#winter soilder knife fight

[haydenthewitch]

before we had the poolverine honda oddesy fight we had the stucky knife fight (the one from captain america winter soilder)

1. wade and logan don't hold back becuse neither of them can die. it's a freeing feeling, being able to beat the living shit out of each other. steve and bucky (rather, captain america and the winter soilder) don't hold back becuse that's how they were taught to fight in hand to hand combat; quick, efficent, brutal. there is no point messing around when a war is to be fought and you are a super-soilder. it's filled eith a desperation- just stay alive, just stay alive thrumming through their veins.

2. most everyone on this site KNOWS that the oddesy fight was filled with emotion in a pretty obvouis metaphor for gay sex. I raise that the stucky knife scene fight, as seen in Captian america and the winter soilder is also Filled with emotion in a metaphor for a gay relationship. you see, in the first part of the fight, before the mask comes off, steve is fighting to protect his frenids, sam and nat. He can stall time by trading blows with the winter soilder if it means that his frenids are safe (as much as they can be) and formulating a plan. His fatal flaw (in a greek myth way) would be loyalty. But once the Mask comes off, and bucky's face is reveled, you can feel his intentions change. I get the same feeling as when steve looks at a picture of peggy carter; a pregnant pause and sense of regret. Then, Nat shoots a balistic missile at the winter soilder, and the PAIN! IN! HIS! FACE! He immeadly looks to see if bucky is okay!! and he's just gone!!! A shift in loyalty becuse of a long lost first love... sigh

for comparison, here's the fight i'm talking about:

[idk-mlb-is-reals-cute44]

MLB Secret Santa gift part 2!

For @clockworkgalaxies

Part one was cut short because it exceeded the word limit, so this picks up exactly where we left off.

~••~

“No, no! I’m not going to get you arrested,” Adrien said, to her relief. “Now—I think that’s my cue.”

He left her with a wink and strolled to the front of the stage to greet his people.

He barely got out a, “Hello everyone, I’m so overjoyed to announce my engagement!” before the screams started and all hell broke loose.

~••~

“Fire!” someone screamed, and there it was—a raging, growing dire on the firthermksg side of the stage, crackling and snapping and inching, inching closer.

“Everyone off the stage! Everyone get away!” And everyone hurried to complhX

“What’s going on?!” Marinette screamed as she took the stairs two at a time.

“We’re under attack!” Alya yelled, coming up behind her to pick her along faster, other hand pulling Adrien along to safety.

The presence of her capable, professionally trained best friend set Marinette at ease—although not too much. The fire was still howling into the wind, spreading fast.

“Who’s attacking is?!” Marinette tried to yell over the roar of soilders struggling to put out the fire, yelling and screaming and—swords clinking?

That must be the “attack”, Marinette though, rushing with Alya away from the chaos, down the road and out of sight.

“We’ve got to help!” Adrien protested as they caught their breaths.

“No,” Alya said, pulling knives (which seemed to be her weapon of choice) out of who-knows-where, “We’ve got to keep you safe.”

“But Nino, the guards—”

“Have it under control,” Alya said, “Now let me do my job... Your Highness.”

They were far enough away to be out of danger, but the sound of battle could still be heard.

Adrien started pacing back and forth.

“Who’s attacking us?” Marinette repeated.

“No idea,” Alya said, not taking her eyes off the road, waiting for danger, “They were wearing purple. And they carried the strangest weapons. One of themV I swear, was holding a flute. They came out of nowhere.”

The crunch crunch crunch of Adrien stomping across the width of the pebbly path and back filled the silence.

“There’s nothing we can do?” Adrien finally asked, running his hands through his hair.

“We’re doing something,” Alya argued, “We’re keeping you safe.”

He let loose a long-suffering sight that must’ve shaken the nearby trees, it was so dramatic. Then went back to pacing.

“I hate feeling useless,” he said, so softly Marinette was sure he though no one had heard him, “I wish I could do something.”

And just like that, right on cue (because the gods are petty), two figures clad in purple came into view, heading right for them.

