#this image struck me like a bolt from the blue

[denimshortsdean]

when your friend is being a downer in december

[felixravinstills]

Coriolanus Snow & Felix Ravinstill: What's in a name?

o puer, qui omnia nomini debes. / Oh, boy, who owes all to a name.

Creator's Notes:

I actually really need to be doing grown up stuff right now, so if I'm weirdly silent after I post this, that's why! Unfortunately, I got hit by inspiration, so my attention has been split. The final piece of the puzzle that I started putting together since writing Tu Fui, Ego Eris finally dropped into my lap!

Latin quote from Cicero's Philippics (13.11): Cicero ascribes the quote to Mark Antony referring to Octavius (later known as Augustus Caesar)

Gifs created by me from TBOSAS movie

English translation of felix taken from Lewis & Short's 4th possible definition.

Quote from TBOSAS Ch. 4

Screenshot from the Wikipedia page for "Gnaeus Marcius Coriolanus"

Screenshot from the Wikipedia page for "cognomen"

Quote from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar (Act 1, Scene 2)

Quote from TBOSAS' epilogue

Illustration of Romulus killing Remus (unable to find a proper source for it. If you know where exactly it's from (book, artist, not all the website reposts I saw), let me know! I got this image from an Ebay seller with prints).

...

I've contemplated potential Cain-Abel parallels between these two, but the Romulus-Remus parallel that struck me like a bolt from the blue really blew my mind. It actually really matches with this webweaving(?) because Romulus and Remus did disagree about the naming of the city... Anyway, while making this, I lowkey forgot that Felix's Death-by-Coriolanus-Arranged-Car-"Accident" isn't canon.

I was tempted to quote Shakespeare's Coriolanus for when the titular character receives his cognomen instead of the Wikipedia pages, but I think this helps emphasize the name bestowed because of deeds idea without any distraction from the point. Also putting the two Wikipedia pages really emphasizes it... rip the second screenshot having smaller text, but that's the page layout's fault, and I'm too lazy to fix it.

[blackjackkent]

So @zenjestrr informed me AGES ago, that you can get a semi-secret Durge cutscene if you have someone cast Heal on them. It's a sixth-level spell, and he also pointed out that druids get it at level 11, and that it would be potentially apropos to have Jaheira cast it on Rakha. And lo and behold... we just hit level 11!

-----

As they emerge into the sunlight outside the Counting House, Jaheira shakes herself a little from the silent, brooding reverie into which she had fallen. "You are hurt, cub," she says gravely.

And indeed, the left side of Rakha's robes are soaked with blood, muted by the black of the fabric; one of the cultists' knives ripped a gash just above her hip which has been bleeding freely during all the conversations in the vault. Jaheira isn't entirely sure Rakha had even noticed the injury, so preoccupied is she with the next step, with finding Minsc, finding Lae'zel, and destroying the bastards that have them both.

Jaheira, under the circumstances, can respect that singlemindedness - but the bloodloss is starting to tell, paling Rakha's olive-green skin and dulling her gaze. "Stand still," she says crisply, reaching out a hand to halt Rakha in her tracks. With the other, she conjures a ball of blue-white light, the strongest dose of healing magic she knows.

"Te curo!"

As the magic touches Rakha's ripped flesh, her head snaps back as if she's been struck. Her whole body goes rigid as a statue and then begins to twitch violently, hunching into itself.

Wyll's eyes open wide with alarm. He's seen her look this way before - on the balcony of Moonrise Towers, in the Underdark with a mouthful of noblestalk. Some memory has come back to her.

"Rakha--" he says urgently, gripping her arm. "Rakha? Rakha?!"

She doesn't respond.

-----

Narrator: With a start, the spell knits your mind together - just about long enough for you to recall a single image.

Narrator: A little Urge, not even an adolescent, stands with a tiny dagger atop a bloody heap.

Narrator: Two-bedroom cottage. Relative squalor. Poor part of the city. Indiscriminate whole-family kill.

Narrator: Baby's first murder spree.

(A/N: Oh shit. D: Well, this is horrible. Although I do like that the narrator's phrasing here echoes Rakha's usual speech patterns - and her extrapolation, her putting together of fact and fact and fact into a picture. A terrible picture, in this case.)

Rakha's breath catches hard in her throat. She can hear Wyll's voice at a very great distance, all but utterly masked by the brutal immediacy of the vision. The beast is all at once awake in her head and roaring, roaring at this memory of blood and viscera spilled by her own hand.

The fallen bodies are human. A man, a woman, and two children, all rendered unrecognizable under the gore that spatters their mutilated corpses. And over them stands Rakha, triumphant, hungry, the knife in her hand dripping, staring over her victims with the ice-blue eyes she once bore.

A chill runs down her spine. She knew these people. Their death is the sweeter for the betrayal that sat in their faces as they died.

Shudder. Might that family have taken you in?

Narrator: Words creep from the darkness.

Sceleritas's voice, sliding through her mind like oil on water. "Young master..." he whispers to her, to the blood-addled child she once was, "precious fledgling, follow ever your heart. In time... your true family will find you..."

-----

The vision fades. Rakha finds herself curled against the railing of the counting house bridge with Wyll crouched next to her, her hand clasped in both of his. Jaheira is on her other side, looking her over with an air of wary concern, and Minthara stands a little further back, her sword out but not lifted.

Alarm shoots like a bolt of bright lightning through her fuzzy thoughts and she stirs unsteadily. "Who--" she rasps. "Did I-- kill someone--?"

Wyll shakes his head. "No," he says. Then, "There's no one around," he adds, which is probably meant to be reassuring, but only tells Rakha that he knows perfectly well she might have tried, had anyone been within reach. He pulls her hand to his lips, presses a kiss against her knuckles, his eyes searching her expression, trying to read it. "What was it this time?" he asks gently. "What did you see?"

Rakha squints uncertainly, drawing that one brief image to the front of her mind, cradling it carefully as if afraid it might collapse to ashes and vanish again at any moment. "I... was a child," she whispers haltingly.

It's an astonishing enough image all by itself. She has wondered on more than one occasion if she was ever a child, or if she was simply birthed out of that nautiloid pod or in the dark recesses of Moonrise Towers, fully grown and hungry for blood. But no... it seems she was a child indeed, a scrawny little thing in fact, with a mop of dangling dark hair, unwashed and uncut. An urchin taken in by a friendly family in the Lower City, unaware of the sting of the scorpion they were adopting.

"A child. With a family," she goes on, each word unsteady and cautious. "Humans. They adopted me. Gave me food and clothing."

"Oh." Wyll looks slightly surprised. "Well. That's not so bad a memory then." He relaxes a little, a smile creeping back onto his face. "Did they seem like good people?"

"I don't know," Rakha says flatly. "They were dead."

Before he can respond, she pushes herself to her feet and walks away abruptly. "If we are going to catch up with Minsc, we had better keep moving."

[naushtheaspiringauthor]

~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- blood, choking, a LOT of combat

A/N- Okay this one is going to be quiiitte long, so buckle in. Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @evelyndane @marauders-wife @el-de-phi

Ch-62 ~The Battle Of The Unsea~

“Hello?” Anaya could hear Alina whisper, despite being further away. 

“We hear you.” Zoya’s voice was loud and clear. 

They moved at a steady pace.

 Anaya heard a click, then almost ten minutes later, a double click. 

They’d gone a mile. 

At one point, Anaya could hear the distant flap of wings above them, and felt a wave of dread pass through the group.

The Volcra might not hear them but they could scent prey from miles away.

 Still, they kept moving. 

Two clicks later, they stopped and took up their positions to wait. As soon as they sighted the Darkling’s skiff, they would have to move quickly.

Anaya clung to the sword in her hand. She had a knife sheather beneath her leg, a revolver behind her back, yet no amount of weaponry could provide her comfort in these dark and dead lands.

Two clicks.

 They fanned out in the formation they had practised. 

Three clicks.

 Alina raised her hands and set the Fold ablaze. In the same moment, she bent the light, letting it flow around each of the soldiers like a stream. 

The skiff slowed.

 As it drew closer, Anaya saw its black sails marked with the sun in eclipse, the strange, smoked-glass quality of its hull. The violet flame of the lumiya shimmered over its sides. 

Squallers stood at the masts in their blue kefta. A few Inferni lined the railings, flanked by Heartrenders in red, heavily armed oprichniki in grey. 

Anaya thought of how many of them she had known. How many of them would’ve sat by her in class, how many she would’ve passed by in the halls. 

She thought of how many she would have to kill, so the rest could live.

 It was a spare force. The students must’ve been belowdecks. 

The Darkling stood at the prow, surrounded by his shadow horde.

Whatever was to happen, she was ready to face him. 

She thought of the little girl, the girl who sought her worth in the praise she attained from that very man. She thought of the girl, older, who’d thought of that very man as her saviour. 

They were all with her, as part of her.

 Each of them now being able to see beyond the veil, the monster behind the mask, the demon in the wood. They were all by her side, giving her strength. To take their revenge, to avenge what they had lost.

In a sudden, the first shot struck one of the Darkling’s oprichniki. He toppled over the skiff’s railing. Then the shots came in a rapid patter, like raindrops on a rooftop at the start of a storm.

This was their cue.

Anaya and the soldiers bolted towards the skiff, making a formation around Alina and the twins, blades drawn. 

“Go!” Anaya said to Alina. She gave her a glance before rushing towards the skiff with the twins.

 Grisha and oprichniki slumped and fell against one another as confusion broke out aboard the glass skiff. 

Someone shouted, “Return fire!” and the air erupted with the jarring thunder of gunshots, but their group was safely out of range. 

The nichevo’ya beat their wings, turning in wide arcs, searching for targets. 

Flints were struck, and the Inferni who remained on the skiff sent gouts of flame flaring through the air. 

Cloaked from sight, Harshaw turned the fire back on them. 

Anaya heard screams.

Then silence, broken only by moaning and shouted orders from the glass skiff. Their sharpshooters had done their job well. The area around the railing was littered with bodies. Still, she didn’t let her guard down.

A single click. 

The Squallers sent a wave of sand crashing through the air. More shouts rose from the deck as the Darkling’s Squallers tried to respond. 

Suddenly, one of the soldiers behind Anaya yelled, “Get down!”. She barely had time to react as the air exploded with gunfire. 

Two other glass skiffs came into view, loaded with oprichniki. As soon as they came into contact with the light, the skiffs ignited with the glowing violet flame of lumiya.

However many he had sent, only two had made it through. But that would be enough to turn the tide. 

Anaya could hear screams, shouting, their soldiers returning fire. A red stain appeared in the sand and she realised that one of their people was bleeding. Anaya’s eyes widened.

 It could’ve been anyone. Zoya, Nadia, Adrik , Harshaw. 

Soldiers rushed their way from both the skiffs. Oprichnik, Grisha, the lands were sprawling with all of their kind.

Their cover had lifted up, they were as visible as daylight.

An array of armed soldiers rushed Anaya’s way. She took her stance. 

One of the soldiers thrashed his sword in her way, but she quickly brought her own up, clashing it with his. With great force, she hefted it backwards, making him stumble. 

She kicked him in the shin, bringing him down to his knees before bringing her sword to his head. 

Another charged at her from behind, but she spun around rapidly, and ducked downwards. She bought her blade from the side, thrashing it with his, the metals echoing.

She pressed on to her weapon with as much force as the soldier did. She thrashed his blade, making him topple for a moment, she spun around, thrashing the weapon at his side, making a deep gash at his upper arm

The soldier yelped in pain, he lost his footing. But before he could move, she struck once again, making him fall back. 

Another struck at her from a side, making her drop her sword. He then threw a punch at her, but she grabbed his hand with hers and struck his jaw. He moved his other hand towards her, but she deflected it with her elbow.

She moved her other arm up, grabbing his, and kept a firm grip on it as she kicked him at a side of his torso. 

He keeled over, clutching his side. She held him by the shoulders and struck his leg, making him fall down as she let go.

She quickly picked up her sword as another soldier appeared in front of her. And two more came at her side, as if monsters appearing from the shadows. 

They surrounded her from each direction. She was seriously outnumbered. But she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Just as she tightened her grip on her sword, she could sense something.

Long steady streams, spreading out in each direction, lots of them. The steady flow of the water. 

Strange enough, as there was nothing but dead sand for miles.

It’s them

She slowly flexed her wrist at her side. She had a hold on something.

One of them lunged at her. But before he could reach her, she moved her arm up in a jerk. 

He stopped. 

She threw her sword down on and brought her other arm up. The rest rushed towards her, but stopped in their tracks, clutching their hands to their chests.

She seized the streams and directed them to their lungs. She turned her hand up and closed her fist.

They all slumped down to the ground as their lungs brimmed with water. 

She looked at them for a moment. She truly hadn’t realised as to what the limits of her power were.

She quickly picked up her sword and rushed towards the Soldat Sol that were outnumbered by the Darkling’s oprichniki. 

She raised her left arm, seizing one that had one of her soldiers in a chokehold. His body went limp before he soundlessly slumped to the ground.

Another lunged at her from the side and she barely had the chance to dodge. He thrashed his sword in her direction, but she deflected the blow with her own. She struck at his leg, making him move back.

She struck again, hitting the torso this time. 

But before she could compose herself, she felt a sharp strike at her back, making her topple. She felt an elbow wrapped around her neck.

She grabbed the arm, pushing it away as she spun around. But the soldier brought their fist to the side of her torso, hitting her right where her wound was. 

Spots danced around her vision as she felt the sudden, burning pain at her side, making her yelp. 

She pressed her hand to her side as she buckled down.

She saw the soldier move again to attack, but before he could make contact, he was pulled back by a soldier she recognized to be Ruby.

She managed to regain her balance, as she kept her hand pressed to her side as she took heavy breaths.

She strode forward, but was stopped short in her tracks by an inferni. A  familiar inferni. A girl with bright eyes and ablaze hair. Anaya recognized her, she knew.

“Anaya Nasrazeen” The girl looked at her with raised eyebrows. “What a shame” she shook her head in disbelief.

“Evalina” Anaya let out. She was one of the girls who’d spoken to her first when she’d come back to the Little Palace. But they went far before that. 

They were friends back when they were children.

