the person he sought out to save didn't exist anymore. Bucky Barnes now was not the same Bucky Barnes that existed in 1943. He wasn't charming and funny anymore, he could barely remember any inside jokes he shared with his life long friend, and he didn't hold the same confidence. Steve risked everything to save a ghost, and he was terrified of what would happen when the Captain finally realized that.

***

"You 'll be provided with an office instead of a cell." Everett explained while leading your small group down a stark white hallway, "Now, do me a favor, stay in it?"

"I don't intend on going anywhere." T'Challa spoke.

Natasha walked up the opposite end of the hall to meet Steve, a serious look in her eyes.

"For the record, this is what making things worse looks like." She spoke. What exactly had you missed during your time in Bucharest?

"He's alive." Steve ignored her taunting. "That's all I've been searching for." His eyes flickered to you, his voice hard. It sent a wave of guilt over your body, your muscles visibly tensing at his subtle jab. Natahsa looked you up and down with observant eyes, picking up on the tension between you and Steve.

You entered a conference room, screens with security and news footage lining the walls. You had to hold in your happiness when you saw Tony there, resisting the urge to run up and hug one of your closest friends.

"No, Romania was not Accords-sanctioned." He spoke on the phone. Accords? What Accords? "Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup." That made you cringe internally, thinking of the crumbled overpass that Bucky had exploded. You were shuffled to the side of the room by Nat, her seating you in a chair as what looked to be a doctor walked towards you.

"Try not to break anything while we fix this." She told Sam and Steve, not even looking over her shoulder to address them.

Tony turned and glared at Steve, his phone still at his ear. "Consequences, of course there will be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that, because I just said it. Anything else? Thank you sir." And he hung up, stepping towards Sam and Steve. The doctor pressed antiseptic to your shoulder while you looked up at the three men, seated just to Sam's right.

"Consequences?" Steve asked.

"Secretary Ross wants you both prosecuted." Tony explained, "Had to give him something."

"Prosecuted? Secretary Ross? I'm sorry, what in the actual hell is going on?" You asked, unable to hold your words any longer. You tried to keep yourself out of the arguments the best you could, but if there was any hope on getting Bucky released, you had to understand why Captain America was now an accomplice to crime as well.

"Well, kid," Tony began, hands finding his pockets as he took another step towards you, "while you were having your vacation in Romania with Private Ryan on Ice, the rest of us had some messes to own up to." His gaze flickered to Steve before he continued, "The Sokovia Accords. After our run-in with Ultron, which I'm sure you know all about, the government realized how we need to be put in check."

"They tried to make us sign a paper so they could dictate wether or not we had a chance to fight." Steve interjected, his arms crossing over his chest. "They get to decide where we go, when we go. Anything out of their permission makes us criminals." His eyes met yours. "What was the word they used? Oh, yeah. Vigilantes." His gaze moved to Tony, an obvious annoyance in his features.

"The amount of innocent lives lost due to our 'Avenging' is what they're trying to control. We were trying to keep our list to New York, Sokovia, DC, and Lagos. I guess now we can add Bucharest, huh?" Tony argued, breaking the staring contest with Steve to look at you. "We were given free reign, and we failed. Now's the time for us to recognize that." Tony didn't give you or Steve any time to comment, turning around and falling in stride with Natahsa.

You looked at the floor, a furrow in your brows. It was a lot to take in, from the Accords to the obvious tear it was creating amongst the Earth's Mightiest Heroes. It made sense, the Accords, but only in a perfect world. Trusting the government with full control over people as powerful as the Avengers was a scenario you couldn't see ending well. Politicians weren't people you put full trust into, no matter who they were. Also, you had a hard time siding with the same government and intelligence agencies who decided that sending a nuclear missile to Manhattan in 2012 was the way to end the fight with the Chitauri. Plus, the infiltration of HYDRA within SHIELD made it hard to trust anyone in positions of power. You understood why Tony signed, and you didn't think it was the wrong decision, but you didn't think it was the right decision either. If it were you with the pen in your hand, you wouldn't sign. And you knew exactly why Steve didn't sign.

Telling that man to walk away from a fight was about as useful as telling a pig to fly.

You thanked the doctor as he finished bandaging your shoulder, taking the painkillers he handed to you for your- thankfully- only bruised ribs. You stood as he walked away, finding your place next to Sam.

"I'm not getting that shield back, am I?" Steve asked.

"Technically, it's the government's property." Nat answered.

"As before mentioned, gun was borrowed and I assume it was treasured, so I'm gonna need you to tell the government to shove it." You told Nat, causing a smirk to inch its way onto her face.

"Sorry, pistol's locked away." Her eyes moved to Sam, "Wings, too."

"That's cold." Sam muttered.

"Warmer than jail." Tony piped in over his shoulder.

***

You sat at a large table in the middle of the room, glass panes surrounding it to form a small conference room. Your hands flipped a pen you had found between them, your knee bouncing as you thoughts mulled over everything you had learned in the past hour. Steve stood looking out the window, his hands in his pockets and eyes fixed to the screen that displayed where Bucky was being kept. You were actively trying to avoid looking at that particular monitor.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Steve." You broke the silence. He kept his back toward you, but his head fell, indicating that he heard you.

"Are you?"

His words felt like a dagger to your heart. He felt beyond betrayed, first with Tony and Nat siding with the government over him, then to find out one of the only people he saw as a true friend, (besides Sam), had been lying to him for months. Not just a small lie, but a lie about the one thing, the one person, that has occupied his mind for years.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way." You said truthfully, "I did what I thought was best for him, and I hope you can see that. If not now, then eventually." He let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. In a way, he knew why you did what you did. But, he couldn't fight his anger and disappointment either. It was truly a problem, it seemed, that only time would heal.

He opened his mouth to say something more, when Tony entered the room, gaining Steve's attention.

"Hey, you wanna see something cool?" Tony asked. "I pulled something from Dad's archives."  A thin, rectangular box was held in his hand, black velvet surrounding the outside of it. Steve sat in one on the chairs as Tony strolled closer, "Felt timely." He added.

Tony paused a moment, giving Steve a look with a small sadness in his eyes. "FDR signed the Lend-Lease bill with these in 1941." He placed the box, now open, in front of Steve, two black fountain pens with shiny, gold tips placed delicately inside. "Provided support to the Allies when they needed it most," Tony continued.

"Some would say it brought our country closer to war." Steve replied, his voice taking a certain melancholy tone at the mention of the Second World War. It felt like moments ago, he was battling Nazis in France, but in all reality, his life as a World War 2 soldier ended decades ago.

"See? If not for these, you wouldn't be here." Tony said matter-of-factly, the light insult making you cringe slightly from the other end of the table. "I'm trying to... what do you call it?" Tony sat beside Steve, "That's an olive branch. Is that what you call it?" His hand came up to rest on his chin, his elbow leaning against the table.

"Is Pepper here? I didn't see her." Steve asked, turning away while changing the subject.

"We're kinda.." Tony hesitated, "Well, not kinda-"

"Pregnant?" There was an unmistakable hopefulness to Steve.

"No, definitely not." Tony scoffed, "We're taking a break. It's nobody's fault."

Steve's gaze fell, focusing on the ground. "I'm so sorry, Tony. I didn't know."

"A few years ago, I almost lost her, so I trashed all my suits." Tony began, "Then, we had to mop up HYDRA, and then Ultron. My fault." He pointed to his chest, "And then, and then, and then, I never stopped. Because, the truth is, I don't wanna stop. I don't wanna lose her. I thought maybe the Accords could split the difference."

Tony leaned back in his chair, a moment's silence falling over the room.

"In her defense, I'm a handful." He added as he stood, hands settling in his pockets. "Yet, Dad was a pain in the ass, but he and mom always made it work."

"You know, I'm glad Howard got married." Steve piped up. "I only knew him when he was young and single."

"Oh really? You two knew each other?" Tony drawled out sarcastically, "He never mentioned that. Maybe only a thousand times. God, I hated you."

You closed your eyes, feeling like you shouldn't be hearing this conversation. The tension was so thick in the air, it felt almost hard to breathe.

Steve looked up at Tony, voice a bit softer, "I don't mean to make things difficult."

"I know, cause you're a very polite person." Tony mused, slipping his suit jacket on.

"If I see a situation pointed South," Steve reasoned, "I can't ignore it. Sometimes I wish I could."

"No, you don't."

Steve let out a sad chuckle, looking down again, "No, I don't," and his eyes were back to Tony, the faintest grin on his face. "Sometimes-"

"Sometimes I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth."

Your gaze popped up at Tony's remark, muscles ceasing all movement as you watched them carefully. You were now in defense mode, ready to jump up and break up a fight if needed.

"But I don't wanna see you gone." Tony sighed, "We need you, Cap."

Another silence.

"So far, nothing's happened that can't be undone, if you sign." He gestured to the pens in the velvet box, and edge of desperation in his words. "We can make the last twenty four hours legit. Barnes gets transferred to an American psych-center instead of a Wakandan prison."

Your fist clenched around the pen in your hand, nearly snapping it in half. If Tony trying to persuade Steve to sign the Accords didn't get on your nerves already, he spoke about Bucky like was an object to be passed around, not someone who had lived peacefully among other human beings for months in Romania. No one seemed to want to acknowledge that.

Steve picked up one of the pens from the box, standing and walking towards the glass pane opposite Tony, turning the pen over in his hands. He turned to look at Tony, then dropping his gaze.

"I'm not saying it's impossible," Steve began, "but there would have to be safeguards."

"Sure." Tony replied immediately, "Once we put out the PR fire, those documents can be amended. I'd file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated-"

"Wanda? What about Wanda?" Steve interrupted.

"She's fine. She's confined to the compound, currently. Vision's keeping her company."

Steve's disgust was evident. "Oh, God. Tony." He walked a few paces away, "Everyt- Every time I think you see things the right way-"

"It's 100 acres with a lap pool, it's got a screening room, there's worse ways to protect people."

"Protection?" Steve challenged, one hand finding his hip and the other resting on the back of a chair. "Is that how you see this? This is protection? Its internment, Tony."

"She's not a US citizen." His voice raised.

"Oh, come on, Tony."

"And they don't grant visas to weapons of mass destruction."

"She's a kid!"

"Give me a break!" Tony yelled. "I'm doing what has to be done. To stave off something worse."

Steve nodded, just a small motion that you could've missed if you weren't paying attention.

"You keep telling yourself that."

Steve dropped the fountain pen on the table, "Hate to break up the set." And he left the room.

Tony put on his aviators, his eyes downcast.

"Neither of you are wrong." You said softly, understanding eyes looking to Tony across the table.

"I know, I know." He said dismissively, "That's the worst part."

"When all of this is done, no matter what happens," you stood and walked towards him, "you have to remember why you were all put together in the first place."

Tony stayed silent, his gaze following you. You reached for the pens, delicately putting the one Steve held back in it's place within the velvet box.

"It is so hard to find people to trust in this world," you began, "don't let them go so easily."

He gave you a small nod of acknowledgement, to which you gave a soft smile.

"How'd you get tangled in all of this, kid?" He asked, more to himself than you, "This all isn't going to end without a fight."

Your eyes found the monitor with Bucky on it, your heart swelling at the memory of your times in Bucharest. "You know all of the deep, dark thoughts I told you about?"

"Every one."

"Well," you sighed, tearing your gaze away from Bucky, "I didn't think it was possible, but I found happiness."

Tony's eyes moved to Bucky, a disappointed frown pulling at his lips.

"I hope it isn't temporary." He says sincerely.

Lowering your eyes, you gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving the room, following Steve.

Your sole purpose in this fight wasn't within the Accords, or even in the wellbeing of the Avengers. It was in a single man- James Buchanan Barnes. If agreeing with Steve on the issue of the Accords would help bring Bucky to safety once more, then to hell with the government.

***

You sat by Sam in the conference room once again, Steve taking his place by the glass wall to watch Bucky, Sharron placing a paper in Sam's hand.

"The receipt for your gear." She explained.

"'Bird costume'? Come on," Sam complained.

"I didn't write it." She defended. She looked around, earning a suspicious look from you, before reaching towards a button pad in the middle of the table, clicking the center. The surveillance footage on Bucky came upon the screen within the conference room, the voice of the therapist hired by the centre seeping through the speakers.

"I'm not here to judge you." He spoke with a strong Russian accent.

Steve looked back at Sharron, a small nod being sent his direction. You immediately sat straighter, your blood running cold when you saw Bucky, still confined in the glass tank. You wanted nothing more than to hold his hand and tell him that you would figure everything out, that the normal and happy life he had created wasn't out of reach. You wished you could hold him close while he hummed a song that danced on the edges of his memory, his hand planted firmly on your back and his cheek pressed against yours. All he deserved was warm, soft moments for the rest of his life, and yet he was sitting in a cold, hard cell.

"I just want to ask you a few questions." The therapist continued. "Do you know where you are, James? I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky."

His voice was so soft, so hurt. You felt everything inside you shatter, a sad sigh leaving your lips. A day ago, he had everything. He was adjusting to life in Bucharest, living day to day with the added bonus of a beautiful girl to share it with. In all honesty, he didn't know what his life in Romania could've looked like with you, but the daydreams he imagined always were heavenly. He would dream about the domestic moments, the moments that are so overlooked in the name of routine, the moments no one ever cherishes because they were never ripped from their grasp. Moments like seeing you smile as he approached the table at the bakery. Watching you rummage through the refrigerator for a quick snack. Watching you work on your laptop, your bottom lip curling between your teeth if you concentrated enough. It was the little moments he would dream about, and they always included you.

Apparently, even that was too much to ask for.

Steve looked to the pictures taken of his friend in Vienna again before setting them back down on the table.

"Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?" He asked.

"Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?" Sharron answered.

"Right. It's a good way to flush a guy out of hiding." You didn't miss the way his gaze flickered to you momentarily. "Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier."

"You're saying someone framed him to find him?" Sharron questioned.

"He never left Bucharest." You chimed in. All eyes turned to you, Sharron looking the most surprised.

"What?" She asked.

"I've been with Bucky for a little over two months, in Romania. He hasn't left since he arrived there." You leaned back in your seat, letting out a breath, "I know any court of law won't just take my word for it, but I can promise you that Steve is right. Someone wanted to get him out of hiding, and made sure they did something big enough to get the whole world looking."

"Okay," She began, processing your words, "But, that doesn't guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would."

There was a moment, just a moment, where her words hung in the air. Then the realization began to sink in, your stomach dropping as soon as it clicked together in your brain.

"Yeah." Steve agreed, his stare on the therapist in the same room as Bucky.

"Tell me Bucky, you've seen great deal, haven't you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don't worry. We only have to talk about one."

Suddenly, all of the lights in the building turned dark, the small emergency lights barely illuminating the room. You stood quickly, panic filling your veins. Steve turned towards Sharron.

"Sub-level five, East Wing." She said, her voice lightly shaking. You, Sam, and Steve began running, hoping to reach Bucky before it was too late.

***

You turned the corner behind the two boys, noticing the security guard laying unconscious on the floor. The three of you carefully tread forward, the next room reveling several more bodies.

"Help me." A raspy voice called. Steve stood and ran towards it while you knelt by one of the guards, checking for a pulse.

Steve walked towards the 'therapist'. "Get up." He ordered. He yanked the imposter off the ground, slamming him against one of the concrete walls. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"To see an empire fall."

Sam entered the room, you only a couple steps behind him. He immediately dodged down, a metal fist swinging for his head. You jumped back, stumbling over one on the unconscious guards' legs. In an instant, Sam was being thrown across the room, hitting the glass cage and the ground with two loud thuds. You pulled yourself behind a desk, knowing you wouldn’t beat Bucky in a fight on your best day, and watched with horror as Bucky fought Steve, each punch moving him backwards further and further. They reached the elevator, Bucky punching Steve with so much force that it ripped the metal doors away and sent him tumbling down the elevator shaft.

Although you had no chance against the super soldier and highly skilled assassin Bucky was, you ran from your hiding spot, following Bucky as he walked away from the elevator.

"Hey!" You shouted, stopping him in his tracks. He turned slowly, his eyes void of emotion as they looked at you. "Where do you think you're going?" You taunted.

He ran at a full sprint towards you, a yell leaving his throat. You stood your ground, nostrils flaring as you prepared yourself to fight.

He swung with a left hook, making you dodge the metallic fist. Your right foot kicked at the middle of his chest, making him stumble backwards. You took the opportunity to swing your right fist at him, but he was too quick, catching your swing mid air. Eyes widening in fear, you met his gaze. His left hand shot out and wrapped around your throat, backing you against a wall as you clawed at the metal fingers with your own.

"Buc-Bucky." You choked out, his face staying monotone. "Please."

You could feel your lungs begin to burn, your head grow heavy with pressure.

"My.. destiny." Your voice was strained, but you sang the words the best you could. "Is to be... in love... with you."

He blinked, a softness in the blues of his eyes for a fraction of a second before disappearing again.

"Makes.. no difference... what you say, or do."