“Fabulous,” Alya muttered. “Stay back you two, okay? I mean it.”

Adrien might’ve had some sort of uselessness complex, but Marinette sure as hell didn’t, and so she grabbed his hand before he could jolt off the join the fight like an idiot (which she could tell he wanted to), and backed up slowly. No way was the prince getting hurt on her watch. (Well. Technically Alya’s watch. But same thing.)

“We have to-“ Adrien hissed whispered.

“No, Alya can handle this,” Marinette said with utmost confidence, “She knows what she’s doing. We’d probably just get in the way.”

That didn’t really seem to help, but Adrien did stay put, which was all Marinette could ask for.

The attackers struck first. The shorter one leaped at Alya, sword out—but Alya easily blocked the blow. The second one circled her, and axe clenched in hand.

Great, thought Marinette, A whole group of people armed with flutes and knitting needles and we have to deal with the ones that are actually armed.

And thank goodness Alya was ambidextrous and had two knives. But Marinette could tell she was wearing out—soon she’d be overwhelmed. Two against one was hardly a fair fight.

She looked at Adrien. He obviously could tell too.

“Ahh!” Alya growled as her knife was knocked out of her left hand. She quickly drew another one from her boot, but it cost her seconds she couldn’t afford to loose. She did a backflip (a very impressive backflip, too) away, and circled them, but they hardly let her catch her breath deflate they were on her again, and the sharp, awful sound of metal-hitting-metal filled the air again.

“I can’t just want here and—” Adrien started.

“Adrien?!” They heard. Someone was running to meat them. Nino. “Adrien, are you okay—Alya?!”

The girl in question offered a brief, grim smile, and then barked, “Help me out here! They’ve got, like, super-strength!”

“Of course, sorry, right,” Nino said, running into the fray. The battle then became less desperate, but still there seemed to be no end in sight.

Marinette cheers on her lip anxiously, wishing she could help them in some way.

The attackers seemed superhuman. They never paused for breath or panted. They were tireless, eyes dull. They didn’t say anything either, almost like—

Marinette gasped.

There.

“Get the necklace!” Marinette yelled, sounding like an over enthused spectator at a sporting event, screaming at the players, “The necklace! Alya snap the necklace off! Cut it off!”

“Wha—why?” Alya yelled back, dodging a punch and almost bowling over Nino in the process.

“Just do it! Trust me!”

Alta looked doubtful, but she swiped at the necklace, severing the chord in half. It fell to the ground, and the attacker’s who’d been wearing it stumbled back, looking dazed and confused.

“Wh-What—where—who...” she mumbled.

“How’d you know to do that?” Alya yelled as she turned back to the one remaining assailant, joining Nino to badger it with their combined full force.

“They’re both wearing the exact same thing, except for the necklace and... Belt! The sword belt!”

Alya grappa the belt and tried to tear it off, which didn’t work until she got one of her knives involved, leaving Purple Ninja number 2 equally as out-of-it as his partner.

Nino whisted.

“I didn’t know they taught kitchen maids to fight like that,” he said.

“They don’t,” Alya growled, then kicked Swordy (Marinette would need to learn their names soon, or else she’d be forced to rely on strange nicknames) in the chest. “What is going on?”

“I-I don’t know,” Swordy said, and then Axe-Girl (Axey?) said, “Me neither. Who are you? Where are we?”

“I think they were possessed,” Marinette cut in, “Can you two tell me what these mean to you?”

She held up the belt and the necklace, both now ruined, and Swordy and Axey gasped.

“That’s my mother’s locket,” Axey sniffled, “She dies last night. Or...” she looked up at the sky, “Magbe not. Everything is a little fuzzy, but it was hardly morning last I remember.”

Then Axey got quiet and stared hard and long at the locket, turning it over and over in her hands,

“That’s my sword belt,” Swordy said, “I bought it when I first started guard training.”

Nino looked confused.

“Just yesterday I visited the training barracks. I didn’t see you.”