“I had thought of you to be very smart,” the girl cocked her head to a side. “But you’ve clearly failed at picking sides, and look where it has gotten you” she summoned a flint

“You speak to me about picking the wrong side?” Anaya raised her brows. “That man, killed my parents, slaughtered thousands of innocents at Novokribirsk” She pointed a finger to her side. “And you choose to side with him?” She bellowed, fist clenched at her side

“ And what about the Grisha that have been slaughtered for ages? Were they not innocent?” she roared. “What about those who are declared witches and burned at stakes even now, only for the gifts that they are born with? What about us?” her flame burned higher.

“So you choose to justify the slaughter of innocents only because your own kind was treated the same? Anaya tilted her head. Where is the justice in that? For one town burnt, you choose to burn down the entire world? How does that seem fair?” Anaya said, her voice rising.

“It’s not too late, Evalina,” Anaya shook her head briefly. “We can still end this, make it fair”

Her flame deteriorated, she met her gaze, her eyes having a hint of pity. “Such touching words Anaya” she moved forward. “But there is nothing fair in war” she sent an arch of fire towards her.

Anaya bent downwards, avoiding it at the last second. She whirled around, rushing towards the girl.

If it was to end this way, then so be it. 

She rushed from Evalina’s side, nearly dodging another arch of flame and grabbed her in a headlock from behind. 

But the girl thrashed Anaya’s arm upfront and grabbed it. She spun around, bending it behind Anaya’s back, making her drop her sword in several thrashing gestures. 

She yanked at her hair and kicked her in her calf, making her drop to her knees. 

Anaya bent forward and took out her knife from her shoe, pressing her palms to the ground as she spun her right leg around. She jabbed the blade in Evalina’s arm and yanked herself as she stood back up.

She thrust her knife in her direction but Evalina thrashed her elbow upwards, making the knife fall far away from Anaya’s grasp. 

She then brought out her fist to punch Anaya but she quickly ducked downwards, dodging it. Anaya threw her fist, making contact with Evalina’s jaw. 

She threw another punch. This time, Evalina caught Anaya’s arm and moved it sideways with great force. She kicked Anaya’s shin, making her stumble. She then kicked her again in her gut, making her lose her footing and topple backwards.

Before Anaya could regain her balance, she saw a massive arch of fire being hurled her way. But before it could hit her, an immensely strong gust of wind hurled in their direction, making it vanish. 

Both Anaya and Evalina looked at the direction of the wave and saw Zoya with her arms raised. She had a burn along one side of her face. But before Zoya could take further action, she was struck from behind by a soldier.

As Anaya moved to help her, she felt another body crash into hers, making her fall to the ground. Evalina propped herself on top of Anaya and she felt a burning pain in her throat as she wrapped her hands around her neck.

Anaya scrambled her hand in the dirt, in hopes of reaching her knife. 

“I’m ashamed it has to end this way Anaya” she put more pressure on Anaya’s throat. “We could’ve been friends”

Just as Anaya’s vision began to darken, she felt the cold metal beneath her palm. 

She looked at Zoya who was struggling with numerous soldiers. Then at Evalina’s bright ocean eyes, catching a glimpse of the girl she’d once been.

“We were friends” Anaya let out a croak. 

She brought out the knife up, mustering up all her strength and Evalina’s hands went limp as soon as the blade made contact with the skin of her neck. Her eyes remained widened but soon appeared dead as she fell to the side.

Anaya gasped for air as her body hit the sand.

Zoya hastily rushed towards her, “Are you hurt?’ she asked as she helped Anaya get back up.

“No” She managed to let out a hoarse voice.

Anaya glanced at Evalina’s lifeless body, her eyes wide open as she lay on the sand. 

This was what war did. It changed the people you once knew in unimaginable ways. It tore them apart and molded them into something truly recognisable.

Before they could move forward, Anaya felt a sharp, burning sting at her arm. She yelped as the great force pulled her backwards. 

“Anaya!” Zoya bellowed but a swarm of Volcra surrounded both of them

Anaya scrambled behind her back to grab her revolver, but the pull of the monster was far too strong and she struggled to keep her feet on the ground.

She then suddenly felt the Volcra’s grasp on her loosen and then it jerked away from her. She saw numerous Volcra being hurled away from her and Zoya from another shape in the sky.

For a moment, she believed that her eyes had deceived her. But on a closer look, she realised it was real. 

It was Nikolai.

Fangs bared, wings spread. With his talons, he seized the volcra, and hurled them away. More of them started appearing in their direction but Nikolai flew towards them in the dark abyss. 

With her hand pressed to her wound, Anaya rushed towards the skiff with Zoya. She then sighted the nichevo’ya swarming on the deck.

Her mind reeled, Just what is she doing?

For a moment, everything went silent. Every possibility hung in the air like an untold secret. Then in a sudden, light exploded from the skiff.

The Unsea appeared as bright as the mid-summer daylight and then it vanished, leaving them in the dark once again. 

The nichevo’ya swarmed in all directions and the Volcra circled above them. 

Anaya took out her gun and Zoya raised her arms. They stood with their backs firmly planted to one another.

Anaya took her aim and fired two rows of shots at the Volcra, some of them fell down on the sand but more appeared.

Zoya sent gusts of wind at the nichevo’ya, making them scitter and disappear, only to regain their form.

Only then they heard a sudden familiar voice from the skiff, “Someone help!” Alina’s voice boomed through the air.

Anaya and Zoya gave each other a dreaded glance before rushing towards the skiff. Tolya and Tamar appeared from the opposite direction. 

Tolya was limping and Tamar was covered in blood. But they all stopped short when they saw the sight in front of them.

Mal lay on the deck, lifeless, drenched in his own blood with Alina crouched beside him. Her amplifiers, the stag’s collar was shattered, the remains lay near Mal’s body. And so did the Sea Whip’s fetter.

Anaya couldn’t ignore the ache that rose in her chest.

“Bring him back,” Alina cried out . 

Tolya and Tamar went to their knees beside him, but they too exchanged a mournful look. 

“Alina—” Tamar began.

 “Please,” she sobbed. “Bring him back to me.”

 Tamar opened Mal’s mouth, attempting to force air into his lungs. Tolya placed one hand on Mal’s chest, applying pressure to the wound and trying to restore the beat of his heart. “We need more light,” he said. 

Alina let out a choked laugh. She held up her hands, but nothing appeared.

Anaya couldn’t quite fathom what exactly was happening.

 “I don’t understand,” Alina cried as she pressed her wet cheek to Mal’s.

Anaya pressed her hand to her wound, her sleeve was entirely drenched. She took heavy breaths.

He really did it.

Despite having no gain out of it, the boy gave up his own life just so they could live. Just so all this could end. But what use did it have?

The path in front appeared shrouded in mist, one she had no power to clear.

Anaya looked around at the darkened abyss. Then suddenly, she glimpsed at a small beam of light spurting from near one of the skiffs.  Then another, one by one light began to spread around in a steady wave.

“What is that” she spoke, her voice coming out as baffled as she was.

For a moment she stood bewildered, entirely sure that her mind had deceived her. That it was making her see things, a false gleam of hope.

But then the others noticed it as well. Another appeared, a bright point that became two broad beams, sweeping high and wild above them. 

A torrent of light burst from the darkness just a few feet from them. Anaya turned to see one of their soldiers,Vladim, open his mouth in shock and confusion as light poured from his palms.

One by one across the Fold, like stars appearing in a twilight sky, Soldat Sol and oprichniki, their weapons forgotten, their faces baffled, awed, terrified, and bathed in light.

The arcs and cascades of light blossomed around them.

 The beams met, and where they crossed, the darkness burned away. The shrieks of the Volcra erupted around them as the Fold began to unravel. 

Anaya Nasrazeen had never believed in miracles. She was the kind to always look for logic in the tales of the Saint. She’d believed for everything to happen for a reason.

But this was a true miracle. The gleam of hope brightly lit, soaring. And the girl before her might not have been a Saint, but she was the closest to it. 

“How?” Alina looked up. 

The Darkling stood behind them, stunned, taking in the impossible sight of the Fold coming apart around them . 

“This can’t be” he began. “Not without the firebird. The third-” He stopped short as his eyes settled on Mal’s body, the blood on Alina’s hands. “It can’t be,” he repeated.

“What power is this?” he demanded. He stalked toward them, shadows pooling in his palms, his creatures swirling around him. 

Anaya stepped forward, guarding Alina and Mal. The twins drew their weapons. 

Alina lifted her hands but nothing happened. 

The Darkling stared. He dropped his hands. 

“No,” he said, bewildered, shaking his head. “No. This isn’t- What have you done?”

 “Keep working,” Alina ordered the twins. 

“Alina—”  Tolya began.

“Bring him back to me,” she repeated

She lurched to her feet, and the Darkling strode towards her. His hands went to her throat. “No,” he whispered. 

 Her wrist was bare and the fetter had broken too. 

“This isn’t right,” he said. “You were meant to be like me. You were meant… You’re nothing now.” He dropped his hands.

Power, it was the only thing that had ever connected one to him.

 It was the strangest, but the only language he’d understood. The world to him was divided in only two segments, once who had it and others who did not.

That was all he’d seen each of them as. Wielders of power. One way or another. He’d seen Alina to be somewhat his equal because she wielded the rarest form of power. 

It was the only reason she had mattered to him, it was why any of them had mattered to him.

He spread his arms wide, calling the darkness. The nichevo’ya scattered and turned on Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike, cutting them down, snuffing out the beams of light that blazed from their bodies.

In a sudden, Alina drove a shadow-wrapped blade deep into the Darkling’s heart. He made a soft sound, little more than an exhalation. 

He looked down at the hilt protruding from his chest, then back up at her. He frowned, took a step, tottered slightly. He righted himself.

A single laugh burst from his lips, and a fine spray of blood settled over his chin. “Like this?” His legs faltered. 

He tried to stop his descent, but his arm gave way and he crumpled, rolling to his back. 

“Blue sky,” he said. 

Anaya looked up and she could make out the glimmer of light, pouring from beneath the darkness of the fold, the sky. 

The volcra were swooping away from it, looking for someplace to hide.

 “Alina,” he breathed. 

She knelt beside him. The nichevo’ya had left off their attacks. Anaya looked up as they circled and clattered above them, unsure of what to do. 

She looked back down at him.

He glanced at her for a brief moment. He almost appeared amazed.

He’d taken away her life, mended it, molded it and made it into something she hadn’t thought of in her wildest dreams. He’d turned her into something she’d never thought to become.

He had taken away all of it.

For a moment, she could see her mother’s smile, the glint of her dark eyes. She could see her father’s grin, his gleaming blue eyes.

He had taken them from her.

She remembered her proud grin, the one she attained each time she was praised by him. It was strange, how once she would’ve done anything to make him proud. 

And now she stood, watching his breath fade away, feeling a weight being lifted off her, a wave of relief washing over her.

She looked at him with droopy eyelids and a faint smile. She was relieved

He knew

 His eyes fluttered shut. “Don’t let me be alone,” he murmured.

The nichevo’ya blew apart, scattering like ashes in wind, leaving startled soldiers and Grisha staring at the places where they’d been. 

Anaya heard a sudden wrenching cry and looked up in time to see Nikolai’s wings dissolve, darkness spilling from him as he was falling down.

She rushed towards him, followed by Zoya who attempted to slow his fall with an updraft. She formed a cushion of wind as he fell down to the sands with a gentle thud.

Both Anaya and Zoya rushed to his side and for a moment, he did not move. Anaya felt her heartbeat grow as she took heavy breaths.

“Saints, Is he alive?” Zoya managed in a heavy voice

“I don’t know,” Anaya said, bending down to his side. “Nikolai, Nikolai are you alive?” her voice came out entirely hoarse.

He remained still and in a sudden, he let out a groan as he pushed her elbow to the ground and attempted to get up. “I feel very much alive,” he managed.

Anaya’s breath hitched as relief washed over her.

“Come on” Anaya let out a breath as she took his left arm in her hand and put it around her shoulder.

Zoya helped him up from the other side and they trudged forward. 

Anaya winced as her bleeding arm throbbed. 

“Anaya are you alright?” Nikolai asked as he glanced at her

“Yeah I’m fine” she said

She wasn’t entirely sure that she was. But she had the feeling that they were going to be.

……………………………………………………….

A/N- Wow this chapter took a LOT of effort to write so I really hope you liked it. It was honestly a roller coaster of emotions writing the entire thing and reading it back again. Anaya just can’t catch a break can she😔

[crusabre96]

I recently posted an image of some Bolt Action units I was in the progress of painting and I thought it would be the right time to show some photos of the game I had two weeks back against my regular opponent.

My force was pretty standard for Soviets, with a few niche picks here and there like the T-20 Tractor a personal fav of mine that carries my SMG squad into the fray and a T-70 and a BA-10, my opponent who i'll reference as CH plays the Japanese so brought along his starter force that he acquired at the end of last year.

Here is the board we played on, my deployment was in the red zone while CH deployed in the blue, we had five objectives, one in each quarter and a final one in the centre, the idea was to defend the objective in your own zone while attempting to take as many as possible, the narrative being the Soviets need to hold the train station to allow more troops to be brought in at later time while the Japanese would aim to hold the mountain pass to do the same.

The first two turns were a mix of units moving into position taking pot shots here and there, mortar shots flew over head most of which would end up hitting my conscript squad in the station but a majority of the action would take place near the forest and hills where vehicles would end up dueling it out.

By Turn 3 the forest quarter of the board would become a grave yard of vehicles, a truck was taken out of action,CH's Lunge-Mine would strike a killing blow to my T-70 leaving me with no tank support and my T-20 would end up immobilized from his tank but I would get my revenge later when my BA-10 struck a managed to destroy his tank by striking it in the side armour with it's Light Anti-Tank gun.

The loss of my T-20 and would stall and ultimately end my chances of performing a strike into his deployment zone as my SMG Squad would have to slog there way across the board to lock down CH's Grenadiers but on the other and of the table things were looking bad, not only was CH's troops able to remove one of my squads from a house but his truck was able to spear its way into my deployment zone and destroy the conscript squad guarding the station using it's embarked troops, at this point things were lookin grim so I had to pull in my Scout Squad to bulk up the right side and prevent a full overrun, this decision would prove useful in changing a devastation loss to a modest one.

