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fromdirectorlanawachowski · 6 years

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Honest and Unmerciful Infinity War Thoughts

TL;DR: it was absurdly bad and marvel should be ashamed of putting this out.

I’m going to preface this by saying I freely admit I’ve had no love for the MCU ever since Iron Man 3. Their casting leaves a lot to be desired, their writing leaves a lot to be desired, their directors choices leaves a lot to be desired. Their story elements are picked up and cast aside almost immediately, like a four year old trying to play with all his Hot Wheels at once.

That said, after Homecoming, Ragnarok, and Black Panther, I felt like the series was on its way back to, if not greatness, then certainly a point where I could enjoy it again, rather than see the glaring holes where a better story could have been told by better hands.

And then Infinity War happened.

Right away the opening was a shambles. Completely renders the hope spot ending of Ragnarok moot by killing off the Asgardians, save Thor. A casual reference is made later to “Thanos killed half my people and my brother”, but unless he took prisoners, I don’t think you can survive your space ship being blown up.

Also Heimdall went out like a bitch. We’ve known for years now that they had no idea what to do with the guy who could see everything, but pinning him down so he can be stabbed five minutes in was callous.

Loki’s death was a long time coming. I enjoyed that. I’m grateful.

The Children of Thanos mumble half their lines, but they also exposit half the plot, which is an unfortunate combination. They’re also the pinnacle of locking out the casual moviegoer. If you don’t know who these people are from the comics, you won’t be told. You’ll spend two and a half hours wondering where these people came from and why we haven’t seen them sooner

Thanos ends the opening two gems up, so tension is immediately drained from the rest of the movie. We know every fight is going to be a curb stomp battle with him winning.

Another element from Ragnarok cast aside: Hulk is able to apparently turn back into Bruce, which he does immediately after falling into the Sanctum.

Wong was the best character and he was in it for five minutes (everyone else was in it for five minutes too, but his were the most memorable). I was still laughing at “I have 200 rupees so…. A buck fifty” on the car ride home.

As is par for the course with Marvel lately, no reference is made to any local heroes who might be able to help. Marvel pumps millions into its Netflix shows only to pretend they don’t exist. If I was working on them, to say I’d be insulted is an understatement.

Tony’s new nanotech suit looks like it’s made of cheap plastic, like it was a replica Iron Man suit you’d see at your local comic con.

They knew no one would see Dr. Strange, so they spent a good amount of time forcing the fact that Strange had the Time Stone into your head.

Thanos’ goons escape with Strange’s unconscious body on their flying Ringolo, with Tony in hot pursuit and Peter stuck to the side. (Peter’s sole purpose in this movie, by the way, is to parrot pop culture references because the writers can’t write women or teenagers.)

Wanda and Vision (don’t even get me started on that relationship) are hiding out in Scotland, having crazy romance and giving the audience mood whiplash since we just saw New York under fire. After they get beaten up by another pair of Thanos’ goons (or possibly the same pair, none of them are especially distinct), Steve, Nat, and Sam swoop in and rescue them, jetting off for “home”.

Which is the Avengers facility in New York, where Rhodey’s only real purpose in this movie is to remind everyone about the Accords so that Steve can march in and tell Ross the Accords don’t matter, they’ll do what’s right when the going gets tough. If he’d had the balls to do that in Civil War, we wouldn’t have had the infamous Tesco Parking Lot Fight.

The Guardians pick up Thor and we get five minutes of jokes about Rocket that got old in the first GoTG movie, and jokes about Thor that got old in the first Avengers movie.

Back on the Ringolo, Peter makes another pop culture reference and they blast the dead elf looking goon out into space and get control of the ship. They’re bound for Titan. Is it a new planet? Is it Saturn’s moon? Who knows? The plot sure doesn’t.

Gamora’s tragic backstory is expanded on incredibly briefly. I don’t think Mrs Gamora’s mom ever told her not to talk to giant purple strangers committing mass murder.

Gamora makes Quill promise to kill her, in a bit of foreshadowing shaped not unlike a brick to the face. Drax does Drax things. Much as I love him, using Drax to defuse a tense scene between Quill and Gamora is old now. Please find another use for him.

Through the Reality Stone and Benicio Del Toro in a bad wig, Thanos captures Gamora and surprise! Quill couldn’t kill her.

Was this torture scene with Nebula really necessary? Or did someone at Marvel go “I don’t think they know how much we hate women, lets have Thanos torture Nebula and then reveal to Gamora that he knew the truth all along”?

Thor, Groot, and Rocket’s adventure to Nidavellir would have been better if they didn’t give the great Peter Dinklage and Thor the ungodly exchange of

“You can’t take the full blast of the star, you’ll be killed!” “You mean I might die!?” “.....yes, that’s what ‘you’ll be killed’ means.”

Also Red Skull is here, but he’s not played by Hugo Weaving and whoever they hired to replace him can’t do an accent, so the end result is less “Oh hey it’s that guy!” and more “Is this a new person?”

Gamora’s death was cruel and unnecessary and had been telegraphed from the moment we got her tragic backstory.

The Guardians, Tony, Strange, and Peter meet up on Titan (again, Saturn’s moon or what? Who knows.). Because no one is capable of talking to each other in this movie, they fight until Quill, Tony, and Peter realize they’re all human.

Quill isn’t from Earth, he’s from Missouri, because he’s an idiot now.

