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usagirln12003 · 3 months ago

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Buggy: Hogwarts AU

Buggy is a Half-Blood wizard that was born on the 8th of August 1960 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1971, being sorted into Slytherin House.

He has a Spruce wand with a Dragon Heartstring core.

His Patronus is a Sea Lion.

His favorite subject was Charms and his least favorite subject was History of Magic.

Buggy is vain, egotistical, and seeks to be glorified and feared by others. When he was nine years old, he complained that the Newgate family were receiving more attention in the newspaper than his foster family, the Gol D. family. He does not spend much of his time improving his own abilities to become a powerful dueller, but rather focuses mainly on recruiting powerful subordinates who do the hard work while simultaneously being subjected to him. If presented with an opportunity to make himself look good, Buggy will take it. Whenever someone strokes his ego, even if it is due to an inaccurate impression of him, Buggy will revel in it and start getting delusions of grandeur; when the Azkaban escapees praised him for being Roger's foster son, Buggy started considering that their support could help him take down Newgate or even become the new minister.

Buggy is a showman, and his actions are frequently designed to bring attention to himself. He injects the word "flashy", into almost every sentence he speaks ("Flashily die! You flashy bastard!"), and frequently uses it to describe his actions, such as giving Luffy D. Monkey a "flashy execution" in Diagon Alley. In that attempted execution, he made his entrance by blowing up a fountain, and allowed his subordinates to run wild while he executed Luffy atop the platform where Roger D. Gol was famously killed. During the Summit War of the Ministry, he had his followers broadcast his exploits to the outside world with a stolen camera, and after becoming the head of the smuggling of dark artefacts, he uses his magic in conjunction with a large robe to make himself look much bigger than he actually is.

In addition to wanting followers, Buggy loves to find treasure and spends most of his time following maps leading to great riches; when he was on still living with Roger, he stated that the most important thing to a curse breaker is the physical treasure they find. Buggy is extremely possessive over the treasure he takes and will kill anyone who attempts to steal from him. When Shanks accidentally caused him to lose a treasure map during their adolesence days, Buggy developed a grudge against him that has lasted for three decades. When the Gol family went to Spain, Buggy was very attracted to a magical golden bell and was disappointed when Roger decided not to buy it. Buggy was even willing to guide Luffy through Azkaban in exchange for an armband pointing to Captain John's treasure, though did not intend to fully honor the deal especially after Luffy gave him the armband in advance. When asked by Shanks to return Luffy's straw hat, Buggy immediately did so upon being promised a treasure map in return and was extremely angry when he found out Shanks was lying.

Buggy is extremely prideful; when he failed to kill Luffy, Zoro, and Nami for stealing from him and defying him, he said that it would bring great shame upon him and his supordinates to let them go free. After Luffy defeated him, Buggy made it his mission to hunt down and kill him for simply angering him. He is prone to underestimating opponents that he knows nothing about, as he initially mistook Luffy for a common thief and believed that Luffy was much weaker than him until being defeated by him; he initially paid much more attention to Zoro due to having heard of the young Hufflepuff prodigy before. In Azkaban, Buggy's lack of knowledge about vice warden Hannyabal caused him to assume that he and Galdino had a chance of beating him, causing them to attack him and get easily beaten. Buggy also angrily confronted Ace D. Portgas as an enemy until finding out who he was. When the Gol family battled the Newgate family for four days, Marco noted that Buggy and Shanks both had impressively stoic attitudes for young first years.

Buggy is extremely sensitive about his big red nose and will immediately kill anyone who points it out, usually by blowing them up with a "Buggy Explosion". He frequently tends to mishear people as talking about his nose when in reality they are talking about something completely different, and sometimes he even mistakes his own speech as referring to his nose and gets angry at people around him for it.

Despite his prideful and vain attitude, Buggy is aware of the many dangers of the wizarding world and typically does not commit rash actions that would put him in trouble, to the point of acting cowardly. When the Gol family came into conflict with Shiki and his allies, a 12-year-old Buggy worriedly pleaded for Roger to comply with Shiki's request. When Ace fell asleep on his property, Buggy ordered his men not to kill him as he knew that doing so would unleash Newgate's wrath on them. When teaming up with Luffy, who wanted to go to the lowest level of Azkaban to save Ace, Buggy wished to stay on the highest level possible and avoid the Dementors. When escaping from Azkaban, Buggy went along with Jinbe, Crocodile, and Daz Bonez to commandeer a ship in order to stay away from the warden Magellan. When he witnessed Newgate die after battling against Blackbeard and his men, Buggy immediately became afraid and flew away from the battleground, not caring if his followers saw him as cowardly. However, Buggy may commit rash actions if compelled by his emotions; when Dracule Mihawk hit him with a jinx during the Ministry battle, Buggy got angry at him and shot a curse back at him without thinking, causing Mihawk to deflect it back at him. When Crocodile and Mihawk confronted him for his unintentional usurpation of presidency of the Cross Guild, he showed tremendous cowardice by crying and pleading for mercy, even offering to lick their shoes clean, and upon being made figurehead leader under the two superior wizards, he became worried for his future.

Buggy can often be cruel and selfish, even toward his comrades. While operating in Hogsmead, he regularly raided and pillaged defenseless shops before destroying the interior as he pleased and would kill anyone who opposed him without hesitation. If one of his subordinates fails to accomplish a task, Buggy will become very angry at them and may abuse them. When a curse was flying toward him and his men, Buggy used two of his men as shields without any remorse. After losing his position at the ministry and being confronted by aurors, Buggy plotted to escape in secret while the rest of his forces fought the aurors. When teaming up with Luffy in Azkaban, Buggy frequently looked for ways to split away from him and pursue his own goal of escaping, even if it meant going back on his word or leaving Luffy in a perilous situation. When Luffy gave him Captain John's armband in advance and let him go off even before they had agreed to, Buggy was baffled by his kindness. While still living with Roger, he kept a treasure map from them without telling anyone and pretended to "accidentally" destroy a rare magical artifact his foster father had in order to sell the real one, valuing gaining wealth for himself over contributing to his family. Buggy is willing to do whatever it takes to win and aid his comrades in battle, as shown when he attempted to restrain Zoro to allow Cabaji to strike him.

Buggy appears to love eating and drinking, as he frequently engages in parties and banquets with his men. When he was in Level 4 of Azkaban, he wanted to go with Luffy to break into the kitchen, and Galdino was forced to stop him from heading into an obvious ambush.

#crossover hogwarts au #one piece #buggy the clown #1971-1972

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kumamoto-division · 1 year ago

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The sun was setting on the city of Kumamoto. A tall imposing man placed 2 boxes in front of a vintage-looking home. The figure knocked on the door. Then without waiting for someone to open the door, the imposing man walked off, his trench cloak trailing behind him.

Kunio Chōten hearing the knock on his front door rose from his seat. Opening the door Kunio noticed no one was there and was going to close it until he saw a rather long gift on his front porch. Bringing it inside Kunio was quick to open it up.

Inside the box was a gorgeous sword and scabbard. The pommel of the sword was covered in red roses and thorn vines. The actual blade of the sword was beautiful as well with its red metallic color and roses engraved on the steel. The scabbard matched the sword perfectly with its red coloring and silver rose accents. Blinking at the gift Kunio noticed a letter tapped inside the box and grabbed it.

“Hollow,

Happy Birthday. You seem to like roses very much so I had an old contact make this with you in mind. Whether you use it for actual combat or as a decoration I dont care. It is yours to use as you please.

Signed,

The Reaper”

Putting the sword down along with the note, Kunio moved on to the other box, opening it up.

Inside the box was a top hat and a walking cane. Picking up the top hat Kunio placed it on his head. He moved to pick up the cane and to his shock, the end of the cane came alight letting out a loud buzzing noise. Quickly checking to see if a note had come with it and sure enough, a note was tucked inside.

“Hollow,

Happy Birthday. Thanks for giving the information from time to time. Although your combat skills could use some work. So I've divided to make you these. The hat is made out of the same stuff as my jacket and as such is bulletproof and fireproof. The cane has an electric mode and can stop a heart if you so wish. So I’m sure a showman such as yourself could give a “shock “ to anyone who tries you with this.

Signed,

Cinder”

Kunio blinked seeing sword and the scabbard

"a gift from the grimm reaper himself...well this is something shocked"-he whisper with a gasp,"The grimm reaper" was infamous in Japan's underground but Kunio back his look the the sword and scabbard

Was something... gorgeous,he love the roses and one reason for he is well know in the theater was his habit of often use rose and it petals on his entrances

"use it as decoraction? Are very gorgeous yeah but i'm will use in combat"-thought Kunio,on his "job" as informant usually use knifes but in the others "missions" related to the plan of revolution, kunio needed something more than it and the sword was perfect

His eyes looked at the Cinder's note,he giving her information before

Kunio smirked,yeah in combat he don't is very good,not like Kururi or Ryukyu and since a time Kunio wanted change it so the hat and cane,also the blade was perfect for him

His way of fight was more dramatic and theatric (like him) than they partners something that with the cane and the hat fit perfectly

"yeah,I will give to much people a "shock" with this"-laughing of his own joke Kunio take both gifts and take it to the "basement"

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic oc #hypnosis microphone #kumamoto division #strange magic #kunio chōten #akihisa mashiro #akari himura #death row block #katsushika division #happy birthday kunio 2023

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exclectical · 2 years ago

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Thunderhorse

THEME: Rarepair Month 2023: Rain/(AND soundtrack, I guess, ehe) RARE-PAIRING: Caj and Centaur-Skwisgaar WARNINGS: None unless you don’t like the idea of people marrying and procreating with monster types (no adult content) NOTES: I’m NOT sorry

==================================

Skwisgaar Skwigelf, world’s fastest centaur, made his second circle around the entrance to the hospital. The OB wing’s pickup/dropoff area offered benches and complimentary wheelchairs to the people who had to, or preferred to wait outside, but alas; there was no place to park his horse-for-a-butt comfortably.

The next best option was to sit on his haunches under the awning, a few feet away from the entrance. He was used to it by then, but he was aware of the stares from people waiting with him as they eyed the shiny white coat of his backside, long blond mane (that is to say, his hair), and chiseled torso which was laid bare and shirtless for all to gawk at. The showman in him made his pectorals do a little dance for the crowd.

“Let me guess,” came the voice of his wife as she interrupted his flexing, “t’ey did not let you in because you are not wearing clothes, again.”

“I ams.” He proved it by pointing to his leather arm-bands. Then, his eyes got wider and he danced to to his feet (all four of them). “SOOooooo?”

She gave him a knowing smirk and rolled her eyes. “As usual, t’ey don’t know if I should be seeing a doctor or a vet, but yes. Six weeks pregnant.”

“Hah!” He whinnied, pumping a fist, “Knews it. We gets you de best hays to sleeps in, and de bests oats for eatings...”

“Skwisgaar, I remind you I am a person.” Caj said, clapping his horse-shoulder. “I would rather sleep in our bed and eat ‘uman food.”

“Oh. Ja, rights. Suppose dat am fine too!”

He lifted her up and placed her on his back, petting strands of auburn to the space behind her ears. She pulled herself closer, onto his withers and he turned as much of his human body around as he could so they might embrace. They shared a single, sweet kiss before he felt her slide back down his spine and into a comfortable riding position.

“Sos.” He said, turning his human-half around, “Sugarcubes and Candy-Corns goings to have a brudder or sister! Maybe we names dis one somethings not so formals, ja?”

“Perhaps.” She grabbed his human hips as he began to move, “But not’ing crazy. I’d never want our colts and fillies to be teased when t’ey get older.”

“Goods points.” He readied himself to trot home, and headed towards the exit to the road, “Hejs, at leasts they doesn’t needs to gets driver licenses when they turn sixteens!”