As more and more of my troops began to fall inflicting what casualties on the enemy as they could I found myself in the worst position and I considered conceding but as I looked at my Scout Squad and BA-10 I saw a chance, not a chance to fully win but a chance to claw back something, I would end up pulling back my BA-10 to assist my Scouts in removing the Grenadier squad from the Station which they achieved and managed to retake it and in the forest section my lone sniper was able to secure the quarter thus giving me 2 objectives against CH's 2 but the deciding moment would come on turns 5-6 as unit after unit would charge into each other brawling it out in deadly CQC skirmishes but in the end CH's HQ was the king of the hill thus ended any hope of a victory for me.

It was fun and very tense game, it had been a while since the two of us had played Bolt Action (6 Months) and even then we are still new to the game so we probably missed a few things here and there but we enjoyed are selves.

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Pt. 8

Forgotten Sanctuary

Trespasser Masterpost Previous: Elven Mountain Ruins

The party heads out and back the way they came, until they return to the bridge. The PC places the statue and the bridge extends. They are attacked by Qunari on the other side.

PC: Qunari!

Qunari: Vashedan! The Inquisition doesn’t leave alive!

They fight inside. If the guardians did not attack before, they aid the party against the Qunari.

PC: Why did those Qunari attack “the Inquisition” on sight?

Iron Bull: No Idea. They weren’t Tal-Vashoth, though. This might be a rogue group, but they think they’re following the Qun.

If Iron Bull is not in party Party comments:

Cassandra: Qunari never act without orders. A commander in the Qun must have given them.

Blackwall: Qunari soldiers always have orders. The Qun’s declared us an enemy.

PC (If Cassandra/Blackwall are in party): Are you saying the entire Qunari nation wants us dead? PC (If Blackwall/Cassandra/Iron Bull are not in the party): If the Qun wants us dead, we’re facing the wrath of an entire nation.

Dorian: Well! At last the Inquisition and Tevinter have something in common.

They move on, and the PC examines a mural.

PC (Dalish PC, Solas romance): That’s Fen’Harel—removing Dalish vallaslin? Solas said they were used to mark slaves.

PC (Dalish PC): That’s Fen’Harel. Removing a Dalish elf’s vallaslin? PC (non-Dalish PC): That’s Fen’Harel. Removing the face markings from a Dalish elf?

Party comments:

Cole: Cleansed, fresh-faced where the marks once marred. Fen’Harel helping, healing, giving hope.

Sera: Not Dalish. They weren’t Dalish yet. Right?

Varric: Isn’t this place older than the Dalish?

Dorian: But these ruins are older than the Dalish

Vivienne: It can’t be. These ruins predate the Dalish.

PC: Maybe the markings used to have a different meaning?

The PC lights the veilfire puzzle and the wolf statue moves.

PC: What’s this?

They travel down more stairs to another mural door.

The Lifting of the Vallaslin ㅤㅤ ㅤ A wash of powerful magic carries an sensation of determination. Images flash by: former slaves in ranks with Fen'Harel, armed and strong. Their skin is clear; their face tattoos, the elven vallaslin, are gone. Words are not so much heard as felt. ㅤㅤ ㅤ "The brand of the Evanuris can be lifted from you, that all may know you oppose their cruelties. None here are slaves. All are under our protection. All may choose to fight."

The PC goes outside towards the water and finds a note on a Qunari corpse.

A note torn from a larger page. The paper is charred at the edges. ㅤㅤ ㅤ " …struck the tower, a great sizzling bolt out of a blue sky. Afterward, spirits emerged from a statue of a wolf, as if the lightning woke them, and they appeared to be looking for someone. The only word I understood was "Fen'Harel." They did not see me, but beware, for they attack any guards who…"

They return inside continue downstairs into what looks like an armory.

PC: Hidden weapons. These freed slaves actually fought back against the Evanuris posing as gods.

Party comments:

Dorian: Interesting word, “Evanuris.” If all it means is “mage leader,” well. They were basically magisters.

Vivienne: Elven mages who hoarded power and slaves. One could see parallels to Tevinter’s magisters.

Sera: The Dalish. Are going. To shit themselves.

Qunari that are guarding a nearby eluvian attack.

If the PC tries to leave to soon: PC: Let’s look for anything that explains why the Qunari came here before we go.

They find some order on one of the dead Qunari.

This letter is written in both Qunlat and the common tongue: ㅤㅤ ㅤ I have read your reports. Station your people in the abandoned elven towers by the lake. It is a short distance from its entrance to the mirror that connects to Halamshiral. We will need the space to lodge our people after infiltration is complete. ㅤㅤ ㅤ There is a map of the Crossroads at the bottom, with an arrow from the elven ruins' Eluvian to the Eluvian that leads to the Winter Palace.

PC: This letter says the Qunari came to these ruins because the eluvians connect to Halamshiral.

Party comments:

Cassandra: A staging ground. For an invasion?

Blackwall: An attack on the Winter Palace?

Iron Bull: So they’re aiming for the Winter Palace.

PC: It was some sort of infiltration. There’s no more details.

Iron Bull: This is crazy. They’re acting like we’re at war! PC: Are they? Iron Bull: I don’t know boss. I wish I did.

A note nearby talks about an intruder.

The gore-spattered letter was written in both Qunlat and the common tongue: ㅤㅤ ㅤ Two hours ago, an unknown intruder penetrated our defenses. Masked and cloaked. A mage. Used magic to awaken spirits and turned them against us. Intruder moved as if they knew this place, fled after spirits awoke. Dozens dead. Spirits keep attacking. Engagement not reco— ㅤㅤ ㅤ The rest of the letter is illegible. The blood is still wet.

PC: A note about an “unknown intruder” coming through an eluvian. They “turned spirits against us,” then fled.

Party comments:

Vivienne: A mage. They must have fought their way out, then let the spirits finish off the Qunari.

Dorian: It must be a mage. They killed any Qunari in the way and let the spirits do the rest. PC: Two parties, then: the Qunari and a mystery agent determined to stop them.

After the PC finds both notes, they head towards the eluvian.

PC: Come on. We have to warn people about the Qunari’s designs on the Winter Palace.

Next: Qunari Attack

[jamietukpahwriting]

a bolt from the blue

I thought we just had fun together thought you were just easy to talk to

then you laughed like that looked at me with those eyes your face lit up by the sun and I realized