Thanos appears and it’s motivation time. After ten years, surely we have something great lined up. Is it Mistress Death? Is it to unite the universe under his control? A little good old fashioned megalomania? No it’s…. Overpopulation. He wants to save the universe… from overpopulation. I will henceforth be referring to him as Evil Al Gore.

The combined Guardvengers have Evil Al Gore subdued and the gauntlet is off. I REPEAT, the gauntlet is OFF. Then Nebula realizes Gamora is dead and Quill loses it, distracting Mantis from keeping him subdued and letting him get the gauntlet back on.

The battle, nay, the WAR, was literally won until they injected a little Man Pain into the script.

Strange decides to surrender because the script told him to, and surrenders the Time Stone just like that.

In Wakanda, Shuri (god bless her) is going to try and get the stone out of Vision without killing Vision while the rest of the Stevevengers plus Bucky, T’Challa, and the Wakandans try and hold off Evil Al Gore’s goons and their army of… alien attack dogs?

Shuri, after two lines in the movie, dives off screen literally never to be seen again. A tragic waste of the best character they’ve given us in at least five years.

Wanda agrees to destroy the stone in Vision’s head, and even succeeds, until Evil Al Gore, rewinds time and reassembles it. Voila, he has all six stones, like we knew would happen two minutes into the movie.

Thor beats him up but neglected to go for anywhere that might actually stop him, so Evil Al Gore clicks his fingers and vanishes and people start to disintegrate.

They try for a little tugging at the heartstrings with Peter vanishing, but all he’s done all movie is spout pop culture at me in a borderline insulting parody of teenagers, so I’m a little glad to see him go.

Evil Al Gore retires to his retirement planet to watch the sun set, but not before a vision of baby Gamore asks him what it cost. “Everything”, apparently.

Points of note:

The movie is so overstuffed with characters that everyone is barely in it. Characters literally trip over each other for screentime and lines.

There are seldom more than five main characters in a scene at once

Thanos is so overpowered right from the start that no fight scene involving him is tense at all.

What the fuck was that villain motivation

The plot has no cohesion. Things happen because the plot mandates them, not because they make sense.

The effects are good if it’s cg elements interacting with cg elements. Once a live actor or prop is introduced, it falls apart. It’s painfully clear the budget went to the cast. Just look at Bruce in the Hulkbuster at the end

The fact Marvel has no central story team is glaringly obvious.

Nobody in this movie is in character.

Overall? 2/10. Marvel really thought that was an acceptable movie to put out after ten years.

#infinity war #infinity war spoilers #infinity war critical #don't try to tell me i'm wrong #just accept marvel has you by the purse strings and go

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narutogwriting · 3 years

Note

If requests are open, then: Gaara has chosen a bride, but during their engagement she refuses to capitulate to Suna’s council and their desires to have her on their side instead of Gaara’s. So, in order to break trust/break them apart (the details are obvs your choice), a councilman or two sends a shinobi to sexually assault her.

Fortunately, Gaara discovers the man in time to save you.

With this prompt, could you write something for it? Hurt/confort, lemons (jfc tumblr just knock it off with the gag order already), dark/horror, your choice!

PRECIOUS

Pairing: Gaara x Reader

CW: Attempted sexual assault, light NSFW

Length: 4.6k+

A/N: I absolutely hate how this came out, but I hope it works for you and is what you were expecting!

You know that feeling you have when you’re younger? You have the adults in your life. They always seem to know exactly what to say, what to do. And you never truly have to worry, because if you don’t have the answer, there’s always someone that does.

Right and wrong. It’s all so black and white, and you’re lucky because the adults in your life always make the upstanding choices.

At least, that’s what you think.

And then you grow up. Little by little, you become older and wise enough to realize the more you think you know, the less you do.

And maybe it’s something big or something small when you first start to lose your faith in those in authority. But there’s always a moment when it clicks; the people in authority know no more than you do, they’re not morally honorable at all. They just have the power.

You’d been a ninja your whole life, but as you got older, you opted to step into a more political role for your village. You’d been around long enough to see how corrupt the ninja system was as a whole, and you had wanted to change it from the inside out.

You thought you’d already had your moment, multiple moments, even, that showed you just how amoral and deceitful the powers that be were.

You had no idea how bad they truly could get.

“So, I hope you understand what we’re asking. Your compliance is… let’s just say, in your best interest.”

Silence ensued. Sunagakure, like the other villages, had a system of checks and balances. Gaara was the Kazekage, leader of the village, but that didn’t mean he had this all consuming power. The Suna Council consisted of twelve members, all in place to make sure the Kazekage is doing what they should and that all decisions were made in the villages best interest.

The council and the Kazekage were supposed to be working together for the village, to make things, better, to help the people. The council was supposed to be supporting the Kazekage as the leader.

So, in a way, you almost couldn’t believe they would ask you this. Only almost. . The Sand Village had never had a reputation of being above reproach. Why, it was just a few years ago when they had partnered with the Sound Village to overthrow the Leaf Village, killing the Hokage in the process. Gaara had only been a child then, but the Suna Council that had agreed with the plot then was the same council that now demanded you betray your husband to be.

They wanted you in their ranks. The direction that Gaara was ready to lead Suna in wasn’t a direction the elders were ready for it to go.

It was new and completely different from anything they’d seen before. But Gaara was insistent that Suna was going to enter an era of peace and perseverance. They would be a village that would fight for the good of the world, not solely their own interests. Suna as a village would no longer be number one. People would be.