“Yeah,” Swordy looked terribly downtrodden, “They kicked me out.”

“I’m not and expert on magic,” Adrien piped up, “But my tutors have taught me some things about it. I believe phycological and emotional type mages are rather common... although I’ve never heard of someone using it to... to possess people.”

He shuddered.

Alya narrowed her eyes.

“Are we sure that’s what’s happening? This could be a trick.” She regarded the purple duo suspiciously.

Axey burst into tears, which seemed to settle the matter.

Besides the sound of heavy sobbing, it was quiet.

“Did we win?” Marinette asked Nino.

“They all got away,” Nino said, “When I came to go looking for you, they were working on putting out the fires.”

“They ran?” Marinette asked, “Where did they go?”

“I have no idea,” Nino said, “They all went in different directions s all at once, they all ran.”

“Something about this rubs me wrong,” Adrien said, “What were they after, why’d they just dissapear like that?”

“Weren’t they after you?” Marinette asked.

“They obviously knew where we were,” Adrien said, “If those two found us. But only two. They didn’t call for reinforcements. They were after something, but it wasn’t me. And I’m worried...”

“Worried about what?” Alya asked.

“Well,” Adrian said, “Whoever’s controlling them—whoever’s got them under a spell—why would they call them back unless they got what they were after?”

Marinette considered this, then turned to Axey and Swordy.

“What’s the last thing you two remember?”

Swordy furrowed his brow in concentration.

“I... I was walking down the road, leaving the palace grounds. I got really angry— they kicked me out for bad sportsmanship, which I thought was unfair. Oh, oh, I see...” Swordy trailed off, as though it had just occurred to him why they thought his sportsmanship, or lack thereof, was worthy of being kicked out for.

Alya cleared her through impatiently.

“Your last memory?” Marinette prompted.

“Oh, right,” Swordy cleared his throat and continued, “Anyways, I was really, really angry. And then I saw a purple glow—I thought something was wrong with my vision or something. But then I hear this man, chanting. Or maybe he was talking to me? And... that’s where my memories end.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Adrien muttered to himself.

“The same thing happened to me,” Axey said, “I was crying about my mom, and I saw purple and heard a voice... and next thing I know I’m here. What... what day is it?”

“Thirteen days until the winter solstice,” Alya said.

“It’s been two weeks?” Swordy whispered, “And I can’t remember any of it?”

“A month...” Axey muttered.

Nino said a few words Marinette wasn’t allowed to use, and asked for their names.

“Samantha Browns,” Axey said.

“And I’m George Hammoth.”

“Samantha, George, how about we take you both to the palace with us? You can stay there for a few nights while we get everything sorted out,” Nino offered, “Does that sound okay?”

They both nodded.

Nino turned back to Adrien.

“When we get back, meet me outside the king’s study,” Nino said, “Well need to report this to him.”

“I’m coming with,” Alya butted in.

“That won’t be necessary,” Nino said.

“He’s my charge,” Alya said, “You two aren’t meeting the king without me.”

“Your charge?” Nino asked, “What do you.... ooohhh... so you’re...”

Nino glances at Samantha and GeorgeS

Right, Marinette thought, Top-secret discussion time.

“I’ll bring these two back and explain everything to someone,” Marinette volunteered, shooting Alya a tell-me-everything-later look.

Alya nodded gratefully.

“Sorry we got you tangled up in this,” she said, “I guess we’ll have to take your knife training more seriously.”

Marinette laughed, trying for levity.

“So you can watch me trip myself up and fall on my face again? No thanks. The one time was enough humiliation to last a lifetime.”

That earned again from Alya, and a “You’ll get better, I promise!” Then she turned back to the conversation, expression grim, and Marinette lead Samantha and George back to the scene of the disaster.

~••~

By the time they returned to the palace, everyone was exhausted. Samantha and George rose in Marinette and Alya’s carriage, do they couldn’t exactly discuss anything pertinent. (And any attempts of small talk in Marinette’s part fell flat—although she couldn’t blame the worn out assassin and the two formerly possessed, most likely very emotionally distraught civilians for not having the energy to discuss the weather.)