Then, a loud bang cut through the silence. A flash of lightning followed it a second later. In mere moments, a downpour had started, and the rain cascaded beyond the clinic’s awning in torrential fashion.

“Shit!” Caj snarled, “I knew we should’ve brought the SUV and the trailer.”

Skwisgaar sighed at the delay, but in the end, he was okay with waiting it out if it meant more quality time with the woman he horse-married.

“Heh. Rains at dis times of the year!” He said. “How weirds is dat!”

THE END

================================== This story was continued from/based on @chordsykat art:

https://chordsykat.tumblr.com/post/682898398394892289/now-im-obsessed-with-caj-and-skwisgaar-au-where

Hehu! Surprise!

#NOT sorry #mtl rarepairs #metalocalypse #mtlrarepair2023

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mysticstarlightduck · 11 months ago

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Red Maple, gingko, and basswood from your tree ask game!

Thank you so much for the Ask, @lassiesandiego!

(The Ask Game)

Red Maple - Which character is the most showy?

Definitely either Ambrose Prosper or Augustus Grimmure, in very different ways.

Ambrose is all about his image as the legendary mysterious thief and literally "putting on a grand show", he's loud, playfully cocky, and adores grand entrances - he would be the kind of person to love having his own epic soundtrack and making a grand entrance à la "The Greatest Showman". He likes being praised, but deep down, this is just a show to hide his more real self, who is more insecure, shy, and afraid (as in, he creates a false "superiority complex" to compensate for his self-doubt).

Meanwhile, Augustus is the other side of the coin when it comes to being "showy" - which I'm not sure is the right adjective for him but it fits, because he's proud and assured of his power to the point rarely considers his enemies a threat (his hubris is his character flaw too, as it leads him to underestimate dangerous people). He's showy in the sense that he more often than not is the most dangerous/powerful person in the room, and takes full advantage of this knowledge by using it to fuel his reputation and create the persona his enemies know him to be. He's the silent, more effortless kind of showy/cocky.

Gingko - What part of your story is the oldest, has stuck around from that original idea?

Harriet's background and overall story for sure. Some of her character has remained unchanged, surprisingly, even as the world and plot around her story changed drastically from that first idea.

What remains the same - (Backstory) She is an orphan girl whose parents mysteriously disappeared, and who comes from a rich noble family. She was then raised by a previously unknown brother-figure of hers who is at first distant towards her and has more secrets than he lets on. Her House (family name) is considered disgraced or shameful for reasons she doesn't quite understand. She has a miserly estranged great aunt. (Main Plot) She discovers a conspiracy happening in her city involving powerful enemies of her family. Her brother-figure suffers a failed assassination attempt.

What changed - Harriet's name used to be Henrietta in earlier drafts, but it didn't seem perfect to me, so I changed it to her current one - her last name also changed. In earlier drafts, her guardian was her older brother, but as the story progressed, I figured it would make more sense (for plot reasons, plus it would make their dynamic make more sense) if she'd been an only child and after the deaths of her parents had been sent to live with an estranged cousin - (and while the two were distant at first they developed a sibling connection because they were the only true family each other's got). She originally fell in love with a rival from an enemy House, but her character had much more chemistry with Augustus Grimmure - who was a new character at the time - so I scrapped that rival idea and wrote an allies-to-friends-to-lovers romance between her and Augustus. Originally, she also had a twin.

Basswood - What's something calming in your story?

Ooh, I love this question (mainly because it gives me the opportunity to be as creative as I'd like)! Some calming things in this WIP include (imagine these atmospheric scenes, which will have happened in the story at one point):

Evangeline's "hiding space", a hidden room accessible through a secret door from the attic. There are lavender flowers by the window, which permeate the small room with their fragrance, mixing with the notable scent of new ink, and stacks of interchangeable books she brings up here from the mansion's library. On the corner, there's a pile of comfy pillows and cushions, where she usually sits down to draw something new on her sketchbook at the end of the day.

It's a snowy night as the train leaves Ansburke's main station, there's the soft chugging sound of the wheels on the track crunching up snow. Seated beside the window, Augustus absentmindedly hums a tune, reading a book. At one point during the trip, Harriet falls asleep and leans onto his shoulder - something Augustus finds endearing and can't bring himself to move away. He just smiles softly, covers her with a coat, and continues humming his song.

"Madam Olympia's Pastries and Baked Wonders" - this store, owned by - as the name clearly suggests - Madam Olympia, a kindly, clumsily loud, and motherly faerie, is a lovely spot in Ansburke's underbelly, introduced to us by Ambrose shortly after befriending Evangeline. This pastry shop is filled with the warm light of floating candles and the wondrous smells of various freshly baked goods - the scents of vanilla, jam boiling on the stove, and chocolate being the most prominent. While walking through the vast shop, Clarence - our beloved awkward vampire boi - buys a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and after careful examination of this "human invention", decides to take a sip.

#wip: enchanted illusions #writer ask game #my wips #writers on tumblr #character writing #my characters #my writing #asked and answered #writerblr #writers #writeblr #writing

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strykingback · 1 year ago

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Fuck it! Lets Make a RWBY Character!

Underneath a Readmore due to length.

Alright I just have this sneaking suspicion that some RWBY stans might be telling me that if I hate RWBY try making a RWBY series myself... which does make a lot of sense... except theres one teensy problem.

ITS SO FUCKING EASY

Now for example, most the characters in RWBY are either based around actual fairytales such as Ruby being Red Riding Hood, Adam being the Beast from Beauty and the Beast, and Cinder being Cinderella.

Historical or Mythological like Pyrrha, Salem, and Djinn.

Or just simply using a RANDOM color and then finding something that would fit their last name.

Now.. for me I prefer creating characters from Mythology or History. So today I want to create a character from the annals of history itself. Now comes maybe the medium to difficult part.

In what point in time are they from in RWBY

The Ancient past of Remnant? The Present Time? Or the Future?

Now this part can be easy if you just simply choose the Present but if you're choosing the Past then expect some difficulty as the levels there are basically with error. Such as: How would they be able to get to the present? We're they made immortal by the God of Light and Darkness at one point.

Now there are some workarounds to this (Once again RT does not want to expand their lore sometimes.)

Usually the good ol': They were made Immortal Sealed Away by some mages to rest or Cryogenically Frozen and even Sent Forward Through Time.

If you are aiming for the future you might as well be careful as this can be a bit tricky and usually the big question is this

Are they a child from the main cast? If so what is their relation to them? So enough of me rambling about that. So I want to create a character during the Present Time! Now how do I go about this and its usually the namimg part that is the hardest. So now its time to start researching!.

For example, I want a character that manages to perform some amazing tricks of magic.(Even though they are in no means a Mage!)

Simply do one thing look up: Great Magicians Throughout History, etc.

Now I usually want to tell people this one thing to be VERY careful especially looking up famous individuals, because while the name could fit with the character you are looking for, you need to think about how that person was throughout history. Such as Coco Chanel....which CRWBY failed to do their RESEARCH ON the dumbasses.

Plus it does NOT hurt to look through their history and come to a conclusion if it would fit your character well enough. So I have decided that our magicians character will be called.

Harlequin Houdini.

Since Harlequin is a brighter variant of a Green Tint and the Houdini part comes from the famed magician Harry Houdini.

Now comes the bio. Now this part can be a Very most tricky part since you wnat to be original, but sometimes originality can be born from tropes as well. Now dont get TOO tropey with it cause one or two tropes don't hurt at all.

So lets say Harlequin Houdini was born in the lands of Vale as part of a circus family that travels around the four great kingdoms of Remnant. However, little did he know that he had a great affinity for the magical being able to use his semblance "Showman" which he can put on a pompous act for his foes to focus on him as a means of distraction while his hat can act as a hammerspace for allied weapons to stick through to claim a shot

Yet, his Circus was beginning to run out of money and to save his beloved circus family, he would travel to Signal to study and then joining the ranks of Beacon Academy and passing the entrance exam with flying colors. thus he would gain his Hunters License and wuickly rose through the ranks of the Hunters gaining the title of: "The Greatest Showman on Remnant."

As for his semblance I think I explained how it works in the bio. But to further detail it. Show man allows our magical master to open hammerspace portals from our heroe to put their weapon through in order to get a quick shot, or throughout the fight Harlequin would use his semblance for his opponents to knock themselves out.

Lastly weapons.....

Simple he's a magician.

Top Hat and Wand. Thats it.

Well thats that for this.. and well I'm getting tired as of writing this its 3:42 and I gotta hit the hay. See you around.

Bonus Note- Will do revisions on this!

#RWDE #[To Be RWBY or Not To Be- RWDE posting]

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aurorxaeternitatis · 1 year ago

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He was late; barely able to step out of the bus while he ran to the underground entrance with his sports bag on his shoulder. Shit, shit, shit! That miserable bus and that fucking traffic! Mika was erratic while he slammed his shoulder against the metallic door, making his way inside the locker room to already throw away his sweatshirt onto the bench and get himself ready. He wasn’t on the fighters list tonight, but he had received a call from one of the supposed referees to fill in because a lot of money had already been bet and there were VIPs to watch the fights. Money was money, after all, and he needed it. He quickly made sure to change before he stepped out of the locker room, heading to the cage. With that kind of organization, his name would be called out at the last minute, the very moment he would step into the ring for the surprise effect.

He gazed at the VIP area from below, recalling the first night he had ever talked to Nikolai. They hadn’t texted at all since yesterday, but Mika was aware he was also a busy man, probably out of town or just… away. He glanced absentmindedly until he eventually saw moving shapes on the booths of the VIP room. He squinted his eyes for a moment, before he eventually recognized the very man he had been thinking about, a smile appearing at the corner of his lips, before it faded immediately. Yes, Nikolai was there… But certainly not alone. And certainly not sharing a drink either. Mika’s mouth went dry, his heart sinking deep inside his guts; oh… How could he be so naive…Of course… Of course it was like this…

“... BEAR!!” There were acclamations from the scene, the spectators gathering around the ring fervently. He received a loud slap on his shoulder as the referee shook him. “Get in, kid!” He pushed him forwards. Mika was forced to look away from the other show that had caught his attention. Nikolai’s expression, his eyes full of lust for that girl, his hands on her body… It was the same as when they were together. Mika clenched his fists and entered the ring while his name was shouted again. He didn’t dare to look at the VIP area anymore. He was stupid, so stupid.

He glanced at his opponent with a profound furor. Tonight, the Scottish Bear would be particularly violent. // you thought you could get away Nikolai? NEVER 😤

Nikolai's fingers gently explored the contours of Annabelle's hand, his touch sending shivers of anticipation through her. She leaned in closer, her red lips brushing his ear as she whispered, " You're a hard man to pin down, Nikolai. Haven't seen you in the club for a while. "

Hazel eyes met her sultry gaze, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. " I do enjoy keeping people on their toes, " he admitted, his voice low and seductive. " But tonight, you have all my attention. "

As the announcement of Bear resounded in the club, Nikolai's gaze momentarily flicked toward the ring, his smile amused. " A friend of yours? " She noticed possessiveness in his gaze as his fingers traced tantalizing patterns along her arm. " A friend of mine, and quite the showman. "

Annabelle's laughter danced like a secret melody between them, her fingers tracing a teasing path along Nikolai's chest. " Showman, you say? " she purred. " I like a man who knows how to put on a show. "

Nikolai's eyes darkened with desire as he met her playful challenge. " Is that so? " he murmured, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. " Perhaps we could make our own kind of spectacle tonight. "

As the first fighters entered the ring below, Annabelle's fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up Nikolai's thigh, her gaze never leaving his. " Tell me, Nikolai, " she whispered, her voice a sultry caress, " what's your favorite kind of excitement? "

Nikolai's smile widened as her touch sent a rush of desire coursing through him. If only she knew. He leaned in closer, his lips grazing the curve of her neck. " I enjoy the thrill of unpredictability, " he confessed, his voice husky. " The rush of taking risks, and the sweet taste of victory. "

Annabelle's laughter was like the tinkling of crystal, a sound that echoed with allure and mischief. " Victory... And what if you lose tonight? "

Their playful banter was interrupted by the raucous cheers and jeers from the crowd below as the fight in the ring intensified. Mika was giving his opponent a run for his money, and the excitement in the club was palpable.