And so they expected you to play a secret agent for them. They would give you orders, and then, as Gaara’s wife to be, you would manipulate him into their desires, make him think they were his own. You would play him as if he were a puppet on your strings.

Maybe it was because you had been a diplomat before moving to the Sand for Gaara. They thought because you were a politician, that you would understand their requests and be bought off so easily. It was the very reason you’d taken the position; the way village politics worked needed to change.

The twelve council members stared at you steadily and expectantly. They expected your concurrence, couldn’t imagine that there would be any thought of going against their wishes. They’d gone so long getting exactly what they wanted.

All good things must come to an end.

There were a couple ways you could have played this. Agreed and then told Gaara what they’d asked. That they were demanding for you to work Gaara behind the scenes and manipulate him to their will. You could have agreed, even. Accepted their offers of power and betrayed your betrothed.

You had endless options, but you would take none of them.

Gaara was the love of your life, going to be your husband, and you would present as a strong front. You would let there be no question of where your loyalty was.

Pushing back your chair, you stood, smacking your hands down on the tables, a sudden, loud move that made the old hags jolt. You bit back a satisfied smirk; good. You wanted to scare them, let them know *exactly where they stood with you.

“How dare you?” You demanded from them, meeting each member’s eye slowly and purposefully, wanting them to understand just how badly they had screwed up by trying to turn you against Gaara.

“I don’t know how things worked back in your days, but Gaara becoming Kazekage has reigned in a new era of peace and restitution for the Sand. Things will no longer be the way you allowed it to for so long, full of evil and sneakiness and cowardice. You’re going to learn soon enough; Suna has no more need for the ways of the old world.” You pushed off the table, scowling in disgust.

“How dare you call yourselves leaders while you attempt to turn the Kazekage’s betrothed into a traitor.” Lips pursed, you looked over them all one more time, doing nothing to hide the contempt in your gaze. “The Kazekage is not going to be pleased when he hears about this.”

With that, you turned on your heel, stomping out of the room, letting the door slam closed behind you.

Out of the room now, away from their gaze, you leaned against the other side of the door, feeling the way your heart raced erratically. You couldn’t believe you’d talked like that to the Suna Council.

You’d never been meek, really. Confrontation just wasn’t your favorite thing, and besides this, you respected your elders and village leaders greatly, not discounting their wisdom or experience just because of different times. You’d even admired the council up until this moment.

But no amount of reverence or admiration would ever surpass what you felt for Gaara. You loved him more than anything or anyone, and you would always be on his side no matter what. There was nothing and no one that could make you falter or second guess being by his side.

Heading back to your apartment, you wished not for the first time you shared it with Gaara. You and Gaara didn’t live together yet; he wasn’t exactly traditional, but he wanted to keep up the appearance of it. He didn’t want to move in together until the two of you were officially married, and that day was coming up soon. You could wait just a little longer until you got to wake up to his face every morning.

Nothing sounded more blissful.

It had been a diplomacy mission that had brought you from your home in Iwagakure to Suna for the very first time.

Love at first sight wasn’t necessarily something you believed in, but the first time you laid eyes on Gaara, you knew there was something special in him. You’d heard the stories and the rumors your whole life, the demonic reincarnation of the one tailed beast that killed everything in his path to the reformed and revered youngest Kage in history.

Gaara had been nothing like you expected.

He had the kindest eyes you’d ever seen. At a young seventeen years old, his eyes held stories of a hundred lifetimes. He was quiet, observant. He took in everything and everyone around him, considering their every move and word before responding himself. When he spoke, it was with a shared respect and understanding of those who he was addressing.

You’d bowed respectfully when you met, addressing him, of course, as Kazekage. When you’d straightened, his eyes on you had you blushing; you felt bare under his gaze.

A week. You were only in Suna one week, and that was all it took for you to fall for Gaara. From the first late night the two of you spent negotiating and discussing the particulars of the alliance between your villages, you got to know Gaara more than you’d ever imagined you would.

And Gaara was just as sprung. From your easy smile to the quickness of your thoughts to the passion in which you spoke, he’d never met anyone like you.

You were a marvel to Gaara, and he didn’t let you leave without letting you know.

You were surprised in all honesty. You hadn’t been able to read whether or not he was as interested in you as you were in him, but either way, you wouldn’t have expected a person like Gaara to be so forward.

He was modest and reverent the night before you were to go back to your village when he told you he’d like you to return soon. He left no room for you to wonder what he meant, instantly letting you know that it was because he was enamoured with you, and he had every intention in pursuing you romantically if you would let him.

Of course you would.

It was one and a half years of dating before you’d opted to give up your position in your village to move to the Sand. Gaara didn’t ask you to, never would have dreamed of making you choose between him and your job, but it was the obvious choice to you.

You loved Gaara irrevocably, and he was Kazekage. He couldn’t leave his village, so you would go to him.

It was only a year after that when Gaara asked you to marry him in a way that was so him. It was quiet and private and romantic as hell.

He’d asked you to go with him for a quiet walk to the green house, just about the only place in Suna that had any plants. It was both of your favorite places, so of course you agreed.

When you’d arrived, the green house was alight with fairy lights strung from every corner. Petals from various flowers littered the floor walkway down to an arc of ivy that definitely hadn’t been there before.

Looking at Gaara, your mouth hung agape in disbelief and confusion. He gave you a soft smile, taking your hand and leading you down the walkway. By the time you got to the ivory arc, you had tears overflowing.