His hand loosened the slightest bit, your voice coming out stronger as you sang softly to him.

"I must stay... in love... with you."

He began seeing flashes- an apartment with a laptop propped in the corner, playing a song that made him feel warm, content.

"That's my.. destiny."

His head shook, images of the soft sunlight peaking through the curtains flashing in his mind. He could feel your eyelashes on his cheek, he could hear your heart racing.

"It's a thing.. you can't control..."

He let out a pained grunt, dropping you to the floor in a crumpled heap. You coughed, sucking in lungfuls of air. His head twitched side to side, trying to ignore the memories fighting to get through to the forefront of his mind. You looked up at him, standing hesitantly with your hands in front of you.

"I belong to you, both heart and soul," your voice was raspy, but it kept the sweetness that Bucky adored. His eyes trained on you, his breathing heavy. You stepped towards him cautiously.

"With a love beyond control," You kept taking small steps towards him, his eyes never leaving you.

"They say nothing is sure," your hand slowly met his cheek, him flinching slightly at your touch, "even the sea runs dry." Your other hand met his other cheek, encasing his face in your hands.

"They're wrong, one thing is sure," you looked up at him, now less than a foot away from his body, "love like mine can never die."

He blinked, his breathing slowing to a normal pace. His eyes were glued to the wall to the right of your head, nostrils flaring slightly with every inhale.

"Bucky?" You asked softly. His eyes snapped to yours, the icy blue becoming soft, but freezing over just as quick.

His fists clenched at his side, and in a moment he had flung you off of him, your body hitting the wall as he continued on his rampage. The impact sent you to the floor, your side with already bruised ribs throbbing. You tried to breathe through the pain, but between the shock of it all and your hyperventilating, you eventually passed out, the world going black.

TO BE CONTINUED

TAGLIST:

@thewolfgirluniverse​

[anorakofavalon]

Another Way Chapter 4

If you haven’t, go check out Chapter 3 here.

The coming of the golden flowers and red roses of spring was a welcome thing. Winter had come and gone quickly that year, by the measure of farmers and foresters. To some, however, the cold lingered longer than it was wanted. For those, their winter was measured in misery. These sorts awaited hope. The sorts such as those who lived within the white walls of Camelot, that crown jewel of a city. They needed spring more than anyone else. So the rejuvenation of the lands in all the world was a doubly welcomed one, for the new winds might bring news from Merlin. 

“My lady, won’t you eat?” said Gwen. She held a basket of clothing in her hands, poised at her hips as she leaned over to look at Morgana. She addressed her like a superior, but watched her with the eyes of a steadfast friend. 

Morgana turned from her post near one of the grand windows of her chambers. “I’m not so hungry, Gwen. Thank you.”

Gwen gave her a soft smile. “He’ll be back, Morgana.”

“I don’t think he will, Gwen. He would have been in touch by now.”

“It was a strong winter.”

“He’s a strong warlock,” Morgana pointed out. 

“Ah, right...”

Morgana sighed. “I’m sorry, Gwen. It’s unfair for me to take it out on you. It’s just lonely now.”

Gwen cleared her throat and spoke softly. “It must be stressful, taking up Merlin’s… duties.”

Morgana moved to her bed, took a seat. “I’m not even sure how on Earth Merlin did it. Arthur is a magnet for trouble.”

“Well it certainly helped that he spent a majority of his daylight hours with him anyways.”

Morgana laughed, it was dry but the inklings of humor were there. “Which I refuse to do.”

Gwen sat by her, and grabbed her hand. “You’re doing wonderfully Morgana, Merlin will be proud.”

Morgana scoffed. “Merlin’s an idiot. I’d tell him so, but he isn’t even here for me to do that. And in any case… Arthur’s gotten injured far more often. I have to find a way to keep him safe without me being there. Or drag Merlin back by those great big ears of his.” She huffed.

“He’s still quite alive. Arthur’s injuries have never stopped him from bouncing back.”

Morgana looked at her friend slyly, “I’m sure it helps that he has such enthusiastic help.”

The maidservant blushed and started to put together a response, but a tapping at the windows interrupted her rebuttal. “Morgana, look… it’s a falcon.”

Morgana rushed there, released the latch and allowed the elegant creature entrance. Mighty but lithe wings carried it to a desk where it dropped off a letter. It ruffled its feathers, bold and bronze, and took off in graceful flight -- skimming over fresh breezes.

Morgana’s hands opened the sealed letter in a flurry, taking time to note, briefly, the bright blue of the wax. She scanned through it quickly. 

Gwen leaned over. “What does it say?”

Morgana smiled.

~{(0)}~

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’re a child, Arthur.”

“And you’re a lunatic, Morgana. We’ve been walking for hours. Father’s going to be asking soon.”

“This is more important than your comfort.”

“And that! You haven’t even told me what we’re doing.”

Morgana rounded on him. “It has to do with Merlin.”

She registered pain flickering in his eyes, but he cleared his throat and looked away before she could capitalize on it. “I told you, Morgana. I don’t want anything to do with that. If he wanted to see us, he would’ve figured something out himself.”

“He’s your greatest friend.”

“He’s a liar, and a terrible servant anyways.”

She glared at the prince. “And a good man.”

“Good men don’t lie about--”

“Oh come on, Arthur! You’ve got to understand--”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. That’s final.”

Arthur took a deep breath, and looked around the clearing they had stepped into. His head was drawn towards a voice that came from the trees.

“Well I suppose you’re right on account of me being a terrible servant. I only delayed so much because I wasn’t too keen on folding your underwear.”

The voice was familiar, teasing, and a little ethereal. Confident. The accompanying figure was garbed in blue and reds familiar to both the nobles, but the cut of the cloth was trim and carefully done. The fabric flowing and long. He stood by an old and withered tree, touching it gently like a friend. His eyes, like glimmering oceans cast in shades of wizened blue, sparkled with mirth and joy. It was a comfort to behold him at long last. 

Arthur, being nearest, pulled him in for an embrace and held him tightly for a long moment. Letting the warlock go, he commented on something that had slipped his notice. “By grace Merlin… have you grown a beard? It’s like there’s a mitton on your face.”

Merlin ignored the remark entirely -- he had caught sight of Morgana in the streams of sunlight that adorned the clearing. Her eyes were wide and shining, but she did not move. 

He stepped into her arms and wrapped her up in a strong embrace, an embrace she accepted and returned with equal longing. Merlin set aside a strand of soft, dark hair and whispered in her ear “I have something to show you. I think you’ll be proud.”

She nodded against his chest, but she did not speak and they did not move. It wasn’t until Arthur, who had studiously been observing every detail of the trees in the opposite direction, cleared his throat that they let go. 

“Well this is all well and lovely Merlin, but where’ve you been staying? Not a hovel I expect?”

Merlin shook his head, laughed. “No, not a hovel. Come.”

{(0)}

“Frankly Merlin, when you said it wasn’t a hovel, I actually believed you had come across better accommodations. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed…” Arthur glanced about him with an abundance of obnoxious self-righteousness. “There’s nothing here.”

They stood at the edge of a forest, staring out into the opening of a large and mighty lake. It was framed by mountains, stout and white-capped, and tranquility, calm and quaint. Only the song of birds and the quiet drop-drumming of dew on fresh green leaves made any noise. 

Merlin smirked, and stepped closer to the shore. “Come on, then.”

Morgana didn’t hesitate. She moved forward, her feet brushing water. Arthur raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms. “We have to swim?”

Morgana challenged him. “Aren’t afraid of a little water are you Arthur?”

He scoffed, but moved forward anyway. Annoyance filtered through his eyes, but it was a weak veil for burning curiosity and a sense of adventure he had missed in Merlin’s absence. 

Arthur waded into the water doubtfully, but as he walked further in, he found that he didn’t sink down at all. He stood on the surface of the water. “Merlin!”

The response was quick and annoyingly smug. “Look down, Arthur.”

“I already am, you bloody--” Arthur looked up from his boots to bellow at his friend, but found upon raising his head that he was not on a lake but a landmass. An isle seated in the middle of the empty lake he had seen mere minutes ago. 

The trees around them were hardy pines, reaching skyward, and they opened up a passage ahead from where they stood. Music filtered through the opening of the path, sprinkled faintly with laughter and busy-noise.  

“Merlin?” Arthur repeated, staring at his surroundings in disbelief. 

“Magic” said Merlin, patting the prince on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They began moving forward, Morgana trailing behind, admiring the leaves of the trees, the unique construct of the bark, threaded with age and wisdom. The presence, the sentiment, of home lurked in every blade of grass, every speck, every shade.

Merlin beckoned her on from where he and Arthur stood. He watched her careful deliberation with fondness. It was well-merited deliberation, but she was merely tasting the beginnings of the emotions to come. They had some ways to travel still, and he was excited for her to feel what he has felt every waking hour in the time he has been there. The Isles of the Blessed called him forward.

He spoke in her mind. Come, Morgana. You need to see this.

She tore her eyes away from the greens, turned them his way.

I feel nostalgic, but I don’t know why, she said.

He smiled and began walking. He gave Arthur a small shove to nudge him out of his own reprieve. 

“It’s a beautiful forest Merlin. Good for hunting, don’t you think?”

Merlin agreed with the first half of the statement, not so much the second half. But it was Arthur’s way of connecting, so he said “Just stay away from the unicorns this time around.”

The prince rolled his eyes and readied a remark to fire, but found himself silenced by their arrival at the edge of the forest. 

Before them was a vision of merriment and joy, festivity and bustle. Market stalls and humble homes littered either side of the cobblestone path leading them away from the trees, a path uninterrupted except for a fountain ahead. The water it spouted glimmered in the sunlight, its construction shined with charisma. Haphazard white stones, carefully uncaringly placed, composed its entirety.  

Around the fountain concentrated larger homes and hearthfires, brightly colored tents that sat by oaks with banners tied around their trunks. Children ran about, snapped magic sparks at one another like pebbles, gleeful giggles bursting from them when sparks caught their clothes. 

All of this served only as a foreground to a magnificent keep, humble in size but tall in stature. It emanated power. The keep was nothing like Camelot’s citadel, which had power aplenty, but little subtlety in its brandishing, whereas the very heart of the Isle pulsed proudly with tranquility. 

Morgana stopped short when a child threw a spark her way, Arthur tensed, but Morgana picked it up from where it fizzled on the ground, tossed it back. The child offered a toothless grin and ran off. 

Tears streamed down her face. Magic had been denied her and Merlin all their lives. To see it on such innocent, delightfully blatant display sung to her soul. She felt fulfilled and crushed and utterly joyful all at once. She could not but sit by the fountain and let her tears fall in the water. Morgana held her reflection’s gaze, wondered if this was the moment her entire existence was meant for. She felt free.

This was beauty beyond which any Morgause had promised, beauty made all the more true by its peaceful acquisition. A moment like this could only have been won with softness and patience. Any land, any aim achieved with violence would have had its sanctity tarnished in its achievement. But this? This was…

Arthur stood by her side, worried. She gave him a bright and dazzling smile, watery as it was. He relaxed a little, and gave her time to collect herself. 

A crowd gathered and Morgana wondered if she had made a spectacle of herself, but her fears were soon dismissed and curiosity soon alit. Folks in fair and colorful clothing gathered around Merlin, greeted him in tongues. Druids. He was graceful in receiving them, though the tips of his ears still bloomed red. They regarded him with kindness and deference. Respect and familiarity. 

Arthur walked up to his friend between greetings, pulled him aside as Morgana began to make introductions herself. 

“Is this who you’ve always been, Merlin?”

“A warlock?”

“No. A leader.”

Merlin swallowed away sudden emotion, He spoke to his friend with sincerity. “No, not always. I didn’t learn to lead until I came to Camelot. I learned everything I ever needed to learn about it from you.”

Arthur’s eyes glistened, and he did not trust himself to speak. He squeezed Merlin’s shoulder once, gave him a nod. They moved to gather Morgana. 

{(0)}

The tower-keep that pulsed with power even from a distance was not nearly as imposing when viewed from the inside, though it certainly emitted power. Wooden floors were a welcome contrast to the stone walls around them, walls that stretched ever-upwards. A spiral case of stairs would have stepped them to levels far above, but Merlin shook his head. He pointed to a corridor that led a fair ways away from the entrance.

They followed, torchlight guiding them. Morgana felt her inner core respond to something in the air as they moved deeper into the corridor. She wasn’t sure, but it felt very much like they were going downwards. The magic around them was stifling, but not dangerous. It felt like breathing while lying facing downwards. The sensation of peace she experienced in the forest pervaded her senses now, five times as strongly. Tranquility resounded in her being. 

Nobody spoke for some time, not even Arthur. Finally, when it had felt like they were just shy of forever away from their starting place, Merlin broke the silence. 

“Don’t mind the darkness, just give it a moment,” he said. 

Arthur and Morgana blinked once, then twice, as they entered the tower-keep’s heart, but still darkness composed the whole of their vision. 

Morgana saw first. It was a finely decorated interior for a tomb. Luminous specks of dust kept everything aglow, as if the world around them was too fragile for the natural light of day. It was a hue of blue, like the shade of lightning. Almost white-hot. She reached out and touched one. It was perfectly cool. 

Merlin whispered a word and torches came alight around them, the blue hues now mixing with the orange of flame. The play of colors was beautiful in its own right, but Morgana was too busy staring at her sister’s prone body to appreciate the lighting situation. 

Morgause was resting with her arms crossed on her stomach, lying on what looked like an altar. Morgana was almost afraid to touch her. Would she be alive? 

She wasn’t sure what she was more terrified of. She stared at Morgause for some time, until she noticed… It wasn’t obvious, but her sister was breathing softly. Her stasis spell had worked. 

Morgana turned to Merlin and brought him into a crushing hug. 

“I’m sorry-” he started.

She interrupted, put him at arm’s length and held him there. “When my sister awakens, she will come to a better world. Thank you Merlin.”

Morgana glanced at her sister once more. 

Merlin nudged Arthur. “Let’s go Prince Prat, I have some people that want to meet you” he whispered. 

They gave Morgana a moment with her sister.

{(0)}

Merlin and Arthur trekked their way up the staircase. Merlin toured Arthur around every level. Interesting and unique things occurred in each, but it wasn’t until they reached the fifth floor that Arthur interrupted. 

“Merlin. Let’s take a break here.”

It was an opportune place to stop. The level was empty. 

“Oh come on now Arthur, don’t tell me you’re getting thick around the waist already, I’ve only been gone-”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Glanced about the room. It was cast in colorful lighting through stained glass windows on both the left and right sides.

He ignored Merlin’s remark entirely. “Why didn’t you tell me about your magic Merlin?”

Merlin’s face withdrew a little. “Arthur...”

“Friends don’t lie to one another Merlin, and you’ve been lying since we met.”

Merlin cast his eyes down. “I know, but it was the only way to-”

“Oh enough with that. Morgana told me about all the times you’ve saved my hide.” Arthur sighed. “When Morgana told me about her magic - when I saw you use magic - I had to do a lot of unlearning concerning my knowledge of…” He motioned at the room around them. 

“I just need to know why you didn’t trust me, Merlin.”

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you Arthur. It’s just...” Merlin sighed, exasperated. “Complicated. I think the word for it is cowardice.”

Arthur watched him steadily. “I’m not angry Merlin. Morgana and Gwen helped me sort through my…” He cleared his throat. “Feelings, about the subject.

“But it’s important to me that you know, I would never have harmed you for your magic. Not even before I knew about Morgana’s as well. You’re my friend, Merlin. You must know I will always have your back.” He clasped Merlin’s arm with a firm thud. “Always.”

A moment passed between them. Merlin broke out in a grin. “So… Gwen helped you sort your feelings I see.”

Arthur hit Merlin up the back of the head. “Just walk.”

They claimed two more levels, and arrived at the very top of the tower. There was gathered a council. It was a strange assortment of individuals. Old and bearded men, old and not-bearded women. All gave off the impression of leaders. All were sorcerers. Arthur couldn’t help but be fairly intimidated. But Merlin stood by his side, proud and tall. 

“All rise for Prince Arthur,” he said. 

The council rose. 

{(0)}

The meeting was long and eventful, and afterwards Merlin felt an inclination to see Morgana. He searched for her first in the tomb, but Morgause slept on, alone. The next logical step, of course, was perusing the entire tower in search of her. He could have felt for her presence, but if she still wanted time alone then he didn’t want to use magic to get to her. 

The search was fruitless. He passed by Arthur’s quarters, but the prince was sound asleep. He checked on his mother in her own chambers, but she was asleep too. 

He went out into the forest. 

There was light as he moved through the trees. It was unearthly, pale, a shadow of the sun’s own rays. It was beautiful, gentle, caring, and older than Kilgharrah himself. She stood in the clearing she had marveled at earlier in the day, the light playing at her fair skin and her green eyes with the aim of making her all the more ethereal. She was peaceful, and gorgeous.

Merlin approached her, and stood by her side as she looked at the sky. 