Nikolai tore his gaze away from Annabelle, momentarily captivated by the intense bout below. " Impressive, " he mused, watching the fighters' every move. " Mika's quite the fighter. " Nikolai was proud of his Scottish bear. He proved to be a far more captivating plaything than the typical individual, and his unique ruthlessness set him apart from the rest.

Annabelle's fingers resumed their tantalizing exploration, this time tracing up Nikolai's thigh. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his earlobe. "I'm more interested in what you're capable of," she purred.

Nikolai's self-assured smile returned as he turned his attention back to her, his fingers finding the contours of her waist. " You'll find, Annabelle, " he murmured, " that I'm capable of many things. "

#永 ask ( libra )#distopea #永 take the fall; lust for something unknown ( nikolai / mika )#tw: suggestive #istg Miho; if I was a cop; I'd always blast my sirens behind nikolai #and constantly shout “pull over you scumbag” ashdahds #he is so fucking toxic and chill like NOTHING is wrong #in his head it's all 'oh Mika is fighting; cool'#NOT A SINGLE SHRED OF DECENCY IN THIS MAN

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orremancy · 2 years ago

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She wasn't expecting company atop the mesa she'd chosen to view the stars upon, though Magdelena isn't completely taken aback: she'd sensed the man's presence long before his silhouette peeled through the dark of the desert's night.

"Do you possess a fondness for viewing the heavens, as well?" There's a hint of emotion in her tone, a rare sensation that's sprouted only recently, and even more apparent when she's bathing in the light of the celestial.

Though, the emotion is one more conflicting than it is of any comfort.

"Balthazar, the humans refer to you as. I have observed you for a lengthy period of time—your battling proficiency is almost as noteworthy as your mannerisms. A genuine showman, I would say..."

Well, he supposed if he was going to make an entrance it was to be now! Not that he'd intended to creep up like a common thug, mind you, so the fact she'd caught sight of him was good.

"What better muse than the stars above and what lies between them, madame?" He gestures with a gloved hand towards the skies. "My first love, some might say."

His face can't be seen, but the smile on his voice is evident enough.

"Ah! I am pleased to know I have left an impression, both in deed and craft. Balthazar is indeed the name I am known by; and likewise has your prowess left an impression upon me. Verily, I thought I might seek you out to perhaps get to know you better."

In truth, battling had never been something he was very good at before he had arrived in Orre. After that, though? It was a neccesity.

#ic #orremancy #cosmichalo #(:3)

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mochalattea · 6 months ago

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You’ve been avoiding this the whole day, and your shoes begin to slip off of your heels; your toes shoot up to keep them from falling off your feet entirely. And yet the one in velvet arrives just as your nerves are shot past the point of fried. He beats around the bush, a showman in his own right, talking about the recent winnings of his latest bet at the table.

You sigh and press your palms into the crooks of your elbows, shoulders hunching as your head dips forward, voice louder than before. “Don’t you ever worry about what will happen when your luck runs out? You’re not immune to the law of averages.”

“Mmh,” he muses, a drawl of whimsy apparent in his tone.

“You know, regression to the mean.”

He sets his drink down and leans his head on his hand, the backs of his fingers narrowly touching the letters on his neck. “I’d like to think that I am regressing to the mean right now, friend.”

Your scowl deepens. “All I’m saying is that being mindful isn’t going to take the fun out of your game. Just when you think your glass is finally filled more than halfway is when someone’s most likely to snatch it from your hand and take a sip of their own.”

The gambler chuckles, tilting his drink towards you. “If you wanted a sip, all you had to do was ask. I didn’t know you enjoyed sharing that much,” he speaks as if sharing one’s own good fortune came out of the excess he evidently believed he had, “after all, you didn’t seem so interested in the doc’s offer.” He swirls the ice around his glass in smooth motions.

“That’s not what I mean.” And it wasn’t about that, either, but you knew that’s what all of this was about even before he brought it up.

“Alright, I can work with that too. Allow me, I can afford to buy you a drink that’s all yours. What’ll it be, friend?” he asks, already lifting a hand to flag down the bartender.

“That’s not—” You let out an exasperated sound, exhaling hotly through your nose. You also raise a hand, waving subtly at the bartender to negate Aventurine’s insistence. “I don’t want you buying me anything.”

“What if it’s not from me? Would it be better if it was coming out of the IPC’s pockets?” Not that there’s much of a difference either way.

“No!” The jolt doesn’t even deter other patrons from their merriment, much to your relief. Whether it be your debts or a drink, both are too lofty for someone else to pay out of pocket. “I don’t like… owing people anything. Be it ten credits or one hundred thousand.”

“Not everything is a transaction, friend.”

Your mouth puckers and his words suddenly feel like pins pressing into your ear canals. As if that wasn’t the most bold-faced lie that’d ever come out of his mouth. That’s how it always was with him—everything was a transaction in some way or another, with him making sure that it wasn’t merely an equivalent exchange, but one that would turn a profit for him. To shake hands with him is no different than making a deal with the devil.

“Come now, don’t make me look bad. If anything, you’d be doing me the favour.” He wasn’t even sitting at a dealer’s table, but it was clear that he had eyes on him. Eyes that aren’t currently watching, but looking on all the same. “I’d owe you after this.”

“You’re far too happy to throw your credits around.” It really wasn’t just about the drink anymore. You look squarely at him, entranced by cyan and magenta.

“And you’re so focused on the path you’re on. You may not know what you want, but you should know when something of fortune is being dangled before your eyes.” He folds his fingers together and rests his chin on them. “Things are worth different things to different people, but there’s always an inherent value to them. I’m not convinced you know the value an offer like this holds, friend. There are some people in this world who only wish to be as lucky as you, to have it presented to them without looking for it.” The Genius Society. Freedom. The Intelligentsia Guild. To each their own.

You avert your gaze because you can’t hold his right now. “If paying off one debt means doubling down on another, I’ll have nothing of my own merit.”

He doesn’t miss a beat letting out an enthralled chuckle. “Merit? Is it not honourable enough to be given an invitation by the very person who wanted one for himself more than anything else?”

Everyone wants something. Most fervently chase that something. Or fight for it. It rolled into your lap by happenstance. Except it’s never that easy. “He’d invite anyone. The Guild wants to bolster its numbers, surely, to increase its funding, prowess, and reach. I’m merely another drop in the bucket to that end.”

“—I most certainly would not beckon more idiocy than I already begrudgingly tolerate.”

You jump at the baritone and flash of royal blue.

“And wouldn’t you look at that. As punctual as always, doc. We were just talking about you, care to join? I’m still working on that favour.”

So he does owe the doctor something. And that makes you, what, collateral?

“I believe in leading by example. You should take note, dear gambler.” The bust he adorns is unreadable, but behind it, the abrasive frown directed at Aventurine moderates somewhat as he glances at you. “On the off chance that I didn’t make it abundantly apparent the first time we conversed: you shouldn’t squander your potential in subpar pursuits which fail to acknowledge you.“

Aventurine says nothing, but his lips curl and his brows rise. His eyes are hard to ignore.

Yes, yes, you see what he means.

There isn’t much of a farewell, for as fond Aventurine is of keeping up appearances and pleasantries. He takes his final sip of from his drink. Makes a point of putting it down audibly. Slides it directly into your field of view. Gestures with the palm of his gloved hand. “Yours for the taking. Until next time.” With a wave of his hand and flutter of his coattails, he disappears into the flood of artificial neon and dancing signboards along with Ratio.

You glance at the offer. There’s a single sip’s worth left. You already know you won’t touch it. You slouch, legs uncrossing themselves and dangling off of the stool’s footrest.

A fizzy blue syrup in a tall glass of SoulGlad adorned with a mint leaf and a decorative origami bird charm is placed in front of you. You straighten in your chair and look up with a start.

“Paid at the beginning of the night’s tab, miss.”

Damn it. “Thank you, sir.” You relax again. You lift the glass to your lips and drink in the favour. It’s cool, and as refreshing as the night air after rainfall. And it sure had been storming in the land of dreams, before it finally let up. You’re going to have to consider Ratio’s offer again, or Aventurine isn’t going to get off your back. But not tonight. Who knows, if you keep slumbering, maybe the answer will come to you in a dream.

#mocha masterpiece #it's been so long since i've written anything for leisure #yet it felt relatively easy to get this onto the page #i've really enjoyed penacony

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livusos · 10 months ago

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CHAPTER 1: THE BETRAYAL.

JUNE 2, 2014

Amidst the bustling backstage chaos, Amore Santos flitted about like a ray of sunshine, her infectious laughter lighting up the room. Standing at a mere 4'10, she was the epitome of energy, her excitement palpable as she prepared for the night's events. Close by, Raven Reyes, standing at 5'2, exuded an aura of quiet strength, her usually intimidating presence softened in the company of the Shield.

As Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, and Dean Ambrose conferred in hushed tones, Raven couldn't help but notice Seth's distant demeanor. Concern etched across her features, she approached him, her voice low but laced with worry. "Seth, something seems off. Are you okay?"

Seth's response was a dismissive wave of his hand and a forced smile. "I'm fine, Raven. Just preoccupied with tonight's match."

Amore, always one to pick up on subtle cues, shot Raven a knowing look, her mischievous grin widening as she teased, “Uh oh , of course you'd love to know why Seth might be upset.”

Rolling her eyes, Raven playfully kicked Amore's ankle. "Ignore her, Seth. She's just being her usual nosy self."

Suddenly, a dramatic whine pierced through the air as Amore clutched her ankle, wincing in mock pain. "Owww! Raven, I think you broke my ankle! This is the end of my career, I can feel it!"

Raven rolled her eyes at Amore's theatrics. "Stop being so dramatic, Amore. I barely even touched you.”

Despite their playful bickering, Raven's mind couldn't shake off her worry for Seth. As she glanced back at him, a knot of concern twisted in her stomach. Something wasn't right, and she was determined to find out what it was.

ARENA TIME.

As the Shield made their entrance, the arena erupted into a deafening roar of cheers and applause. The crowd, filled with loyal fans who adored the trio, went absolutely wild as they marched down the ramp, their iconic black attire exuding an aura of dominance and power.

Amore and Raven, flanking Seth, Roman, and Dean, soaked in the electric atmosphere, their smiles widening as they basked in the adoration of the crowd. Amore's eyes sparkled with excitement, while Raven's usually stoic expression softened ever so slightly, a hint of pride shining through.

Amore stood out amongst the sea of black, her attire adorned with pops of pink that were as vibrant as her personality. It was her signature touch, a reminder of her unique spirit amidst the uniformity of the Shield. Meanwhile, Raven's attire incorporated subtle hints of purple, adding a touch of her own individuality to the group's iconic look.

As they reached the ring, Dean slid out gracefully, his movements fluid as he retrieved microphones from the ringside announcers' table. With a smirk, he tossed one to each member of the Shield, including Amore and Raven.

The commentators, recognizing the significance of this moment, hyped up the crowd even more, their voices echoing throughout the arena as they highlighted the legendary status of the Shield.

With microphones in hand, the Shield stood tall in the center of the ring, their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the arena. The crowd's cheers reached a fever pitch, chants of "Shield! Shield! Shield!" reverberating off the walls.

Dean, ever the charismatic showman, raised his microphone to his lips, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, well, it seems like the crowd is excited to see us tonight."