“Yes!” You were crying before he even got down on one knee.

Gaara had tried to shoosh you with a small laugh, but you weren’t having it, throwing your arms around him and peppering him with kisses before he could get a word in.

“You have to let me ask you. I have a speech.” He tried to tell you, but gave up as you continued to kiss him, laughing and kissing you back. He pulled a rock carved in the shape of a heart. Lifting the lid, it revealed the beautiful ring he had made for you.

He had to hold you still so he could slip the ring on your finger before kissing your hand.

“I love you,” He told you, those intense green eyes gazing into yours.

Your wedding was still a ways away, but you and Gaara were clearly in love. Why the council genuinely thought you would go along with their demands were beyond you. You’d given up politics for love without a second thought.

Shaking your head, you were relieved when your front door came into view. The first thing you wanted to do leaving your meeting was to go straight to Gaara, but he was gone for the next week on his own diplomacy meeting.

You sighed as you got into bed. Whenever he was home, the council was going to be in for a world of hurt. You could only imagine how livid and betrayed Gaara would geel.

The next few days went by without incident, though that did make you feel just a bit nervous. You expected to be called in for some sort of meeting again, to be talked to, at least sent a message.

But there was nothing. All was peaceful and quiet.

The time passes slowly and uneventfully. You did paperwork and spent time with some friends. That night, you settled into bed with a cup of tea and a book, wishing Gaara was beside you. He’d be gone for a few more days still.

So you opted for just a relaxing night in by yourself. You usually went to sleep early-ish, but that night, you were up well past your usual bedtime, emerged in the fantasy world in between the pages you were reading.

It was because you were awake that you heard a noise from your living room. It was small, barely there, but you’d heard it. It sounded like someone had bumped into something, maybe your living room table, and had been quick to steady it.

You froze, listening carefully for any more sound, but nothing came. You had almost convinced yourself that you imagined the whole thing, but every one of your senses was on high alert. Carefully, slowly, you crept out of your bed, grabbing the kunai you kept under your pillow just in case.

You held your breath, not wanting to risk even making a sound, as you tiptoed towards your bedroom door. Ear pressed to the cool wood, you listened.

Silence met you, but you weren’t convinced. Years as a Shinobi had taught you to trust your gut. Something was off; you could feel it.

Decided to go on the offensive, you turned the door handle and threw open the door, quickly barreling through the opening. You caught the intruder dead in their tracks. He was dressed in all black, everything covered besides his dark eyes.

You were in such shock at there actually being someone there, you froze for a split second. The intruder took that second to attack, lunging at you.

He smashed into you, knocking both of you to the floor, and that’s when your instincts kicked in. As soon as your back hit the floor, you were rolling, throwing your legs over your head and then you were on your feet, sending a kick into the man’s abdomen.

The man let out a gasp as the air was knocked from him. Wasting no time, you sprinted to your front door, ready to flee and call for help.

You weren’t prepared for another intruder waiting at the otherside of the door. The second you opened it, locking eyes with him, his fist lashed out before you could even react.

Pain was all you felt before the world went black.

The world came into view slowly. As your vision cleared, you realized you were in your own bedroom. When you tried to move, you were alarmed to find that your arms and legs were both bound. Your attempt at a scream was muffled by the gag in your mouth.

“Heh, we’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” Your head jerked to see the intruder that you had kicked looming over you. “You’re lucky you got that kick in when you did, but I’m gonna have to pay you back for that one.”

He drew his hand back before smacking it across your face. You gave a muffled cry as the left side of your face stung in pain.

“Stop fucking around,” hissed the other man. “We have orders. Get to it.”

You looked up between the two, scared and confused. What kind of orders?

The first man chuckled with a smirk that looked more like a sneer. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this…” He mused as he pulled out a kunai. He moved toward you slowly, deliberately, letting the fear creep from your neck down your spine.

You shook your head, jerking this way and that, but the second intruder pinned you to the bed by your shoulders. “Better stay still, bitch.” He hissed at her. “We got a job to do here. This’ll teach you to defy the village council. By the time we’re done with you, you won’t think twice about doing what they say.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, your night shirt was fisted by the first man before he ripped the kunai through it.

Your face burned hot with embarrassment and shame as the remains of your top were shredded, leaving you bare. You could feel their eyes looming over you, taking in every part of your skin.

“Even your fiancé ain’t gonna want you when we’re done.” You heard snickered, but by this point you’d screwed your eyes shut, not wanting to see them looking at you like you were a piece of meat.

Shuffling made your eyes peak back open to see the first man fumbling with the buttons of his pants.

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna enjoy this.”

He shoved his boxers down, revealing himself as he palmed his length to hardness.

You began thrashing again with renewed vigor despite the hands still pinning your shoulders down. Somehow, you managed to free yourself from the second man's grasp, rolling off the bed and attempting clumsily to push yourself to your feet.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your ankles were grabbed and unceremoniously, you were dragged kicking back to the man. In moments he had your own pants discarded before he was looming over you.

Everything about him was revolting you. His smell, his heavy body to those cold dead eyes. In one last desperate attempt, you headbutted him as hard as you could, feeling your forehead smash into his nose.

Warm blood spurted out, splashing over you as he let out a mangled scream. “You bitch! I’ll kill you!”

Spots flashed before your vision as his fist connected with your cheek, leaving you disoriented and drowning in pain.