how I feel about you isn’t “just” anything

~~~~~

Struck by Jamie Tukpah

Image Source

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[annesthaeticc]

505 | Sherlock x Fem!Reader

505 | Sherlock x Fem!Reader

| a song fic; 505 by Arctic Monkeys (listen to the song here)

| angst, implied smut, fluff

| 2323 words

| set on The Empty Hearse. Sherlock finally comes back to the land of the living. Is it truly possible that after two years, he'll be welcomed back?

NOTE: this is my first time to write a character/reader pairing, and my first time here on tumblr. any suggestion/support would be truly welcome! hope you enjoy reading this story! <3

I’m going back to five-oh-five. If it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive.

Sherlock’s eyes adjusted through the light that flooded the quiet plane cabin. The bright yellows and whites hurt his eyes, his pale blue eyes that were so recently used to squinting through the dark during his stint abroad. He quietly groaned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat before opting to open the curtain that covered the window. There he saw the little lights below the airplane. Reds, yellows, and whites, some were blue, some were green. Wisps of clouds pass through. He watched the sight through the window silently while his brain rebooted from his uneasy sleep.

Two years. He was gone for two years. And it suddenly struck him like a lightning bolt. He had fallen and risen, like some modern messiah. He smirked at himself at the thought. He was Sherlock Holmes after all. He was known to be indestructible. But his fall, his demise, his cruel fate hurt the ones he left behind. The ones he vowed to protect no matter what the cost, in this case, two years of playing dead.

Now he cannot help but wonder, will he be welcomed back like a hero? A savior of some sort? No, he grumbled to himself. What he truly wants is to come back to 221B, be himself again, the only one consulting detective, to solve countless cases with John, and to be with you.

In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side. With your hands between your thighs.

For a moment, Sherlock let himself become sentimental. If he was going to be honest, he missed you. So damn much. Every day in those two years, you occupied a small part of his mind, and his heart. You were always there. If he was going to be honest, your image wasn’t a distraction, but rather an inspiration. The image of you sleepily smiling up at him in the morning urged him to open his eyes at dawn and get up, no matter how in need he is of sleep. The image of you quietly sitting next to him reading a book, eyes burrowed in focus pushed him to strategize and make plans more efficiently. The image of you: eyes rolling back, lips swollen and slack and sighing in pleasure teased him, yes, but it greatly helped him to avoid any injury and fatality. He fought his enemies with such passion and strength, just like when the two of you were embraced in that passionate bubble, fighting for release. Soon, Sherlock was thinking of ways to properly surprise you with his return.

Oh when you look at me like that my darling, what did you expect? I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck, or I did last time I checked.

How he greatly missed you. He missed everything about you. Especially your eyes. Your emerald greens staring intensely at his ocean blues whenever you were having a row over the toxic materials stored in the fridge. Your hands that were delicate and warm, the lingering touch of your hands left its mark on his hands, his arms, his neck, in fact, it left a burning trail all over his body. He craved for your touch. That touch that he’s known, memorized. He knew the places where you made your mark; on his shoulders and his arms were indentions of your nails as you scream in ecstasy, and on his neck where you not so delicately wrapped your fingers against his pulse but easing it with gentle kisses as you ride him to the brink of pleasure.

Sherlock hummed quietly to himself as he replayed the memories. He closed his eyes as he pressed play on the VCR that was stored in your room in his mind palace. He drifted away to sleep, knowing he had a few hours until touchdown.

Frightened by the bite, though it's no harsher than the bark. The middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start.

After a short meeting with Mycroft, he reacclimatized himself to London. His home. He breathed in its city smell, he felt the busy city thrum through his veins, he saw the sights that said, ‘this is London UK’, he was finally Sherlock Holmes again, back again in his home. Ready to meet his dearest best friend; the good doctor and his blogger John Watson, he stepped in the Landmark Hotel. Scratch ‘ready’, his nerves started to grate soon as he brushed past the diners of the restaurant. Soon enough, he came up with a bad surprise. Soon enough, John tackled him to the ground, beating the life out of him. A few more punches were thrown, and they were kicked out of two locations, Sherlock was sporting a bloody nose and a possible broken jaw. Boy, John can truly throw a punch, Sherlock thought to himself.

“You hurt her so much Sherlock. I just hope she’ll forgive you, cause I, your bloody best friend, find it very hard to do so.” John said to him, his voice breaking. John witnessed you spiral down after Sherlock’s ‘death’ and he helped you get through it. Sherlock gave him a small nod and finally they parted.

Smirking to himself, he walked the streets of London, wiping his nose every once in a while. So much for a perfect start of his return. Molly next, then Gerard, then Mrs. Hudson. Finally, you. Save the best for the last, some said.

I’m going back to five-oh-five. If it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive.

The last three meetings were successful, he managed to avoid Mrs. Hudson’s frying pan and a concussion. Now, he was clean, free of any blood, his shirt new and his ruffled, he was finally ready to come back to you. He walked to your place and rode the elevator up to your floor. In his hand was a balled-up piece of paper that contains your flat information, and a small speech. He needn’t to have this, he could’ve memorized it in seconds, but he clutched it in his sweaty palms just to feel secure. He paused at your door; 505, it proudly beamed as the light reflected through the shiny metal. He drew in a breath, a steadying breath before all his functions seemed to panic. Before he knew it, he was pacing on the hallway, muttering to himself. His pacing stopped as he heard the sound of the door jiggling open. He stood there, frozen right at your door when you swung the door open. You were occupied with collecting your keys, but it dropped to the ground with a loud sound as your eyes finally landed to his.

Frozen in time, place, and in the moment, you regarded him with glassy eyes and trembling lips. You must be truly going insane at this point, the hallucinations of him stopped just recently, and now it seems, it feels you’re back at it. It’s a fucking joke, it feels like a stupid punchline, to see him standing right in front of you; dressed in his signature clothes, his expression mirroring yours and his hair ruffled just how you liked it and how he has grown to like it.

Finally gathered his courage, Sherlock cautiously stepped closer to you. You finally released the breath you were trying hard to hold in, and the tears freely flowed out of your eyes. He took another step and a loud crack resounded through the hallway. You slapped him. All the anger and pent-up emotions started to bubble inside you. Sherlock sniffed and looked down, and you notice he was on the verge of crying too. Now he was faced with two choices; to leave (again), or to stay and say whatever he was dying to say. He opted to stay. He sniffed again and hastily wiped away the tears that were threatening to spill. You watched him; your vision blurry because of your tears. He finally looked up at you, and the words fell out of his pretty cupid bow’s lips.

“I’m sorry.”

But I crumble completely when you cry. It seems like once again you've had to greet me with goodbye.

Two words to make up for the last two years of his absence in your life. You were hurt, deeply hurt, and right now, you want nothing but to slam the door to his sorry face. But you were overcome with the overwhelming feeling of love. You love him so much it hurts to see him right now, alive and well, you love him so much to the point you want nothing but to embrace him and remind him that you are one of the constants in his life now; you will be always there to welcome him back.

You suddenly moved and wrapped your arms around him. Hugging him tightly, Sherlock feared the two of you might collapse in shortness of breath. But he reciprocated, he wanted nothing but to stay in your embrace, his head buried against your hair. And now, within the safety and warmth of his body, you retracted your hands, burying your face against them, crying.

He hates it when you cry. He secretly hates it when you get his shirt wet with tears, it just reminds him that he hurt you; hence the habit of burying your face in your hands whenever you cry. But this time, he removed your hands from your face. His crime, clear as day in front of him. He broke your heart and he admits it himself that he is guilty. He held your hands, before planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he said and planted his forehead against yours, his curls tickling you. He knows this was your favorite romantic gesture. And it was painful to experience. You were still clueless if everything that was happening was even real.

“Please tell me I’m not going insane, please tell me you’re not a hallucination.” you cried.

“I’m not, I’m here. Here, give me your hand.” he said and you complied. He planted your hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating rapidly, he held it there. More tears escaped your eyes as you refused to look at him. But he tipped your chin upwards, your gazes finally met.

You can see him. You can hear him. You can smell him; his Tom Ford cologne and aftershave. You can feel him; hands wrapped around yours, heart beating hard against your hand.

“You’re real. You’re here.” you assured yourself.

“I am. I’m sorry, I really am. I know, those two words are not enough to apologize for my absence for the last two years. But do you remember my promise to you? I promised you I’ll always come back to you. I’ll always find you. Whenever and wherever you are. Because I simply refuse to lose you. This is me coming back to you, if only you’ll have me.” he said, wiping the tears that were flowing from your eyes.

“And I promised you, I’ll wait for you. I always will, Sherlock. You are the love of my life.” you said, cupping his cheek and caressing his face.

“And you are mine. Promise me you’ll let me make it up to you?” he asked and planted a kiss on your head.

“I promise.” you answered him with zero hesitations.

Sherlock leaned down and softly kissed you. Pouring out his love, his undying and passionate love for you that you so greatly missed when he was gone. The two of you broke apart, eyes glassy, hearts beating fast, pulses racing. Apologies and promises were made and sealed with a loving kiss, you turned and opened the door of your flat, flat number five-of-five, and led Sherlock inside, connecting your lips once more before locking the door.

I'm going back to five-oh-five. If it's a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination, you're waiting lying on your side. With your hands wrapped around mine and a smile.

You were surfacing from your sleep, humming in content as you felt his soft and gentle but calloused fingers trace your arm and your sides. Soon, his kisses followed. Forming a map on your bare back and shoulders. His lips made contact on your pulse point and you finally roused yourself from slumber. You turn to face him, his features soft against the blue light that was peeking through your bedroom window. The dawn was breaking, and so was his lips, breaking into a smile. You snuggled closer to him, trapping him to your body and he had no desire to refuse. Bare body against his, the desire to have him again was starting to stir, but both of you were tired as the two of you managed to tire each other just mere hours ago.

“What time is it?” you hummed against his chest.

“Five minutes past five in the morning.” he replied, his voice deep.

“Do you really have to leave?” you asked.

“I do. But I can always come back.” he said, carding his fingers through your hair.

“No, I’ll meet you there, back at home.” you quietly said, and planted a soft kiss on his chest. He shifted and propped himself above you, he was gazing at you like you were the only one that mattered.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Like what?” he said, tracing his hand down your arms, holding your hand and planting soft kiss on your knuckle.

“Like I’m the love of your life?” you raised your eyebrow at him and fought a smile.

“Because you are. You are the love of my life.” Sherlock said, planting his forehead against yours.

“And you are mine.” you answered him, the words pouring out of your lips to his.

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( the last lyric was actually "with your hands between your thighs" i changed it to "with your hands wrapped around mine" to make it more fluffy ♡ listen to the song here )

[your-local-grubdog]

Fragile Things Chapter 16: If My Chest Don't Cave In

Olimar has finally found him. But what is keeping him captive? And how did he even get there?

Holy shit guys its the end of Fragile Things! There will be more parts to this AU series thing soon, but the next semester is starting in like two days so it may be a bit before you see it. I’ve also decided to yet again change how I’m handling the drawings here on Tumblr, bear with me please!

Oh also, for the startouched AU stuff only the final image will be fully colored. Everything else will be in black and white still uwu

Lastly is a quick warning, a character does have suicidal thoughts in this chapter. Wasn't entirely sure how to word this warning so let me know if it needs adjusted.

Read on Ao3 here!

Olimar let out a grunt as he fell into the next sublevel of this hellhole of a cave. This place had thrown so much at him so far, from bulbears to gatling groinks. He had only around fifty-four pikmin with him now. He should have turned back the last time he saw a geyser. But he didn't - couldn't. He had exhausted all other options by this point. Louie had to be here. He couldn't have gone much further than this!

… right?  

The boss had left at the last geyser himself, his suit too badly damaged to keep going. He insisted Olimar stop as well, but the captain pushed forward; he had to find Louie.

Looking around, he wasn’t able to notice much. A breach in the wall on the other side, leading to gods know where. Wires hung loosely far above him, alongside a seemingly broken stellar orb. Moss grew everywhere, a few stray tiles embedded into the floor. What… was this place before?

"... Olimar."

"Yes, ship?" He pushed himself up and looked over to the research pod.

"I'm getting a disturbing reading from this area. But… Louie is her-"

"Where?!?" Olimar's head immediately turned, eyes darting around. Before the ship could answer he looked down and spotted him; a faint blue glow on a mound of metal within a ditch. He darted to it, sliding and stumbling on the incline as he ran over.

Louie looked terrible. His suit hung on him too loosely, scuff marks covered him - was that a crack in his helmet? Oh Gods, let that be a shallow one! 

… and it was his fault.

"Louie - Louie!" He reached over for him, gently grabbing an arm and hoping, praying, that he'd feel some kind of warmth or pulse.

Instead, he just got knocked back as the pile of metal rose. Olimar groaned again, coughing. This fucking cave had battered him around like a rag doll, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take. But Louie was here! It was all worth it-

Something struck him, sending him sliding to the other side of the arena. He let out another low groan, slowly pushing himself up. He then scooted back a little, eyes widening and ears leaning back as he saw what the mound was. It was a dweevil, a large one, with several machines strapped to it. Louie was perched atop, limp and seemingly strapped on as well.

He hadn't had time to fully process what he was seeing before it grabbed a machine and spewed fire into the arena.

Olimar bolted up best he could, slipping a bit, as he corralled the pikmin and desperately tried to save those that caught fire. He was too slow for a few, and they burned away. He just bit his cheek and backed away. He couldn't stop, not in the middle of battle. It'd just get more killed.

His ears leaned back further as the beast grabbed another machine, sparks crackling from it as it roared to life. And the weight of everything set in on him. 

He was probably going to die fighting this thing. He looked at its weapons - red, yellow, blue, purple - seemingly picked specifically to kill pikmin. And in the state he was in, already beaten and bruised from the beasts before… he didn't think he'd get off this planet alive. 

All to save the life of another. Someone he abandoned. Who's blood would've been on his hands.

Still trembling slightly, he moved the Pikmin away and stared up at the beast.

… he'd never return to his family if he didn't run now.

If he ran now, he could never face them.

He had to try. Had to. Even if death was certain.

Louie groaned a bit, shifting around in his bed. Light filtered through the window, and he immediately hid his head under a pillow. It was too early to be awake. Why must his body start stirring now? He grabbed the blanket to pull it closer and - it wasn't the rough quilt he knew. This was an oh-so-soft fuzzy blanket that smelled like clean linen. Confused and mildy spooked, Louie sat up and looked around the unfamiliar room. At the TV, the futons, the paintings hung on the wall, all things he didn't have.

Then he remembered. And he groaned and leaned back.

I actually fucking fell asleep here. Gods… he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, annoyed.

He flexed his hands a bit. His last memory was of being in the living room with Olimar's son, Nova. They were watching some kind of show the kid liked. It honestly wasn't that bad… he must have dozed off while watching though.

And somehow he ended up here. (Oh he knew how alright. Wasn't the first time he fell asleep somewhere he shouldn't have, and for Olimar to carry his tired ass to bed. Nor was it the first time he woke up tucked in either. Olimar was kind. Too damn kind for his own good.)   