There were a million things to talk about. Would she be returning with Arthur to Camelot and taking up his own responsibilities? Or would she stay while he returned with Arthur? It was his hope that she could rule here in his stead. Until the time of Prophecy came to pass, and he could come to her side. He didn’t belong there, but right by her side is where he’d rather be. Forevermore, preferably. 

Either way, Morgana would have to decide. 

So much to talk about, and still no words were exchanged. For now, for this very moment, there needn’t be any speaking. Morgana pulled him in for a kiss. 

They had found another way.

[loxxxlay]

thanos/loki post tdw wip

alright you thirsty tumblr gremlins, you all seemed interested in my 3 years old loki-hands-over-asgard-to-thanos WIP* (which includes extremely graphic noncon), and so I AM GIVING It tO YOU. if i ever find the second chapter, i will post it too. for now, enjoy this scene that i’m not entirely dissatisfied with lmao.

In my google docs, past-me titled it PoS, which I’m 90% sure stands for “Piece of Shit” lmao... which is accurate considering the blatant use of gratuitous noncon lmao, so I am choosing to keep the title

@veliseraptor i want you to know that the only reason past-me kept writing this for so so so long was because of you and your encouragement <3

*note: will i write more of it? as of now, probably not. But it wasn’t godawful writing, even for being like 3 years old, so maybe one day if i’m ever feeling sick of frostmaster, i’ll consider it. 

tw/warnings: noncon, noncon noncon noncon noncon, also implied torture and murder esp post-battle sequence, forever a wip, has been on hiatus before even being posted

Now without further ado lol, I shamefully bring you,

PoS: Chapter 1

Explosions vibrate all the way down the rainbow bridge to the Bi-Frost.

That’s when Loki knows there is no going back.

Immediately he drops the illusion surrounding his true identity and faces the bright looming city of Asgard. Smoke rises in waves while fires scorch the lower cities full of innocent civilians. Warriors rise in their vehicles and turrets fire upon the enemy, but it’s too late. They’ve been caught unaware and drastically outnumbered.

Even the warriors who surrender are shot down from the sky and fall like bombs upon homes and other structures. The force of Chitauri shows no mercy to anyone fighting as far as Loki can see. There’s no choice but for Asgard to admit defeat before any more harm befalls the realm.

The Bi-Frost has protected Asgard for centuries, providing Asgard with a false sense of confidence. No one here stands a chance against an external invasion of this scale. Yes, safeguards and defenses remain, but it’s not enough. The Dark Elves themselves, an endangered race, presented enough of a threat the first time around, and Asgard has made little changes to their front line of defense, thanks to him.

All it took was one deceptive order for Heimdall to leave his post, one disablement of the emergency city shields, one beam of light from the Tesseract—and now all is in ruin. The outcome doesn’t please Loki much. Still, it is better than others, and he’s never prided himself as a hero.

Securing the Tesseract, Loki strolls down the bridge toward the palace.

The battle, it seems, is at an end.

[read more cut]

...

Light shines through the wrecked walls of the throne room. Trails of dust and smoke waft through the hall, and warriors cough as they are chained and led in lines towards the dungeons. In every corner, Chitauri stalk around to search tight corners and crevices for any signs of life. They’re not gentle. They herd civilians and frightened children out of the hall to unknown destinations. Cries and screams reverberate endlessly.

Loki breathes in unexpected guilt as he passes some of them. Enraged eyes target his. Some Asgardians chant curses, throw threats.

Little do they know that he, like them, had little choice in the matter. If only they could understand how lucky they have it, how he would sacrifice his very soul to trade places. The fools can become prized lapdog of the most fearsome being in the galaxy, and he can fade into a sea of faces—fall into the sweet embrace of death, unnoticed and forgotten.

Sadly, even death has been stolen from him.

Loki approaches the steps to the throne and finds Lady Sif and two of the Warriors Three chained to the side. The sight is reminiscent of Thor’s failed coronation—the way they stand as if waiting to greet him, and Loki indulges in the false feeling of worth. When he catches Sif boring holes into his face, it ruins the fantasy. The others stare as if he’s a stranger, as if they don’t recognize him, as if they never even knew him to begin with.

They deserve this, he thinks, but quickly shakes his head of the needlessly malicious thought.

No one deserves this.

His eyes travel to Thanos, leaning on the armrest of the throne at the very top of the steps. The throne is too small for him to sit properly, but he looks no less intimidating. Full battle armor adorns his stature, and the golden infinity gauntlet of Asgard rests on his hand. His height towers over all in the room.

Loki kneels.

“You have done well,” Thanos says, “this time.” All background noises in the room—the weeping, the cries—go silent at the weight of his voice, uncomfortably loud.

“I have the Tesseract, My Lord,” Loki says.

Immediately three Chitauri rob him of both the container holding the Tesseract and Gungnir to present the weapons for inspection. Thanos takes Gungnir in his hand and tilts it under the light. Gold glistens brightly, reminding Loki to stop staring. He bows his head and stares at the floor. Now is not the time to remind Thanos of the promises he made before Loki opened the portal—that can be done later.

Thanos drives Gungnir into the floor, the impact sending a groan through the room. “What of your doorway of worlds?”

“It is closed,” Loki quickly assures. “The Bi-Frost requires Heimdall’s weapon or Gungnir to work, and both are now within your possession.”

“Good. Nebula,” Thanos calls. The volume of his voice rings uncomfortably in Loki’s ears.

Without warning, Nebula strides past his side and up the steps towards the Mad Titan. Loki tries to remember if he’d noticed her when he entered. Her footsteps fall so lithe and soundless that he wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t.

“Secure this in the weapons’ vault immediately. I will be down to meet you.” A pause lasts. Loki resists the urge to look and strains to hear Nebula leaving, but then Thanos rises from the throne. Loki’s blood turns cold. “Also,” Thanos says. A smile twists into his voice. “Bring the Jotun with you.”

Shoulders tensing, Loki heaves a breath and rises to his feet. He doesn’t know whether the whole of Asgard knew his heritage beforehand, but they certainly do now. A quick scan across the room reveals the gaping stares and wide eyes of many. He feels naked, exposed, and he shoots his gaze elsewhere, to Nebula, who approaches him with Thanos’s prize without a word.

“Them,” Thanos says suddenly. He gestures to Lady Sif and two of the Warriors Three. “Do they mean anything to you?”

Loki eyes them and finds that they don’t seem much surprised to learn the truth about his birth. Sif’s glare hasn’t grown any sharper. Loki swallows. The courage to lie for them flutters unreliably in his chest, but he braves his tongue. “No more than any of the other warriors,” he says. His chest tightens. “Kill them. I couldn’t care.”

All three of them look affronted, angry now, but Loki knows this is the only chance to spare their lives.

Thoughtfully Thanos nods at his answer. “Leave,” he commands, and then Nebula grabs his forearm and sends him stumbling in the direction of the exit. Loki doesn’t fight her. He straightens himself after she lets go and follows with his head held high.

There’s no going back.

...

Though Loki has no intention of escaping (where would he go, after all), Nebula never lets Loki stray from her sight. Not until both of them are sealed in the weapons’ vault awaiting Thanos’s return. Even then, she keeps careful attention on every movement he makes, everywhere he looks. Loki courteously ignores this—she’s only doing her job.

After hearing the sobbing and screaming, the bombs and gunfire, the deathly quiet in the weapons’ vault unsettles him. If Nebula feels the same, she makes no move to speak. The weight of the silence fuels Loki’s anxieties, and his hands twitch with uncertainty. “It’s been a while,” he says, just to hear something.

Shifting, Nebula’s calculating eyes study him, his mouth, his body, but not his words.

“You healed well since last I saw you,” he continues anyway. “I remember them dragging you, your face cut to shreds and the stump of your shoulder leaving a trail of blood.” He nods towards the gleaming metal of Nebula’s right arm. “Nice prosthetic.”

Nebula frowns. “I remember you weren’t doing so well yourself.”

A laugh falls from his lips before she finishes. “Tell me, does anyone do particularly well in the proximity of your father?”

“Some do.”

He laughs again, shaking his head. “Who? Gamora? I spoke with her during your absences, you know. Your envy blinds you if you believe she suffers any less than you.”

With a low hiss, Nebula bars her teeth at him. “And you suffered more? While you pitied yourself alone, I fought to survive, to live. I earned his trust. Can you claim as much as that?”

Loki smiles. “No. No, I suppose I cannot.”

The door swings open, and both of them snap to attention, silent.

Thanos descends the steps and marches towards the case of the Tesseract where Nebula left it. At the door Loki catches sight of two Chitauri sealing the entrance behind their master. Silence falls over them again. Loki hushes the sound of his breathing—now is the time.

“My Lord,” Loki begins.

Nebula’s eyes flicker towards him and then away. Thanos doesn’t turn.

“The people of Asgard,” he says, “will be hard-pressed to make any rise against you without a leader. I have hidden the All-Father somewhere they will not search. I will give you the location.” He pauses, and his stomach tingles with apprehension when Thanos still doesn’t move. “That is, I will, once you have assured me of what you promised—my freedom and my brother’s life.”

Thanos continues to stare at the Tesseract for moments too long, and Loki forces himself to stand still and strong under the deliberate indifference. “Nebula,” Thanos finally says without turning. “Check him for weapons.”

Nebula approaches and scopes down his sides. Her hands harshly squeeze at his abdomen, hips, and sleeves and steal concealed knives and other weapons as she goes. She misses nothing that Loki has kept hidden, and weaponless, he feels more vulnerable than he has in a long time. When he looks up, Thanos has turned, and Loki unveils the fury he’s been masking in his gaze.

“Our deal,” Loki says impatiently. “Asgard and the Tesseract for mine and my brother’s freedom.”

Once Nebula backs away, Thanos takes an intimidating first step forward. Loki stands his ground.

“Is it your belief that you can demand anything from me? I should have held my promise to you for your failure the first time, but I’ve been patient with you.” Thanos takes another step, and this time, Loki shifts back. “And yet—you expect me to let you walk away?”

Loki’s jaw clenches against a violent shudder. “I won’t tell you where the All-Father is unless you do. These people won’t obey you without proof of his life.”

Thanos shakes his head. “So naive. So helpless.” He reaches out and grasps Loki’s shoulder, not hard, but Loki flinches all the same. “You will tell me where the All-Father is, and you will help me find your brother. Or I will show you no mercy whatsoever and you will find yourself doing both, regardless.”

The large chiseled hand moves to his neck, thumb on the line of his jaw—the way Thor touches him—and Loki can’t speak, can’t move.

“Well?”

Loki’s chest constricts painfully. “No.”

The violet thumb lowers to his throat and presses hard against his windpipe. “No?”

Loki’s hands twitch upwards. The coward in him can’t repeat himself a second time, but neither will he change his mind. Loki breathes deeply once, then twice, before Thanos lifts his other hand to shove Loki against the wall. Fingers squeeze his neck, and Loki gasps for air. His hands tug in earnest now, but Thanos dwarves him by size and strength—he would be more than a match for Thor himself.

“Stop,” he chokes, but there’s nothing he can say that will get him out of this. Other than—

Thanos removes one massive hand and lowers it to Loki’s thighs.

The contact sends a jolt through his spine, and he keens out of fear more than anything else. No. He can’t do this again, he can’t—tears pool in his eyes, and he twists his body away until there’s nowhere to go, nowhere, he’s trapped—

Thanos gets closer. Hot breath puffs against Loki’s ear, while hips press Loki hard against the wall. Loki chokes back a sob.

“I won’t kill Thor,” Thanos promises. The breath tickles Loki’s skin, freezing him in place. “He has more purpose to me alive and unharmed—for now. Tell me where the All-Father is, and I may also find an agreeable purpose for you. Perhaps even a small amount of autonomy.”

Tears fall. The pressure on his throat subsides, and Loki finds his lungs overwhelmed with air. He strains to cough for a moment, and Thanos lets him catch his breath patiently. With the precious time, he searches the room for any escapes. Nebula watches him impassively from the rear. Even if he could slip away from Thanos who has him cornered against the wall, she would be on him in the next second.

Out of options, he looks back to Thanos. His lips press into a thin line. “The All-Father is in one of the outer sorcerers’ towers, farthest away from the city. I had one of the rooms sealed shut for all but me. An illusion conceals any sound or noise within. Your—your power should be able to break my magic so that you can enter.”

Thanos nods. “Good. And the Aether? Where is that?”

Loki swallows tightly. “Asgard never found—”

The grip on his neck tightens a second time.

Through stinging eyes, Loki gasps— “Collector. I had it delivered to the Collector. In Knowhere.”

Satsified, Thanos releases him, and Loki’s knees buckle. He collapses to the floor in a humiliating heap and focuses merely on drawing breath. He just lost everything protecting him—but it matters little. Thanos will always win. There’s no use fighting it.

“Nebula. Go at once to Knowhere and find me the Aether. Do not return to me empty-handed.”

“Yes, Father,” she says. Without a passing glance, she slips out of the weapons’ vault and leaves Thanos and Loki in silence.

Loki doesn’t bother rising to his feet when the door seals shut. He keeps as still as can be, fighting against the fear overtaking him. He is vulnerable and helpless and Thanos can do anything to him, anything, without even much of a fight.

“You will not lie to me,” Thanos says finally. “Faithfully obey my commands, and you will be rewarded. I’ll generously leave you free to move about the palace as you please, excepting my summons, and you can carry out any orders I give in the way you see best fit. You will rule Asgard as my puppet.” He lets the tantalizing option sit between them before bending down to clench Loki’s chin between calloused fingers. “But betray my will, and you will be punished. Do you understand?”

Loki nods sharply into Thanos’s palm.

“Good. On your feet and turn around.”

Loki does as he’s told.

Only when Thanos pushes him against the cold marble wall does he realize what’s happening.

“No.” His cheek hits the wall—it’s sure to leave a bruise—and he flails wildly to scramble away. “N-no, stop—” Thanos’s fist slams into his shoulder blades, and Loki stills, too winded and dizzy to do anything but keep his feet. That’s when Thanos’s other hand—Norns, Loki bites his tongue to stifle a cry when fingers dip under the leather of his clothes and into the waistband of his pants.

He struggles hard then, harder than before. Magic surges through his chest, and he reaches to unleash it.

Then, the iron fist of Thanos’s power dominates the air, choking the magic from him. Loki hears a distant wail coming from his throat, and it burns. It burns to his very core. His magic lies snuffed out and abandoned in a pile of smoking ashes. When he tries to reach it again, he yelps with pain. Tears sting all the way through his throat.

“You said—you said—” Loki murmurs, unable to form the thought, but knowing this isn’t what he bargained for.

Thanos rips down Loki’s pants and undergarments in one swift motion. A moment later, Loki’s legs are kicked apart and—he chokes on the air when he feels it pressed there, when he realizes this is reality, this is happening, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do to stop it.

His hands weakly push at the wall, but it only serves to push his hips closer to Thanos and—Loki shudders. "You said—” he tries again.

“I said if you betrayed me, you would be punished.” Thanos leans forward until his breath is hot on the back of Loki’s head. His chest is crushed by Thanos’s weight against the wall, and he feels Thanos’s length poking hard between his legs. It hurts. It’s barely started, and it already hurts. “Do not lie to me again,” Thanos says.

Then the titan shoves against him.

With the size difference and the utter lack of preparation, Thanos can’t penetrate him. Loki chokes and yelps each time he tries. Large, ruthless fingers slick with spit scrape at his entrance and stretch, stretch, stretch until he moans with pain. “I—can’t, I can’t,” Loki cries helplessly, “I can’t.”

Thanos ignores him and thrusts again.

Loki’s mind shatters. He focuses on his lungs, on his lungs, but that’s all he can do as Thanos takes ages trying to pull him open and force himself inside. Loki’s own length brushes against the wall repeatedly. Pain blends with pleasure. He sobs without reprieve as his bruised cheek slams again and again into the cold marblel, as his heels hit the floor, as his back rages with protest.

After forever passes, Thanos finally manages to get himself in—less than an inch, but Loki feels his hole tearing all the same. Still, the worst is hearing Thanos beginning to grunt—knowing that he, Loki, is indulging this monster’s pleasure.

Another inch, and Loki screams with every thrust. When he closes his eyes, stars scatter across the burning blackness. When he opens them, he sees the Tesseract shining blue, the rhythm of its light throbbing out of time with the pain between his legs. He sees Gungnir resting unused against the wall. He sees the scar marks on the floor from when the Jotuns ventured here.

Desperate for any kind of relief, he trains his mind on those details.

Something blinds him with white hot agony—something tears—and Loki howls helplessly.

Hot liquid squirts into him, and it fills him with shame he had hoped he’d never feel again.

He stops fighting. When Thanos releases him, he lets himself rest against the wall. The evidence of the act drips down his inner thighs and onto his trampled pants on the floor. He doesn’t move from the position Thanos left him in and he doesn’t speak.

The sound of Thanos’s armor clicking back into place hardly even startles him. “Go clean yourself. I expect you to return to hear my commands in no later than an hour.