“I’ve had enough of this,” the second man hissed, shoving the first one off of you. “I’ll take care of this.”

He pinned you with his entire body as you felt him shuffling for his pants once more.

You weren’t sure when you’d started crying, but the tears were flowing, drenching your cheeks as your stomach turned sickly. You screwed your eyes shut, willing your mind to go anywhere else but here.

There was nothing else to do but resign yourself to your fate. You couldn’t fight back or scream for help. All you could do was pray it would be over quickly.

You were still waiting when the weight of his body suddenly lifted off of yours, and you heard the most horrifying scream. Your blood went cold at the sound, causing your eyes to shoot open.

Sobs began to wrack your body as it shook with relief so great it overwhelmed you. Gaara! He was here!

And you’d never seen him look so angry before.

His eyes were wide and crazed, the vessels looking like they would pop at any second. The men were screaming, pleading, but Gaara couldn’t hear them pass the blood rushing in his ears. Teeth bared, he was growling, the sound menacing and maniacal.

In this moment you understood something in a way you never had before: Gaara was a force to be feared.

“Please! Please, we’re sorry!” “No! Don’t!”

“Sand Coffin.”

The men let out one last strangled scream before they were silenced permanently. Blood splattered everywhere, pouring down like rain. It streamed down over you and everything else in your room.

Gaara was panting hard, still looking more wild than you’d ever seen him. His eyes were locked on the sand that was seeping red with blood.

A small whimper from you brought him back. His eyes quickly flickered to you, and it was like you could see his soul returning to his body.

He was by your side in a second, kneeling next to you and pulling you to him. He gently removed the gag from your mouth and removed the bind from your wrists and ankles.

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t have the words. He just held you while you weeped into his chest, wrapped in a blanket and finally feeling safe in his arms.

It took you a while to calm down. The adrenaline had left your body, leaving you only with the weight of what had almost happened. The fear and shock left you trembling, ripping sobs from your throat.

“I’m here…” He kept repeating. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

Once you were able to finally relax, Gaara packed you a bag and took you to his home. You would never need to go back to your home with those traumatic memories, he decided. To hell with tradition or social conventions. He would move you into his home first thing the next morning.

At Gaara’s home, he ran a bath for the two of you filled with bubbles. He took a warm wash cloth, gently wiping the blood from your body. He massaged the blood back to the areas you’d been binded and iced the bruises on your face, any traces of the manic man from earlier gone. All that was left was the serene Gaara you knew and loved.

Gaara didn’t press you to talk or tell him anything the whole while, only made sure you were attended to and cared for.

It was later on once the two of you were in bed with Gaara holding you close to him that you filled him in on what had happened: the Suna Council attempts to get you to turn against Gaara and manipulate him to their purpose. What those men had said before they’d attempted to… you couldn’t even say the word.

Gaara took it all in silently, but you could feel his grip on you tighten just slightly as you spoke. He was livid; you could see it in his eyes, though it was much more subdued than before. “I’m so sorry this happened to you,” he finally spoke, his words heavy and choked.

“If you weren’t marrying me…” He stopped, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m sending out word first thing to the four other villages. We’ll have the members disbanded and imprisoned before the week ends.” He assured you with a conviction and sternness you’d only seen in meetings before.

Nodding, you pulled him closer to you. “I never thought I’d see you again…” You told him. “I was so scared… I thought…” You shook your head. “You saved me. You’re always there.”

“Always,” Gaara said, kissing your head.

He didn’t know whether to chalk it all up to luck or intuition that he’d come home early. He had just missed you so terribly, it was like he suddenly couldn’t stand to be away from you for another moment. He’d cut his diplomacy trip early and hurried back, getting to you in just the nick of time.

“I don’t wanna talk about it anymore…” You murmured, looking up at him. “I just wanna forget about it, just for tonight…” With that, you reached up to press your lips to his.

Gaara hesitated only for a moment before kissing you back. He’d missed you so much, and if this was what was going to make you feel better, well, who was he to deny you? In a moment, you were up on top of him, straddling his lap as you kissed him more forcefully, almost desperately.

Gaara’s arms went around you, fingers digging into your hips as he held you against him. He let one hand slide up your back into your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands. Slowly, your lips slid down, moving over his jaw down to his neck, peppering every area you could reach with kisses.

Your name left Gaara’s mouth, a low, needy whine. It sent a jolt through your body, and you began to grind yourself into his lap. You could feel Gaara’s grip tighten in your hair even more as he slowly began to harden underneath you.

Your fingers began to pull at the hem of his shirt desperately. You needed something to ground you. You needed Gaara.

He let you pull the shirt off of him, discarding it to the side before he was on you again.

He flipped you over so you were on your back as he attached his own lips to your neck, attacking the skin, marking you as his. You were moaning and trembling under his touch, begging him for more as his hands wandered your body.

“Gaara,” You groaned out as his fingers fumbled with the waistband of your pants. “No foreplay. I want you now.”

You could hear Gaara stifle his groan at your words before your pants were unceremoniously yanked down. His lips pressed harshly back to yours, all tongue and teeth. Gaara had put aside his own feelings earlier for yours, but now they were pouring out of him.

His anger at the council. His bloodthirst for those men. His fear for what almost had happened to you; you could taste it all in the kiss. Gaara needed you to ground him just as much as you needed him to ground you.