The crowd erupted into cheers once again, their enthusiasm fueling the Shield's adrenaline as they prepared for their match. Amore and Raven exchanged excited glances, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

As the show progressed, tensions simmered beneath the surface, hinting at an impending fracture within the Shield. Seth Rollins, the architect of the group, seemed distant and preoccupied, his usual confidence replaced by an air of uncertainty.

Raven's attention was solely focused on Seth Rollins. From the moment they stepped backstage, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off with him. Despite the excitement of the crowd and the energy of her teammates, Raven's thoughts remained fixated on Seth.

As Roman, Dean, and even Amore spoke into the microphones, their voices were drowned out by the incessant worry gnawing at Raven's mind. She stole glances at Seth whenever she could, searching for any sign of reassurance, but his distant demeanor only fueled her concern.

Every now and then, Seth would turn to look at Raven, offering her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It was enough to momentarily ease her worry, but deep down, Raven knew that something wasn't right.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to focus on her teammates' words, but her mind kept drifting back to Seth. The bond they shared, both as members of the Shield and as friends, made it impossible for Raven to ignore the unease festering within her.

Just when Raven thought she couldn't take it anymore, the arena erupted into chaos as Triple H emerged from backstage, flanked by Randy Orton. The sight of Triple H, the leader of The Authority, sent a chill down Raven's spine, snapping her out of her trance-like state.

With a sense of foreboding weighing heavily on her shoulders, Raven braced herself for the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead, determined to protect her teammates and uncover the truth behind Seth's mysterious behavior.

From the moment Triple H's music hit and he emerged from backstage, flanked by Randy Orton, Raven's concern for Seth only intensified.

The crowd's boos filled the arena as Triple H approached the ring, his presence casting a shadow over the proceedings. Raven exchanged a worried glance with Amore, who mirrored her confusion at Triple H's unexpected appearance.

As Triple H began his speech, Raven's brow furrowed in confusion. What was he talking about? Why was he targeting the Shield? She searched Seth's face for answers, but his expression remained inscrutable.

Suddenly, Raven's attention was drawn to Seth as he discreetly grabbed a steel chair from beneath the ring apron, his movements swift and deliberate. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what he was planning.

"Seth, what are you doing?" Raven whispered urgently, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

But Seth simply offered her a reassuring smile, his eyes flashing with determination as he held the chair tightly in his hand. "Don't worry, Raven. I've got this."

As Triple H's speech reached its climax, Seth's grip tightened on the chair, his gaze never wavering from Triple H's form. Raven's stomach churned with apprehension, her instincts warning her of the impending chaos about to unfold.

Raven's heart pounded in her chest as she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation that lay ahead, her loyalty to Seth and the Shield unwavering in the face of whatever challenges awaited them.

As Triple H stood outside the ring, his gaze piercing through the tension-filled atmosphere, he paused before turning to leave with Randy Orton by his side. His eyes bore into the Shield, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

"Incase you haven't figured it out yet," Triple H's voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd, commanding attention. "What I do better than anybody is adapt."

The Shield exchanged wary glances, sensing the weight of Triple H's words. Roman, Dean, and Seth stood tall, their resolve unshaken despite the uncertainty of what was to come.

"Last night was plan A," Triple H continued, his voice dripping with menace. "Tonight..."

He raised his free hand, gripping a hammer tightly in his grasp, a symbol of the Authority's power and ruthlessness.

"Plan B," Triple H declared, his words echoing throughout the arena like a harbinger of impending chaos, “There's always a plan B.”

Seth remained poised and ready, the chair held aloft in a silent declaration of defiance. Amore and Raven exchanged worried glances, their hearts pounding with apprehension as they braced themselves for the storm that was about to descend upon them.

As Triple H's ominous words hung in the air, Roman, Dean, Amore, and Raven exchanged determined glances, their muscles tensing in anticipation. With uncertainty swirling around them, they took a unified step forward, ready to slide out of the ring and confront whatever threat "Plan B" posed.

But before they could make a move, the unthinkable happened. Seth, their brother-in-arms, their trusted teammate, raised the steel chair high above his head and brought it crashing down on Roman's back with a sickening thud.

The arena fell silent, a hush descending over the crowd as they watched in shock and disbelief. Roman crumpled to the mat, his face contorted in agony, betrayed by the very man he had once called his friend.

Dean's eyes widened in horror as he stood there in pure shock, unable to Kobe. His gaze on Seth, trying to figure out why he would do this. Amore and Raven stood frozen in place, their minds struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what had just occurred.

Seth's betrayal hung heavy in the air, shattering the unity of the Shield in an instant. The crowd erupted into a cacophony of boos and jeers, their disbelief giving way to anger and outrage.

Amore's heart sank as she watched Seth's betrayal unfold, her hands trembling with disbelief. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered Roman's name, unable to tear her gaze away from the scene of betrayal playing out in front of her.

Raven's emotions were a whirlwind of confusion and heartache. Her facade cracked as she tried comprehending everything. As she watched Seth, the man she had once considered a friend, betray his brothers with such callousness, a mixture of anger, sadness, and disbelief washed over her. She couldn't understand why Seth would do such a thing, couldn't reconcile the image of the man she had known with the one standing before her now.

In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. The Shield, once an unstoppable force of justice and unity, lay broken and fractured, torn apart by betrayal and deceit. And as Seth stood over Roman's prone form, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips, the true extent of his treachery became painfully clear.

Raven's gaze locked onto Seth with an intensity that nobody had ever seen before. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now betrayed a sense of uncertainty and disbelief. She stood frozen, torn between the love and loyalty she once held for Seth and the shock of witnessing his betrayal.

In that fleeting moment, as the chaos of betrayal unfolded around them, Seth's facade wavered. For a split second, his eyes met Raven's, and the mask of indifference slipped, revealing a glimpse of regret and turmoil beneath the surface. In that brief exchange, the weight of his actions seemed to hang heavy on his shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain he had caused.

But as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed, and Seth's steely facade returned, his features hardening once more as he turned away from Raven's gaze. The arena filled with the cacophony of boos and jeers, drowning out any chance of reconciliation or understanding.

Raven's heart ached as she watched Seth, her emotions in turmoil as she struggled to reconcile the man she once knew with the one standing before her now. The bond they had shared, forged in the fires of battle and built on trust and camaraderie, now lay shattered at her feet, fractured beyond repair by Seth's devastating betrayal.

With a heavy heart, Seth tore his gaze away from Raven, his mind racing with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Dean took a step towards Seth because now the realization had dawned on him, and the anger was boiling inside of him. But before he could confront Seth, his former friend and brother-in-arms, Seth turned his attention to Dean, his eyes glinting with malice.

In a swift and brutal motion, Seth brought the steel chair crashing down on Dean's back, the sickening impact echoing throughout the arena. Dean collapsed to the mat, betrayed by the very man he had once trusted with his life.

As Amore, Raven, and the rest of the WWE fan's looked on in horror, the true extent of Seth's treachery became painfully clear. The Shield, once a symbol of unity and justice, lay broken and fractured, torn apart by betrayal and deceit.

Amore's heart shattered as she watched her friends and teammates fall at the hands of Seth's betrayal. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she struggled to come to terms with the devastating loss, the pain of betrayal cutting deep into her soul.

Raven's emotions threatened to overwhelm her as she watched the man she had loved and trusted betray everything they had fought for. Anger, sadness, and heartache warred within her, tearing at her heart as she grappled with the betrayal of someone she had once considered family.

As Seth's betrayal sent shockwaves through the arena, Raven stood frozen in disbelief, her heart heavy with sorrow and confusion. Softly, almost inaudibly, she whispered Seth's name, her voice trembling with disbelief and hurt. "Seth... why?"

Time seemed to slow down for both of them as they locked eyes, a whirlwind of emotions swirling between them. Raven wanted to understand Seth's actions, to make sense of the betrayal that had shattered their bond. But the pain of his betrayal cut deep, leaving her heart bruised and aching.

For a moment, Seth's facade faltered, his heart aching at the sight of Raven's pain. He wanted to reach out to her, to beg for her forgiveness, but he knew that he couldn't. With a heavy heart, he tore his gaze away from Raven's, his resolve hardening as he slid out of the ring to stand beside Triple H and Randy Orton.

As the boos and jeers of the crowd filled the arena, Seth seized the microphone from Triple H's grasp, his voice cutting through the chaos with a sense of finality. "This is my new family now; The Authority."

The words hung heavy in the air, the weight of Seth's decision echoing throughout the arena. Raven watched in silence, her heart breaking as she realized that the man she once knew was gone, replaced by someone she could no longer recognize.

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holdmytesseract · 2 years ago

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OH MY FREAKIN' GOSH! 😱 I'm feeling SO many things right now... I'm giggling like a idiot, blushing like a tomato, melting into a puddle on the floor, screaming and somewhere inbetween, I am FERAL.

HOLY GUACAMOLE... 🤯 My wonderful, amazing, talented friend... THAT WAS AMAZING. Ngl, it was one of the best things I ever read. I swear. I mean it.

“If you say so.” Wanda murmured coyly, manoeuvring the tiny straw hanging off her cocktail into her mouth.

Ohh Wanda know, hehehe. She KNOWS! 🤭

Ahaha, I reacted the exact same way! 😂 I literally spluttered on a mouthful of coke. 😂 I love Wanda, oh gods. 😂

A flash of green caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Whipping your head towards the entrance, you watched as a polished and preened Amanda sashayed around the edge of the crowd like a shark. Green, you scoffed. She’s really laying it on thick.

Ugh... 😒

Suddenly your mouth felt dry, flickering your eyes to the side covertly. Loki was wearing a suit tonight, but not just a suit; you whined internally. Never just a suit.

So... That was the moment I started to stop existing. 🫠

Snug trousers of darkest forest green clung to his legs, the straight hem tailored flawlessly to the tongues of his dress shoes. A jacket of green sateen was wrapped around his exquisite musculature, biceps bulging beneath the glossy fabric as he conjured a drink to his open hand. You ran your eyes over the black lapel, his strong chest flat beneath the trussed layers of propriety you wanted to rip from his body.

Beneath the jacket, a silk waistcoat hugged his broad torso; the buttons glinting in the low atmospheric lights. A matching cravat wound around his long neck, fastened with a peculiar brooch you could only assume was Asgardian.

In his free hand, he held a cane; the tip heavy and ornately carved. Completely unnecessary, of course. Of course, you thought – watching him sip his drink with a knowing smirk. People were staring. And among them, Amanda.

I think that was the moment, where my soul entirely left my body. 🥵

Rogers gaze ran suspiciously over the god's placid features before turning back to the crowd with a showman smile. Loki clasped his hands behind his back, leaning forward to the microphone clenched in the captain’s fist. “Me.” he said, slowly.

I was like: WHAT?!! NO WAY! HE DID NOT! HE... OMG! 😱

Another wave of squeals told you Loki had reached the end of the line of buttons. Suddenly Scott raised both arms, throwing his head back. “A HUNDRED N’ FIFTY BIG ONES!” he yelled, returning to his previous stance as if nothing had happened.

Honestly, the entire 'striptease' had me in a chokehold. My eyes were literally GLUED to the screen. Perhaps I even drooled a bit. Fking hell was this BRILLIANT! BRILLIANT! PLUS SCOTT BIDDING ON THIS??? AHHH!

His legs were wide – a perfect triangle wrapped in tight, luxurious cotton that creased against his thighs.

*panty explosion*

“Loki, no!” you gasped quietly– pushing the crowd to the side as you elbowed forward. His arm slid around Amanda’s shoulders, planting a lingering kiss on her cheek with a secret smile. “Loki!” you yelled, shoving the final obstacle from your path. Tony.

Let me tell you, I was screaming. Screaming - from the top of my lungs, on the verge of crying. I thought no way... Now way you are going to do this to us...