Annoyed with himself now, Louie stood from what he now knew to be the guest bed. He shifted uncomfortably a bit - he had fallen asleep in jeans and it hurt. He wasn't sure what to do. This wasn't his house. He didn't have his clothes or his toothbrush here. His bike was in the garage, but chances were that it was locked up for the night. So no ride home, either.

After a few moments, he decided he wanted to go outside at the very least. He unplugged his phone (the old man also brought that up here?) and left the room. The house was silent, lit up only by light that filtered through the windows. He walked as quietly as he could, stepping out into the hall then slowly climbing down the stairs. The house felt so eerie… Last night there was plenty of noise from the kids playing, Rose cooking, and Olimar going on and on about something. So to have complete silence felt off, even if it was also less overwhelming. Still, he walked over to the front door and down a half step to get to the shoe rack. He carried his shoes over to the kitchen, stepped down into the back yard's entryway, and put them on before stepping out.

It was a cold morning, usual for Hocotate even in the spring. Not that he could notice thanks to his thick layer of fur. The backyard was small, but large enough for what the family needed. A large tree was near the house, with a swingset a little ways behind it. One of those plastic toy "houses" was placed under the tree. There were a few lawn chairs lined up right next to the house. On the opposite side was a decently sized vegetable garden - Olimar's garden - still young and growing into the new season. The plants anyways, the raised beds they were growing in seemed to be a few years old. He remembered when he offered to help Olimar plant the saplings. He quickly found out that the older man had a very particular way he wanted the garden organized (though Louie couldn't make sense of the pattern used) and even a particular order he liked to plant them in. Thus Louie's help mostly ended up just making sure the man took breaks and drank water, as he was all too easily lost in his tasks. 

Louie sighed as he stood in the grass, looking up at the sky and the tree's branches. When he was little, the backyard was always his "get away". Be it because he wanted to avoid his grandmother or she herself kicked him out for the afternoon, the yard was his chance to be away from her. Most of his homework ended up being done under the yard's tree rather than in the house. He then shifted uncomfortably, tugging on his hoodie strings. He'd… have to go back home today, wouldn't he? He didn't want to, but it'd be unfair to Olimar for him to stay much longer.

"Louie?" A quiet, deep voice asked.

Louie jumped and turned around to see Olimar walking out of the back door. The man was dressed in a, well, very Olimar way: a reddish cardigan over a white button up and some khakis. He looked exhausted, leaving Louie to wonder if he even got any sleep. "O-oh… hi captain."

Olimar sighed. "I thought I heard shuffling in the house. You fell asleep here last night, and I couldn't wake you up. So Rose and I decided it'd be okay for you to spend the night in the guest bedroom! … it, uh, was okay, yes?"

Louie nodded stiffly. "Y-Yeah, I guess, if it wasn't a bother to you guys."

"Oh, you'd never be a bother to us kiddo!" Olimar was clearly trying to sound chipper, though a tired tone still crept through.   

The younger man simply looked away. I've been a bother to you even before we met.

Olimar paused for a moment before approaching and laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I mean it, buddy. You're practically part of the family now! I… I know this is all new, but we do love having you around, son."

Louie was quiet for a long moment after that. He did like Olimar and his family, he felt they mostly got along. But he wasn't sure if he deserved this hospitality after what had happened. At the very least, he should admit to what he had done. He had been telling himself he would for weeks now and just… couldn't.

"Louie…" Olimar repeated, ears leaning back. 

"I need to tell you something." He spoke quickly, trying to get this over with.

The older man said nothing, though his ears did wiggle.

"I…" Louie turned away, unable to face his captain - his father figure. "I'm the reason you lost your old ship. I was the one who ate the golden carrots."

A rainbow of colored hazes filled the arena, so thick it was almost like fog. This horrific beast was having no trouble executing its mindless massacre. Olimar could barely breathe; one of the beast's legs had smacked him earlier, right in the chest. And yet he kept running, trying to save the pikmin and trying to defeat the beast to recover Louie, despite the aching protests of his battered body. 

But he was failing.

There was hardly a scratch on the beast, yet the vast majority of the pikmin were dead and Olimar himself was quickly reaching his limit. He was so tired and sore and angry at himself. He was a complete failure. He couldn't save Louie, could he? He couldn't run away either, or at least he couldn't live with himself if he did. He wouldn't make it back home. He wouldn't return to Rose or the kids. He was always a failure, he could never be there for them. He tripped and fell, coughing heavily as he did. A few charred pikmin corpses laid beside him, his eyes widened and he could feel himself choking up at the sight, but he didn't have much time to mourn before being sacked to the side by that monster. He skidded against the ground, harsh pain spiking across his back from where he was struck. This time, he chose not to stand up. He was in too much pain. He didn't care what happened at this point, he just wanted the pain to stop. 

Olimar simply stared for a moment, blinking, before letting out an awkward chuckle. "Ah kid, I already knew that."

Louie froze then, not sure what to say.

"I've been in this business for around two decades. I knew the story our boss told us was a lie near immediately. And after I saw the pitiful state of the ship's food supply, well…" he began to chuckle. "I was able to take some safe guesses early on. Ones that were strengthened over time as I got to know you better… er, no offence meant kiddo, I just mean you clearly didn't want mere plain noodles again. Can't blame you for that."

Louie sat and stared, not knowing what to say. So many thoughts crossed his head, he couldn't keep them all straight. After a few moments, he managed to mumble out "S-So yer not… m-mad at me?"

"No, goodness no!" Olimar put a hand on his shoulder. "I mean… you're still at fault, and it still stings. But I know part of it was also bad management choices. Nor would being mad at you accomplish much. I think we're still better off as a team."

Once again, the younger man was left speechless. He was glad his captain didn't try to sugarcoat things for him, yet also glad for the kindness and understanding. But that's just how Olimar was, huh? The old man was such an odd mix of short fused and pacient. Kind and terrifying. He was Olimar. "T-thank you…"

"Of course." He paused for a moment before continuing with "May I ask what they tasted like, though?"

"Fucking terrible."

At that Olimar began to laugh hard, a near infectious noise as Louie couldn't help but smile as well. "Ah, of course they did. Of course…" the captain then sighed, his residual giggling calming down. 

"I'm pretty sure they actually just dipped the carrots in gold. They tasted like metal and liver. Mostly liver."

"Oh, gross." Olimar shook his head. "My mother would cook liver for dinner if I brought home a bad report card. Why would you spend so much money to take part in that willingly?"

"I donno, same reason people like horror movies? Them rich folk gotta spruce up their boring lives somehow."

"Eh, I suppose… still doesn't really make sense to me. Then again, I don't think I could ever watch a horror movie again anyways. Let alone eat liver flavored carrots." At that the captain sighed.

Louie faltered a bit, shifting his weight from side to side. "Uh… why do you think you can't watch horror movies?" He had a feeling he knew, but he didn't want to assume things either. 

"I donno, it just… I…" the captain sighed again, crossing his arms as his ears leaned back. "They're a little much now is all. Not that I ever cared for them in the first place, I don't think I'm missing out on much!" He had begun to fiddle with his cardigan's sleeve, rubbing it gently. 

He didn't want to make the captain uncomfortable, but he had to know. Sticking his hands in his pockets and looking down he sheepishly asked "Is it because of the pikmin planet?"

Olimar flinched then, ears leaning back. The older man didn't say anything for a while and all he did was just tug on his sleeve harder. Eventually he managed to take a deep sigh and explain "I don't miss those movies, I really don't. It's nothing to worry about-"

"Olimar, please-" Louie was a little loud at first from sheer panic, but quickly quieted down when he saw Olimar flinch again. "I'm just worried. After - after the… after you saved me, I-" 

"Shhh…" Olimar had stopped playing with the sleeve in order to put a hand on Louie's shoulder. "It's okay, I promise."

Is it? Louie wondered. "I just want to make sure-"

"It is." Olimar spoke more firmly this time.      

"Even after what the Titan Dweevil did to you?"

Olimar coughed hard as the monster struck him again. He hardly had the time to recover before it stuck a leg out, pinning him to the wall with a lower joint. It was pressing into his chest hard enough to cause severe pain, but wasn't quite doing damage yet. The captain looked up as he trembled, unsure what the beast was doing. It stared at him with its seven eyes, one claw hovering over its electric weapon. Olimar didn't doubt that it could kill him in an instant with that thing. Yet it never grabbed it, just kept hovering over it like a threat. The captain looked higher then, seeing Louie limp on the beast's head. 

Olimar shook more, crying now. Gods damn it, this was his fault. He should have done a final sweep before launch, he should have been more observant, he should have should have should have should have. And now he was responsible, or about to be responsible, for so many young and innocent lives.

He coughed again as the creature applied a little more pressure. It hurt so much. He just wanted it to stop. Trembling, he grabbed onto the leg that had him pinned and looked back up at the monster before pulling it closer to himself, or trying to anyway.

"Please… j-just end this." He gasped, ears leaning back as his tears rolled. "Please, I'm so tired. You win. I can't save Louie or the pikmin. Please just end this!"  

That's when the beast finally freed him, letting him fall to the ground. 

Olimar froze, unable to respond. 

Louie stayed quiet for a long time before responding. "I don't remember much. It all felt almost like a dream to me - or rather a nightmare. Things blur together, and I'm not sure which events happened when. And... I… I'm scared that - that all the damage it caused may be… m-my fault."

"What?!?" Olimar turned Louie to face him. "No no no, buddy, it's not your fault, don't say that-"

"But I was so angry." Louie snapped. "You left me," Olimar flinched at that, but the younger man kept going, "and then the pikmin did too, and I had to keep running to stay away from the beasts of that planet! And the weaker I got the angrier I got and - and the angrier it got!" 

"But it still wasn't you." The older man sounded exhausted, ears leaning back as he gripped his own shirt tightly. 

Louie was quiet then, looking down. "I know I wasn't in control… I don't think so anyways." I hope I wasn't. "But I still feel responsible."

"I understand." Olimar sighed. "I… I get it, buddy."

The younger man nodded. And I hate that you do. With a sigh he continued with "There's something I do remember." The captain's voice had been like a fire in the dark, cutting through the blurred memories. And like fire, what the captain had said hurt so much.  

"O-Oh…?"

"I heard you. What you said to it."

"... w-wha-"

"During the fight, you gave up. You told it that it had won. And then you begged it to KILL you!" Louie wasn't able to hold back the tears at this point, frustrated as they matted his fur down. "You thought you failed and so you wanted to-" he choked up a bit, unable to finish that sentence. Instead, he repeated "... you gave up." in a quiet, weak voice.

The monster was thrashing now, crying out as it stumbled away from Olimar. The man simply fell to the ground with a quiet thud, coughing hard and completely baffled. He wearily looked up at the monster as it kept swiping at its own head. After several failed attempts, it managed to smack Louie, causing the young man to start falling to the ground.

Olimar's eyes widened with fear, adrenaline forcing his battered body up as he shot up and ran towards the boy. He reached out, breaking Louie's fall but immediately crashing to the ground himself. Struggling for breath he pulled him closer, heart racing and fur bristling. Olimar looked back up at the monster, which had finally finished trashing. It looked around a bit, seeming uncertain, before darting away and climbing over a wall. A trail of odd black goop was left behind it. 

So that was it, then. 

Olimar looked back down at Louie, adrenaline now fading and being replaced with so much pain. The captain coughed again, shaking now. The last few remaining pikmin crawled out from wherever they managed to escape to, running over to Olimar and Louie to hug them and help the captain sit up. They all chittered nervously, rubbing Louie's helmet and Olimar's arm.

"C-captain?" The ship's weary voice spoke through the radio. "... is… what - no, just hold on, I'll come to you."

That made Olimar's ears wiggled as he looked up. Sure enough, the ship's pod was slowly flying over to them. It paused for a moment, just looking over them.

"Captain… you… why did you tell it-" the ship began, only to be cut off by a harsh coughing fit from Louie.

"L- Louie?" Olimar looked back down, trying to hold him up now.

Louie coughed more before slowly opening his eyes. He looked around before turning to Olimar. "C-Cap…tain… Ol… Olimar?" His voice sounded hoarse, his breaths heavy.

The captain nodded. "Yes, Louie, it's me."

Louie paused for a moment before breaking down into tears and pulling himself closer. "D-Dad!" 

Olimar felt himself freeze, tears silently falling. Even the ship pod lowered at that moment, the bottom of its speaker tinking against Olimar's helmet. It was only when the pikmin slowly snuggled in more that he let a broken wail escape him, holding Louie - holding all of his present kids closer. "I-I'm sorry…" he whispered, unable to talk any louder. "I'm sorry."     

 Olimar's ears leaned back, a weary look on his face now. "I - I -" he sighed and looked down. "I'm sorry you… heard that. B-But I promise, that's not - it was a one time thing-"

"Was it?!?" Louie snapped. "You keep saying these things but you do very little!"

Olimar flinched, "It'll be okay. We're home now. We're finally home, we can rest-" 

"No! Being home isn't enough! It was one thing to say that on the planet when it was all we had, but now that you're home you have so many resources that can help you! You need to do something!"

Olimar paused for a long moment, ears drooping. Eventually he sighed and muttered. "I know. But… how do I get them? And even then, I'm not quite sure if we can spare the money right now. Purse strings have been rather tight as of late, it's why my last "vacation" was just me driving around after a dilovery run."

Louie stopped then, deflating as his fur flattened out again. Now wasn't he the hypocrite? He sighed heavily as he leaned his ears back. "I understand. I don't think I could afford it either." The captain was so much better off than he was, he absolutely couldn't afford it if Olimar was unable to. "And… I'm sorry. I'm just - I'm just so fucking worried about you." 

"I know." Olimar sighed. "But this… this is all I've known that really helps. Ever since the community gardens, getting to meet up with or come home to Rose was always the thing I looked forward to the most - it's what got me through the day." He shuffled in place a bit, now leaning against the tree. "I feel safe when with her. And my kids just existing brings me so much happiness. Those three mean the world to me, and they bring me so much peace. Even when Nova decides to get mud all caked into his fur…" at that the captain let out a weak chuckle.

Louie crossed his arms, looking back up at Olimar. "So you… do feel okay now?"

The older man paused for a moment before nodding. "Yes. I do. I feel better than okay now." 

Louie shifted around. Something about this felt… off. "R-Really?"

"Yes!" Olimar nodded quickly, his smile uneasy. The older man then sighed, laying his hands on Louie's shoulders. "And… don't forget, you're family too now. Another son, I suppose." He chuckled then paused for a moment. "If you're… okay with that?"

Louie smiled a bit, finally relaxing. "Yeah, yeah that sounds good Dad."

Multiple chuffs escaped Olimar then, so rapid fire that it could have been mistaken for a Koppaite's purr. "Thank you. And you don't need to worry about me. I'll be okay. You don't need to keep spending energy and brain space on that." He smirked then, now ruffling Louie's hair a bit. "I want you to just relax and enjoy yourself. And trust me when I say I'm doing the same."

Louie shooed his hand off, earning more chuckles for it. "Alright, alright. I will, don't worry. Kinda hard not to have at least a decent time here."

The captain let out yet another chuff. "I'm glad you enjoy your time here, kiddo. I'll do whatever I can to make it a nice place for all of us, okay?"  Before Louie could respond though, Olimar's ears wiggled a bit as he looked past Louie. "Oh!!! Rosie is making breakfast in the kitchen! C'mon buddy, let's go get something to eat."   

Louie looked over to the house. Sure enough, through the back door, you could see Rose standing at the stovetop preparing some kind of meal. It seemed the kids had woken up as well, tiredly sitting at the table in their pajamas still. The young man sighed and followed the oh so excited Olimar inside. He… still wasn't sure if Olimar was right about what he said. But the captain had so much faith in it, that this really would be enough. The man did indeed seem so happy now he was here. Louie supposed all he could really do was trust his father figure and hope everything would be okay.

[khaleesiofalicante]

LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - ALEC & MAX

Alec was peering through the report from the Head of the LA Institute, Julian Blackthorn, when there was a tentative knock on the door.

Huh. That was odd.

When Magnus had made Alec an office room – and by made, he meant literally summoned it from nowhere – Alec had been secretly pleased.