One moment you were kissing and the next your clothes were in a pile, and he was inside of you, hands pinning down your hips as he rutted into you desperately. Your nails scratched down his back, you tried to moan or cry out, but all your sounds were swallowed by his lips.

You were breathless, dizzy as his hips pounded into yours, never breaking the kiss. His pelvic bone caught your clit with every movement and it wasn’t long before you were gushing around him, but he didn’t slow his moments. He pulled your legs up, locking them around his waist. “More,” He was mumbling against your lips. “More.” When it was over, you cumming around his cock countless times before he finally found his own release, spilling inside of you endlessly, he pulled you into his side, holding you closer than he had in some time.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.” The image played in your mind, Gaara’s eyes wild and burning, the flames of anger behind them.

Gaara tensed slightly, but you placed your hand on his chest, calming him as you gazed up at him. You weren’t afraid of him. You were only… intrigued by this side of him you’d never experienced.

“I use to crave blood.” He told you. “I know you have heard the stories. My whole life, I was told I was a monster. I thought I was one. My sole purpose was to kill everyone around me so I could survive.”

His hand was rigid on your shoulder as he spoke, but you held his gaze unwavering. You accepted Gaara. Every part of him.

“But now, I know my true purpose.” His stare was steady, sure. “Ever since I’ve become Kazekage. My purpose has been to protect those precious to me, those who need someone to protect them. I no longer crave violence or blood. But I will not let anyone, no matter who they are, hurt someone I love…” He pulled you even closer, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

“I never would have dreamed I would have someone precious to me, or someone who I am precious to. But now that I have you, I’m never going to let you go.”

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realityhelixcreates · 3 years

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 77: Like a Good Old-Fashioned Barn Raising

Chapters: 77/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: pg

Relationships: Loki x Reader

Characters: Loki (Marvel),

Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Party Time

Summary: Buridag begins!

Loki was awake long before you were, getting preparations ready, loose ends tied up, last minute orders sent out. He allowed you to sleep until you woke on your own, having removed his little illusory alarms from you some time ago.

Sometimes flower petals still rained upon you, and perfume rose from your footsteps, but no more snakes in the bath.

So you rose slowly, stretching and yawning the grogginess away at your own pace. Time was very hard to tell by looking out windows at this time of year, but when Loki entered the room carrying an egg sandwich, a little pile of fresh potato chips, and a glass of coffee, you placed yourself firmly within brunch territory.

Loki flicked on your sunlamp, gestured at the chair, and handed you your brunch once you'd taken your seat.

You munched your food and absorbed your light while Loki laid out the day's plans. You'd get dressed in a ceremonial outfit that included your armor and helmet, and join the parade that was gathering even now.

They were initially going to put you on Sleipnir. You had asked them not to. Sleipnir was magnificent, but you had no connection to him, nor to Leynarodd, who was the second choice. Your sweet, stout, shaggy little Acorn was who you preferred, a horse that belonged to no one initially, but who had formed a trusting bond with you.

Your clothing was, predictably, green, the underdress and apron a dark mossy color, hemmed on all edges with fine gold braid, embroidered with stripes of delicate knotwork, and your mark, also in gold. Over the top of this went your quilted tunic, in it's shimmering jade, and then your armor; the breastplate, the tassets, the bracers, pauldrons, greaves, and poleyns, though the last two were not visible. They went on over the leather trousers you'd been given to wear under your dress. They were sleek things, made of tough black leather, pleated in diagonal patterns, just like something Loki would wear. You thought the pleats had the advantage of putting more leather between you and any danger, and were flexible as well.

There were actually places where your familiar oval brooches could be fastened, your strings of shining beads strung between, your chatelaine dangled. Your belt was tooled leather and brass findings, hung with a leather purse, your Yggdrasil phone case, a small drinking horn carved with your mark, and of course, your knife. A little burst of deep pink against all the gold, green, and black.

You wore a minty-green velvet cape, a gift from Andsvarr, and your beautiful helmet to top it all off. You truly looked like something out of a fantasy novel, someone who looked like they should be standing next to the legendary figure that Loki currently cut.

He looked enormous, with his many asymmetrical layers, and molded shoulder guards, his billowing cape and hair spilling from beneath his magnificent curling horns. He shone with nornbein, and his cloak, shot with silk, shimmered subtly.

“You're so beautiful.” you mumbled. Loki smiled, and leaned down to adjust your cape, cheeks dusted with pink.

“Thank you.” he said, “I make every attempt. Though I think I will fade into the background under the power of your radiance.”

Warmth rushed to your face.

“Um, I know we've got to hurry and get Acorn, but I want to ask you a favor, Loki.”

“Anything. Tell me what it is and I'll make it so.”

You took a deep breath.

“I need you to stop trying to impress my father.”

The pink on his cheeks transformed into bright red.

“Ah. Yes, I rather hashed that, didn't I? I apologize. I thought that was still standard procedure, but your father, uh, explained otherwise.”

“Mhm, I'll bet he did. Look, I know you wanted to surprise us, but when it comes to things like that, you really oughta run it by me first. I could have told you that wouldn't work out the way you thought it would. You know, saved you from being chewed out like that. You can let me save you sometimes too.”

“ Like with the Huldra.”

“Kinda. Dad's not as bloodthirsty as she was, but he's a lot more stubborn.”

“Like father, like daughter, hm?” he teased.

“You have not seen me be stubborn yet.” you warned, and he gave you a quick smooch.