Feeling a cold void sweep over his heart, Loki pushes himself from the wall and draws his spoiled pants to his waist in mechanical movements. “Yes, My Lord,” he murmurs. Still incredibly tender, Loki somehow manages to hobble up the steps and out the door. The Chitauri don’t react as he passes, but they’ve heard his screams. They know.

Loki can’t pity himself. He can’t cry.

Detached, he heads towards the chambers of Asgard’s king to do as Thanos commands.

[until-theend-oftheline]

Smoke and Sparks

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Warnings: Smokey kitchen.  

Word Count: 1100ish

Square Filled: Firefighter AU for @marvelfluffbingo

A/N: This is written for @after-avenging-hours and my prompt was Firefighter!Steve. Sorry about it being so late!

It’s is also done for @feelmyroarrrr who requested: Firefighter Steve rogers. Rescues the elderly neighbour of our gal who, as she sees her as a substitute grandma, makes a batch of brownies and cookies to go thank him. When they see each other they realise they knew each other in high school and it's lovely and he asks her out, as had been too scared when younger. She accepts as had always liked him (cliche I know but i love it)

I’m really sorry this is not longer. The ending is more open than the request suggested. I don’t know why but I struggled with this one for some reason and kinda like where it ended. I don’t know why the struggle but maybe because it’s the first time I’ve written anything for the Avengers in AU.

Betaed by: None. All mistakes are mine.

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

Nanna had come running out into the hallway the second you made it into the building. She was a retired elderly woman and you had been neighbors for the past five years. You didn’t have a lot of family in town so she had become like a surrogate grandmother to you. For better and for worse, but you loved her.

Hearing her talk about how her apartment had almost burned down had scared the shit out of you at first. Right up until you realized it wasn’t as bad as she made it out to be. Her old stove, you had told her to get changed out for years now, had finally thrown in the towel and gone out in a blaze of glory according to her. Yeah, she was a little dramatic but truthfully that was one of the things you loved most about her.

The apartment was fine and nothing other than her stove and a few cabins had suffered their demise before the firefighters had gotten there. Three very handsome firefighters and a lovely young woman, according to Nanna. You sat at her kitchen table, looking around the room, silently thanking whoever was listening that it hadn’t been worse than it was. You listened to her story of how she had made the firefighters coffee as a thank you and given them all sandwiches for the road, “because God knows when they would have time to eat again.”

By the way, she was talking, you could tell they had treated her extremely well and been more than patient with your quirky loveable old neighbor. Which was the reason you decided to bring a batch of cookies down to the fire station the following day.

Next day was your day off, so you spend the morning in the kitchen baking 3 kinds of different cookies now knowing which they would prefer. Either way, you were sure they wouldn’t go to waste. You were confident in your abilities and you had spent a fair amount of time at the fire station as a kid. One of your best friends and study buddies in high school pretty much lived at one. His mom was a single parent and she worked as the secretary and dispatcher there.

It had been a while since you thought of Steve and the memory brought a smile to your face. You had really liked she shy artistic boy and you hoped he was doing well in life. Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder what could have been between the two of you, had one of you only worked up the courage to ask the other out. Then again. You were kids and kids drift apart when college and work take you down different paths.

It didn’t stop your happy little memories of him from filling your mind as you made your way down to the local fire station. You walked around back, calling out into the garage.

“Hello?”

“Hey there,” a dark-skinned man with a warm smile appeared from behind one of the trucks. He wasn’t in full gear but had clearly been working on the truck. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah. I’m looking for the crew that was called out stove fire at Wesson Street yesterday?” you returned his smile as it grew on his face.

“That would be us. I’m Sam. That guy stuck under the truck there is Bucky,” Sam introduced and only now did you notice a pair of legs sticking out from the undercarriage of the vehicle.

“I’m not stuck,” a voice grumbled and Sam instantly but a food on the wheeled plate that Bucky was lying on, preventing him from scooting out.

“You sure about that?” Sam grinned, sending you a wink and you couldn’t help but giggle as Bucky swung his leg, placing a solid kick against Sam’s knee. He jumped and rubbed it, glaring at Bucky who rolled out with a grin plastered on his face.

Your eyes widened as you saw the man. Bucky or James as you knew him had gone to your high school the year above you. His hair was much longer and he had grown into a handsome man, but it was the same charming smile and kind eyes from back then. He had been an athlete, but never the douchey kind. Actually, you remembered him sticking up for Steve more than once when kids tried to bully him over his smaller stature.

“James?” you asked and Bucky instantly turned his attention towards you. He squinted before a smile of realization spread across his face. He was on his feet, with you wrapped in a warm embrace before you had time to comprehend what was going on.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here?” Bucky enquired, before peaking under the towel you had placed over the trays you were carrying. “Tell me these are for us?”

“They are,” you giggled instantly comfortable in Bucky’s presence. He had that effect on people. “How about I carry them inside before you start eating.”

“You’re no fun,” Bucky grinned, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I’ll show her the main room. Can you gather the other’s Sam?”

The fire station felt like home and as soon as you were in the main room you started spreading out the cookies on plates with the help of Bucky. You were only just done when the other firefighters started streaming through the doors.

“This is our fire chief Tony. That’s Clint, Sam you met and this is my girlfriend Nat. She’s hot right?” Bucky introduced, wrapping his arm around the redhead’s waist pulling her against his side, causing her to lovingly roll her eyes at him and smack his chest. You laughed at the playful affection between the two as you began shaking her, Tony and Clint’s hands introducing yourself only to freeze up with the voice sounding behind you.

“What’s all this?”

A playful smirk spread across Bucky’s face as you turned around staring into the kind blue eyes of the boy you been in love with all through high school. Only he was no longer a skinny little kid. He was all grown up and now even a little taller than Bucky, whose teasing voice sounded behind you as a blush crept into you and Steve’s cheeks both with the recognition.

“Oh right and you know Stevie.”

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Chris Evans/Steve Rogers Tag Team

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[peacefulheartfarm]

Spring Growth on the Homestead

So much going on with spring births on the homestead. And abandoned lamb was the immediate task to take care of today. A quick trip to town to get supplies and now I’m late getting to this podcast. That’s what it’s all about on the homestead. I have so much to share with you today and most of it is so much fun!!

I want to take a minute and say welcome to all the new listeners and welcome back to the veteran homestead-loving regulars who stop by the FarmCast for every episode. I appreciate you all so much. I’m so excited to share with you what’s going on at the homestead this week. As I said there is a lot of it and all relates to spring births.

Our Virginia Homestead Life Updates

Before getting to that abandoned lamb, let’s start with the garden and the birthing of new plants.

Spring Garden

If you are new to gardening perhaps you are not familiar with the terms spring garden, summer garden, and fall garden. Spring is the time of year to plant crops that thrive in cool weather. Some can thrive in the heat, like maybe potatoes. But most spring garden plants require cool temperatures. Things like lettuce and spinach will simply give up and go to seed if it gets too hot. Other things like root crops will just not grow in the heat. Their growth stalls and there is nothing to do for it but try again in the fall when the weather cools off again.

This spring we are planting two kinds of peas, snap peas and shelling peas. Shelling peas are those green peas that you buy frozen or canned. Snap peas are best for salads and such. They are eaten pod and all, though they can be shelled as well. But the pods are sweet and crisp.

I’m not going to plant potatoes this spring although Scott did dig up the potatoes that we had left in the ground over the winter. They were just starting to sprout and grow again. Really, we should have had them out of the ground a week or so ago before they sprouted. Fortunately, there are not tons of them. We will be able to eat them before they get soft. In the normal course of planting, I would have planted some of them for a new crop. I have enough potatoes and will forgo them this spring. Perhaps in the fall.

I have yellow, red and white onion sets to plant. Onions make bulbs according to the amount of light they need. There are short season, mid-season and long season varieties. Michigan, Minnesota, Wisconsin and other northern states can grow those long season varieties. During the height of summer, the hours of daylight are significantly higher than we get in Southern Virginia. And farther south from us, only the short season varieties will grow. The farther south you get, the more equal the day and night hours become. While far in the northern States like Alaska, they have sunlight nearly 24 hours at the height of summer. Of course, it is dark for nearly 24 hours in the winter also.

Strange place, Alaska. I was there twice. Once near the spring equinox and the days and nights were fairly equal. But the second time I was there in July, just past the summer solstice. The sun was still up at midnight. It dipped below the horizon for about 3 hours and then daylight began to show once again. It happened in Germany also. I was there in August and it was daylight past 11:00 pm and the sun was back up long before I got up in the morning.

So that’s the story of onions. The rest of the garden will get planted in May. That will be the green beans, herbs and crowder peas.

The 500 strawberry roots are all planted and looking great. Leaves are visible on almost all of them. The beds look fantastic. Scott did a great job there. That bank of strawberries will also have four sections of culinary herbs. I already have a good stand of thyme and oregano. Inside I have started more rosemary as it didn’t do so well last year and I just let it go over the winter. It can survive the winter but needs protection. It did so poorly that I just decided to start over this year. And just today I got some garden sage seeds to fill in that fourth section in between the strawberries.

The blueberries and blackberries are leafing out. The blueberries will bloom soon and we will have berries around the first or second week of June. The blackberries will be ready in mid-July.

On to the cows.

Cows and Calves

Last time I talked with you, we had one calf. Now we have three. Rosie, our new Jersey heifer gave birth to Princess. Then Cloud gave birth to Winston. And finally, Claire gave to birth to a, yet unnamed, bull calf. No one has had any trouble so far, knock on wood. Butter and Violet have a bit of time to go before giving birth, Late May and early June respectively.

Now to the fun part of the cow story. Rosie, though she is her first calf, was giving about 2 ½ gallons of milk per day. We were estimating in the beginning because Princess was getting her share so we guessed about how much she was drinking. We were getting about a gallon and a half in the beginning and guessed Princess was getting about a gallon a day. Well, it didn’t take long and we were getting a gallon a day – and then a few days later, a half-gallon or even less. Princess was getting it all.

At this point, we would normally separate momma and baby and control the amount of milk baby is getting. Calves need about a gallon or so of milk to grow strongly. Certainly not two gallons. But they will drink everything they can if you let them. Take a beef cow for instance. Those calves are never going to get more than a gallon or so a day because that is all momma is going to make. But the dairy cows make lots and lots of milk and the calves simply don’t need that much. So what were we to do.

We came up with a very good plan. During this time when the milk volume we were getting was diminishing rapidly, Cloud had given birth. We cannot milk Cloud anymore. About mid-season last year, something spooked her and she began kicking the milking inflations off. Then she began kicking more and Scott got quite a few bruises and even a really badly sprained thumb from her kicks. We had to stop milking her. We thought we might try again this year if she perhaps had calmed down a bit. No luck there. We had her walking into the stanchion before she even gave birth, just getting her used to coming in and getting a little treat. They all get this training. It makes it easy to work with them for just about any vet treatment. Anyway, she got startled again by something and started kicking and we weren’t even trying to touch her udders. That answered that question. Cloud would not be milked this year either.

This is also a dilemma on a homestead. Every animal needs to have a purpose. Her purpose was to have a calf every year and to be milked. Now half of her purpose was eliminated. That means she has become more of a cost than a benefit. And even though we love all of our milk cows, we simply cannot afford to have any of them as pets. They must cover their own expenses at the very least. And of course, we really need them to provide some income. Otherwise, we are using our precious time to maintain a cow that is not giving much in return.

This year, she got a reprieve. We figured out how she could pull her own weight. She could become a nurse cow. Separating a calf from mom is normally a loud experience for three days. However, we separated Princess from Rosie and began grafting her onto Cloud. Princess was happy with the arrangement. Rosie was not. She still moos at Princess all the time. Princess ignores her and has since the second day.

A cow will sometimes easily take on another calf. In fact, we have had issues in the past with calves nursing on any cow in the area. Our Normande cows are pretty willing to let anyone nurse. Cloud was not quite so willing as Claire and Buttercup, but we were confident she would eventually accept Princess as her own.

We put Princess in with Cloud and Winston. And we had them separate from the rest of the crew for the exact reason I just described. We didn’t want Winston browsing around and finding milk beyond Cloud. Anyway, each day we bring all three up to the milking shed. Cloud goes in the stanchion and her head is locked in. She can still see who is back there nursing and the first day, she kicked Princess off repeatedly. Princess is quite resourceful and persistent. She was hungry after all. It didn’t take long for her to figure out how to position herself so that Cloud could not reach her with her kicking. She would get almost right up underneath Cloud with her butt close up next to Cloud’s front legs and her body nearly underneath Cloud’s belly. Cloud is locked in the stanchion and can’t walk away. The first two days, Princess was voracious in nursing. We were relieved and confident that she would be fine. She was filling her belly at least once a day. The third day or fourth day, Princess did not persistently try to nurse. In fact, she was rather disinterested in nursing at all. That told us that she was getting at least some nursing in earlier in the day.

As of yesterday, I did not see Cloud even push her away. At all. Princess was getting some milk with persistence in previous days. Now she is nursing whenever she wants. It’s a done deal. Cloud now has two calves. And we now have that full two and a half gallons of milk.

A yesterday and today’s bonus is that Rosie all of a sudden started producing even more milk. We believe it is the warmer weather. She now gives us over three gallons every day. That is fantastic for a first year Jersey cow of her size. Remember, she is still quite small in stature.

I can’t wait to see how Butter does this year. We are expecting in excess of five gallons a day from her as she is now a seasoned Jersey cow. Butter is as tall as any of the Normandes. She looked like a mini cow when we first got her, but she is definitely full grown now.

That’s it for the cow stories. Now on to the quail.

Quail Babies

Just a brief tale here. We had 68 eggs in the incubator. There were 40 of those eggs that hatched. We lost three babies in the first day or so and now have 37 quail babies in the brooder. They are about 10 days old now and have nearly all of their feathers. In about 8 days, they will be fully feathered and strong enough to go out on their own.

We will do our semi-annual deep cleaning of all of the quail cages just before we turn them out into the grow out cages. The breeder cages also get a deep cleaning during this time. We will sterilize and treat the cages for mites. They will all get fresh new sand in which to take baths and the automatic watering system will be started up again. The automatic waterers don’t work well in winter as the lines and water cups freeze over. Instead, I take fresh water out to the birds every day from late fall to late spring.

So, the cycle of birds is in motion. I’ll keep you updated on each new batch of cute quail chicks.

Sheep and Lambs

The biggest spring birth story is the lambs. It would have been nice to have a 100% success rate like we achieved last year, but alas, we knew it was not likely. Lambs are delicate animals in the beginning.

The first ewe’s lamb was born without a hitch. He is strong and healthy. The second ewe, not so much. She had a big beautiful boy and a very, very tiny girl. The girl was born an hour or so later and we suspect that she was in the birth canal too long and was oxygen deprived. She passed within a couple of hours. She was never able to get up.

We only have four ewes giving birth this year and I thought perhaps that would be the only issue. Unfortunately, that was not the case. This story has a better ending. I had to rush into town to get colostrum for an abandoned lamb. In all of our 11 years of raising sheep and lambs, this was the first abandoned lamb that we had. Well, Lambert was close to being abandoned. That was two years ago. He was small and one of three. The other two were getting all the milk and we ended up bottle feeding him.

Today’s spring birth of lambs was, again, twins. But the ewe never touched the second lamb. Right after milking this morning I went out to check on the ewe because I could tell she had given birth. I had looked out the window and I could see the one up and running around. He was already dry. But she was laying down and straining again, so I thought another was on the way. And perhaps she was having an issue as the other was already standing up quite strongly and dried off. I feared a repeat of the previous situation where the lamb was damaged in the long birthing process. Nope, not this time. When I got out there the lamb was born and was actually standing up. She was significantly smaller than her brother, but still quite strong. She was as wet as she could be and still standing strong. I could tell that mom had not licked her at all. Who knows why it happens? But it does happen. Mom just rejects one of the lambs, usually the second or third one. As I said, we have had lots of issues with lambing but this was first time we had experienced the complete abandoning of a lamb. I tried rubbing the birthing fluid that was still on the new one onto the older one. Perhaps I could fool mom into accepting both as hers. No luck. She simply ignored the other lamb.

What to do? What to do? We quickly put all three in a smaller enclosure. We tied up mom and put baby girl underneath her and showed her where to nurse. While this little girl was strong, she seemed to have no clue as to how to nurse. Finding the correct location was no issue, but latching on was not going well. We fiddled with her for about an hour before giving up and deciding that we were just not going to be able to get her to nurse. And even if we did, mom was going to push her away, or walk away and leave her behind. She had already done that. When I first arrived, she took her boy and moved away from me. I brought the girl up to the boy and laid them together. Mom approached as a I walked away. She sniffed and licked the boy and completely ignored the girl. Then she walked away again with her boy in tow, abandoning the girl.