The god whipped round, jaw set in a grimace as he swiped against your forearm with his own. Your hand was swept from his bicep, caught in a millisecond by the warrior grasp of his long fingers. “That I love you, you infuriating woman.” he yelled ferociously, brow furrowing as he realised he had said it aloud.

You have no idea how loud I am able to scream: YES! FINALLY! 😂 I did, girl, I did. Probably so loud that my voice could be heard in the next village. 😂

From that point on, everything was a dreamy haze for me. 😂 I was like:

Wow, I'm literally blown away, I... 🤯 I can't put in words how much I loved this. You made me SO happy with that fic, omg... 😫❤ Thank you, thank you, thank you! ❤ Love you sooo much! ❤

Ps. I laughed my ass off at Thor 'playing' Amanda. 😂 So, that was the trick Loki had up his sleeve... 😉 And I am SO happy it worked! 😭

Final Bids [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection A link to my (new) Masterlist is HERE Summary: (19) Stakes are high and mischief is rife at Stark's charity auction. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Auction trope. Smuttish. Language. Mild Angst -> Fluff. (w/c 4.7k)

Loki hadn’t shown up fighting his way through customs at the airport. There was no dramatic kiss on the runway, and no hint of his theatrical presence at the other side when you landed at JFK. He’s never text you before, he won’t start now; you thought, staring at the blank phone screen resting on the bar of the Tower’s event suite. You stared at it, hoping for a miraculous flash. This is mad.

“Hey.” Wanda said, sliding into the seat beside yours. “Hey.” you replied flatly. She was dressed to the nines tonight, cleavage bursting from a sinfully red strapless dress. “You better be careful in that thing, Thor will get the wrong idea.” you muttered, taking another sip of your drink. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” Wanda winked. “Have you seen him?” she said, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she scanned the room.

“No...I need to talk to him, actually.” you said, joining her in scouting the bustling crowd. Wanda hummed, distracted. Needing to talk to Thor, you chided yourself; say you’re desperate without saying you’re desperate. “I still think you should have given Stark a pair of used panties for this thing.” the redhead mumbled coyly as she turned back to you, satisfied her audience of choice was not in the direct vicinity. “I don’t think anyone wants my dirty underwear, girl.” you laughed, happy for the distraction. “Please.” she scoffed. “Whatever pheromones you’re pumping out had two gods fighting over you. Lit-e-ral-ly.” she said, emphasising with four slaps of her palm on the bar. “People would pay good money to wear that shit like perfume. Mark my words.” You shrugged, seeing Wanda’s eyes narrow. “I think my pheromones are officially out of business, honestly” you sighed, “Rome didn’t exactly go to plan. I think we’re done.” Wanda rolled her eyes. “You always say that. And then the next time I see you, the hair’s all fucked out and you have a big dopey smile on your face and something new he’s said or done that’s driving you crazy. It’s your thing. Your couple thing.” “We’re not a couple.” you snapped.

“If you say so.” Wanda murmured coyly, manoeuvring the tiny straw hanging off her cocktail into her mouth.

There was a pause as you both ran your eyes over the elegant guests returning from intermission. So far, the charity auction had been a roaring success. Your combat belt went for a respectable forty-eight large, while a pair of Banner’s ripped shorts and Bucky’s unwashed sweatband had both garnered over fifty thousand. You knew the world had gone officially mad when Rogers’ notebook of patriotic mindfulness ramblings reached double that. Tony was working his magic on a group of shareholders near the head of the hall, raucous laughter splitting the gin-soaked air. Steve stood at the podium, frowning. As expected, he was taking the duty of auctioneer very seriously.

“What did you hand over to Tony’s fund, then?” you said, crossing your legs on the barstool. “A bra.” Wanda shrugged, as you spluttered on a mouthful of diet coke. “What?!” she postured innocently, “it’s for charity.” The two of you burst into peals of laughter, your gaze drawn back to Captain Rogers squinting at his cards on the stage. “Oh, Steve’s gonna love that.” you gasped, wiping a tear from your eye. Wanda shrugged again. “They said a personal item that people would want – so I complied.” Clint peeled away from the edge of the crowd, leaning on the bar beside you. “Ladies.” he said solemnly, letting his stare wander from a distance over the pulsing mass of people. “Have either of you seen Laufeyson?” Wanda shook her head. “I don’t think he’s coming, he’s not on the auction list – hasn’t even submitted anything.” she said casually, fiddling with her straw. Your stomach dropped, as Clint grimaced. “Good.” he said, letting out a sigh of relief. You frowned. “What’s the problem?” A forced smile stretched across Barton’s face. “Oh nothing! Just...trying to lay low that’s all. He and I had a little...never mind.” You shifted your handbag on the bar, feeling the weight of Loki’s seal rolling gently against the sides. He wouldn’t want to lose it, you thought; remembering the awkward conversations with airport security in Rome. A flash of green caught your attention out the corner of your eye. Whipping your head towards the entrance, you watched as a polished and preened Amanda sashayed around the edge of the crowd like a shark. Green, you scoffed. She’s really laying it on thick. Amanda teetered on her heels before pausing, forehead creased as she plopped down on a chair and hoisting one leg over the other. Clint cleared his throat. “They’re starting again, Tony sent me to get you guys. Shall we?” The next forty-five minutes went by in a haze as your gaze flickered intermittently to the main doors. Loki never missed a chance to schmooze with the higher echelons of Midgardian society. He enjoyed the look of abject terror on Steve’s face too much. You clapped dryly with the others as each lot was closed: Thor’s silk nightcap, Natasha’s make-up case, Lang’s personalised hip-flask and of course...Wanda’s bra. Where is he? You couldn’t help but notice Amanda glancing over her shoulder, meeting your eyes each time before quickly turning away. She made no bids, you noticed; but her stare wandered to the main entrance with suspicious regularity. The same as your own. Steve rumbled on, pausing for laughter as the crowd graciously indulged their host for the evening. Tony heckled from the side-lines, making the captain’s cheeks flush pink on each occasion. As he began the speech he had rehearsed for the closing remarks, you saw his blue eyes widen. The tell-tale shuffle of bodies parting behind you was the only other sound you registered as whispers ran through the crowd like the rustle of leaves. “Good Evening, Agent.” a low voice drawled softly over your shoulder. Wanda elbowed you teasingly in the ribs, her hands still folded on the high circular cocktail table. You elbowed her sharply back.

Tilting your chin casually to the side, you saw the blurred edge of Loki’s profile as he hovered at a respectful distance. “You’re late.” you hissed, heart thundering in your chest as the scent of him infused the air. You could have sworn the holy incense from the Roman church still clung to his hair. Loki chuckled lightly under his breath, hot air ghosting your ear. “I think you’ll find I’m right on time.” he purred, before peeling away to a space at a standing table to your side. Suddenly your mouth felt dry, flickering your eyes to the side covertly. Loki was wearing a suit tonight, but not just a suit; you whined internally. Never just a suit. Snug trousers of darkest forest green clung to his legs, the straight hem tailored flawlessly to the tongues of his dress shoes. A jacket of green sateen was wrapped around his exquisite musculature, biceps bulging beneath the glossy fabric as he conjured a drink to his open hand. You ran your eyes over the black lapel, his strong chest flat beneath the trussed layers of propriety you wanted to rip from his body.

His hair was drawn back in an unkempt bun, messy strands hanging by his carved cheekbones. The contrast between his refined ensemble and the muss of his hair was not coincidental. It couldn’t be. A gentleman in the streets, a ravenous Asgardian whore in the sheets; it screamed. In his free hand, he held a cane; the tip heavy and ornately carved. Completely unnecessary, of course. Of course, you thought – watching him sip his drink with a knowing smirk. People were staring. And among them, Amanda. Steve cleared his throat pointedly, trying to recapture the section of the crowd engrossed in the unexpected late arrival. Your gaze swung back to the blushing blonde just as a stagehand crept sheepishly to his side, handing him a note.

“-and so in conclusion we would like to thank...to...wait wha-?” he raised his hands towards Tony, waving to the note with undisguised irritation. You saw Stark shrug, closing his eyes as his eyebrows raised. Just go with it, the gesture said. Steve frowned. “It seems we have one final item for auction, folks.” the captain said sourly, his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. “Courtesy of Loki Laufeyson apparently...which is..is-” He trailed off as he flipped the prompt card in his hand over, before waving it subtlety to the man who had delivered it, hidden offstage. The stagehand shrugged, making Steve purse his lips. “Well...I’m sure whatever our newest member has submitted for tonight’s fundraising efforts will be top notch. Why don’t we get the man himself up here to tell us about it, since he’s being so coy?” Steve looked smugly towards towards the god in the crowd, before he frowned. Loki was already sauntering towards the stage, tipping the ostentatious cane to excited applause before he began to climb the steps. You could see Steve’s lips moving, the rest of his face a stoic warning. He spun on his heels towards the audience, whipping the microphone cable once. “So, why don’t you tell the generous people here what they’ll be bidding on?” he announced through gritted teeth, an air of joviality barely masking his anxiety. Rogers gaze ran suspiciously over the god's placid features before turning back to the crowd with a showman smile. Loki clasped his hands behind his back, leaning forward to the microphone clenched in the captain’s fist. “Me.” he said, slowly.

There were gasps as the guests leaned to each others ears, hands impulsively travelling to the bidding paddles discarded prematurely. “Ha-ha-ha he’s only joking folks. Let’s not get excited.” Steve chuckled, extending a hand to pat down the enthusiasm on the air. “Why don’t you tell them what they’ll really be bidding on.” he said with a maniacal fake smile that looked like it hurt. Loki’s smirk was a masterpiece of mischief, flirting at the dimples at the base of those devastatingly high cheekbones. He bent forward to the microphone, and you saw the exact moment that Steve realised it was too late to pull it away. “Me.” Loki repeated with a growl, his voice even richer and more seductive the second time. His long fingers wrapped around Steve’s white knuckles, holding him steady. “For one night, for the highest bidder; I will show them what it is to be brought to the precipice of sanity through pleasure. My complete and utter carnal devotion. An unlocking of your basest and most debauched desires. That is my submission to this affair.” He straightened, his eyes flickering to Steve’s face now pinker than his fuchsia tie. The poor captain’s eyes were watering. You felt sick. “What the fuck is he doing?” Wanda hissed, before downing her drink. “This is ridiculous, how dare he... he needs a knee in the nuts-” You turned, shushing her. “No, just...I need to..think.” you muttered. On one hand, if he didn’t go above fifty thousand...you could probably afford it. Just. But then, why should you? The arrogant, cruel prick that he was. If there was ever a way to show you that he was over it, over you – then this was it. Fuck him, you thought; blood thundering as you saw Amanda twirling the paddle between her fingers. And he’s definitely going above fifty-fucking-thousand. You saw Tony begin to squirm as Steve took a few tentative steps to the front of the podium. “You know...ladies and gents I gotta say this is pretty heckin’ unorthodox right here and I’m not sure-” In a handful of frantic bounds, Tony was on the stage; his arms spread wide before he clapped Rogers harshly on the back. “-OK, thanks Cap.” he announced playfully. “Captain Goodtimes over here doesn’t think it would be proper to support tonight’s great cause with this...fine specimen on the bidding block.” He motioned up and down Loki’s long body, his endless limbs wrapped in the exquisite green suit that shimmered like blackbird feathers in the light. “Do you agree with him?” Tony yelled incredulously, winding up the baying crowd with a circling fist as chants of No filled the air. Steve was incandescent with embarrassment, redness flushing down beneath the collar of his shirt. “Are you ready to get a piece.of.this?” Tony roared, as Loki spun slowly on his heels, hands clasped behind his back before he raised them outwards with faux sheepishness. A smile tugged his lips, eyes smouldering across the crowd becoming steadily unsettled as friends became adversaries in the face of competition. Chaos was brewing.