“A blessing, I'm sure. Very well, I agree. Surprises get run by you. Anything to save me from another tongue lashing. That man truly does not hold back.”

“I mean it though.” you persisted. “I'm not saying that you can't have any surprises at all, but talk to me about big stuff like that. If it's something that Asgardian law or custom would demand, but would be insulting to a human, we can maybe hash out an alternative that would satisfy both. That's the point, isn't it? Please, I really don't want to deal with anymore trouble between you two. Don't get hung up on impressing him, he has every reason to reject it, and he will. No more gifts, no toasts, no calling attention to him in public, nothing. He hates being the center of attention. Just let him be a guest, and see, without interference, that his little girl is doing fine on her own.”

“I really didn't mean to make him so angry.” Loki said, a little crestfallen. “And the more I tried to explain, the angrier he became. I just wanted him to know how much I value you. I wanted you to know too.”

“Material culture is different where I'm from. There are places in the world where that would have been understood and appreciated, but we've stopped doing it. In the same vein, fathers don't make all the decisions for their daughters anymore, so you don't actually need his approval. But...I need you to understand, it's not just that you took away his child, though that's bad enough. It's that I'm the only family he has left. My grandma only had one kid, and that was my dad. And she's dead, and so's my granddad, before I was even born. And then my mom died, and Beth too, and so I'm all that's left for him. And I have this giant Sword of Damocles hanging over my head all the time, and he's had to worry about that for my whole life. Most of the women on my mom's side all died from this, but occasionally, rarely, there's one that doesn't. I'm starting to hope that might be me. Maybe the magic is protecting me. But he's not going to be able to accept that so easily. I'm all he had left, and you took me away. That's all that's going to be important to him. You didn't even have to do the things you did in New York, this is the worst possible crime you could commit, in his eyes.”

Loki heaved a sigh of remorse. “And I cannot even return you to him. It seems there is one more thing I cannot set right.”

“The best you can do is make sure I'm okay. And don't bother him anymore. And maybe let him come visit more often. The more he sees me living my life and being fine, the more confidence he will have that I'm actually safe here.”

“I shall endeavor to help you thrive.” Loki promised.

“All right, so if that's settled, we should go get our horses.”

******

Acorn was, like you, a bit overdressed in your opinion. Long tabbards and blankets covered her from nose to rump, green and gold, embroidered with oak leaves. They were so long, they almost brushed the ground. Ribbons were braided into her wild mane and tail, and bells jingled with every movement. Like you, she could barely be seen under her splendor. But she was probably warm, and happily accepted a carrot from your hand. Placid as always, she let you up on her back, and fell into step behind Leynarodd, who likewise, followed up behind Sleipnir, whose hooves still rang like bells even over the thin layer of packed snow that covered the recently cleared streets.

There was a whole procession of people-this was a parade after all, and Thor, on Sleipnir, was preceded by the twin Valkyries, carrying Asgardian banners, as well as several musicians, and Beli, who chanted an ancient epic on the exploits of Buri.

Saga had translated the chant for you a while ago, and it sounded something like the sensationalized, self-aggrandizing boasts of pharaohs, or Mesopotamian kings-the kind that claimed to be rulers of the world, or rulers of the heavens themselves, to have battled armies of demons, killed giant lions with only a stick-that sort of thing. But when Beli called out those verses in such an ancient dialect of Asgardian, the words themselves felt powerful.

Thor followed slowly, Sliepnir plodding along, both of them absolutely huge. Loki and Leynarodd came right behind, only slightly smaller. And then you and Acorn, almost comical in your stature, diminutive by comparison. You were keenly aware of it, but either all of Asgard was too polite to say anything about it, or they simply didn't care.

The human guests, corralled in roped off areas, whooped and cheered when when you passed. Behind you, more musicians played, and a circle of Seidkonas walked in silent dignity. Then came more banners, the rest of the Valkyries, representatives of each noble house and guild, and the rest of the Aesir in Asgard, provided they didn't already have another position in the parade.

After them, the gathered Asgardians began following, lengthening out the procession, bright balls of magical light bobbing overhead. The sun had barely peeked over the horizon, and would be slinking away in a mere three or so hours, so the mage lights sparkled everywhere. Helpful Einherjar herded the humans to the next specially roped off area, so they could follow the parade as well; you caught a few amused faces at the playful rowdiness displayed by celebrating humans.

That was just how humans were when they were excited about something. Humans loved to holler, to jump, and dance, and clap. Some of them were even trying to keep time with the music.

You weren't actually able to pick out your father or Tara in the crowd, nor anyone else you knew, so you just kept your head forward and your back straight, trying to look as dignified as you could.

You'd only ever seen a few of what you considered 'proper' parades: in a small town a parade mostly consisted of people waving from the backs of neighborhood pickup trucks and tractors, maybe decorated with balloons or paper chains, blasting music from dusty old speakers. In the autumn, there might be pumpkins and corn stalks, and usually hayrides. But never anything like this spectacle.

As you got closer to the construction site, the apprentice mages responsible for all the floating lights started throwing sparks from their hands, like colorful sparklers. The gathered Asgardians began lining up in their designated areas, ready to play their part. The foundations had already been dug, and everything that needed to go into them was already there. All that remained was the pouring.

Thor, Loki, and yourself dismounted as close to in unison as you could manage, the horses carefully lead away to a temporary enclosure. You headed to the stack of decorative bricks, and took your place among the Asgardians there, while Thor gave the order for the cement to pour.