As soon as they reached the entryway of the palace, Alya disappeared with Nino and Adrien to get Samantha and George situated, and then to talk with the king.

Most of the soilders either returned to the barracks to get some sleep (even though it was hardly two hours past noon) or went to the infirmary to get their (thankfully, minor) wounds tended.

Marinette didn’t know what to do, and waiting for Alya in the large foyer seemed rather useless, seeing as how Alya would be gone for who-knows-how-long. So Marinette decided it was high time she visit her friends in the kitchen.

The kitchen was a mess.

Not cleanliness-wise, that is. The dishes were all thoroughly cleaned and stacked away, the pots all scrubbed and organized.

But the staff...

“Mylene’s gone!”

Marinette stood, barely one step though the door, staring at the frantic scene before her.

Ivan was practically tearin his hair outC asking everyone if they’d seen her. No one had. Everyone was chattering nervously (“Where is she?” “Have you seen her?” “She’s been acting strange lately.” “Where is she?”) and the joined voice of every concerned friend and very gossipy acquaintance was loud enough to practically give Marinette a headache on the spot.

“What’s going on?” Marinette asked, stepping further into the room.

“Mylene,” Ivan said, sounding half-crazed, “She said she wasn’t feeling well last night, and went to bed early—and no one’s seen her since.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, “Where have you looked?”

“I...” Ivan looked lost, “I only just realized. If only I had noticed sooner, maybe—”

“It’s not your fault, Ivan,” Marinette said. “If she’s somewhere on the palace grounds, we’ll only find her if we split up.

She didn’t dare speak the words that were echoing in her head.

What if she’s not here? What if she left? What if she was taken?

Marinette forced a smile on her face. It was time to be brave. For Ivan. For Mylene. (Oh, why hadn’t she checked up in Mylene after the evening she found her crying? The guilt was eating away at Marinette, even as she tried to shove it away.)

Marinette quickly made groups, taking Rose and Nathaniel with herself to search the very bottom floor—the dungeon.

“This is creepy,” Rose whispered as they walked down the stairs.

“We’re not even there yet,” Marinette teased at full volume.

They’d taken the servants staircase, which was very, very rarely used. Because of that, cobwebs were frequent and dust was everywhere. Marinette would be lying to say she wasn’t a bit frightened, but she was trying her best to pretend like she wasn’t.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

“We must be in a really old part of the castle,” Nathaniel said, “They haven’t built with wood in maybe a century.”

“It sure smells centuries old,” Rose complained.

“Shush,” Marinette said, “We’re here. Best behavior. We have to convince the guards to let us search.”

Marinette pushes Klein the dokrC and the unoiled hinged let out a squeak so loud and piercing Marinette was sure you could hear it all the way from the top floors

“Halt!” called a guard, “What is your business?”

“We’re looking for our friend, Mylene,” Rose said.

“Why would your friend be in the dungeons?” another guard asked.

“We’re checking every floor,” Nathaniel said.

“Have you seen anyone come by?” Marinette asked, “About yay high, blonde, brown eyes?”

“Our shift just started,” the first Guard said, “We haven’t seen anyone, but it’s been about thirty minutes.”

Marinette worries her lip.

“Could we go look for her?” she asked.

“Sure,” the guard laughed, and Marinette felt hopeful until he added, “If we want King Gabriel to Fire is in the spot.”

“There’s no way we can look for her? At all?”

The second guard looked thoughtful.

“Well...” he said, “We’re not under any specific orders to protect the abandoned parts of the dungeon.”

He pointed to an unlit hallway, branching off from the furthest corner of the room.

“I don’t know why you’re friend would go there though. No one goes there.”

“W-why is it abandoned?” Rose asked, visably nervous.

The first guard shrugged.

“There’s nothing down there,” he said, “You can check it out if you want. But I sincerely doubt you’ll find anything.”