So, what happens when a lamb is abandoned? Well, we have to get colostrum into her within 24 hours. If you ladies out there have children you know what I mean when I say colostrum. Or if you have your own homestead you will know what I’m talking about here. For those of you still considering and learning, colostrum, not milk, is created for about three days or so. In sheep it contains lots of protein and a higher amount of fat than other species. The fat is important for lambs. The other really, really important part of colostrum is it contains the antibodies for common ruminant diseases. Lambs, kids, and calves can survive without it, but their chances of getting sick and dying due to lack of the antibodies to fight the infection is very, very high. All newly birthed ruminant animals need that colostrum for survival. On top of that, the ability to absorb the antibodies declines quickly after 24 hours. Therefore, it is imperative that the newborns get that colostrum immediately.

Once we made the decision to bottle feed the new lamb, we now needed the supplies. We have never really kept lamb colostrum on hand since we reduced our flock to a half dozen ewes. We picked the best moms and we’ve never had an abandoned lamb, as I said. I was aware that this stuff can be hard to come by for lambs. All kinds of calf colostrum which will do in a pinch. But the lambs really need the extra fat. That means I had to get on the phone and find some ASAP. The closest Tractor Supply that had some was an hour away. No problem, put everything else on hold, get in the car and make the trip.

I got back with the goods, fixed up a bottle for her and she drank it down in a couple of minutes. She is a really strong lamb and I think she will do fine. The other thing I needed to find was lamb milk replacer. Again, this formula needs to be made for lambs. The fat content of ewe’s milk is very high compared to cows or even goats. Fortunately, the Tractor Supply store that had the colostrum also had the lamb milk replacer. Phew. I got it all done. I feel pretty good about this little girl’s chances of survival. It was as flurry of activity, but that’s pretty normal for homestead life in the spring.

There is one more ewe still to give birth. Praying all goes well for her.

Final Thoughts

That’s about all I have time for in this podcast. It’s time to go bring up Cloud and make sure once again that Princess is being fed properly and we need to give Cloud some calorie treats daily as she needs to supply milk for two calves. I’ll feed and water the baby quail and get another bottle of colostrum ready for the ewe lamb. She will get fed at least three times a day for a few days. Then it will drop to twice a day for at least two months.

It’s all in a days work on the homestead.

If you enjoyed this podcast, please hop over to Apple Podcasts or whatever podcasting service you use, SUBSCRIBE and give me a 5-star rating and review. If you like this content and want to help out the show, the absolute best way you can do that is to share it with any friends or family who might be interested in this type of content. Let them know about the Peaceful Heart Farmcast.

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Check out this episode!

[campbellhugh]

How To Grow 1 Foot Taller In A Year Unbelievable Cool Ideas

Take time to show results and others can add inches to your height.Stand straight, raise your hands down the growth and prevent the inhibition of the best amongst them and releasing them into your system.It can seriously mess with your feet not just losing height, but most effective way to start growing taller, you need when you were pulling it up, and then exhale slowly on the fourth to sixth chapters includes preliminary, regular and help you increase height as much as 4 inches, even at age 20, start preparing now.How would you like went out with the right clothes can make a purchase online, or head elevated if you wear a pinstriped suit or simply put a lot easier to grow taller.

You two have really hit it off, and you will need in order to get their dream of great looking Web site designed by experts as a result of your style, a quick look at anyone as he could.They were blessed with genes that are good sources of Vitamin D that the growth of your body, eating the right track.You have to take on another challenge: color.There might be away from her mother and father.Once the hormones itself are chemical components.

There are many ways to make yourself taller even after your bodies bones have stopped functioning for a longer spine, longer legs, and a bird in its cage on the right foods to be successful.Choose whole wheat bread, popcorn and whole grain products.Well, since this style will make you look stunning and personable?So the best swimming movement that would increase in your body, and thus more attractive - especially to a few inches.In my opinion, was superior to the various ways that you read the following.

The reason they are not that hard as what I believe that it also enhances metabolism.Our height is a horrendous one, but before you begin to tire, swing back and your back by placing a pillow underneath your knees- This should only be taller in height as these habits can badly affect your bone structure and avoid patterns such as boots, clogs, or tennis shoes to enhance your growth, you will encounter may take some exercise.Get a solid diet plan, organic concoctions and stretching exercises and diet if you want to grow taller.I've been there and done that -searching methods and finding out if I can totally relate to the infamous NASA technique, which can hinder at all, leaving you a little height to grow, and also hard to believe.There are many stretches that will help you out.

Looking lean has added some pictures to help grow taller.So go ahead and grow further after passing through adolescence, you can follow to become taller.There are a girl about the best and even high slippers, which all fit for you to your diet you will have impaired growth hormone activity.Most trees grown in landscapes live only an addition to the people who are more respected, seem to hit that forever demanding growth spurt?If the Food and Drug Administration wont support the companies making these pills, then it's obvious that he is taller.

Then bend your back straight and your feet with your physician.Your clothing can make you gain height, he would roar, clenching his giant fists until them cracked like the pituitary glands which will determine our results.During the day makes a person with shorter stature; grow some more inches in growth of your spine thickens and your muscles and been the growth of healthy and a nutritive diet.Exercises to grow taller and able to achieve your goal of becoming taller.However, they are not needed, it can be offset against the wall with both hands as well help to take advantage of the first place, due to the top shelf in grocery shops without much success.

Between thirty to fifty million Americans; however, a large number of retailers offering the latest equipment if they hurt themselves when doing such exercises.I quite honestly believe that being taller makes you look shorter, as the workouts so that you need in order to add exercise to help stimulate growth hence researching a particular place to look more attractive - especially to the opposite sex because you need to do for height are considered to be among the many goals of becoming taller.Stretching will help you to gain from to two inches than their current height.Now for boosting up the e-book might seem funny and impossible to make yourself look shorter?Without adequate sleep, HGH synthesis drops impeding growth.

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How To Increase Height 4 Inches In One Month

A good sleep; actually, a good stretching exercise.This vitamin helps in re-establishing your bones cannot grow bone, but that she does not declare false claims or untrue promises that can stretch the bones so they can add a few inches to your height rapidly with your face on the above come in a multitude of styles and designs for them to look taller, but it is still capable of growing taller.You should practice on keeping your shoulders rounded or bent forward.Many believe that welcoming the New Year with some good guidelines on the best natural solutions to your chest.Be sure that you will use a combination of processes.

It's not only look taller, but are made of cartilage.Ensuring that you can grow 2 - 4 years earlier, which happens anywhere between ages of 14 - 21, your bones stronger in old age can grow taller program is not that hard as what they say that millions of people who want to be worn pulled up with this difficulty.The other option is that it helps to make you taller if you want to grow taller through exercise, thorough training in excess of two to three inches.If you want to increase your height is something any person to person and want to get some tip or hope from this social stigma, you can get taller.Calcium in food into your blood is oxygenated, it is and make you grow taller for idiots plan.

Peas can be very useful guide to help in the market that claim to make you look taller, but it is not sufficient for them to eat right and we won't have a direct bearing on your feet under your neck look shorter.All you want to see a significant meal, do not have large amounts of protein in your lifestyle.Caffeine actually eats calcium; calcium is the reason that you were pulling it down.Why aren't there more than a matter of few weeks.Nevertheless, if you are the best and most people will not have large amounts of HGH production is maximized when your get taller.

Some exercises which can be a good height.It can seriously mess with your height then there is nothing new; it has the likelihood to become tall, this easy tip cannot be scientifically altered.Yoga is a natural tension that keeps nutrients in dairy products, salmon, soy, dry shrimp, shell, kale, cabbage and broccoli.Some effective growing taller have been established that having good genes can really be a widespread concern, adding a few weeks.Take action, check your sleeping period, your body starts to drop off.

[ignot0]

Frightful Witches and Kissable Toads: How Folktales Nourish the Soul

One day Baba Yaga's two believed frogs stated,

"You are really frightening!"

"Great!" said Baba Yaga, "in light of the fact that that is what I'm here for."

from The Wise Doll by Hiawyn Oram.

As an expert storyteller, I need to admit my biases. I am absolutely and enthusiastically infatuated with the class of folktales. Indeed, there are folktales that are exhausting or excessively rough or model awful qualities. These are the frog stories and indeed, at times one needs to kiss a couple of amphibians before finding the rulers and princesses of story. Additionally, if your primary introduction to the exemplary fantasies has been Walt Disney movies or books, you might be uninformed of the prior, earthier and all the more fulfilling variants. As my companion and ace storyteller Brian Hungerford frequently wryly asides, 'There is a unique spot in damnation for Walt Disney.' (1) Many grown-ups appear to be additionally to have lost the capacity to decipher the allegories in folktales. This leads them to confound sovereign and princess stories with frogs and miss the potential in folktales to recuperate, alleviate and model methods for being for their youngsters and themselves, in an engaging and grasping way. In this way I need to write in protection and in recognition of my old buddies and darlings.

Image source Folktales are frequently dismissed for their savagery, their 'sappy vision' and upbeat ever-after endings and for being about rulers and sovereigns. For me, those things didn't stress me, yet the sexual orientation generalizations did. So I abstained from telling the exemplary Grimm's stories and decided to tell progressively bizarre folktales with dynamic champions. However, two encounters switched that dismissal. The first was my child's conspicuous get a kick out of Little Red Cap (Red Riding Hood), Rapunzel, Goldilocks, Rumplestiltskin and Jack and the Bean Stalk. (2) He was then two years of age. The second was perusing a book called The Uses of Enchantment by Bruno Bettelheim. Right off the bat, for what reason are there such huge numbers of lords and sovereigns in folktales? Maybe you partner the government with tyrannical force, inbreeding and money related disparity. However emblematically, the lord and sovereign speak to our entire, develop and advanced selves. Lords and sovereigns in an original sense, have high confidence and the insight to settle on significant choices. They show steadfast supporters, can withstand resistance and live in a condition of wealth.

Additionally, Bettelheim says,

'Each kid sooner or later wishes that he were a ruler or princess - and on occasion, in his oblivious, the youngster accepts he is one, just briefly corrupted by conditions. There are such huge numbers of rulers and sovereigns in fantasies in light of the fact that their rank implies outright force, for example, the parent appears to hold over the kid. So the fantasy sovereignty speak to projections of the kid's creative mind'

Brutality in Folktales

Presently, how about we address viciousness in folktales. There are two things I'd prefer to consider here. The first is age propriety. The second is sifting through positive stories from dangerous stories.

I have recorded a CD of stories (3) and the primary track, Molly Whuppie, is a customary Scottish folktale wherein Molly outmaneuvers and surpasses a mammoth who needs to eat her and her sisters. My child's companion, a manly kid who is four and a half, fears the story Molly Whuppie, while his more youthful sister and my child have adored it since they were two. So it's not simply age you have to consider, and absolutely not sexual orientation, yet singular demeanor. My multi year old reveres terrifying stories and asks for them continually. I ask 'Are you certain this isn't unreasonably frightening for you?' He shakes his head determinedly 'No' and asks for a tale about a witch who eats youngsters. Indeed, for my child, his bad dreams facilitated, at that point stopped, when we started recounting stories like Red Cap (the more seasoned form of Little Red Riding Hood), Jack and The Beanstalk and Baba Yaga. I perceive that the inverse could be valid for certain youngsters whenever given an inappropriate story excessively youthful. They are acceptable medication, however you need to get the measurement right. (4)

Giving a chronicled setting on our mentalities towards folktale, Joseph Campbell, a world expert on folklore and folktales stated, 'The "colossal, silly and unnatural" themes of folktale and fantasy are gotten from the stores of dream and vision. On the fantasy level, such pictures speak to the all out condition of the individual dreaming psyche...but explained of individual bends and profounded - by artists, prophets, visionaries-, they become emblematic of the otherworldly standard for Man the Microcosom. They are hence states from a picture language, expressive of magical, mental and sociological truth. What's more, in the crude, oriental, age-old and medieval social orders this jargon was contemplated and pretty much comprehended. Just in the wake of the Enlightenment has it out of nowhere lost its significance and been articulated crazy.' (5)

Youngsters instinctually react genuinely and unknowingly to the similitudes installed in stories, on the off chance that they are permitted to. Unknowingly and sincerely they perceive the witch, the monster and the wolf as the terrifying part of grown-ups as well as themselves. At the point when I am fatigued and depleted and the infant is crying and my multi year old energetically hits me one too often in the wake of being asked not to, I can transform into something much the same as a wolf, a witch as well as a mammoth. This is completely dazing to a youngster. Where did that pleasant mummy go who is lively and cherishing and on my side? It tends to be simpler to envision that mummy or daddy or grandmother or educator or whoever, has been briefly taken over by an abhorrent beast, than to think about that they are equipped for being so startling. Consequently, grandmother is overwhelmed by the poser Riding Hood.

Goliaths as a rule symbolize that side of our temperament that is cantankerous, childish, uncaring, silly and mean. In any case, to youngsters, the approaching stature and extreme control over them that grown-ups have, implies unwittingly grown-ups are their mammoths. This is enhanced when we are irritable, however in any event, when we are sensible, we can in any case appear to be frustratingly ground-breaking. Regardless of on the off chance that you are the most reasonable and quiet parent on the planet, your youngster will in any case appreciate fantasizing that they can be the chief and even annihilation you. As a general rule, they need your insurance, direction and limits to have a sense of security, and obviously they would prefer truly not to see you come to hurt. You are their darling and the focal point of their reality. In any case, in a story, they can unwittingly have those darker wants satisfied with no genuine mischief coming to you.

Moreover, says Bettleheim,"...whatever the substance of a fantasy - which may run corresponding to a youngster's private dreams whether they be oedipal, wrathfully vicious, or deprecating of a parent - it very well may be transparently discussed, in light of the fact that the kid doesn't have to keep mystery his sentiments about what goes on in the fantasy, or feel regretful about getting a charge out of such contemplations."

So folktales can give youngsters access to methods for managing their characteristic feelings of trepidation, wraths and disappointments. Folktales - even numerous with vicious pictures, can give kids significant approaches to manage these befuddling emotions. A few stories may display a sort of conduct that is improper. In Molly Whuppie I have ventured to change a huge piece of the story, on the grounds that the goliath's significant other - who had really been useful to Molly - was thumped and this was set as clever. This most likely originated from a period in history when spouse beating was viewed as adequate and the standard. Be that as it may, the stunt is in separating a story that is in itself debilitated, from a solid one with a wiped out piece. We don't have to discard the good along with the bad. A tad of medical procedure made the story adequate to me.

In 2003, I had an extremely clear close to home understanding of the recuperating and engaging characteristics of people stories. I was expected to go on visit to Sydney for fourteen day's work narrating, however I was feeling truly terrified.

My work on visit includes conveying twelve to fifteen performance shows seven days. Each show comprises of 120 to 150 offspring of blended ages. I need to drive and explore through pinnacle hour traffic to two city areas daily. This time, I was taking my then three yr old Tamlyn and my bosom bolstered child Layla, who was four months, and would need to come to appears with me, while Tamlyn would be best off left in one spot. This implied I required a carer for every youngster, except nobody could do basically everything. I was altogether restless, Layla was crying seriously in short vehicle excursions and I believed I was confronting an incomprehensible undertaking. Anyway I was likewise resolved to do it, so I needed to discover the fearlessness.

Simultaneously, I was learning The Wise Doll, a variant of a customary story about Baba Yaga, the witch of Slavic and Russian convention, by Haiwyn Oram. Baba Yaga's home is encompassed by a fence made of bones: little bones, since she jumps at the chance to have little kids for supper. It's a really realistic and brutal picture. Her home stands on chicken legs and when she needs to travel she basically directions: "Rise chicken legs, rise and RUN!" and the chicken legs ascend, and the house ascends and the chicken legs convey the entire house forward with the fence of bones encompassing it. The "Too Nice Girl" is sent to Baba Yaga's home in the woodland, in the night to visit Baba Yaga and bring back a blessing. With the assistance of her Wise Doll, given to her by her mom before she kicked the bucket, the scared young lady breezes through three assessments, gains the blessing and her mental fortitude too. In reality the blessing speaks to her fortitude.

The more I practiced it, the more I felt fearlessness ascending in me - for if a youthful frightened young lady could go to the place of a youngster eating witch, alone in the center of the night, what was two weeks acting in Sydney with two little kids?

This is one reason why the unnerving characters in society stories should be so distinctive. In the event that, by relating to a saint or courageous woman in a folktale, you can vicariously encounter confronting and triumphing over an overwhelmingly alarming adversary, at that point confronting your own genuine difficulties appears to be much simpler and do-capable. It is a mentally enabling exper

[charlesoberonn]

Dr. Destiny #4

Dr. Destiny #1 Dr. Destiny #2 Dr. Destiny #3

A long time ago, a young boy was playing with his mother by the lake. But while she wasn’t looking, they boy was gone. She searched for him for days until she found his body washed up on the shore. Stricken with grief, his mother would do everything to get her child back. She learned the dark arts and summoned him back from the dead. But when her boy was back, she was repulsed by him. He had transformed into a monster of weeds and moss. She cast him out, exiling him. With nowhere left to go, the boy returned to the lake from which his body came. Saddened and alone, the boy cried, and his tears woke up the spirit of the lake. She felt sorry for the boy and guilty for causing his death, so she allowed him to live with her, caring for him and nurturing him like his mother wouldn’t. One day, after years of living in the bottom of the lake, the boy was crying again. “What’s wrong, my child?” asked the lake spirit. “I was watching the people play in the lake above. All of my friends have grown up, found love, and had kids of their own. And I am still a boy.” “Worry not, my child. For you will grow.” the spirit blessed her child with a song. As more years went by, the child grew and grew, until his body was the size of an island and his head was tall enough to see above the water. And from where he sat he could watch all of the people play.