Of course there were downsides to this kind of gift – like when Magnus magically made the room vanish, along with Alec’s belongings, when they had a little domestic quarrel.

There was no need to knock before entering Alec’s office because the room didn’t have a door - a gesture from Magnus that Alec appreciated. It was to show that anyone who needed Alec’s help was welcome.

But it wasn’t the door-less knocking that Alec found odd, but it rather who it came from.

He was used to his son barging into the office – or any room rather, much to Magnus’ dismay.

So this was new. And a little odd. 

“Max?” Alec took off  his reading glasses and glanced at his son.

The blue-eyed boy was standing awkwardly in the threshold of the room – where a door should have been.

Alec realized he was waiting. Odd again. 

“Come in,” Alec gestured at the seat in front of him.

Max pulled it back and sat down - properly. Odd. Odd. Odd. 

Max would always walk in and share some random fact he found out - all the while sprawled on the chair like a cat, with his feet hanging off the side. The boy never sat down properly. 

But now, he was sitting carefully, his feet ready to bolt any minute. 

“What is it?” Alec asked, feeling concerned.

He has been the boy’s father for 17 years. One would think Alec had gotten around to figuring out this whole parenting thing. But it was an endless course – with a lot of surprise pop quizzes.

This seemed like one of them.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Max said, staring at his knotted hands.

Alec’s anxiety deepened. Max never hesitated. If there was something he wanted to ask, he would simply ask.

“Okay,” Alec tried to sound calm. “What is it?”

“It’s a bit…You know what?” Max suddenly got up. “I’ll google it.”

“Sit down,” Alec said, the tone of the Consul creeping in. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I don’t know how to ask,” Max said awkwardly.

“Use your words,” Alec said softly. “Is this shadow world business?”

“Oh no no,” Max shook his head immediately. “It’s…It’s, um, It’s about…a boy.”

“Did some boy at the institute say something to you again?” Alec demanded, his fingers itching for his bow. “Because if someone did, I wil-”

“No, it’s not like that,” Max looked frantic. “It’s about a boy…I like.”

Oh.

Alec blinked.

Oh.

“A real boy?” Alec asked. “Not one of the mundanes from your posters?”

“It’s a real boy,” Max’s lips twitched.

“Okay,” Alec smiled, feeling equally giddy and nervous about the prospect of his son dating. “What’s his name?”

“Nuh-huh,” Max shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Is it a shadowhunter?” Alec asked, leaning closer. “What institute is he from?”

It could be a shadowhunter. Max did spend an awful lot of time in the New York institute. Alec had always thought it was because of “Uncle Jace” but maybe there was someone else…

“Dad, stop!” Max groaned. “You know what? This was a mistake. I’ll ju-”

“Sorry. Sorry,” Alec raised his hands in surrender. “Alright. What did you want to ask?”

Max looked away. Alec saw his horns quiver a little – a telltale sign that Max was anxious.

“Max,” Alec called softly. “You can talk to me.”

“You won’t freak out?” Max asked, biting his lip.

“I won’t,” Alec promised. He could do this. He has been a father for more than a decade. He can do this.

“Okay,” Max took a deep breath. “When you’re with a boy…and you’re a boy…and there are like two boys…”

Alec gaped. “There are TWO boys!?!?!”

“No. No. Just one,” Max looked horrified. “I mean there are two, but I’m one of them!”

“Oh okay,” Alec regained his composure.

He was okay with Max dating however many people he wanted of course – as long as they all consented – but he had to admit talking about one itself seemed like a challenge. He will need a little more time to prepare for anything else. He needed to take baby steps!

“When there two boys,” Max started again. “How do you know…like how do, um, how do you know what happens?”

Alec chuckled.

“Well, it works differently for different people,” Alec pointed out. “Sometimes you always know you like boys and sometimes it takes a certain someone to help you realize and other t-”

“I know I like boys,” Max interrupted, and Alec wasn’t surprised to hear that. “That’s not what I meant.”

Alec frowned.

“Then what did you mean?” Alec asked. “You need to be more specific, Max.”

Magnus seemed to be running out of patience. He sighed. “When there are two boys…How do you know which one is which?”

“Which one is what?” Alec asked, genuinely confused.

“You know,” Max prompted. “When you have sex. How do you know which one is which?”

Alec blinked.

And then he blinked again.

And it dawned on him. So much for baby steps. 

“YOU’RE HAVING SEX???”

“Shhh!” Max whispered furiously. “You promised you won’t freak out!”

“I’M NOT FREAKING OUT!” Alec whispered loudly – totally freaking out.

“Stop it!” Max warned.

“IS IT A SHADOWHUNTER?” Alec whispered loudly. 

“I’m gonna go to my room,” Max got up.

“Sit down. Sit down,” Alec said quickly.

He can do this. He can totally do this.

Alec reached down and grabbed a bottle of water and started chugging. Max eyed him worriedly.

“You okay?”

Alec nodded, chugging more water.

“We haven’t had sex yet,” Max pointed out. “Just hand stu-”

Alec choked and the water spluttered all over the desk.

Max flicked a wrist and the contents of the table dried themselves immediately.

“This was a mistake,” Max said quietly. “I should have talked to Bapa.”

For some reason, Alec felt oddly touched by that.

Max had come to him.

Him.

“Why didn’t you talk to him?” Alec asked curiously.

It was a no brainer that Magnus was the ideal person to talk about this.

“Because I was worried he will do another PowerPoint,” Max rolled his eyes.

Alec chuckled.

Magnua was ideal. But he was also a little too enthusiastic.

When Max and Rafe had come of age, he had sat them down done a presentation on safe sex – with a Q&A session too.

Rafe had thoroughly enjoyed it and put up his hands multiple times.

Alec and Max however had briefly conspired to make a portal and run away to Peru since Magnus wasn’t allowed there.

“I did ask Uncle Jace,” Max smiled a little.

“Uncle Jace?” Alec couldn’t help but feel offended. “Uncle Jace isn’t even…Uncle Jace has never been with….UNCLE JACE HAD SEX IN HELL FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.”

“By the angel, dad!” Max swore - and as always the nephilim phrase on his warlock son’s lips made Alec smile.

“Why would you talk to Jace about this?” Alec asked.

“I dunno,” Max shrugged. “He is always chill about these things. And he can talk to me about sex without choking on water or turning red.”

“I’m not red!” Alec protested.

“Your face looks redder than Aunt Izzy’s broccoli soup,” Max giggled.

“First of all, broccoli soup is not supposed to be red,” Alec pointed out worriedly. “Secondly, I’m not embarrassed. Never of you.”

Max gave him a tiny grin in response.

“Did you ask Uncle Jace because this boy is from his institute?”

Max just glared and Alec conceded.

“What did Uncle Jace say?” Alec inquired.

“Nothing,” Max chuckled. “He got emotional and said ‘they grow up too fast’ or something and I quickly escaped before he started crying.”

“He never told me anything about it!” Alec said, feeling betrayed.

“Well, I kinda told him not to,” Max winced.

“Why not?” Alec asked, feeling a little ashamed. “Do you not want to talk to me about this kind of stuff? Do you…Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” Max said without missing a beat. “I just…I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable."

Alec’s eyes softened – as did his heart.

“Max,” Alec said softly. “When I was your age, I would have never even thought of talking to my father about this kind of thing. I don’t think any of us could. We were…scared. Ashamed of our bodies and our sexualities. Confused and lost. I don’t ever want you feeling like that.”

“But I-”

“And I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me,” Alec urged. “I’m your father. You can always talk to me about anything.”

“Are you sure?” Max asked, biting his lip.

“Always,” Alec repeated, his eyes steady.

Max still looked unsure.

“This is what I fought for, Max,” Alec said gently. “You’re what I fought for.”

Max smiled at that. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Alec smiled back. “But are you sure? I don’t want you to do things because you feel like you have to do them.”

“I want to do it,” Max whispered. “I just…I don’t know how or who should…”

Alec took a deep breath. Okay he can do this.

He did want this son to talk to him about anything, but Alec had to be careful with his words. He wasn’t the most eloquent person, and he wasn’t suave like Magnus.

He felt nervous about messing this up or telling Max the wrong thing.

Whenever Alec felt anxious, he immediately thought of Magnus.

A different memory every time. But each one always managed to pull him back. Each one always powerful enough to give him the strength he needed.

An image of Magnus gliding him across the ballroom in Venice swirled into his mind. He remembered looking at his own reflection and realizing he had never been happier.

An idea struck him. 

“Think of it like dancing,” Alec told his son now.

Max blinked, his blue eyelashes fluttering. “Dancing?”

“Yeah. Waltzing for example. There is someone who leads and someone who follows,” Alec pointed out. “Some people feel more comfortable with leading, and others feel more comfortable following. It changes from person to person.”

Max’s brows knit in concentration. “Okay. I see where you are going. Go ahead.”

Alec grinned and gave himself a tiny self-five under the table.

“But just because you like leading, it doesn’t mean that you always have to lead. It’s the same for following too. Sometimes you want to lead and then other times you might want to follow.”

Max considered that. “So, you’re saying whether I want to lead or follow changes with everyone I date?”

“It could, nothing wrong with that,” Alec pointed out quickly. “It could also be with the same person too. Sometimes you want them to lead or follow for a change.”

“And that’s okay too?”

“Of course,” Alec nodded. “But you need to make sure they want to do it. Just because you want them to follow or lead, doesn’t mean they should. Same goes for you.”

Max nodded, looking way too serious for a 17-year-old boy.

“Sometimes you don’t want to change how you dance and that’s okay too,” Alec pointed out. “If you think you only want to lead, then that’s it. Just like with following. If you are more comfortable with following, then stick to it.”

“Okay,” Max said slowly. “But how do I figure out if I want to lead or follow?”

Alec thought about it for a moment.

“Well, sometimes you instinctually know,” he said carefully. “Your body knows what it wants and what it feels comfortable with.”

Max hummed.

“Think about other stuff,” Alec said, trying not to sound awkward. “Like kissing. You should know where you like to be kissed and where you don’t. It’s just like that. You need to listen to your body. Trust it. Trust your instincts.”

Max nodded again. “Okay. What if I…What if I lead and then I don’t like it?”

“Then you try following,” Alec replied. “Sometimes you might not like that either. If you like neither, that’s okay too. Just because everyone is dancing, it doesn’t mean you have to do it too.”

“Oh,” Max said now. “Oh okay.”

“It depends on a lot of things,” Alec said. “The music. The space. These can all affect whether you want to lead or follow or do neither. But the most important thing is your dancing partner. You can’t dance by yourself.”

“Well, technically you can,” Max grinned, and Alec saw a shade of Magnus’ cheekiness reflect in his blue eyes.

“Max!” he chastised.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Max put up his hands. “So, about the dancing partner?”

“You need to trust them and they need to trust you,” Alec said, a little more seriously now. “Dancing can be a little intimidating sometimes. Especially if you haven’t done it before. It’s easier when do it with someone who you trust. Someone who will catch you if you trip and won’t judge you for being clumsy.”

“This analogy is getting out of hand,” Max muttered.

“But you do get my point, right?” Alec asked, still serious. “It’s alright to want to have sex. But remember that it’s not always about who does what. These roles...They don’t define you. Sometimes…Sometimes people will say things.”

“Things?” Max bit his lip worriedly.

“Sometimes,” Alec said, because he didn’t want his son to worry. “For example, if this boy is a shadowhunter, then people might expect him to lead. Because they think shadowhunter men shouldn’t follow.”

“He is not a shadowhunter, dad!” Max grumbled.

“Regardless…The point still stands. They will say people who lead the dance are better or that people who follow are inferior. They will try to tell you whether you should lead the dance or follow. Don’t listen to them.”

Max nodded again, as if he knew. It pained Alec to think that Max was already exposed to this kind of toxic stereotypes.

“Whether you are leading or following, what matters is that you enjoy the dance,” Alec told his son. “Don’t let anyone tell you what to do with your body. Only you get to decide that.”

“Okay,” Max said, he was smiling now. “Okay, dad.”

“Are we good?” Alec asked. “Do you have any questions?”

“It’s just like dancing, right?” Max asked. 

“Just like dancing,” Alec winked. “You’ll figure it out.”

Max thought for a minute. “Okay I think I’m good.”

Alec let out a quiet breath. Somehow it felt like he had passed an important exam.

“Good,” Alec smiled back. “That’s good.”

“This didn’t go as awkwardly as I thought it would,” Max chuckled.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Alec rolled his eyes fondly. “Now. About this boy….”

“I’m not telling you anything!” Max shook his head.

“Just tell me his last name!”

“It’s not a shadowhunter, dad!” Max rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure?” Alec asked.

“Well, now that you ask,” Max said, with a grin that suited the devil. “I do remember a strength rune on his abdomen the last time I li-”

Alec’s hands flew to his ears. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU. BLAH BLAH BLAH. I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

Max moved closer to him and removed Alec’s hands and ruffled his hair affectionately. Alec, not for the first time, realized that Max was an inch taller than he was.

Suddenly it didn’t feel weird that Jace had almost cried. They did grow up too fast.

“Thanks for the talk,” Max winked. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, buddy,” Alec said.

“Okay then. I’m gonna go hang out with Rafe,” Max said trying to sound nonchalant.

“Are you going to the institute?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“Think what you want,” Max grinned but then paused. “You won’t tell bapa I’m seeing someone, right? I don’t want him stalking this boy on Instagram.”

“Is that some kind of warlock hang out spot?” Alec asked.

Max barked out a laugh. “Sure. I have seen plenty of warlocks on insta. But just don’t tell him. Not yet. Can you make a promise?”

“Of course!” Alec said in an offended tone as he followed Max to the door. “You think I can’t keep a secret?”

“I think you can’t keep a secret from your beloved husband,” Max replied as he picked up his backpack.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Your bapa is not the boss of me.”

“Huh huh,” Max grinned as he ran down the stairs. “Yeah, I’ve heard the two of you dancing.”

“MAX MICHAEL!!” Alec yelled after him.

“Just don’t tell Bapa,” Max warned with a blue finger. 

“Don’t tell Bapa what?” Magnus emerged from the bedroom, wearing a purple robe, looking extremely curious and cheeky. 

Max and Alec stared at each other. 

“Nothing!” they both said at the same time.

“If this is about the boyfriend, I already know,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “Max, I'm rather hurt you’d think I wouldn’t figure it out. I’ve been following the boy on instagram for months now.”

Instagram! Alec had to find this place. Maybe he could ask Jace to help him find this warlock hideout. 

“You’re Great Poison on Insta!” Max gasped in shock. “I should have known! Only you could come up with something lame like that!”

“Hey!” Magnus protested.

“You knew?” Alec demanded from Magnus. “And you didn’t tell me! Who is this boy? Is he a shadowhunter?”

Magnus blinked. “Oh. You don’t know. Oh my god, Alexander. You really don’t know? This is going to be so much fun!”

“Magnus, tell me now!”

“Nope,” Magnus grinned and Alec knew he wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon. 

Alec put his hands on his hips. “No more dancing for you!”

Max giggled and covered his mouth. 

Magnus looked confused. “Meh. You aren’t that good of a dancer anyway,” he shrugged and walked away.

Max doubled down laughing. Alec didn’t think it was funny one bit. 

“Is there anything else I don’t know?” Alec demanded. “Is Rafael secretly married?”

“You never know,” Max winked and he ran down the stairs. 

“MAX, GET BACK HERE!” Alec yelled but Max was long gone.

Alec went back to his office room, grinning to himself.

He felt absurdly proud of himself. He didn’t think it was possible for a shadowhunter to talk about something like this. Let alone for a shadowhunter to talk to his own son about something like this.

But here he was. Once again, redefining possibilities for his people.

For his family.

“You want to come stalk this boy on instagram?” Magnus asked from the threshold of the office. 

“No, thank you,” Alec rolled his eyes. “I’d like to respect my son’s privacy.”

“Very well,” Magnus shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He focused on Julian’s report again for five minutes before his resolve broke and Alec barged into the bedroom.

“IS HE A SHADOWHUNTER OR NOT!?!?!”

[starshipsofstarlord]

Jim and Jody - Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary; it was one of the biggest decisions of your life, but will you change your mind before your future is sealed?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abortion (everyone is permitted to do what they want with their body, in this imagine the reader wants to keep the baby, but pro choice, as everyone deserves control over their bodies and all 🤍), brief mention of sex and threats

Masterlist Link

To see him so relaxed, so completely and utterly himself was a paradise all on its own. There was a heaviness aboard your shoulders, but as you watched him goof tirelessly about, you had no other concerns, not even as you subconsciously raised your hand over your stomach. You shook your head at the sentiment, the two of you had already made the decision to abort this child, it was unknown how the poor fellow would turn out to be; with the combination of your powers and his super everything, it was sure to be quite the complication, and not one that you supposed was to be an easy course.