Marinette hestitated. It seemed this was the best offer they were going to get.

“Thank you,” she said, because her parents raised her to be polite.

They lit a torch and crept into the hallway, anythoygh it seemeed perpetually dark, each corner shadowed no matter how close you pointed the light.

“This is worse than the staircase,” Rose decided.

Marinette couldn’t help but agree.

She counted her steps to keep calm, hoping there weren’t any forks in the path.

...eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen...

Wait.

Something was off.

Marinette motioned for them to stop.

“What—” Nathaniel started, but Marinette quickly quieted him.

She had been right.

An extra set of footsteps.

“Who’s there?!”

~••~

There was a man with blue hair (blue hair!) who seemed quite a bit affronted.

“What are you doing down here?” He asked, and there was a musically quality to his voice Marinette couldn’t quite explain,

“We’re looking for our friend,” Marinette said, “Mylene.”

“She hasn’t been here,” the strange man said with such unshakable certainty that both Rose and Nathaniel seemed convinced.

“Are you sure?” she asked anyway.

“Yes,” the man raised an eyebrow and grinned a little, “I’ve been here all day. No one’s come through.”

“The guards said no one was down here,” Marinette pressed.

The man chuckled a bit, although Marinette didn’t see what was so funny.

“It’s not my job to update the guards of my every whereabouts,” he said, “It’s my job to be the castle’s wizard.”

“Wizard?!” Nathaniel gasped.

Marinette was slightly taken aback. No wonder this man could afford blue hair! Wizards had practically a king’s salary—Magic was expensive.

“You said you were looking for your friend, right?”

They all nodded.

“I think I can help.” He turned. “Follow me.”

“Who are you?” Marinette asked, “Where are you taking us?”

“I’m taking you to my magical lab.”

“You should give it a better name,” Rose said.

The man laughed. “Maybe I should.”

“What’s your name?” Marinette asked.

“Luka,” he winked, and set off at a brisk pace.

Marinette jogged to catch up (although Rose and Nathaniel seemed to have no problems. Curse her short legs.) and eyes the stranger, Luka, suspiciously.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Marinette.”

“Rose.”

“N-Nathaniel.”

Luka smiled at them, showing off his gorgeous shine teeth. He had such duffle looking hair.

WHAT?! Marinette’s thought sounded like a screech inside her head, Shut up, me! You like Adrien! Adrien! The prince, remember?! Stop ogling this guy—you just met!

Marinette found herself blushing anyway. Thank the gods it was (probably) dark enough that no one would notice.

“We’re here,” Luka said, and he opened a door that Marinette had not noticed until just then.

Inside was a bright, sparkling room of beakers and cauldrons bull of bubbly liquids in strange colors. A few jars of eyes, a plate of chicken feet, a bottle of what Marinette hoped wasn’t human blood, and—strangely enough—a guitar were the only oddities in the room.

Marinette realized as soon as the door clicked close (fusing seamlessly with the wall) that she’d been so caught up in her own internal dialogue that she couldn’t remember the way backs

Great.

She hoped they wouldn’t have to ru back or escape from Luka, because if so they were probably just a little bit doomed.

I’m best friends with an assassin, Marinette tried to comfort herself, feeling the knife concealed in her sleeve, I can handle this.

Luka grabbed several miscellaneous jars and bottles, moving around the space with the certainty of knowing where everything was.

“What are you doing?” Marinette asked, her voice betraying more curiosity that it should have.

“Glad you asked,” Luka said, “I’m making a scrying potion.”

“Can I help?” Rose asked, like a kid who wanted to make holiday cookies.

“Me too!” added Nathaniel with matching enthusiasm.

“Sure,” Luka said, grinning. He gave Marinette and inquisitive look.

“I’m fine just watching,” she said, trying not to be too suspicious of him—or at least trying not to look like she was too suspicious. He was helping them (probably) find Mylene. The least she could do was be polite.

Rose and Nathaniel chopped and mixed and shook things up, and Luka tosses it all into a giant pot, muttering and singing spells as he did.