You suddenly felt yourself jostled, Wanda’s hand grasping at your forearm before it slipped away. Swathes of guests crowded forward, each trying to be subtle and failing miserably. Men and women crushed together towards the stage, elbows popping dangerously close to eyes as they readied their paddles for action. “Let’s start the bidding at...twenty thousand.” Tony postured towards the fizzing audience, casting an appraising glance back towards Loki who met his stare with a tilt of his head. His lips pursed, a silent 'ooo' sliding between his lips as he feigned offence.

Tony grinned, pressing the microphone innocently to his chin. “Number seventeen, I see you.” he pointed. “Twenty five thousand.” a strangled voice shrieked behind you. “Twenty-five, not bad.” Tony mumbled, beginning to pace. Loki swung the handle of his cane casually, before making it flip in the air and land expertly back in his grip. The crowd groaned in unison, the scent of mass arousal beginning to hang heavy in the air. You felt your pussy clench beneath your party dress, beads of sweat beginning to form on your collarbone. In a flash, the cane disappeared, as Tony let his forefinger trail down the silk of Loki’s waistcoat, toying with a chain hanging from the pocket. “It’s a nice suit Laufeyson – you’ve got quite the wardrobe, but I think your bidders are more interested in what’s underneath all that slutty satin am I right?” he said coyly, raising an eyebrow. Feral roars of approval sounded around you, as you were shunted back and forth. The man beside you shot up his hand. “Thirty-five!” he yelled, waving the paddle in the air. The increments came like bullets as Loki’s fingers toyed with the silk cravat wound around his neck, sliding the material teasingly from the curve. He threw it into the audience, two women falling to the floor as they became a squabbling mess of bare legs and dishevelled Chanel.

This can’t be happening, you thought with a wave of panic. You clenched the paddle in your fist to your chest, watching the smouldering sweep of Loki’s gaze run like treacle over his captive audience as he began to shrug the satin jacket from his shoulders.

“Fifty!” you heard yourself gasp, arm straight in the air. Tony’s face scrunched, his amusement palpable as he acknowledged the desperate bid with a nod. But it was white noise. “Sixty-five!” the man beside you blurted immediately, shouldering you roughly to the side as he squeezed forwards. You cast a pleading look towards Wanda, who shook her head in disapproval. Tony didn’t have to say a word, pointing to each bidder as they continued to come thick and fast. Loki held his waistcoat with one long finger, dangling it teasingly to the side before letting it drop. It vanished before hitting the floor. Seventy. Eighty-two. Ninety-five thousand. The devastatingly erotic god treated each button of his shirt like an act of foreplay. His fingers caressed the curve before releasing another sliver of fair skin to the sound of baying moans of desire all around you. Beginning to force your way against the tide of bodies to Wanda, you collided with Scott. “Oh hey.” he grinned, eyes wide with excitement. “This is fucking ca-ray-zy right?” Another wave of squeals told you Loki had reached the end of the line of buttons. Suddenly Scott raised both arms, throwing his head back. “A HUNDRED N’ FIFTY BIG ONES!” he yelled, returning to his previous stance as if nothing had happened.

“What?” he quipped casually, giving a shrug of resignation as he was immediately outbid. “Just shooting my shot. Plus, this is legend already. Iconic. No way I ain’t gonna be part of that.” You rolled your eyes, beginning to press against the mass of bodies to the side. “We should get t-shirts. ‘I bid on Loki Laufeyson’…” he joked to no-one. “’And all I got was this stupid semi.’” he added wistfully as you finally reached Wanda. “I saw your bid. It was kind of lame.” she drawled. You shook your head. “I don’t know what to do Wanda.” you whined, wringing your hands. You heard a commotion as the crowd parted over near the doors – a woman had fainted. Loki’s smirk was pure drama as he showed off the endless length of his body with finesse, bare chest glowing beneath the stage-lights. His legs were wide – a perfect triangle wrapped in tight, luxurious cotton that creased against his thighs. The bulge of his cock was clearly visible, every subtle sway of his hips making the fabric stretch against the outline. The bladed angles of his face flashed tantalisingly beneath heavy-lidded eyes as he reached for his belt buckle. Five hundred thousand. Five-fifty. Six hundred.

Wanda rolled her eyes again. “Look – if he doesn’t say it back? Well then he’s the same asshole he’s always been. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that.” she mumbled, taking another sip of her drink. “But the auction-” you whined, feeling Wanda’s other-worldly grip tighten on your wrist. “You’re an Avenger, dumbass.” she growled. “Fuck the auction.” “Fuck the auction.” you repeated unconvincingly under your breath, turning to face the source of your undoing. Loki’s eyes met yours across the room as he ambled forwards, ignoring the hordes of guests who had lost all sense of decorum scrounging at the stage’s edge. They were feral. Over the chaotic din, you could swear you heard the clunk of metal as his graceful fingers toyed with the metal fastening at his hips. He slid the leather out of its loops slowly. Tony wolf- whistled. “Hoooo-eee folks, do I hear seven hundred thousand for a night of debauchery with this actual...real life...bona-fide sex god. Think of the orphans, people.” he jibed, working the crowd into a frenzy. Eight hundred, eight-fifty, nine hundred. You watched the constant flash of frenzied paddles rise and fall, your breaths becoming ragged under duress. “Do I hear one million?!” Tony smarmed, unfurling his arm towards Loki who had placed his hands on his hips, working the waistband of his trousers down to reveal the V of his muscles. “Come on, we’ve all seen the Twitter photos...don’t pretend you haven’t read the tabloids - you know he’s worth it.” Loki flicked a strand of hair back from his eyes, throwing Tony a slow wink as a paddle for the one million bid rose tentatively in the air. Fuck, Tony. you thought, slamming your paddle down to the bar table. “Are you gonna use that?” a woman behind you mumbled inaudibly, before sliding it away. Your frantic eyes found Amanda, still seated elegantly at one of the high stools. There was something different about her tonight, you pondered; as she waited with a look of unbreakable concentration. Waiting to pounce.

There were gasps as Loki reached one arm up, the mouth-watering curve of his bicep matched only by the tight stretch in his obliques. He tilted his chin down, the coquettishly slutty pose making you realise a flood of wetness had begun pooling traitorously between your thighs. He slowly dragged the hair-tie from his messy bun, letting waves of curls fall around his collarbone. “Final bids, folks.” Tony sighed. “I don’t think Laufeyson can take off any more clothes without Steve-y boy going into cardiac arrest.” he quipped, fighting to contain laughter as he glanced at Rogers concealed off stage. Final bids. A wave of nausea rolled in your belly. Who had bid last? Was it the stockbroker, the mayor’s wife? Obama? You couldn’t tell, the mass of jostling bodies melding into one horrible sludge of jealousy. “Two million.” a clear-cut voice called over the carnage. Every head in the room turned to gape at the owner, but you didn’t even need to look. It was her. Tony released a low whistle, spinning on his heels and patting Loki on the shoulder with a commiserate shake. “Two million. No pressure, bud. Hope the royal sceptre has been resting recently.” he mumbled with feigned secrecy into the microphone. Loki chuckled, leaning over. “A veritable bargain, I assure you.” he smirked. “That’s my boy!” Tony chuckled gleefully, spinning to the front. “Two million going once…” Your eyes were wide, turning to Wanda who nudged her head frantically to the head of the room. Tackle him, it said. “Two million going twice…” - “Where’s my paddle…?” you gasped, not thinking straight, “I..fuck.” “Sold!” Tony yelled, to moans of disappointment and reluctant clapping. “To the beautiful Amanda Goldberg for two...million...dollars. Come get your prize, m’lady.”

You saw red, the room starting to spin as the applause grew louder. The flow of Amanda’s dress swirled towards the stage, a bare-chested Loki down on one knee to welcome her with a kiss on her outstretched hand. “Loki, no!” you gasped quietly– pushing the crowd to the side as you elbowed forward. His arm slid around Amanda’s shoulders, planting a lingering kiss on her cheek with a secret smile. “Loki!” you yelled, shoving the final obstacle from your path. Tony. He spluttered, waving his hands dramatically as you hopped onto the stage and took three stumbling steps to where Loki waited with hands clasped behind his back. Even in his stripped state, messy curls hanging devilishly around his chiselled features dark with the lust of baying adoration – he was a prince. Your prince. The crowd began to whisper, awkward murmurs of dissent bubbling like lava at your back. You could feel the heat of their confusion wafting against your skin as it rose in your cheeks. Loki stared unblinking, his eyes narrowing for a split second as he analysed your stricken features.

“Can I help you?” he purred innocently, drumming his fingers around Amanda’s bicep. She gave a loud, cartoonish giggle. You swallowed harshly, throat dry. Loki tilted his head, feigned-confusion painted on his ethereal features. You grasped at your clutch bag, feeling it click open with a fumble of your moist fingers. “I wanted to give you this...back.” you stuttered, arm outstretched with his ancient seal in the flat of your palm.

Loki looked at it for what felt like an eternity, before his eyes finally rose.

“Are you sure you wish to return this to me?” he murmured, arm dropping from Amanda’s shoulder. His chin was tilted to his chest, ropes of muscle flexing at his neck. The growing whispers of the crowd faded to nothing, the beat of your heart the only sound as it thudded in your ears. “No, actually.” you heard yourself say, voice trembling. Loki inhaled sharply. His chest puffed, hard abdominals clenching as he braced himself. Reluctant tears stung your eyes, fingers shaking as the heavy seal began to quiver in your outstretched hand. You tried to blink the impending flood away, glancing to the side. Steve stood behind the wings, wringing his hands with a deep frown. Your eyelids fluttered shut, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. You could hear Tony trying to clear the crowd, tempting them to the bar with the offer of free booze, before Loki’s warm breath fanned your forehead. “Then do not return it.” he said, carefully wrapping your fingers around the cool metal. His hand clasped your own, squeezing gently as he lowered to your ear. “It is yours.” he whispered. It is yours. Maybe it was the scent of him, maybe it was the heat of his naked skin so close, the warmth with which his fingers intertwined with yours, holding his sacred mark. Maybe it was the faint plead in his voice. But as your eyes rose along the carved lines of his chest and up the curve of his neck, savouring every inch – you somehow knew what you would find. Loki’s eyes shone with nervous anticipation, brows slanted upwards as he licked his bottom lip. His teeth caught the curve, pulling gently. They swam with worlds unseen and words unsaid, long lashes framing the endless chaos you had lost yourself within. Hopelessly.

A rogue tear rolled down your cheek, making you look away. “No, darling...no-” Loki murmured, confusion lacing his tone as he wiped it softly with his thumb.

He cupped your face, drawing it towards him. “Please, Loki...don’t.” you gulped, swallowing the force threatening to humiliate you in front of the whole of New York high society. He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours. Tendrils of his hair grazed your cheeks, curtaining you from the crowd at your back as his fingertips slid from your jaw to your shoulders; gently at rest. “Agent, I…” he started, breath trembling. His grip tightened, a staggered exhale making his stomach clench. Three loud slaps sounded by your feet, making you jump. Loki released you with a growl, as you spun towards a very pissed-off looking Tony resting casually on the side of the stage.

“Can you guys hurry up? Trying to save this thing, here. Thanks, Laufeyson, by the way, for the added theatrics. Very amusing, as always.” he scoffed dryly, inspecting his nails. “Will you desist?” Loki hissed, crouching forward. Tony shrugged. “Better get the two mill for the orphans. That’s all I’m saying. Little Loki’s got his work cut out tonight.” “Little?!” Loki snarled indignantly, sweeping his hair back from his forehead as he rose to his full height once more.