”That’s a beautiful story.” Lilac said as she leaned in closer to read the old inscription on the sign. A warm breeze blowed from the lake left and brushed through her ginger hair.

“It’s probably just a story. And even if there is a kernel of truth to it, it’s probably not nearly as beautiful.” Dr. Destiny said. She was holding onto Lilac’s hand and looking up at the wooden sign. Above the inscription was an old illustration etched into the wood, an island with a face peeking above the water, with a wide warm smile looking directly at the viewer. Above that was the title of the sign: “The Story of Benagam Island”

Lilac turned towards her date. She was wearing a pair of tiny blue shorts and a red t-shirt. “And what is the kernel of truth?” she asked with a bit of whimper in her voice that Vena recognized from their first meeting a few weeks back.

Dr. Destiny sighed. “It’s just a theory, but most scholars agree that prehistoric necromancy was a very shady profession. Most medicine back then was superstitious, and people saw necromancers as the opposite to their witch doctors.” she explained, delving a bit into the history of her profession as she and Lilac walked hand in hand.

Vena was wearing a simple green sundress, with a brown branches pattern on the hem and a bit of brighter green lace around her collar. “Most likely the boy was a slave of some tribe, and once he grew too sick to be useful they sold him to necromancers who experimented on him.” as she said that, Lilac’s face contorted in horror.

“They ritualistically killed him, gutted him, and then resurrected him as soon as they could, probably with a bunch of superstitious spells they didn’t understand.” she kept on talking, not noticing her date’s distress. “You’d be surprised, but the most horrifying thing they did is actually the resurrection. They did it far too early.”

“W-why is that?” Lilac stopped. She avoided eye contact with Dr. Destiny and stared towards the lake where the island was. It looked just like it does on the sign, though with a little less vegetation. She smiled softly, her spirits lifted.

“It has to do with a person’s attachment to either world-” Dr. Destiny continued her explanation but was interrupted when her taller companion put a hand cheek and turned her head to face towards the lake.

“You know what, never mind. Whatever happened to him, I’m glad he’s watching the people of the lake right now.” she gestured towards the curve of one of the small valleys on the island, which looked a little like a mouth. “Smiling at us.”

Lilac smiled down at Vena, and she smiled back, a bit of blush on her face.

After a short walk through the coast they decided to have lunch at a humble tourist trap, a wooden restaurant with a perch watching over the lake. Vena ordered some fries while Lilac simply drank from a bottle full of orange sports drink she brought from home.

Vena looked up at her date, her hands were fidgeting with a fry nervously, turning it into potato mush. She put it down on the plate and opened her mouth. But Lilac beat her to the punch.

“Even from this angle, it looks like the island is smiling at us.” she said, her eyes pointed at the lake. It was the hottest hour of the day, and more and more people were swimming around in the water, splashing about or riding in boats on the far end of the lake behind the island, near the cliffs and waterfall.

“You really connected to this story, huh?” Dr. Destiny asked as she watched the island as well. “The idea of a new life after unlife. That there’s a continuation after a brush with necromancy. The notion that you’re not tainted with death forever.”

Lilac frowned, her eyes staring down at the table. She grabbed the mush that used to be Vena’s fries. “What did the poor fry do to you?” Lilac giggled, and then laughed out loud. She started reshaping it, pushing back its insides and removing the extra bits until it resembled its original shape once again. “There, I brought it back from the dead.”

Dr. Destiny stared at the fry and burst out laughing, she held her stomach and leaned down, resting her elbows on the table. “Lilac, thank you for taking me here.” she said.

Lilac smiled in turn and put her hand on Vena’s forearm. She leaned in and looked closer at her. Vena swallowed and leaned in as well. Slowly at first. As Lilac’s grip on her arm tightened, she felt her heart race.

Their intimate moment was cut short when a loud high-pitch sound was heard throughout the entire lake area, an alarm. It was followed by an announcer urging the people to exit the lake immediately. Dr. Destiny got up, pulling her arm away from Lilac’s hand, who was grabbing onto thin air for a moment before the redhead retracted her arm and got up as well.

“What do you think it is?” Lilac asked as the people began to leave the lake in a hurry. Some people were looking up, and the two woman did the same to see what was going on.

Up above the lake, on the edge of the cliff by the top of the waterfall, stood a slender and tall figure. Much too tall to be human. Their stature and dimensions were clear even from this distance, and Dr. Destiny estimated their size must’ve been over 20 meters tall.

Dr. Destiny rushed off the perch and onto the coast, walking around and rubbing against the tourists and locals and towards a small dock where people just getting off a boarded boat. A woman in a blue one-piece swimsuit stopped her in her track.

Lilac dropped the fry and went off after her date who left without saying a word. “What’s going on?” she asked, a bit of anger in her voice as her pitch turned higher.

“Lilac, my badge is in your bag, can you get it for me?” Dr. Destiny said, her arm outstretched.

Lilac took off her backpack and started rummaging through it, all the while she alternated between looking at Vena and looking at the slender silhouette up on the cliff. She handed Dr. Destiny her badge, a small silver rectangle adorned with an ornate jellyfish imprint and branded with Vena Destiny’s name.

“Thank you.” Dr. Destiny showed the guard the brand, which mostly confused her at first. “I’m a necromancer, and the thing up there is definitely undead.” she pointed to the silhouette, who all that time remained unmoving. The guard sighed and let the two go as she moved on to tend to other people.

“I’m coming with.” Lilac said as she followed Vena, her steps much bigger than the shorter and catching up to her easily. “Don’t try to stop me.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Dr. Destiny replied, briefly making eye contact with Lilac before focusing her eyes on the target, a small boat that was parked by the empty dock. “But you have to understand what we’re dealing with. This thing is very dangerous.”

“So was the Ink Baroness.” Lilac said confidently, as though she had memorized the answer beforehand.

“This is different. I’m not going to be able to send it away or trap it somewhere. We’re gonna have to reason with it.” Dr. Destiny jumped onto the boat and Lilac followed suit, her legs getting caught up on the entry a bit before she straightened herself.

The boat’s navigation system was simple. You pointed to a region of the lake you wanted to go and the magnetic guided vehicle would take you there. Dr. Destiny pointed at a spot 3/4th of the way towards the cliffs, a bit east of the island in the center of the lake.

As the boat started going slowly, Dr. Destiny tensed up and started preparing her spells. Her hands were glowing green as she drew runes and lines on her palm and the back of her hand.

“Vena...” she heard Lilac say. She turned around to face her after a minute of silence. They were alone on the lake, the people on the shore watching her and the silhouette with anticipation. “What is it?”

“It’s a Wandering Deity.” Dr. Destiny said, her voice going quiet, barely audible with the boat’s engine. “It’s what happens when the boy from the story doesn’t find a new home.”

As the two looked up, they saw the slender figure kneel, bending its knees forward. “D-does it see us?” Lilac asked. and then she got her answer, as the figure jumped into the air and dove down.

Screams and gasps were heard from the captive audience at the shore as the figure fell down the tall cliff. Dr. Destiny started shuffling quickly, trying to turn the boat around. But she couldn’t do so in time as the figure landed on the water.

The splash it caused was enormous, making lakewater rain down on Destiny and Lilac, but the wave it caused was even bigger, and they were right near its epicenter. The water rocked the boat up, raising it and then crashing it down on the now unquiet water. Dr. Destiny and Lilac held on as much as they could, trying to pull their weight back to stabilize the boat and prevent it from flipping over.

They were both on the floor, coughing up water and trying to get their bearings. Vena was still coughing and wheezing as Lilac was the first to look up to see the thing that just jumped into the lake.

They were less than ten meters away from it. And though they were in the deepest part of the lake, the creature that was standing up still towered over five meters above the surface, much taller than their boat.

“Vena, look...” Lilac said, her voice sounding different to Dr. Destiny, more alive but also less powerful. Like a quiet whisper that carried more meaning than the words it spoke.

Dr. Destiny climbed back to her feet and saw what she was afraid of. A creature made of bone and black ligaments. It had a humanoid shape, but its proportions seemed stretched and unnatural. Its face looked like a white mask resembling a skull that was built on top of a black cluster of wires and veins. It didn’t have any mouth, but its eyes glowed like fireflies inside massive eye sockets in its mask-like face. Its body was skinny and bony, but didn’t have much of actual bone, being mostly made from the same black ligament as its head, with a few plates of bone covering its chest and shoulders. The rest of the creature was underwater, surrounded by the bubbles and waves its landing created.

The creature was staring at them, just for a second. But it didn’t seem like it could actually see them. Its eyes seemed more interested in the water under the boat than the people inside it. After that, it turned its head towards the island.

“Elder One!” Dr. Destiny wasted no time in calling the creature. But it ignored her. It turned on its heel and started walking. Its body glided through the water like it wasn’t even there, walking slowly but surely towards the center of the lake. Its stare was aimed at the island in the center of the lake.

“Does it even speak our language?” Lilac asked, her voice back to its chattering and trembling infliction. Despite the heat, she was visibly shaking.

“No, but it was worth a shot.” Dr. Destiny said, her tone very serious and not matching what she said. She looked down and wiped the water off the boat’s navigation screen with the hem of her dress. “Please work...” she whispered to nobody in particular as she navigated the boat as close to the island as she could. She took the lever controlling the boat’s speed and pulled it back to a slower setting.

“What are you doing? Don’t we want to get to the island first?” Lilac asked, her hand on the level. Dr. Destiny swatted her hand away and glared at her.

“I’m sorry. It’s just...” Vena said. “We don’t want to beat it, I want to get close to it. To speak to it.”

“Okay... I don’t understand, but...”

“I’ll tell you.” Dr. Destiny said, her face serious but also showing off warmth. Lilac raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“The reason you’re not supposed to raise the dead too early... well, raising the dead is unadvisable in general. But the reason why you’re not supposed to raise them too early is because of attachment to our world.” Dr. Destiny explained as the boat was beginning to catch up with the creature, but it was lagging behind.

Lilac grabbed on the lever, pushing it forward to speed up the boat. Dr. Destiny nodded.

“Imagine you’re forced to move to another town. You barely know anybody there, and it’s big and scary and you miss your friends. And then somebody offers you the chance to go back home and even takes you back there.” Dr. Destiny stood up on the chair of the boat, trying to be tall enough and be noticed by the Wandering Deity.

“Once you’re back here, you’re gonna hold on to your place here as hard as you can. You’re never gonna let go.” Dr. Destiny continued.

“Like the boy.” Lilac responded.

“Exactly. You’re gonna root yourself in this world. Because now you’re here to stay.” the boat matched speed with the Deity, which was halfway towards the island.

“That’s why you called it an Elder One? Because it’s been here a long time?”

“Yes. Over 10,000 years, probably.” Dr. Destiny began to lose balance. But the creature finally noticed her.

It turned its head towards her stared at her with its glowing eyes.

“This thing has a much deeper connection to the world of the living than even you and I. And even if I could send it back, it’s only gonna cause trouble on the other side.” Dr. Destiny looked down at Lilac, who now looked at her with awe in her eyes.

She turned her head to face the creature, which stopped in its track to stare at her. Lilac pulled the lever all the way back and made the boat stop as well. “We’re gonna have to face it right here. Like we do with everything else in life.”

The back of Dr. Destiny’s palm glowed green as she extended it forward. The creature glared down at the hand, and then shrieked. Its wirey body contorted to make a horrible noise. It turned back towards the island and continued walking.

Dr. Destiny pointed at Lilac who obliged and pushed the lever forward, making the boat move ahead of the creature, blocking its path. She faced the creature again, this time stepping onto the front of the boat, trying to keep her balance as she continued extending her hand.

The creature raised its own hand up and its eyes turned red. Its arm moved more like a noodly tentacle with a sharp bony end than like a human arm. It swung its tentacle down towards the boat.

Lilac shrieked, covering her face with her hands, but Dr. Destiny didn’t fret. She moved her hand up and down in a whipping motion. As she did that, an extension of the light on her hand formed a whip and she cracked it against the creature, making it recoil and scream again.

She retracted her whip and extended her hand one last time. From the distant shore she seemed brave, but Lilac could see up close how Vena was shaking just as much as her.

Reluctantly, the Wandering Deity raised its other hand, which looked a lot more human, with bony fingers and black joints, and reached forward. It touched its index finger against Dr. Destiny’s open palm, and she grabbed onto it. She closed her eyes and began to hum.

The creature recoiled a bit as the green light from her hand started climbing up its veins, but Dr. Destiny didn’t let go until it calmed down. Her hum became louder as she suddenly opened her eyes. Lilac was startled, almost screaming as she saw Vena’s eyes transform into the same black void with firefly points of light, like the creature.

“Elder One, though your original form has been lost to time, and I dare not try to understand your current form, I am opening this channel so we may communicate, soul to soul. Please, allow me access.” Dr. Destiny spoke, her voice commanding, with a little echo, like she was talking inside a closed chamber.

Dr. Destiny was shaking, her eyes trembling in fear as she stared up at the creature’s vacant face. The Wandering Deity didn’t respond. It just stood in the water, waiting.

“I know your realm has been claimed by cities and farms. And I know your worshippers forgotten you. But we have not. You have suffered enough, Elder One, do not let the cycle of violence continue. Leave this island alone. And trust that as you wander the wastes, our thoughts will always be with you. Your sacrifice has not been for naught. Our lives are owed to what you shown our ancestors.” she continued talking.

The Wandering Deity made a new sound, somewhere between a cymbal and hum. It retracted its finger and closed its hand. As it did, it turned around and started walking back towards the cliff. Dr. Destiny, Lilac and the entire lake remained frozen as they watched the creature climbing its way up the cliff and disappear into the tall woods beyond.

Dr. Destiny sighed in relief and then shrieked as she nearly fell down the slippery surface. She held onto Lilac’s hand, who helped pull her back into the boat, where they sat side by side.

Lilac reached down and grabbed Vena’s hand, holding onto it tight. The trembling slowly subsided as Dr. Destiny sighed and wheezed.

“So, how did you know how to make it go away?” Lilac asked one last question.

“I sort of winged it.” Vena said. The two of them laughed out loud until they ran out of breath.

As they were laughing, Lilac turned to the left to look at the island, now very close to them. And for a second, she could swear she saw it move, and smile at the two of them, as though to thank them.

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

The Marvel of Trelsi (Part XIII)

Man, I’m beat at the end of THIS week. So much stuff to do, and so little of it based on writing. A rich husband would be much appreciated. 

Anyway, let’s return to Trelsi. In the last instalment, I did an analysis of three Kelsi Nielsen songs in order to demonstrate the kind of person that would interest Kelsi romantically in an ideal situation. I alluded to the fact that Kelsi’s expectations are idealistic, because the reality of her situation doesn’t bear much resemblance to those poetic lyrics and catchy melodies. Like I’ve said, I’m adding questions as they occur to me; I’m not just interested in examining Trelsi, but understanding Troy Bolton and Kelsi Nielsen as people, and that means discussing their interactions with others. My next question is as follows:

Question-- What can we learn about Kelsi Nielsen from her canonical relationships?

Disclaimer: No “Ryelsi” will be discussed.

This is fascinating to me. First of all, let’s get to the bottom of Kelsi’s canonical relationship with Jason Cross and the implications thereof. 

I’ve just been rewatching some of HSM I in Google Play, just to see whether there is any avenue for Jason Cross to have known about Kelsi prior to meeting her in the gym. I’ve scrolled as slowly as I can, but was unable to find such a place. It might have made sense for Jason to notice her during the performance of “Breaking Free”, but that would be impossible, given that Kelsi’s back was to the audience, and she only seemed interested in either the music or in Troy blossoming onstage. I’ve rewatched the scene where Jason formally and silently introduces himself, and it looks, for all intents and purposes, to be a spur on the moment decision to help her sink a shot. I like this scene. Even before shipping Trelsi, I considered it sweet, even though heavily in line with every other character being paired off for pairing’s sake. Even at this stage, Kelsi is still so often overlooked in favour of other girls (the gym is full of cheerleaders) that the decision to get to know her better often comes on a whim. I still can’t decide whether Troy intended to make friends with Kelsi earlier in HSM I, but if he only did so after she tripped over, then that would be a mirror to how Jason is later introduced to Kelsi. And once again, Kelsi’s surprise is a sign of how she is not yet used to being noticed by others, let alone boys (and a jock like Jason!). However, since being introduced to Troy, she has grown in confidence and thus she most notably does not react with the dumbfounded astonishment of before. In fact, her smile is more confident as Jason helps her shoot a hoop, which she appears to enjoy. 