A smile pried at your face, simply from viewing him with the pack of children, the wind from the docks swept your hair into your face, and in turn, you swept the locks out and away from your vision, so that you had further access to watch the man that you loved in his absolute element. Through the years, past and recent, he had lost so much, and this child was just to be another mantle on the wall of memorial in his mind, it was sad really. If the two of you were normal, with average and lives that had perceptions with no regards of being heroic, there’d be no query about it, you’d keep the baby.

That life though, to your grave misfortune, did not exist, it was merely a fantasy living painfully inside of your mind, haunting you whenever you closed your eyes, with the flashing images of a resolution and end to the errors in your lifestyle. There’d be a big house, yet nothing to prissy, just enough room for the pair of you and few children of your own, a grand garden with a swing set and sand pit, where the infants could grow up and play in once they were older. Then there’d also be a shed for Bucky to work on small projects, such as attaining some love and care to his motor bike, as well as storing the supplies that he’d need to do so.

All that is a universe away, muffled from possibility by the stars expediting through the gorgeous veil of the galaxy, corrupting the possibilities of ever gaining access to such... peace. That was the one thing that the pair of you wanted, however catching a break was rather rare within your predicament. A stifled laugh reeled from the conjunction of your lips as you simply and endearingly surveyed how the boys, specifically Sam’s nephews hung from the vibranium branch of his arm. It was all your attention was focused on, until an extra person took a seat on the picnic table beside you, his sweet yet musky scent detailing whom it was. “If your not going to eat that, I’m sure Barnes Junior might want an opinion on that.”

The underlining of the words caused an abstract grimace to forlorn your features, as you stared not at the speaker of whom you were close with, but instead the slather of cake that was planted on a paper plate before you, the icing beginning to become slightly sick from the beating of the viable son. “You’re glowing, you know? Motherhood is a good look on you y/n/n, I wouldn’t be so soon to let that go.” Your fingers pried at the dismantled crumbs off your section of desert as you looked to your new captain, a resonating conformation fo bridled suffering and hopelessness clouding your view of his attempt at making you atone before you made a sin that you’d forever regret.

He, like many others, knew that the family life was what you wanted; you wanted to be your child’s hero, tending to their each necessary (and unnecessary) need, them being your main focus and project and life. Instead, you had been handed your options on a short stick, and thus, your decision, albeit somewhat of a sensible one, didn’t make it hurt any less. “Sam.” You spoke his name, observing from the corner of your eye how Bucky paraded around the dock with Jim and Jody. It’d be nice to give him a slice of this kinda life, he was thriving as an adult around children, you could only imagine him in the case of this one being birthed into the world. “It’s not that easy.”

“No one said it was going to be easy.” Sam responded quickly, affirming your fears to your nerve wrecked face. “I get it, I do. People will be after this kid, and that is no way to live, but you two aren’t alone in any of this, nor will you be in that. You have me, along with many other old friends of ours, hell even the Wakandan’s. Do you really want to sacrifice this one life so you can continue living this one? You and Bucky have both lost so much, you don’t have to force yourself to willingly give away something else. The decision can be changed the last minute, it’s a lot to take in, I get that, but I see the way Buck is with my nephews, and how you watch them when you think nobody’s looking over at you. With your state pardon, you two can retire, and go far away, and abandon everything for this one little guy or gal, because I know that if you do, no matter what, they’ll be worth it.”

Bucky wailed a warrior’s shout as Jim and Jody playfully struck him down, his unsheathed metal hand grasping at the cloth that was tightly aboard his addictive chest. He rolled on the ground as the children ran to retrieve their toy lightsabers, leaving him to be expendable against their weapons. There was a giddy and fitting smile smouldering his usual stoic expression. It was no wander why he found calm in visiting Sam and his sister’s small, and accepting family. The kids brought out another side of him, which he had been tortured to refrain from showing, but you had seen, and were contemplating many things within your mind. You were lapping up the image, as though you were dehydrated and the sight of him appeased by the company of young ones was a source of water.

Sam was right, he always was and had been. “The decision was on both of our parts, you don’t think Buck’ll change his mind, or do you?” You were invested in getting a responsive answer, yet the man spluttered a laugh at your confused expense. He heaved for a moment, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. There was nothing stopping him from gaining it back, unlike Bucky whom had grabbed a saber of his own and lightly began to paddle against the one that was directed against him, other than another round of hysterics that abandoned him. A reasonable smile resonated a comfortable position upon the former falcon’s face, as he tentatively patted your knee, watching as you broke off a small rupture of cake and popped it in your mouth, feeding not only yourself but the inmate within your womb.

“There isn’t really much for me to say, it’s easy, look at him. He will be fine with whatever decision that the pair of you succumb to, after all, it’s your body, but it will pain him like nothing else ever has if you go through with the abortion, and if not, then trust me, we’ve both seen how hard he fights; think of that but ten times the mass in consideration of this baby, because I am certain that he’d do anything for them. He lost his entire family when he awoke from his mode of hydra assassin, this could be him getting it back. Different members, but a family all the same.” He stole a little of your cake, making you lightly elbow him as a smirk rendered a beauty upon his face.

“What’s that going to make you, the patriotic uncle who just can’t keep himself from flashing his shield?” Now it was his turn to retaliate, he lightly scuffed your ankle with a feather light tap of the toe of his shoe, causing you to promiscuously roll your eyes. “I’m joking, that was Steve’s aesthetic, this new version of cap is your baby, I have great faith in you to make this world a better and safer place. The funny thing is, when you finally accepted that shield was yours, that’s when my mind shifted to the possibility of keeping this kid. It was and has always been a sign of hope and protection to Bucky, maybe it could be the same for our little one. It was just a thought, I’m not meaning to put pressure on your or anything bu-“

“I get it, and I’m honoured. And if that is how it seems, then I want you to know that I’ll be there to protect them too. The main bump in the road for now is for you to talk to that grumpy ass boyfriend of yours and figure this sperm plus egg equation out, send Jim and Jody over here, I got somethin’ to show those two anyway.” With a nod and a grateful pat upon your friend’s head, you slowly plodded over to where Bucky was being cornered against the side of the truck by the boys. His blue orbs danced around their small and imaginative beings, until they landed on you, it was as though his pupils were calling out for help, begging for you to spare some mercy upon him.

“Jim, Jody, your uncle Sammy has something for you two to see.” They groaned lightly, having been pulled away from the narrative of their play time, but nevertheless their faces were clean slates as they expressed hyper smiles, and bolted their route towards their mother’s sibling, carrying their lightsaber replicas along with them. “Two kids beat an infamous, deadly badass with a metal arm. I think you might be getting too old for these kinda battles Buck, you were losing, and quite terribly if I say so myself.” Crossing your arms, as he came to an upright stand, hoisting himself off the ground, so that he could be more level with you.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in. Thought you were supposed to be supportive of me and all that, as you said to Zemo, you’d quite happily cut his dick off if he compared me to the shadow that I used to be.” His brow raised, as he reminisced on the thought of you threatening Zemo; it was hot, and certainly had gotten him going, which had shortly left you in this predicament, trying to save the world and execute the one last thing that exhumed hope to either one of you. The baby. It was almost a certain and solid fact that the little one inside of you had been procreated on the Baron’s private jet, more specifically, the small and clean bathroom that had became dirty with your primal sins.

“And I still regret not doing that, he’d have had much less leverage in any sense of the word of phallic if he had it sectioned off.” Silence emitted between the two of you, although a humoured smirk tantalised upon Bucky’s graceful face. For a change, he was not prompting the expression of a grumpy cat that was refused its nip, no, instead he could be compared to a future - actually, he already was a father to the bean held in the shield of your body, having been an ample ingredient in bringing the small person into being. “So, you having fun with Sarah’s kids, sure looks like you were quite in your element before I cut in.”

“I’m always in my element when you’re around doll.” He smiled, wrapping his uncoordinated hands around the oval of your waist, and tugging you sentimentally closer, your hips bumped with his, as your eyes ogled infatuatedly up at him. “They’re great kids, makes me realise exactly what we’re gonna be missing out on.” Bucky gulped, sparks of emotion taunted the behind of his eyes, like saucers of resentful fire. “You’d be the perfect mother, you know that right? After all you’ve done for me, you’ve nurtured me close to the man that I once was, the only difference is that I want to settle, but I don’t know how to go about dropping everything. This kid is killing me, he’s making me question everything.”

“That’s what kids are supposed to do, unborn, or very much avidly attacking grown men with false lightsabers.” Bucky deeply into your frustrated and corresponding eyes, your hands reaching up to play defiantly with the smooth dip in his chin that could be seen through the shading of his light stubble. “What if we did have a Jim and Jody of our own some day? We could keep him or her, they’d be our greatest concern, we don’t have to go down this painful and longing, rusted road. We could bring something good into this world, protect them against all forces that threaten to disrupt their life, I want this with you Bucky. We could move far far away, or go somewhere close to home.”

“Brooklyn.” He stated, causing a line to crease gently in the plain of his forehead. “I want to call them Brooklyn, if I am to fight the rest of my life for something, I want it to be my home. Last time I had to leave there, but it’s my amends to never leave this child of ours, if we’re going to do this, we need to put them in front of everything, and I mean everything.” He spoke, in reference to the other avengers and other aliases that you had stood by for so long. Bleakly you nodded, grasping his jaw down for an amorous kiss, humming against the palette of his lips, as your hands entwined behind his neck, pulling his face closer to your own, prompting his tongue to travel deeper within the realm of your mouth.

“Brooklyn is a nice name. How about Brooklyn Margaret Barnes? I think that has quite the ring to it.” You offered, and he hardly reacted, instead quickly appraising a pleasant smile onto the canvas of his work of art face, as he ducked his head down, conjoining the pair of you into a passionate and meaningful collide of your lips. Sam smiled as he watched the pair of you, pointing at you two from afar, as his nephews from afar. He was giving them a man to men talk, offering them advice that they would have valuable usage of in the future.

“Now that is love. You don’t give up for the one thing that connects you, and those two, well Bucky and y/n have been through a hell of a lot. They deserve this, and when you meet a woman when you’re older, and your mum is watching on towards the two of you, I want you to make her proud by treating your girl like a princess, willing to sacrifice everything simply to create the future that she wishes for you.” He emotionally wiped his eyes, rushing to stand before he grasped a lightsaber, leaving the other to spare for one of them. “Now Jim and Jody, which one of you will be my padawan?”

[saphirered]

I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

[brywrites]

Lock and Key I

Summary: In which Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class at Millburn and feels something like hope for the first time in weeks.

[Series Masterlist]

....

The prison library is a haven, for the few minutes he’s allowed to visit twice a week. It’s quiet, secluded, and full of his favorite things – books. The selection is nowhere near as nice as his personal collection at home, or the public library, but it’s better than nothing. Without words, he’d go mad. He needs stories to keep him sane, to give him a route he can escape by.

Today though, he’s startled to walk into the small space and find twelve other prisoners inside – accompanied by a face he’s never seen before. A woman. What’s even more surprising is that she doesn’t wear the uniform of a guard or an employee. Instead she’s in Converse sneakers and a lavender polka-dotted dress. It’s been so long since he saw that color – any bright color, really. But it’s his favorite and it isn’t until that moment that the realizes how much he’s missed the simplest of things. The sight of his favorite color. Bright images in dull spaces. Things that look hopeful.

Reid isn’t sure what’s going on, but the other prisoners seem to be too absorbed in the books to notice him. Just as he’s thinking he can back away quietly and return tomorrow, she turns around, smiling at the sight of him.

“Well hello there!” she says. “Are you Luis?”

Reid tilts his head, confused. How does this stranger know his friend? “Uh, no, no I’m not. I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her smile drops, though she doesn’t seem annoyed. Merely disappointed. “Oh. They told me Luis would be joining us today, but he never showed up. I’m Y/N. I’m one of the teachers here.”

This is the first he’s heard of such a thing. “You teach?”

She nods. “That’s right! I teach a couple of different groups – a few college classes here and there, a resume workshop. This is my GED class. We’re starting a unit on British Literature so they’ve all come to pick out a novel. You must be new here,” she notes, looking him over. He can feel himself flush under her gaze. It’s been a while since someone looked at him just to see him and not to evaluate his potential as a threat or a tool. “If you’d like, you can join the class. I’ve got plenty of open seats.”

“Oh no, I don’t need a GED.”

“It’s never too late to graduate,” she says. Then, considering him, “But that’s not what you meant is it?”

The way she’s studying him makes him nervous, though he’s certain it’s the same way he’s studied suspects and victims, trying to see beyond the obvious and understand what lies beneath. How strange, to be on the other side of that stare. “I’ve graduated high school already,” he informs her, hoping he doesn’t sound aloof. “And college. Actually, I hold three PhDs.”

“In what?”

“Mathematics, chemistry, and engineering.”

Y/N holds his gaze, taking this in. It’s as though she’s trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He figures in this environment, perhaps it’s not unusual to be told blatant lies by some prisoners. Delusion and paranoia aren’t uncommon. To teach in a place like this, she would have to be insightful and observant. For whatever reason, she must decide to trust him, because she smiles again.

“Well that’s rather impressive. You’re more qualified than I am. Just a Master’s for me.”

Reid decides against commenting in the irony of the situation, that despite his qualifications he’s nothing but a prisoner here. The same category as every drug-dealer, murderer, petty thief, and gangbanger. No better. But the way she looks at him, it at least makes him feel normal again. She looks at him like he’s a human being, with no disdain or disgust in her gaze, and no air of superiority in her voice.

“What did you study?” he asks her.

“English literature in college, education in grad school. I specialized in literature and languages, though I’m not too shabby when it comes to history. If it’s the STEM field you’ll be wanting though, you’ll have to check in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, my colleague teaches those classes.”

Glancing down at her watch, her eyes widen. “Goodness, we’re almost out of time.” She turns to the other inmates and instructs them to make their choices before she has to dismiss class for the day. To him, she adds, “It was nice to meet you – um…”

“Doct-” he begins, before stopping himself. This isn’t a normal introduction. Here, he holds no title, no position of importance. “Er, Spencer. My name is Spencer.”

“Well, Doc –” He tries not to smile at her casual acknowledgment – “if you ever change your mind, we meet Mondays and Wednesdays in room W15 during the afternoon rec slot.”

Despite having no need to attend a GED class, and for reasons he cannot quite explain, he finds himself slipping into that very room on Wednesday afternoon. Y/N glances up from the whiteboard she writes on, faltering for only a brief moment when she catches sight of him slipping into an empty seat in the back row, but she carries on. They’re talking about common themes in Brit Lit, and she’s explaining the Canterbury Tales, which they’ll be reading parts of. From what Reid gathers, there aren’t enough copies of books for them to all read the same novel, but she’s printed out large sections of the Tales for them to read together. It’s familiar, and for someone whose life has largely revolved in academia, it’s soothing to be in an environment where learning is taking place and discussion is happening. Even though he sits silently in the back row, observing.