The vein in his temple twitched, anger flashing across the sharp profile you knew so well. You grasped his bicep, feeling the tight bulge soften as his breaths steadied. Nerves twisted in your belly like acid, the room beginning to swim as you felt the moment begin to pass. Not again. You took a deep breath; “Loki, what were you going to-” The god whipped round, jaw set in a grimace as he swiped against your forearm with his own. Your hand was swept from his bicep, caught in a millisecond by the warrior grasp of his long fingers. “That I love you, you infuriating woman.” he yelled ferociously, brow furrowing as he realised he had said it aloud. You gaped, frowning as you fought lacklustre against his iron grip. Breaths quickened in your chest, panting as you looked at the abject fear beginning to creep into Loki’s eyes. The gazes of a hundred confused spectators became nothing but a blur, their mutters fading. You stilled, letting your hand become limp. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. Suddenly, you lunged towards him - hooking your free arm around his shoulders. Loki swallowed a gasp as your lips met his with force, a low sigh breathing into your mouth as he melted into you. The god’s hands travelled to your ass, hoisting you around his hips as his tongue massaged your own with wild intensity. A palm slid up your back, winding in your hair as he pushed your face roughly to his. You could hear the PG-curses of Rogers as he frantically hoisted the stage curtains closed, his inane blustering audible over the gasps of intrigue from the crowd beyond. Loki’s feral kisses had moved to your neck, the desperate adrenaline coursing through him as he devoured your soft skin in messy sucks. You found your fingers curling in his lengths, pulling his head back gently. Just like the old days, you thought with a thrill. He frowned, panting. Loki wet his lips, preparing to speak before you covered his mouth with a flat palm. “I love you too, you infuriating whatever-you-are.” you enunciated slowly, lips feeling heavy with the force of his affections. The god’s brows slanted, deep lines appearing in his forehead as he shook his head from side to side; making your hand slip away. “Truly?” he growled incredulously, peering up through ebony lashes. “Truly.” you whispered, watching a smile as radiant as an April sunrise creep slowly across his face. “What happened to ‘I know you love me, Agent’…” you coyed, impersonating the timbre of his voice as he lowered you to the ground. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you flush to his bare chest. “Knowing and feeling are two different things, Agent.” he purred, before placing a languishing kiss on your forehead. “What would be the point in your love for me...” he murmured, muffled against the skin, “if you did not believe it yourself?” There was silence as Loki’s fingertip tenderly grazed your collarbone, steady breaths rising and falling between you as he nuzzled into your temple with a low sigh. You opened your eyes over Loki’s shoulder. “Oh – shit, what about her?” you groaned, giving a small, awkward wave to Amanda several meters away. That’s weird, you thought; frowning. She’s smiling. Smiling like...

Loki’s hand rose, a click of his fingers making the emerald skirts of Amanda’s dress begin to smoulder with bright green flame. “My brother owed me quite a few favours, Agent…” he murmured apologetically with a smile against your cheek.

Your eyes widened as a bulky frame peeled into view behind the mirage of Loki’s magic. But the grin – the grin was still the same. Thor flicked his hair, running his palms down his torso. “That’s better.” he rumbled, throwing you a wink. “Sorry about that…” he chuckled. “Motivation was required, apparently.” He folded his meaty forearms. “I still think you’re mad for being in love with him, by the way. But there’s no accounting for taste.” “You better not have started another Oath of Most Ass-yoor-red Recompense scenario.” you muttered dryly to your dark-haired lover, making another smile stretch across his face. He pulled you tight. “No, darling. This was purely fraternal reparations. Isn’t that right, brother?” he growled. “I have been reliably informed that I have been, what you call, a dick-head.” Thor grumbled penitently, scuffing his foot on the floor. “Indeed.” Loki hummed coldly, before his voice softened. “But tonight has gone some way to mending said wrongdoings. Along with your agreed donation to the orphan-fund, naturally.” “Naturally.” Thor grumbled, averting his eyes. Loki’s fingers toyed with the shell of your ear, the tips exploring the angle of your jaw lightly as if for the first time. “I believe that we should..talk? As is the custom I believe? If you’ll permit it.” You nodded, giddy disbelief still coursing through your veins. “As long as it’s not in this fucking ballroom.” you scoffed, before squealing as Loki gathered you effortlessly against his chest bridal style. “Gods, no.” Loki purred, capturing your lips in a wet kiss before his tantalisingly moist lips grazed your ear. “I think it’s time you finally saw my chambers, Agent -don’t you?”

To be continued in Final Bids: Love Wins (coming soon) Part of the Hostile F*cks Collection

Tags @gigglingtigger @meowmeow-motherfucker @muddyorbsblr @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @coldnique @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @wheredafandomat @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @123forgottherest @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @mistress-ofmagic @cheekyscamp @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @cheekyscamp @smolvenger @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman

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amuseoffyre · 3 years ago

Text

I am *still* Blackbeard

Since I clearly should be doing work for my actual job, naturally I started ruminating on the concept and construction of identity within the world of Our Flag Means Death. Specifically, I wanted to have a look at the Blackbeard identity.

Given how infamous he was historically, as audience members we are already bringing our own concept of this pirate with us when we approach the show. Jenkins & Co. played with this perception brilliantly by having stories told about him within their narrative in Black Pete’s ridiculously over-the-top tales of the head of smoke and burning eyes and skull strung on his belt in episode two.

They then fan the flames at the end of the episode, encouraging us to accept Blackbeard’s terrifying reputation as accurate by showing us a glimpse of Blackbeard’s ship which is a masterclass in making a terrifying impression with skulls and spikes and chains strung everywhere.

But in a very subtle little nudge that everything is not as it seems, exactly the same piece of music plays over Pete’s clearly completely fabricated version of Blackbeard and the camera panning up Blackbeard’s ship to his flag: Dies Irae from Verdi’s requiem.

At this point in our experience of the show, it absolutely fits. We know exactly the same amount about Blackbeard as any of the characters. Of course he’s a looming terrifying and imposing figure. Of course he would have a big and spiky and scary ship. Of course he would have a dramatic musical theme like that.

It’s a massive fuckery played on all of us because if the fakeBeard of Pete’s stories gets that theme, what does it say about the so-called real Blackbeard? Is he just as much of a story?

When we finally get to see Blackbeard in episode 3, the fact he is kept faceless and smoke-wreathed and mysterious is continuing to play on our perceptions. When he finally gets revealed in all his leather-clad glory, it is without doubt a choreographed and perfectly-timed Dramatic Entrance. He could have crashed the party earlier as soon as Stede was gut-stabbed, but he didn’t. He deliberately waited until the Spaniards had Stede strung up for execution for the maximum impact.

As he told Izzy earlier in the episode “we want to make a good impression”.

This is the essence of who and what Blackbeard is: a showman, a trickster, a master of smoke and mirrors and illusion.

For a kid who started out in an abusive home, who was raised to believe he was “not those kind of people and never will be”, who ended up in the network of violence perpetuated by Hornigold, it strikes me as incredibly important that his main weapon is making himself seem so much more nightmarish and terrifying than he is.

The contrast of his big entrance at night on the Spanish ship with this absolutely giddy distracted nerd, dashing around the Revenge, poking at Stede’s shiny things is mental whiplash of the best kind because this is the spiky scary Dies Irae monster? He is still undeniably Blackbeard, casually intimidating people with a single word, being dramatic af, but he’s also a giant doof who completely baffles everyone by showing up on deck, role-playing their idiot captain.

Despite Izzy tearing into him, he completely has a handle on the situation and demonstrates over and over “this is why you do not doubt the captain”. He is absolutely and unequivocally brilliant at what he does and adores being as dramatic as possible about it, basking in the praise and admiration of his peers. He can also add a bit of oomph as and when needed, like the flick of a switch, all part and parcel of the whole Blackbeard experience.

He knows the value of a reputation and he has honed his skillset into a weapon that is so infamous that “I don’t even have to be on the ship”. He’s also absolutely offended that his work is reduced some kind of nightmarish zombie-vampire-thing. Excuse you, he worked very hard to cultivate this excellent and useful reputation. One gun, one knife, thank you very much.

This isn’t to say that “Blackbeard” is a role for Ed. It’s not that simple. When Stede asks him if he works for Blackbeard, yes, technically he does. Blackbeard isn’t just a role to be shed. It’s been his life and his identity and his entire career. This is the person he became to survive and even if things change in his future, that part of his life was and will remain there. And he was damn good at it. He made sure the whole world knew his name, feared his name, and now, he barely has to lift a finger to keep it that way.

I’ve written before about Ed’s neurodiversity and a big facet of this is adjusting your behaviour depending on who you are surrounded by, whether for your own protection or to be accepted. Masking is classed as a social survival skill a lot of neurodiverse people adopt as mechanism to ‘fit’ better in an NT world, mimicking and adopting behaviours of the people around them. It’s not performing a role, per se, but it is maintaining personas for different people. Almost like having a worksona for your colleagues and being very different at home.

Edward Teach is something of an expert. He needs to be a big and imposing pirate? He can do that. His drunken lairy friend shows up for a wild time? He can do that too. He’s at a party where people are poking fun at his friend? Okay, mock the friend, here we go, let’s win this interaction. He has a nice man who will let him wear silk and drink tea? Hell yes he will learn to be a gentleman.

He’s masterful at code-switching – just watch the different way he speaks to Izzy or Jack or Stede, how he shifts his mannerisms and body language. But the trouble with such constant social masking is that your perception of who you actually are becomes clouded (me? Speaking from experience? Again? Noooooo). Ed is Blackbeard. It’s not a performance. It’s just one facet of his personality, just as Blackie is another facet, and Ed is another.

The problems arise when those facets start to overlap and the line starts to blur, especially when Ed starts to reach out for the things he wants. He’s never had the opportunity to do that before, but he admits he does like soft things. He does like fine things. On the Revenge, he is finally able to be himself a little bit, enjoying himself, and letting his guard down to the point that Ivan observes “this is the most open and available I’ve ever seen him”.

Izzy – the toxic force trying to keep Ed as always and only Blackbeard – cannot imagine a world where this overlap can happen. The contradiction of it offends him to his core and he doesn’t ask or care why Edward would want these repugnant things. He has only ever known Ed in the context of Blackbeard, his captain, the legend. He bought into that identity. He said he was honoured to work for him, even though he repeatedly refers to Ed as half-mad, insane, crazy and erratic.

Even Stede reacts badly to the overlap of life on the Revenge clashing with the feral and deliberately aggressive energy of Calico Jack when he shows up. When he tells Ed “I don’t like who you are around him”, Ed can’t understand why because he’s still just being himself as he always is around Jack. He doesn’t see any contradiction in the way he’s behaving because… this is how you behave with Jack? It’s only later, after Stede dismisses Jack from the ship, that Ed starts recognising Jack’s toxic behaviour for what it is.

When they’re captured and he’s pared back to Edward Teach, stripped of the beard – his identity in Stede’s horrified eyes – it’s the first time that he can take a moment to reflect on himself. He admits aloud that he doesn’t want to go back to the old ways of things, that it’s nice to take a load off without the weight of all those masks and all those expectations of who you are and what you do.

And of course, we all know what happens after that.

So Ed returns to the ship, but this is an Ed unlike any of the other ideations. This Ed is heartbroken and sad and craving softness and security and warmth. He’s not masking at that point. He’s just… tired and sad and mourning. It completely freaks Izzy out, but at least it can be contained and hidden away in the cabin where no one can see this emotional trainwreck of a human. That, Izzy can handle.

What he can’t deal with is when Lucius encourages Ed to come out and to express himself. Izzy has tied so much of his own identity up in Blackbeard’s reputation and seeing Ed trying group therapy and wearing soft pink silk and singing and doing all the things he finds absolutely repellent, he cannot and will not tolerate it.