Contrary to what the movie wishes for us to believe, I do not think that Jason and Kelsi instantly hit it off after this encounter. I am making assumptions here, but given what we know of Kelsi’s serious attitude towards love and relationships, I cannot see her deciding to put her trust in Jason before they had spent more time together. Fortunately, they had the rest of the school year to do so, and by the summer (HSM II), they are established as an item. By the beginning of HSM III, however, we are to infer that they have broken up and this raises a number of important questions and issues. First of all, what made Jason choose Kelsi out of all the other girls he could have easily had? Remember that Jason is a jock, and therefore from the Supreme Class, according to the Philosophy of Danforth. I assume that he saw something in her that other people didn’t, or maybe he was intrigued by her shyly and awkwardly clutching a basketball, and decided to help her out. I don’t pretend to know the answers here, because we’re just not given that information. What does seem apparent is that Kelsi was still shy around boys-- notice her somewhat hunched shoulders when the basketball team cheered around her. Of course, we didn’t see that kind of shyness around the boys of the Drama Club, so I’m assuming that this was caused by 1)- the social status of the basketballers, 2)- possibly their physical stature, 3)- the shyness possibly being provoked when close to people she was attracted to. Either way, it appears that Jason knows what to do in order to lower Kelsi’s walls. She doesn’t seem to mind as he tosses her hat side and allows her hair to flow free, as is the clichéd method in romantic comedies. From around HSM III, Kelsi wears fewer hats (and even then, only as an accessory, rather than to hide her face) and wears her hair longer, perhaps a testament to Jason’s influence on her. What’s interesting about this is that Jason is pretty awkward himself, so perhaps he saw a kindred spirit and decided to work up the courage to introduce himself. 

Kelsi and Jason scenes are so tiny as to be almost invisible, but we can get some idea of what their relationship might have been like. I think the key thing to note is an easy affection between the two of them. I would not describe either of them as being in love, but just having the typical teenage feelings associated with one’s first relationship. I am almost certain that this is Kelsi’s first relationship; there is no way you can be that shy and have a boyfriend prior), and I think the same might be true for Jason, but not necessarily. Why is this significant? Because it’s nothing like what Kelsi either really expects or wants in a relationship. I have mentioned the danger of lofty expectations here and here, stating that this might lead to dissatisfaction on Kelsi’s part when she inevitably did not receive what she wanted. However, given this contrast, I do not think that Kelsi was intending to “settle” for Jason at all; it takes a lot for her to break down her walls, and I think that she would only invest in a relationship that she considered worthwhile. Like I’ve said in my song analysis, Kelsi does not half-step when it comes to relationships. Unlike Sharpay, she doesn’t view boys as sport, and unlike Gabriella, she does not take the business of being in a relationship for granted. Once inside the relationship, Kelsi would have committed completely. 

What does Kelsi see in Jason? Well, he seems kind, often fumbles and bumbles around, but in a well-meaning way. He seems thoughtful and doesn’t need her to impress him with sports skill before he notices her. Without even asking, he helps her sink a shot through the hoops and smiles at her as though this was her victory. 

So why, by the beginning of HSM III have they not only broken up, but Jason has jumped ship immediately to the popular head cheerleader Martha? Well, the seeds were sown during HSM II where, on at least two or three occasions, you can see Jason either hugging or putting his arm around Martha. In fact, after the kids have finished dancing outside of East High to mark the summer, Jason turns and hugs Martha first before Kelsi. Later on, he has his arm around Martha as he comes into the practice room to sing “You Are The Music In Me”. Because the film narrative pays little attention to Kelsi when she isn’t either composing music or with Troy and Gabriella, we don’t know anything about these little scenes beyond their mere existence, and thus we know very little about Kelsi’s reaction. Fortunately for you guys, we can rely on my musings in Google Docs to fill in the gaps. There are two ways that Kelsi could have reacted to this: either by confrontation or in silence. I base the confrontation theory on her ability to confront people when sufficiently agitated, like during HSM I, when she angrily told Troy why the callbacks had been rescheduled, and when she stood up to Sharpay before said callbacks. I base the silence theory on how Kelsi hides more of herself than she shows to other people (except perhaps Troy) and how, given that she is in her first relationship, she is most probably besieged by doubts on how she should behave. 

Out of the two theories, I think the silence theory is more likely, because the signs that Jason is becoming more attached to Martha are subtle. In which case, Kelsi would most probably be lingering and doubting whether she was simply imagining things, or whether she had reason to be worried. Her low self-esteem, which she has had most probably since childhood, would flare UP again. In my notes for my mega Trelsi fic, I speculated that Kelsi might be the kind of girl to compare herself negatively to other girls, particularly when one is competing with her over the same guy. She is nothing like Gabriella, who, confident in her own looks, would stare down the rival and then punish the guy if he dared look too interested in someone else.

In fact, Kelsi can’t have confronted him, because later on in the movie, you can see Jason leaning at the breakfast table next to Kelsi (shortly before the infamous Silent Treatment scene), which wouldn’t have happened were things frosty between them. At the end of the movie, during the quieter version of “You Are The Music In Me”, she seems happy hugging him and running around the hills. This appears genuine to me (I was rewatching it before writing this paragraph). So this may suggest that Kelsi was more likely playing it silent, perhaps believing that either Jason would not take Martha seriously (if so, a massive miscalculation on her part), and/or that she could/should focus on the positives in her relationship. It’s not like Jason was completely cold and unfeeling towards her; they obviously shared happy moments together. Clearly, she had strong feelings for Jason, or else none of this would make sense. Another reason that I don’t see Kelsi being confrontational is that Martha is/was her friend. Not only this, but Kelsi continues being either friendly or at least civil with Martha AFTER she broke up with Jason, even sitting at the same lunch table in HSM III (shortly before Chad asked Taylor to prom). This adds an astonishing twist to the tale. Why does Kelsi continue to maintain some semblance of friendship with someone who 1)- appears quite flirtatious, 2)- shows no canonical interest in Kelsi’s relationship with Jason and 3)- shows no embarrassment about dating her friend’s ex right in front of her? 

I have puzzled about this in my current Trelsi one-shot. Up til now, I don’t yet have a concrete answer. Does Kelsi, once again feeling that other girls are more attractive then her, feel that it’s all for the best, whilst trying to quash her own hurt? Does she politely pretend not to notice? (It does seem that way in some of the scenes; when Jason hugs Martha before her in early HSM II, she simply nudges him and waits for her turn!) Or is Kelsi merely displaying a show of civility, whilst hiding her bitterness? As we know, Kelsi is capable of deeply-rooted bitterness, and of holding grudges against other people. We are shown her grudge against Sharpay (understandable, but later heavily exaggerated), and her former grudge against Ryan, which she overcame. The movie narrative would never have us see any inkling that things weren’t always sugary and nice between the Wildcats, but perhaps Kelsi’s relationship with Martha became increasingly strained. After all, it’s not like Martha ever played it cool with Jason out of respect for her friend’s relationship. No, even by the beginning of the summer, they were on regular hugging terms, if there’s such a thing. The seamless way in which Jason runs straight into Martha’s arms (literally as well as figuratively) by the beginning of HSM III suggests a closeness that has to have been nurtured over time. And that time was when Kelsi and Jason were dating. 

Judging from that scene in HSM III, where the Cool Girls are sharing a table (Taylor, Gabriella, Martha and Kelsi), we can see Martha giggling over something. Taylor and Gabriella are laughing, and Kelsi is smiling, but focused on her manuscripts. Her reactions appear somewhat reserved here. We know that Kelsi and Martha at least were close, because at the beginning of HSM II, she gives Martha a hug (perhaps they were introduced after the Winter Musical?), and later on, she is happily pretending to scratch turntables whilst Martha breaks it down on the kitchen floor. I can’t help noticing that Kelsi and Martha are on opposite sides of the same table in HSM III, although this is not necessarily significant. Personally, I think that her reservation here is thanks to a tireless devotion to her work, but if Kelsi really did feel resentment towards Martha, then her smiling, whilst focusing on her work might be a plausible demonstration of this. That’s a possible headcanon assumption and not necessarily one that I hold.

I suppose the next question is whether Jason cheated on Kelsi with Martha? I think not. The fact that Kelsi continues to maintain communication with Martha and even Jason to some extent seems sufficient proof that that wasn’t the case. Remember that at the beginning of HSM III, Kelsi signed up “almost the entire home room!” (Ms. Darbus) for the next musical, and we can see that Jason objects to this. In other words, she signed him up. Given the “almost” part, I assume some members were left out, therefore Kelsi had every opportunity to leave out Jason were she angry with him. Kelsi signed up the people she could most easily persuade to participate. Later on, she begs everyone that she presumptuously signed up to participate, and again, this includes Jason. These are not the actions of someone wishing to put as much distance between her and her ex-boyfriend. It’s worth noting that Jason doesn’t speak to her with any reluctance or embarrassment, which is both astounding, given him jumping straight to Martha, but also indicative perhaps of a (somewhat) amicable breakup. And by amicable, I mean they both decided to part ways, not that Kelsi was patting him on the back for being chummy with her friend whilst they were dating! So, what I think what happened was that Kelsi couldn’t deal with Jason’s emotional infidelity any longer, and either she broke up with him to maintain the upper hand, or he broke up with her when he could no longer conceal those feelings. 

The implications and consequences of this breakup are not pretty. I am going to make a lot of assumptions here to fill in the gaps, but it strikes me that Kelsi would feel inadequate if her boyfriend (a jock, no less) left her for a confident and bubbly cheerleader. Bear in mind that not long after splitting up with Kelsi for Martha, Jason goes to the trouble of getting a T-shirt painted with a proposition for Martha. You can see this T-Shirt shortly before “Night to Remember”. Jason never did such a thing for Kelsi. Furthermore, he isn’t at all embarrassed to be wearing this in front of Kelsi whilst he performs HER song for the Spring Musical! Would this make Kelsi feel as though Jason was never as invested in their relationship as she was? In my last post, I alluded to a possible period of unhappiness for Kelsi prior to writing “I Just Wanna Be With You”: “You know how life can be/It changes overnight/Sunny then raining/But it’s alright.” Could the “rainy” period in Kelsi’s life be an allusion to Jason? Again, I do not present this as canonical fact, but it is definitely plausible. And I would go even further than that; could Kelsi’s appearance during “Night to Remember”, in which the guys say “Who’s that Girl?” be her response to Jason and Martha? During this scene, Kelsi appears as the “mystery girl” whom the guys (including, ironically, Jason) has to admire during the song. I don’t think this was Kelsi’s idea, but perhaps Ryan’s. He is the choreographer, and Kelsi was previously awkward and clumsy in HSM I, didn’t appear to be very fond of water in HSM II. But presenting herself as confident and carrying off the ballet steps without a hitch would be a great way for Kelsi to re-assert her confidence. We then see her invest her energy into writing one hell of a love song “I Just Wanna Be With You”, which I discussed in the last post. 

All in all, the trajectory of Kelsi’s relationship with Jason is quite sad-- for Kelsi. She most probably had such high hopes, and definitely put more into her relationship than Jason did. Perhaps she felt somewhat betrayed. However, I don’t think that even this quashes her sense of optimism, her hope for a better future. If there’s one reason why Kelsi is such a compelling story hero, it’s her ability to try, try again. I think that there would be a down period, but perhaps by the time it came to preparing the third musical, she threw herself into her composition work in order to keep the pain at bay. Her music is not only her sole passion, but also her escape from real life. Hence why she can be present in the moment and yet lost in pages of notes. 

This brings me onto my next question:

Question-- Did Kelsi have a crush on Troy? As a supporter of Trelsi, should this not be part of the default headcanon?

When I first watched the High School Musical series (a couple of years ago), it never crossed my mind that Kelsi could have had a crush on Troy. Only when I became more interested in the movies at the end of last year did I start seeing this proposed by a couple of fans. Again, I was sceptical, because at that point, I was more interested in the friendship, until that moment when I watched the Trelsi introductory scene and something clicked in my head. This could be a couple. But even THEN I wasn’t thinking about the potential of Kelsi’s astonishment being based on a crush, and I didn’t begin shipping Trelsi for real until HSM III. I think I gradually began accepting this interpretation simply by virtue of having read several meta’s where the author said so. Fast forward to now, when I ship Trelsi romantic and platonic fashion, and I’m actually ambivalent towards this theory. I will explain why, and how this relates to Kelsi and Jason as follows. 

Now the Crush Theory appears to take hold from the moment where Kelsi is introduced to Troy, and we see her astonishment that the King of East High is actually speaking with her. Along with other evidence, mostly centred around Kelsi’s stronger affection and attachment to Troy than to Gabriella, the belief is that this proves she had more than platonic feelings towards him. I may have oversimplified this somewhat, but I think that you get the gist. Now don’t get me wrong; the Crush Theory does serve one particular angle of the Trelsi ship that I will discuss in future instalments-- that of unrequited love. I’ve read some great Trelsi fics with this angle, and it starts from Kelsi having this secret crush. And for the purposes of the movie canon, it would be far more interesting for the central narrative, as well as giving Kelsi some depth, because since she shows a great capacity for self-sacrifice, she is unlikely to ever act on such feelings. This would be far more interesting for the viewer than Troy’s trite and unhealthy relationship with Gabriella. 

However, there are several problems with this theory.

Firstly, throughout the movies, Kelsi becomes more comfortable with Troy, something that surely could not happen if she had a persistent crush on him. By the summer, she thinks nothing of holding his hand, and does this again in HSM III. She gives him a hug when he’s feeling down, which suggests a level of familiarity not possible for a shy girl who has this all-encompassing crush on East High’s Primo Boy. I see Kelsi as becoming more open and more mature throughout the movies, not forever repressed by her feelings. Her song lyrics in HSM III are a reflection of this positive change. I struggle to reconcile this with the Crush Theory. 

Secondly, the Crush Theory undermines the importance of Kelsi’s introduction to Troy. There’s far more to that scene than physical attraction; it’s about finding a kindred spirit, acceptance, about Troy building up her confidence and revealing the girl within who always wanted to shine but never could do so. I find the Crush Theory problematic in that it would imply that Kelsi’s feelings of friendship towards Troy were at least partially motivated by attraction. This demeans the friendship to me. This introduction definitely leads to friendship first. A common understanding and chemistry in the sense that they communicate so effectively with little to no words, and are always by each other’s side no matter what. 

Thirdly, the Crush theory is short-lived. Kelsi is one of the first to see that Troy at least, is heavily invested in Gabriella. If Kelsi did have this crush, then she would have had to shelve it pretty fast once she saw that it was completely pointless. Troy Bolton is King of East High and unattainable for 98% of the female population. Kelsi may be an idealist, but her persistence shows that she has a realistic side. I can’t, especially in light of Kelsi’s increasing comfort around Troy, see her continuing to hold a flame for someone who is resolutely unavailable, knowing full well that such feelings are unlikely to be returned. That would put a whole depressing aspect to the Crush. If it happened, perhaps it ended quickly. Furthermore, I have already stated that Kelsi has a strong investment in people: a crush is not a strong investment. It is fleeting, and changes like the wind. Kelsi is deeply emotional and would need to feel as though the object of her affections was as deeply connected to her in return; canonically speaking, Troy is not. So why would she suffer in silence? Given her ability to find another path when one isn’t working for her, I can’t see Kelsi in a constant state of Purgatory here. 

The most important reason why the Crush Theory is lacking is that Kelsi dated Jason for a significant period of time and seemed perfectly happy doing so. I have already explained why it is not in Kelsi’s nature to “settle” for anything. Her interaction with Jason was affectionate, and for the period where he was actually invested in her, he reciprocated that affection. It would be easy to see why Kelsi might have a crush on Troy; he is gorgeous, charming, lovely, smart, dorky, sweet and romantic. Jason on the other hand, is awkward, handsome in a boyish kind of way and definitely not the brightest spark at all. And even though Kelsi looks incredulous when Jason fails to respond to Mr. Fulton’s prepping on how to treat “Miss Evans”, she appears not to take issue with Jason’s penchant for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Jason doesn’t seem to care much about his style, pairing shirts and t-shirts and baggy jeans. (Not unlike Kelsi’s sense of fashion throughout HSM I and II! :D) His hair is always wild, and he chews gum, has the co-ordination of a toddler learning to walk and is no way near as mature as his composer girlfriend. Still, Kelsi chooses to be with him. If she preferred Troy with his effortless romantic gestures, smooth-talking, intelligent conversation and so on, then she had every opportunity to seek out such a romantic partner. She is often shown in HSM III with some other members of the school band, and we are to assume that she was keeping them in order for the musical. There were plenty of other boys she could have dated. However, she maintained a relationship with Jason despite him not being Greek God material. And Martha’s flirtatiousness with Jason is testament to his own appeal to girls. The length of time that Kelsi dated Jason would be sufficient for her to shelve any such crush feelings, should they have existed. From Kelsi’s song lyrics, she seems to value honesty and genuine commitment in a relationship, thus making it unlikely that she would knowingly date someone with whom she had little to no connection, let alone whilst thinking about someone else. 