The other inmates have all picked out books to read on their own and report on, from King Lear to Brave New World. A few have even selected Bronte and Austen novels, which Y/N applauds them for. When she divides them into groups to read and discuss “The Knight’s Tale,” she slips over to join Reid in the back of the room.

“I didn’t think you’d make it, Doc,” she tells him.

He shrugs. “I – I’ve kind of missed the classroom. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit in. If you don’t mind, of course!”

“Not at all.” She smiles, dismissing his worry with a wave of her hand. “The more the merrier. Besides, it’s rare that I have students with such an extensive education beforehand.  You’ll need to file an enrollment slip though, just for official records.”

She hands him a piece of paper and a commissary pen. While he doesn’t need the credit, he could use the normalcy. Discussions about books with other people in a space that feels a little safer – even if it doesn’t look like the classrooms he’s used to. The walls are stark white and bare save for three posters of famous writers and scientists. The two windows have thick bars on them. The desks are bolted to the floor. Every man in the room wears prison issued blues. But there is a whiteboard and a bookshelf and a clock. And Y/N, in a bright blue turtleneck. It makes him think of the sky, which he only gets a glimpse of for a few hours each week. Suddenly, she’s become the most vivid connection to the outside world.

“How long have you been teaching here?” he asks as he writes down answers to the form’s printed questions.

“Almost three years now. It started with just GED classes, but some volunteer programs have helped us bring new opportunities to the guys. It took me a while to convince the warden, but they’ve been a huge success. So are you coming from another facility? I know we had some transfers last week.”

He shakes his head. “I uh, I haven’t been sentenced yet. But there was overcrowding at the jail so they sent me here.” Reid pauses. “I assumed you would’ve known that.” The inmate records are publicly available. All she’d have to do is search his name or the number on his clothing and everything she needed to know would be right there – his charges, his admission date, his identifying information and that ID photo from his first day.

But she just shrugs. “I make a point not to look up what my students have been convicted of. I let them volunteer that information if they choose to, but I respect their privacy. Besides, I’d like to believe all of us are more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

He’s struck by her words. After all, for the last decade his job has been to see people precisely as the worst thing they’ve ever done. To delve deep into those actions and develop a profile of a person on that alone. He has an impulse to dismiss her statement as naïve, but it reminds him of Garcia, of her boundless optimism and her ability to see the best in the world even after looking at the worst of it. That memory and the smile Y/N looks at him with softens the heart he’s been carefully hardening since he arrived here. And so rather than dampen her spirit he asks, “Does it matter if I’ve read all of the books you’re discussing already?”

Her eyes widen ever so slightly with surprise. “All of them?”

“My mother was a literature professor,” he says. “And I just really like books.”

“Well, typically I’d encourage you to take the courses we offer for college credit but they’re full. Since you already have your GED, I suppose we could treat it like you’re auditing. It might help some of the guys to have someone with a little more academic experience…” She trails off and then gasps. “Oh wait! How would you feel about being the TA for the class? It’s been so long since I had one for the GED classes.”

“Like… grade papers and things?”

“No, not like that,” she says. “There are strict rules about who sees what here. Being a TA for me would be less typical TA duties and more of mentoring the other students, helping me clean up after class, re-shelving books, things like that. It’s not an official job so there’s no pay, but you would get good time credit.”

Though he doesn’t know what his sentence here will be, if he’s sentenced at all, he knows that any good time credit he can obtain to reduce the length of it is worth it. And so he says, “Okay.”

Y/N’s eyes light up. Her smile is the prettiest thing he’s seen since he got here. “Perfect! Oh, this is so exciting. I’m glad you joined us.” When he finishes the paperwork, she leads him to an empty seat at a group of tables.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong, Porkchop. It’s a love story,” one of the men is saying to another.

“Come on now, Xavier, you know the rules,” Y/N interrupts. “Nicknames stay outside the classroom. We use first names here.”

“Sorry, Teach,” Xavier says. He tries again. “It’s a love story, Carl.”

“That’s more like it. Carl, I can’t wait to hear your response. But first, I’m going to have Spencer join your group, alright? He’s our newest student and our TA for the class. He’s read a lot of these books so if you’re having a hard time or want to talk to someone about the material outside of class time, he’s a great person to ask.”

The group welcomes him – Xavier, Carl, Richie, and Luis. Reid is grateful to be with Luis, the one person he knows he can consider a friend inside. They talk about Chaucer and “The Franklin’s Tale,” and he’s surprised by the critiques and connections his peers make. Their debate is certainly different than the conversation he’d expect to find at a university class, but their ideas are still insightful and interesting. They make connections to their own lives, to the sacrifices they have made and the power of love they have witnessed firsthand. Mothers who never stop fighting for their appeal cases. Friends who send money so they can afford commissary. The difficulty of skipping commissary so they can send money home to their own families outside.

When their discussion finally winds down, Reid asks, “What’s the rule with nicknames about?”

“It’s Miss Y/N’s way of humanizing people,” Xavier says. “She says when we use first names like that, we’re all equals. But it’s different outside of class. We stick to nicknames because that’s what you do, y’know?” Reid shakes his head. Xavier chuckles. “You’re fresh meat, huh. First time you been down? In here, COs turn you into just a number or a last name. So nicknames inside are a way to hold on to some of your identity. Beyond that, there’s some guys in here you don’t want knowing your name, you feel me?”

“Nicknames gotta be given to you by someone else. Can’t make your own. Course, that means they’re usually a little insulting. They call me Porkchop,” Carl says. “Xavier’s Hammerhead. Richie is Spiders. And Luis, he been christened Slim Jim yesterday at chow. But don’t worry, we’ll find one for you soon.” Reid isn’t sure how to feel about the assurance. He doesn’t want to belong here, doesn’t want to fit in or get comfortable. On the other hand, he may be here for a while. Maybe laying low and finding allies wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

He knows one thing for sure – as he walks out of class, Y/N flashes that bright smile at him again. And for some reason, it makes him feel hopeful. More hopeful than any session with lawyers or judges has made him feel. Monday can’t come soon enough.

[Next]

..

Tags: @calm-and-doctor​ @averyhotchner​

[goofgoofdildo]

Call me little sunshine

Geralt hears of Jaskier being tortured and needs to get him back.

tw for some blood

————————————————

Geralt can’t think, can’t do anything, he hardly breathes, as he rides out to find him.

His bard is being tortured.

He rides dark and sharp against the moody skyline of inclement weather, the rigid tension of him only surpassed by bolts of lighting threatening to strike and burn anything that dares look up to the sky. Inside him, the warm light of a memory is dying down. The image of buttercups against pools of blue eyes and laugh and beer and fire dim slowly.

He won’t be late. He’s Geralt of Rivia and he’s grumpy and moody sometimes but he always manages to swoop in at the last minute and save his Jaskier. And Jaskier calls him a hero afterwards, his smile bright, his cheeks soft, his eyes deep enough to drown in. It’s a game they play. Jaskier ventures a bit too far and Geralt gets to play the knight in shining armor for a little bit.

Thinking about Jaskier settles his racing mind, lowers the pitch of the alarmed him in his bones. He thinks of the way Jaskier cares for him. The soft touch of him when he bathed Geralt, when he comforts him. The softness of his belly and the fussiness of his chest. The way Jaskier’s whole body is welcoming and warm and oh so right for Geralt.

He can’t be late.

He’s going to save his bard, goddammit. And he’s going to feed that light of his. He wants to make sure that Jaskier knows he’s appreciated, wants him to be well fed wit warm stew and fresh bread, with chamomile tea. He’ll get him soft clothes and provide wood for his room and skin a sheep to make him skins for the bed. He’s going to coddle him, because truthfully, Jaskier it the little ray of sunshine in the fucking hailstorm of his life, and Geralt can’t loose sight of that single ray again. His beautiful bright bard, his hope. He’s going to get him and take him back.

The storm subsides by the time he makes it to the dingy house. There is an oppressive humidity still in the air stirring the smell of shit. Nature is no longer raging but she is festering in the wake of her outburst.

Geralt doesn’t bother knocking when he enters and spots the man tormenting his Jaskier. He draws his sword before he even sees Jaskier, but he can smell him already, Geralt thinks.

The man turns around, fear immediately clouding his eyes, when there’s a voice, ‘Oh, this is my dear friend,’ the voice says, sounding almost like Jaskier, ‘Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf.’

Geralt rushes to the source of the voice in the middle of the room, with no protest from the torturer standing struck as if by lighting, read handed and dark-eyed.

When the chair comes into view, Geralt can make him out at last. The hunched over figure if his bard, smelling of pain and resignation. He looks up when Geralt calls his name, voice breaking.

Blue eyes bear into Geralt, but something’s wrong. They’re blue as ever, bright and beautiful, but the depth is gone. They’re glazed over and bright as steel instead, reflecting what they see but letting nothing in or out. Jaskier’s hair is longer now, and it twists in stubborn waves around his face, overgrown with stubble.

It would look handsome, if the face was Jaskier’s.

The man’s face is contorted in pain, jaw squared. The softness is gone and his skin looks like cold ivory. There’s blood all over him, too, dried and flaking. It looks like red scales on his face, protective and deadly. He’s ready to attack, teeth in his mouth covered in blood and sharp at the edges. They are what gives his words the edge, the sting that cuts deep inside Geralt.

‘You’ve come for me,’ he says. Geralt wants to barf.

His heart doesn’t race, not usually, but it’s ages since he remembers seeing a new monster, so his rapid pulse is justified now. He faces it, but with abjection.

The day has cleared up now behind the window and birds are chirping, but the humidity settled heavy in his lungs prevails. Calm before the storm.

The man looks almost like Jaskier, but it’s a hollow and cold version of him. He smells familiar but not enough to relieve the ache in Geralt’s gut. His eyes shine dangerously, contrasting with the blood. His voice is sing-songy, but sharp enough to cut glass.

This is Jaskier, Geralt knows, but he’s too late. The light is out.

[mythiccheroacademia]

so, this can be with izuku, baku, and shotou. and there’s a situa like infinity war where they have to fight who sacrifices themselves and s/o dies. but ends up coming back. or however you want it. i love your blog 💕💕 #blackgirlmagic

A/N: I like the way you think anon ;) I really let my imagination fly with this one. I hope you like it!

Warnings: death, blood, cursing, resurrection

Midoriya Izuku:

izuku couldnt breathe the entire way to the hospital

he couldn't get the sight of your sightless eyes and lifeless body from the forefront of his mind

he would never forget the image of seeing the ten-inch thick pole you took for Eri tear through your body 

there was blood

so much blood 

no one had ever heard midoriya scream like that before 

he was forced to be held outside the OR as the medical staff operated on you

aizawa had disabled his quirk, so he was forced to just scream, curse, and plead for iida and ochako to let him through. however, he couldn't do anything else but choke on his voice as he saw them try to revive you with the defibrillator 

but it was no use

izuku all but fainted when the head surgeon solemnly came out to tell everyone that you didn't make it through the operation 

eri, who had been with aizawa to the side, shook her head. she couldnt accept this 

even though aizawa had told her she wasn't ready to use her powers, she couldnt just sit there and let you die

you saved her life and she would do the same 

before aizawa could catch her, she ran into the operating room 

she ignored the questions and confusion around her and placed her hands on your body, focusing more than she ever had in her life 

a bright light filled the room for a moment before it dimmed down 

there was a pregnant pause before a nurse ran outside the OR with tears in their eyes

“it’s a miracle!” they cried. “the girl brought them back!”

izuku threw everyone off of him and rushed into the room to see you holding the crying girl in your arms, confusion in your eyes 

“izuku? what happened? why am i in the hospital and why is eri crying?”

the young hero couldnt think to do anything else but fall into your arms and sob out his fear and frustrations 

his words were near incomprehensible as he thanked eri and told you how much he loved you 

you were even more confused as you watched all your friends, the doctors, and nurses cry with relief but you just held them happy that everyone was safe

Bakugo Katsuki:

within the midst of destruction, you looked at the villain with a look that made bakugo’s heart drop 

he knew that look

and he hated it with his entire being 

that was the same look you had when you were about to do something really stupid

your eyes locked on his with a fire he knew he would never extinguish no matter how badly he wanted to 

“katsuki”

“dont even fucking think about it” he bit

you smiled despite the rising fear in his gaze. “win this.”

the cheerful wink you gave him was your goodbye

it was supposed to give him hope and courage, but all it did was make him blank with fear and rage

he was too hurt to catch up to you as you ran into the heart of the villain’s lair, sacrificing yourself so that he and the rest of the team could take the villain down 

katsuki, however, had been so blind with anger that he was able to find the villain within all the destruction

despite everything he was taught, he planned to kill them to avenge your death, but he was surprised to see them gently holding your lifeless body in their lap 

katsuki was prepared to push his body over the limit to take you from them, but the villain just held up and hand to explain why they were giving up

“this is your s/o, right? the one who came to fight a hopeless fight just so you had a chance. even though you all had hurt them at one point, they still made the ultimate sacrifice...”

“what the fuck are you on about, you son of a bitch!”

the villain gave him a look that made him pause

they then held up a jewel filled with their own life energy, something that made it almost impossible for the heroes to beat them

“perhaps i was wrong. there are true heroes in this world. it would go against everything i fought for if i let them die”

and in the next moment, katsuki watched as the villain placed the stone on your chest

they died quietly as their life energy filled your body 

katsuki rushed to catch you and he held you close, not caring about the tears that fell past his cheeks

he placed kisses wherever he could, on your face, thankful that you had been brought back to him

despite his feelings towards the villain, he respectfully covered their body and gave a prayer of thanks for giving you a second chance

you slept peacefully as he carried you out of the falling building

Todoroki Shouto:

“just as earth gave me life, in return, i have to give life back to it”

todoroki knew what those words meant, but he didn't want to believe it 

from the moment you two met, he knew of your fate 

your quirk came with a price and one day, you would have to pay for it 

and that day was today 

all the heroes had been taken down and were beaten within an inch of their lives, but you wouldn't let them go down. you wouldn't let them lose

now was your time to do what you were put on this Earth to do

you softly kissed his lips and wrapped your necklace around his neck before standing 

shouto was too weak to do anything but watch in dismay as your body withered away into the ground 

suddenly, the entire city was filled with sunlight as the wind sang and the waves danced with life. roots, plants, and trees covered the heroes’ bodies, healing them from their past wounds and instilling them with a new will to fight the enemy 

as shouto stood, a single bolt of lightning struck the hand he put in the air and it danced around him before exploding into an array of beautiful blue flames

he knew this new charge in power was supposed to be your last gift to him, but he’d be damned if he let things go this way

perhaps some type of higher power had a destiny for you in mind, but he would change fate

even if it killed him

and change it he did

when the fight was over, he abandoned his team and ran to the tree you had told him gave you a chance to meet him

when he got there, the gigantic tree stood there, almost mocking him about his loss 

shouto spent the next hour cursing and fighting the tree, demanding it do something about your death 

when he finally realized it wasn't responding, todoroki pathetically fell down into the small pond before the tree and sobbed his heart out

as he wept, he hadnt realized the necklace had fell into the pond, but he did gasp as it materialized into the water and was replaced with your body 

you rose out of the pond, violently coughing for a moment before letting out an embarrassed sound when you realized you were naked 

however, shouto, so overwhelmed with relief, embraced you in a bone-crushing hug 

you let go of your embarrassment  and hugged him back as he whispered how he’d never let you do something so stupid again

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two