When it was all over, well. Nothing happened.

“What now?” Marinette asked.

“That should’ve worked,” Luka said, looking adorably confused.

“What went wrong?” Marinette asked, leaning in to get a better look.

Which was obviously a bad idea, because a) Luka yelled “Don’t!” (too late), and b) the strange, pink concoction leaped up and splashed her in the face.

Marinette stumbled back, trying to wipe the goop off (it got in her eyes!) and wildly disorientated.

“We need to get that washed out,” Luka said, sounding troublingly troubled, “there’s a well down here. Come.”

He grabbed her (gently) by the shoulder and led her down the hall at a frantic pace, taking twists and turns that Marinette couldn’t count.

They stopped, and there was a well—and Marinette was washing the stuff out of here eyes and she could see again.

“Thank you,” Marinette said, like a sign, splashing some more water in her face.

“Anytime,” Luka said, sounding relieved, and Marinette couldn’t help but trust him, even though she was trying her hardest not to.

Marinette smiled at him, and was about to ask, Do you have a towel or something? but then she froze.

Marinette. Marinette. Help. she heard, but like a though someone else had carved into her head. It echoed—it was coming from somewhere.

“Marinette?” Luka asked, “Whats wrong?”

“Do you hear that?” She asked, and immediately knew he hadn’t as firmly as she knew the sky was blue.

She abruptly stood up, face dripping water into her bodice, and followed the voice—the sound—the... something.

She knew she had to follow it. As firmly as she knew the sky was blue.

“Marinette! Marinette, where are you going?” she heard, and heard footsteps hurrying to follow her, but they were of little consequence.

Marinette. Marinette.

Help help help.

She was out of breath, she noticed—which was when she realized she had been running.

She slowed down. (Luka was still following her. But he wasn’t stopping her.)

Creeping forwards, she suddenly understood the moment called for great stealth.

Quiet, quiet. Like a mouse, and these were her own thoughts, although the foreign plea for help still echoed in the back of her head.

There!

A door—that was where the call was coming from.

Marinette slowly opened the door—

—And had to bite back andoverwjelmkng spout of nausea.

The scene wasn’t particularly disturbing. Unsettling, yes, terrifying, yes, but not exactly nausea-inducing.

Still, something j side her was shouting—screaming—that it was wrong. Incorrect.

Corrupt came to mind, and “misused,” although Marinette wasn’t quite sure why.

The room was flowing with magic—but not in the cheerful, multicolored was that Luka’s lab did.

Bright pillars of purple light filled the room, and in them—people.

Staring. Emotionless. Unmoving.

Part theee to come!!

[superhero-daugthers11]

Steve ran over to the mysterious man and started fighting with him in hand to hand combat. The winter Soilder grabbed steves and crashed into a table. Steve punched the man in the gut then hit him in the jaw. The man took out a knife and came towards steve. Steve threw his shield at him knocking him over and the knife fell to the floor. As he got back up, the winter soilders mask came off. Steve stood in tracks stunned. "bucky?"

"who the hell is bucky?" The winter Soilder replied.

He heard the sirens coming. Pepper had called the cops. Then the man leaped out the window and made his escape.

yonahshanelwaynesworld​:

She nodded “ Shield sounds like something I should be apart of … or an avenger..” she laughed “ I’m feeling a bit better but … I don’t know… I just ..” she saw Steve “ Yeah I’m okay I was just feeling bad a bit scared that I didn’t know anyone here really. ”

He nodded. “I know how that feels. Can you promise me something? Dont hold it in dont try to hide it.” he told her. “Come talk to me and i`ll help you through it. I know where you are, where your head is at right now…I`ev been there. If you keep it buried inside…trust me it only makes it worse. Natasha and my friend Sam…they became people that I went to and confided in and honestly I began to feel so much better.” He hugged her tight, his usual big bear hug. When he let go of her then looked her in the eyes. His voice was stern but warm. “Rose you dont have to feel alone. You got me and i`ll always help you when you need it.”