When he and Ed have their confrontation in the cabin in episode 10, when Izzy describes him as “this...whatever it is that you’ve become”, Ed simply says “I am still Blackbeard”. Because he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s always been Blackbeard. Even if it’s nice to just be Ed sometimes, he will still always be Blackbeard and that’s something Izzy doesn’t grasp.

Instead, Izzy tears the picture – literal English anti-pirate propaganda – of Blackbeard out of the book and shoves it in Ed’s face, snarling that “this is Blackbeard”. Therein lies the trouble of creating this reputation for yourself: people will start to believe it and once people start to believe it, suddenly your name you made for yourself becomes an albatross around your neck.

Izzy doesn’t want the man in front of him. He wants the legend he signed up to follow. He wants the danger and the violence and the brutal masculinity. He wants the person who strikes fear into the hearts of his enemies and can’t see beyond it. He wants the smoke and mirrors, not the silks and marmalade and laughter, and doesn’t care or realise they are all intrinsic parts of the same man.

Ed is still Blackbeard.

Izzy just doesn’t want to accept it, dismissing, belittling and mocking him. Ed, who has only just started picking up the pieces of himself, who is trying so hard to find equilibrium, has it kicked out from under him. Once more, he is being told he isn’t worth anything, he’s not good enough, he’s worse than a dog, “this whatever-it-is that you’ve become”.

When you’ve been told and shown that for long enough by so many people who were meant to care about you, it gets harder and harder not to believe it. Especially from someone who has just provoked you and proved to you that you’re as violent and aggressive as everyone says.

Ed’s self-worth is miniscule and always has been. He’s been othered and ostracised and beaten down his entire life and at this point, he has been dropped with no reason or explanation by the one person who he thought truly valued him as a person. “You were always gonna see what I am” he told Stede and that fear came real. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t worth even a goodbye.

This is why it’s so important that when Ed ‘becomes’ Blackbeard again, he isn’t doing it his own way with grandstanding and gleeful showboating and swinging on ropes with smoke machines. He pins up the woodcut, he paints himself to look like it, and makes himself the hateful monster recorded in all those pieces of propaganda, the same propaganda that offended him so much in episode 4. If that’s what the world thinks of him, maybe he should just accept it. If Izzy demands that monster, Izzy can face that monster and taste blood.

But it’s all smoke and mirrors.

Underneath it all, he’s still himself, even if no one can see it anymore.

#our flag means death #ofmd meta #ofmd #thinkie thoughts

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mwolf0epsilon · 3 months ago

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@maria-lamb-b & @mintydeluxes-blog thank you for giving me an excuse to throw in my two cents on this very specific topic.

Alright so, I've noticed a bit of a pattern with these three engines that raises some alarm bells in terms of general safety. Not of the engines themselves, mind you, (although it could be said they very much pose a risk to themselves since the fat controller can usually get them repaired, but he's not made of infinite money) but of the people that both work for the railway and frequent it as passengers.

This is a discussion I've had with @british-hero and @milfcutlawquane respectively, and Rogue even tossed in their own thoughts on another engine that they think should qualify on my danger scale, although I excluded him from the list because of a very specific factor that will be elaborated on in a bit.

Anyway...

I'll start off with the more harmless of the three engines. That being Sodor's very own splendid #5 red engine, James.

James is a tender engine of an experimental design (being the only Hughes class 28 with a mogul configuration and a few other alterations that make him unique among his long forgotten/scrapped kin). He's not the biggest and certainly not the fastest engine on Sodor, but he's not a pushover either. More of a working mule with a show pony kind of attitude. He's hard-working when he puts his mind to it, ambitious and has a rather showman-ish demeanor.

And therein lies the problem...

James's vanity and need to prove himself as a splendid and very useful engine makes him a bit of a hazard to work with. Especially when it comes to him rushing into stations and breaking abruptly to make his special entrance.

Not only is it an uncomfortable experience for anyone who might be inside of the coaches he's pulling (it would certainly make for a very bumpy ride, and not at all advisable for people to get up before he's fully stopped at a station), but his crew is also at risk of potentially getting tossed out onto the rails since James has an open cab...

I have a feeling his driver and fireman have had near misses because of his constant showing off, and also have no doubt in my mind that they extensively warn replacement crews to hold on for dear life lest they want to accidentally end up under James's wheels...

I know James likely doesn't intend to do harm as he clearly loves pulling passengers (and people do seem to love him, especially children), but considering the fact one of his first incidents involving coaches was him being so rough that he broke a break-line... Yeah he's not exactly gentle, and he tends to focus more on himself, which makes him a bit of a risk if left unchecked.

Although not as much as Thomas...

I have to admit, for a TV series protagonist, Thomas has had quite a few mishaps that should have ended in human casualties. Of course as a kid's cartoon that's not going to happen, but if you were to look at the world of Sodor as if it were the real world... Oh boy... No amount of plot armour could save his poor crew.

Thomas has a penchant for getting himself into some of the most reckless and bizarre situations... From getting such an inflated ego from teasing Gordon that he ends up down a mine (which is the first instance of where his crew could have potentially been injured or even killed), to smashing into the stationmaster's family home (and coming inches from killing the man and his family as they ate breakfast), to getting himself abducted and put to servitude after getting himself and his crew hopelessly lost in the mainland (how long did his crew go without food or water? How close were they from getting killed in the molten slag vat? Heck they could have fallen off his cab when he was lifted by Beresford!), not to mention the whole Misty Island fiasco (need I say anything about how he ended up there???), every mishap leading up to the Great Railway Show (that crash with Norman definitely should have killed his driver and fireman, and there's no way the bridge jump wouldn't have ended all three of them), and the wretched horror that is his BWBA shenanigans...

The point is... Thomas's impulsive nature makes him a danger to his crew specifically. At the very least he tries to be more careful when pulling passengers, and even shows remarkable consideration for them (an example of this is, instead of relishing in taking a break, he used what free time he had to help a new mother calm her infant by riding around Sodor until the baby fell asleep). He's cheeky, impulsive, and sometimes rude, but he's also compassionate and probably does feel bad when he realizes how much worse things could have gone if things hadn't gone in his and his crew's favour...

Now... Before I reveal who I personally think is the most dangerous engine on Sodor, let me address what Rogue had to bring to the plate:

They suggested that Gordon should also be on this list, because some of his accidents have been the most iconic if not most eye-catching ones in terms of magnitude.

And boy, they're not wrong...

While I agree that Gordon can potentially be a hazard on the rails due to his sheer size, weight and speed alone, I have to point out a very important element of Gordon's personality that at the very least prevents him from being at the top of this list: He's a people-pleaser.

Gordon may be stubborn, impatient, prideful to a fault and even a little ill-tempered and somewhat arrogant at times, but he is also conscientious and values both his work ethic and punctuality. Even if he peacocks his position a little bit ultimately what the boss says goes, even if sometimes what the boss says isn't what he wants to hear (and Gordon has thrown his fair share of tantrums, but he usually does relent in the end if he really has to).

As Sodor's express engine, he has a lot of responsibilities that he tries to uphold with the utmost diligence. Which to me means that, even if he's not the smoothest of rides or even the friendliest (look no further than 'Henry gets the Express'), he at least does his best to do his work right and on time. Which includes putting passenger's safety over his own ('Gordon runs Dry' is another good example here).

Make no mistake! This hundreds of tons giant metal blue beast IS dangerous in his own right, as is any engine if circumstances are just so, but nowhere near as dangerous as...

Henry.

Yep, that's right. The big green gentle giant is the engine I consider most dangerous on the Island of Sodor.

You'd think that's a rather bizarre assumption when Diesel 10 is also around but... Have we ever seen Diesel 10 interact with humans other than Mr. Conductor and Junior outside of 'Thomas and the Magic Railroad'? Have we even seen him pulling coaches or hauling trucks?

As far as I'm aware, due to his rather unconventional (not to mention illegal) modification, Diesel 10 is only used for clearing obstructions from tracks.

And even if he is rather aggressive towards steam engines, he's very easily put back in his place and doesn't really show up much. Overall his entire villanous/antagonistic persona seems to just follow the 'Oh well! Better luck next time!' motto, and really doesn't do much harm overall... He's just a nuisance at best. Which makes Gordon being terrified enough of him to visibly shake a little laughable... It's like Diesel 10 operates on vibes alone.

But I digress...

There's a reason I consider Henry the most dangerous engine. And the reason is... He's the one engine we've seen take control from his crew more consistently than any other engine on the island.

In 'Henry's Health and Safety', after suffering an accident and learning about health and safety from Victor, Henry becomes obsessed with the concept to the point where he takes Rocky without permission and goes about clearing what he considers obstructions and other hazards, causing Percy trouble and even keeping others from using Rocky when Toby derails.

This was not asked of him, he wasn't supposed to be clearing tracks, he just did it because he fixated on his own accident and his desire to make the rails safer. And this is a behavior that he should have unlearned ages ago... Considering his fixation on things that inconvenience him personally ended poorly already...

The thing is... This isn't even my best example for why Henry is a hazard. Ok sure, this is a big engine wrenching control away from his crew... But he's just trying to be useful in a way he knows how to be! Why is that so bad? Thomas does that too sometimes!

Because he's done it while carrying passengers before, and it was much much worse... Especially because, upon analyzing this particular incident more closely, I realized it could have ended in two trains' worth of people dead and at least one other engine totaled...

In 'Henry Spots Trouble', after learning about chicken pox, Henry becomes increasingly more anxious about potentially getting sick. He has no idea engines can't catch it, so when he sees three other engines who coincidentally have spots on their faces, he freaks out.

At first he only speeds up and bumps his passengers about ("like peas in a frying pan"). But when he sees Gordon with a face full of red speckles, he freaks out so much that he completely reverses his controls and surges backwards at enough speed that he can clear Gordon's Hill without any difficulty at all.

I repeat... He's reversing at high speed coaches first... And he nearly smashes said coaches into James who himself is carrying a passenger train of his own.

I'm no engineer, but I know for a fact if Henry had collided with James coaches first, he would have not only potentially destroyed his smaller friend's buffers, footplate and firebox (and potentially burst his boiler), but he would have also crushed his coaches like tin cans...

Worse yet if James had been just a little bit slower to react, he might have not cleared the track in time and his own coaches would have been violently rear-ended, ending in two decimated passenger trains and several casualties.

What's even worse than that is, Henry is so panicked that he doesn't even seem to acknowledge he nearly bashed into James at all and continues to flee and scream for Gordon to get away from him because he's so fixated on the idea his friends have all got chicken pox and that they'll infect him.

Henry is extremely dangerous because, even if he's mellowed out over the years and become less prone to being rude and snappish (ultimately becoming such a beloved and easy to trust engine), he's still incredibly big and strong and has a very flighty disposition that simply doesn't mix well with the two previous attributes. Kind of like an easily-spooked draft horse. A several tons metal draft horse that can turn on his people at the drop of a hat and toss them about with great ease without even realizing.

And what makes this so heartbreaking is that out of the three engines I listed here, Henry would be the most emotionally devastated if he actually hurt or killed someone. Especially if that person were to be any of the passengers that put their safety and trust onto his buffers, or even the fireman that fought to give him a fighting chance prior to his rebuild...

Can't stop thinking about how Sodor has three very consistently dangerous engines, and neither of them is Diesel 10...

#thomas and friends #ttte #ttte james #james the red engine #ttte thomas #thomas the tank engine #ttte gordon #gordon the big engine #ttte diesel 10 #ttte henry #henry the green engine #I can't be the only one who winces whenever Henry gets so spooked that he actually makes himself into a huge danger to be around #I'll bet he's had several drivers because they all give up on his unpredictable behaviour #if anything the only crew member that's likely stayed with him is his fireman Ted... That man fought to get him his heart medication/inhale #I doubt Henry being so flighty or high-strung would scare him off

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