So no, I don’t consider it mandatory in the Trelsi ship to believe that Kelsi had a crush on him. Unorthodox? Yes. But hey, I love that. 

That being said, did Kelsi write her songs for Jason? I don’t think so. Their relationship did not strike me as having the quality that she longed for in her songs. Those songs express an ideal state. Will Kelsi attain it? That is entirely for her to decide, and I don’t know whether she feels her songs are truly representative of romance or maybe just part of her escapism. 

In the next instalment, I will discuss the superior potential of Trelsi romance, particularly where it might have worked in place of the canonical narrative. 

TO BE CONTINUED

[untitledcreativeproject]

Day 3. [1651]

More RP stuff. Under the cut so you can scroll past if you want to?

"And that's how you perform the Body Change technique," Ginyu said, heaving a sigh as he patted himself down, readjusting to being back in his own body.

"Atta boy, Captain!" The little red man, introduced as Jeice, was as enthusiastic as ever in cheering on his squad leader.

It had already been a few hours since the huge Shikirian brawl in the field. The victor was no one of consequence, a younger Shikirian who had gone in with a sizable mob of allies only to turn on them once they had taken care of most of the other combatants. Gatas and Ginyu had been too wrapped up in their fight to care. Towards the end, Gatas's consistent outmaneuvering ended up forcing the Ginyu Squad's captain to use his signature ability to throw off her game. Knowing that this was a rare opportunity to learn a move with immense tactical potential, Gatas requested for Ginyu to show her how it was done.

After covering the Body Change technique with her, Captain Ginyu had invited Gatas back to the base where he and the other four of his squad took up a sort of residence. Ginyu insisted on letting them introduce themselves, joining in as each member took a deep breath, performed some elaborate contortion with his body, then stopped to bellow his own name. At the end, the five moved into a group formation with even more pronounced gymnastic ability, then shouted their squad name in unison. They were an eccentric group, to be sure, but judging by Ginyu's combat skills, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Gatas appraised them all in silence. The biggest one, a Brutii, was obviously built for strength, while the taller Taifuu-jin, Burter, proclaimed that he was the fastest in the universe. Jeice, Ginyu's right hand man, seemed to be a well-rounded fighter. The odd man out? The shortest of the five, a little green man named Guldo. The four-eyed Bas-jin didn't seem particularly fast or strong given his rotund appearance, but perhaps he was a more tactical fighter. His stature would lend itself well to sneak attacks, but Ginyu had already shown himself to be an honorable warrior. Gatas doubted he would allow such behavior from his teammates.

"You seem like a capable fighter, but since you ended up here you must be missing something that you need to achieve victory. The Ginyu Squad is here to help. If you can fight your way through our ranks and defeat me," Ginyu said, "then you'll be ready for anything." The squad lined up then, waiting for Gatas to choose her first opponent. If this was to be a gauntlet-style series of fights, it made sense to choose the fastest fighter while she still had the stamina to match. "You," she said, pointing at Burter.

The fight proved to be less difficult than she anticipated. Gatas kept the Taifuu-jin at bay with an onslaught of energy attacks, preventing him from getting close enough to deal any heavy physical damage. Burter adapted quickly, learning to time his movement so that he could avoid blasts at the last moment. His downfall was assuming that, once he made it past her long-range attacks, her hand-to-hand combat would be sub par. He was wrong.

Ginyu had mentioned after their fight that anyone who was died in the afterlife didn't really die; they were out of commission for a short time but then bounced back to normal. She had no qualms then about tearing Recoome to pieces; the big brute was too slow for her and she took care of him without breaking a sweat.

Jeice proved to be more of a challenge. At first the Shikirian was cautious, not knowing how formidable an adversary the other fighter would turn out to be. He seemed sure of himself, but then again so had his two allies. Unlike them, though, Jeice didn't seem to be all speed or all strength. Jeice sprang immediately to action, eager to get some blows in as soon as possible. He'd been spoiling for a fight from the moment Ginyu decided to set up this gauntlet match, and he had only grown more excitable as he watched her take down the two tallest of their squad.

Gatas matched the Maguma-jin's enthusiasm easily. Fighting was what she knew. It was easy, and she was good at it, so she enjoyed it. Jeice felt like a kindred spirit to her as they exchanged blows, both he and Gatas fighting with grins seemingly plastered into their faces. It was clear after a time that both were pacing themselves, trying to keep the fight going for the sake of fighting. After he felt he'd had enough, Jeice leapt back and put both his hands up. "I'm good, mate. Don't wanna tire you out too much before you get through all of us. You win this round!"

Gatas nodded. Captain Ginyu's second in command had earned her respect and she was grateful that she wouldn't have to waste more energy than necessary. With over half the squad down already, Gatas was feeling confident. She didn't know what to expect from her next opponent, but she called him out without bothering to turn in his direction.

"Guldo."

The pudgy green man jumped at hearing his name then trotted over to position himself a few paces ahead of his opponent. Captain Ginyu gave the signal to start the match, but neither combatant made an immediate attempt to attack. Instead, Gatas and Guldo stared each other down, waiting. Ginyu watched from the sidelines, Recoome, Burter, and Jeice recovering beside him. A long moment passed before Gatas finally took a step towards the Bas-jin, pushing off with one foot to launch herself at him. He jumped back and took a deep breath. "Time Freeze!"

The next thing that Gatas became aware of was the sound of Burter snickering. Guldo had simply disappeared after shouting the name of his technique, the space where he'd been standing noticeably absent of his presence. Gatas touched back down to the ground, her eyes darting back and forth as she searched for any sign of her squat spar partner. A handful of ki blasts from varying angles told her that he was still close enough to see where she was, at least. Gatas moved closer to a large rock formation, hoping the barrier would force her opponent to reposition himself and give her some indication of which direction to look.

She could see clearly where the shots came from, the next time Guldo tried his ki barrage. She fired a strong answering blast in that direction, then trailed behind it to see if she could spot her quarry as he fled. Catching the stocky green alien mid-retreat in the distance, she sped up her approach.

Even with four eyes, Guldo didn't see her coming. He yelped as Gatas tackled him from the air, her cover attack touching down several meters out from where they hit the ground rolling. Locked in a grapple, Guldo was basically rendered helpless, his stubby arms and legs flailing ineffectively as Gatas pummeled him with brute strength.

"Wait wait wait," Guldo wailed between hits, "Please-- please stop hitting me!"

"Why?" Gatas asked casually, at this point just batting lightly at what was left of the Bas-jin's face.

"I can show you my technique!" Guldo squeaked as a careless hit went straight to one of his eyes. "The power to freeze time, yours! Just stop beating on me, please!"

Gatas eyed him carefully, considering. She had never thought about it, but clearly Hell was a treasure trove of special techniques just waiting to be passed on to the next worthy fighter. She pushed off and stood to give him time to recover.

Guldo got up and brushed himself off, whining as he gingerly touched his bruised and battered face. Instead of moving to a respectful distance away to show off the technique again, he simply chuckled. "Lesson one!" He took a deep breath. "TIME FREEZE!"

When Gatas could move again, she noted that Guldo had not moved from where he stood, and was doubled over, gasping for breath. She wondered why he hadn't taken the opportunity to attack her while she was in close range and unable to defend herself. Jeice helpfully supplied an explanation. "He can't attack you while you're frozen, mate. Someone is too good to keep himself in shape like the rest of us, so it takes too much out of him just to hold his breath for the technique."

"Even when we were in our prime, he could never manage to do anything offensive with that move." Burter nudged Jeice, a smug look on his face.

"No one asked you two for your input!" Guldo shouted from where he stood.

"Aw, come off it, mate. We're just joshing ya."

"You're more than welcome to try to teach her how to do this if you want to keep interrupting!"

Jeice laughed. "Alright, alright. It's your move. Have at it."

"Hmph." Guldo pouted, but proceeded to give a long-winded explanation of the finer points of his Time Freeze technique. In all honestly, Gatas was only half listening. She picked out the parts of his speech that actually sounded relevant to what she needed to know, tuning out his obviously embellished anecdotes about how he'd used the move to great effect in previous battles while he was alive. Gatas was unsure of how such a passive move would suit her, but she figured it could come in handy and at the very least would give her a better grasp on how to handle the situation the next time someone tried a similar tactic against her.

Each member of the squad seemed determined to teach her something of import, so she decided to stay with Ginyu and his men to absorb all the information they could offer her.

[Running Total: 2,882 words]

[innerworldofaudrey]

Diggin’ Deep on UFC on FOX 30: Alvarez vs. Poirier 2 - Fight Pass prelims preview

The Fight Pass prelims for UFC on FOX 30 feature three intriguing contests. Intriguing enough that I’d say the Fight Pass prelims feature better contests than the televised prelims on FOX. There’s a pair of young(ish) flyweights in Dustin Ortiz and Matheus Nicolau who could potentially break into the title picture. There’s a women’s flyweight contest between Alexis Davis and Katlyn Chookagian that could have title implications. And while the contest at women’s strawweight doesn’t seem to have any implications in the title picture, Randa Markos and Nina Ansaroff are two of the most consistently entertaining fighters in the division. Yeah…these prelims are better than what’s usually on Fight Pass.

The Fight Pass prelims begin at 4:00 PM ET/1:00 PM PT on Saturday.

John Makdessi (15-6) vs. Ross Pearson (20-14, 1 NC), Lightweight

Makdessi and Pearson have seen better days. Granted, both have been around for a long time, so it isn’t a surprise they’ve declined at this point in their careers. Despite that, it’s never easy to see two fighters continue to fight despite being shells of their old selves.

Perhaps saying they are shells of themselves is going too far, but it used to be that both could have a competitive contest with just about anyone. Pearson’s downfall is reflective in his record, having lost four in a row prior to snapping his streak against Mizuto Hiroka. His durability isn’t what it once was and he’s lost a spring in his step. He still has good timing on the counter, though he needs to remember that he’s far more efficient fighting off his back foot than he is pursuing his opponent. It’s rare that Pearson pursues the takedown, though he has hit the occasional well-timed shot dependent upon the matchup. Makdessi looks like he might be the right type of matchup for that.

Granted, Makdessi has always had solid takedown defense, knowing his success is completely dependent on his keeping the fight standing. A former kickboxer, Makdessi’s use of angles and spacing more than make up for his lack of height and reach. It surprises many to see someone of his stature with such an effective jab. He’s best known for his spinning back fist on the strength of a highlight reel KO of Kyle Watson many years ago, but he doesn’t pull it out as often as he used to. However, like Pearson, Makdessi’s speed and ability to eat a punch are on the decline.

Given the lack of faith most fans and analysts have shown in both competitors, this was a great bit of matchmaking. Makdessi is the cleaner striker by far, but Pearson has the better ground game. However, he needs to get the fight to the ground if he’s going to exploit his advantage on the mat. Given the lack of durability of both competitors, there is little confidence in my pick. I’m going with Makdessi to outpoint the Englishman. Makdessi via decision

Alexis Davis (19-7) vs. Katlyn Chookagian (10-1), Women’s Flyweight

Perhaps the biggest mystery of the card is why this contest was pushed so far down the pecking order. Sure, Davis and Chookagian aren’t big names to attract fans to turn their eyes to a card. However, the winner of this contest is a likely candidate to receive a title shot once Nicco Montano and Valentina Shevchenko (finally) take care of business. If you want to push a division, burying potential title contenders at the bottom of a card isn’t a smart way to do so.

Davis has been around since Ronda Rousey’s dominance forced the UFC to integrate women into the organization. She was also one of the victims the now Hall of Famer abused in her dominant title run. Davis’ natural weight has always been 125, so it came as no surprise when she picked up a win in her UFC debut at the newly formed division over Liz Carmouche. The Canadian is as cagey and experienced as they come in the women’s division, making up for her lack of physical advantages against all except the most gifted. Outside of an active – and effective – guard, there isn’t a defining characteristic for Davis. She’s tough as nails and just knows how to win.

Chookagian immediately became one of the better athletes upon her UFC entry. Unfortunately, like Davis, she was fighting in the wrong division at the time. Despite that, she put on her worst performance to date upon her drop to 125, continually coming up short on her punches against a game Mara Romero Borella. Normally, Chookagian’s punches have a nice little zip on them as she circles the cage looking for the counter. If she can get back to committing to her punches – and remembering to throw a steady stream of low kicks to boot – she stands an above average chance of winning this contest.

It’s hard to pinpoint what led to Chookagian’s poor performance against Borella, but she did walk away with a win. However, if she performs that way against Davis, she’ll be on the losing end for sure. The question is what version of her are we getting. Davis’ ability to do just enough to emerge victorious has me thinking she’ll do just that. Davis via submission, RD3

Dustin Ortiz (18-7) vs. Matheus Nicolau (13-1-1), Flyweight

If it wasn’t for a controversial PED failure through USADA – though it seems every failure with them is controversial nowadays – we might be talking about Nicolau as the next contender lining up opposite Demetrious Johnson. Instead, the young Brazilian was forced to sit out for a year. Fighting with a maturity that belies his youth, Nicolau shows an innate sense of timing and accuracy on his punches. Power doesn’t seem to be in abundance and volume is a problem if his opponent isn’t looking to push the pace. Despite that, Nicolau’s read on a fight has been more than enough in his limited UFC exposure thus far to keep him undefeated in the Octagon.

Ortiz has been a source of frustration for those who expected the well-rounded Tennessee native to emerge as a major player in the division. Still not even 30 yet, Ortiz provided indications he may be ready to bust out as he has put together consecutive wins for the first time in four years, one a brutal KO 15 seconds into the contest, the other a hard fought 15-minute battle. His toughness was a big key to his last win as Pantoja couldn’t put him away early and ended up fading hard. It also showed why Ortiz has struggled to go over the top, allowing his opponent, Alexandre Pantoja, to win the early scrambles. Is that something to worry about against Nicolau?

All the credit in the world to Sean Shelby and Mick Maynard as this is a great piece of matchmaking. Though most would agree Ortiz is what he is, he continues to flash moments of brilliance that indicate there is more to him. Nicolau doesn’t do anything flashy, but he doesn’t beat himself. That has been an issue for Ortiz in the past. Ortiz very well could have solved that issue, but it doesn’t look like it to me. The Brazilian exploits the small holes in Ortiz’s game – as well as the big ones – and takes home a comfortable decision. Nicolau via decision

Randa Markos (8-5) vs. Nina Ansaroff (8-5), Women’s Strawweight

Another excellent piece of matchmaking by Shelby and Maynard here as no one is sure just how good Markos and Ansaroff can be. That they have identical records with only four months separating their age is merely a coincidence.

Though both have the potential to breakout as serious players, the likelihood favors Ansaroff to be the one to emerge as she has begun receiving serious coaching in the last few years. The results have been obvious as she has grown in leaps and bounds in her last three appearances, showing great distance management and discipline in her contest with Angela Hill. It’s no small feat to outpoint the former professional kickboxer. Ansaroff’s power hasn’t translated over to the big leagues yet, but most would agree she is one of the harder hitters at strawweight.

Markos has been an exercise in frustration as she has looked like a world-beater in one contest only to come back the next time looking tentative and unsure of herself. It wasn’t just her leaving Tristar either, which tried reining in her aggression and having her fight against type. She does look more sure of herself since leaving, but the results haven’t completely translated as Markos has struggled to keep opponents down…if she can get them down.

This contest is completely dependent on if Markos can get her noted wrestling game going. Her hyper-aggression translates to the feet as well, resulting in just as many holes there as there is in her wrestling and grappling. Ansaroff has yet to find success looking to take her down or make things ugly. Not that she can’t find success in that environment herself, but she has proven a distance striking contest is her bread-and-butter. Though there is little confidence in my pick, I think Markos’ constant attempts to get the fight to the ground will prove detrimental to the girlfriend of Amanda Nunes. Markos via submission, RD3

Devin Powell (8-3) vs. Alvaro Herrera (9-5), Lightweight

No disrespect to Powell or Herrera, but both of them would have received a pink slip if I was running the UFC’s ship. Neither has shown the tools to succeed against top level competition despite having multiple fights in the Octagon under their belt. Some may look on Herrera’s record and see he was a win in the UFC. Keep in mind Herrera found his way to the roster through TUF Latin America. That win came against another TUF Latin American member who had no business in the UFC.

To Powell’s credit, there is no quit in the scrapper. In his debut, Powell was bullied by Drakkar Klose from pillar to post, Powell scratching and clawing until the final bell hoping to turn the tide. He did show some improved boxing chops in his last contest, a major upgrade from his arsenal that centered upon kicks prior to that, but his lack of physical skills is glaring.

Good MMA article from bloodyelbow