While this went on, Beli gathered his students and skalds in front of the Huldrastone to recite a modern epic. Within the first few verses you realized that it was about the Huldra's attack, and your confrontation with her.

Of course, the poem was much cleaner and more elegant than the actual events had been, but certain things had still been included. Your ears burned beneath your helmet when Beli reached the part where you had 'bestowed upon the fallen prince, a gentle sacrificial kiss, knowing that to trade life for life would grant him breath once more.'

You had finally spotted your father and Tara in the crowd; he crossed his arms and glared upon hearing the verse, while Tara gave you a cheezy grin and thumbs up.

As the poem reached its conclusion, the cement finished pouring, and a new recitation began. As Thor and Loki knelt and began scratching ritual runes into the wet cement, Beli's current group of student came forward and began telling the story of Beli, while apprentice mages illustrated the words with colorful, stylized illusions.

There were harrowing battles against huge stone people, the construction of the original Bifrost, which at that time connected a fleet of alien ships to one another. The illusions showed the gathering of construction materials, the building of a platform in space, and the grand revelation of the crystalline platform upon which Asgard slowly grew. Mountain and plain, river and ocean, building after magnificent building rose into the sky. Their ships captured and carved an asteroid, then set it in orbit as a bright new moon. All this was accomplished by the use of a glowing, icy blue cube that was difficult to look directly at. It was compelling though; it caught and held your attention with its beautiful, sparkling light.

You knew what that device was: you had learned about it in your lessons with Saga. It was the object known as the Tesseract, a four dimensional creation meant to house the incredible energy of an Infinity Stone. Perhaps that was why it was simultaneously fascinating, yet hard to perceive. Your curious human brain was drawn to its uniqueness, yet equally unable to fully fathom it.

That device was the key to Asgard's existence and eventual success. It was unthinkable to you that Odin had just lost it on Earth, as Sagas histories had proclaimed. It must have been a terrible loss.

Thor and Loki completed their carving, and began the process of imbuing the foundations with divine power. Goosebumps rose on your arms, and there was a pricking in your sinuses, like you were about to sneeze. There was almost a flavor to it.

The actual blessing didn't take nearly as long as the rune carving ritual, and soon, the two brothers stepped back, to allow others to begin their work. More mages worked a spell together that lifted the water out of the cement, drying it within moments. People came forward with wires and pipes, floor and wall supports, insulation, hammers, plaster, bricks, and mortar. In rotating lines people laid flooring and installed fixtures, scraped grout and assembled frames. Every now and then youths moved through, sweeping up dust, always away from you.

It suddenly became clear that that was why you were so far back in line, why you'd been assigned a decorative brick, something that would be placed near the very end of the construction. There would be no dust then. Gratitude swelled in your chest, but you said nothing. There was singing now, simple, repetitive melodies that sounded like work songs.

Every hour, volunteers carted huge, heated cauldrons around the lines and groups of human spectators, dipping out hot drinks like witch's potions, and it was possible that there was a simple sort of magic in things like hot chocolate, strong coffee, and buttered rum on a cold day.

The building went up faster than you thought possible, the widows, doors, and lights being set into place as auroras began ribboning across the sky.

Finally, there was one brick left. You lifted it up, as the singing seemed to intensify, scooped some mortar from the pail, and fitted it all into the only remaining slot. Giving the brick a light pat to make sure it was secure, you turned back to the assembled crowd.

“We did it.” You said, and the cheering began.

#lasabrjotr #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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sxveme-2 · 3 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Two: The One With the Fanboy

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1854

Now lets do a quick background explanation of a pretty key player in this love story. Hunter Osborne-Harvey. The child of Scott and Lily. He was created out of what was believed to have been love. That's what Lily had believed at least. When Lily had found out she was pregnant, while juggling a relationship as well as working through medical school, she did not believe it at first. She had taken around eight pregnancy tests before she eventually ended up at the doctor's office...confirming her biggest fear.

She was expecting.

Scott proposed to Lily shortly after she had broken the news to him. Lily, who had been caught off guard, had accepted with no hesitation. The two had only been together for around a year and a half, and that really was not enough time for two people to decide whether or not they would settle down for the rest of their lives together. Not to mention, the two together had no money. Well...that was what she thought. Turns out, Scott's family had a rainy day fund for him, and the two seemed to be well taken care of.

Where the money came from? Lily was never sure. She supposed his family was most likely saving up for him to go to an ivy league school, but only had to pay for a simple engineering course instead. Leading their son into a successful career. So when Scott began to work full time, he seemed to be home even less. It was shortly after Hunter was born, when things began to really go sour between the two.

After work, Scott would typically go out with his buddies and come home piss drunk to struggling med student, Lily, rocking a fussy Hunter in her arms while studying for a large test the next day. Instead of offering help, he would stumble off to bed and pass out instantly. Leaving Lily to rely on her advanced mind to get her through med school. And somehow, she did it, with hard work, tears, and many nights sleeping at Genevieve's away from Scott.

As Hunter grew up, he seemed to face a few...development issues. He rarely spoke, and could be found sitting alone in his room staring out the window, a lost look in his deep brown eyes. Scott and Lily fought night after night over this particular issue, and a few dozen others. This carried on for seven years of Hunter's life. He would lay awake at night and listen to the insults that were hurled back and forth. His father would end up storming out of their small one story home, which cued a string of sobs from his mothers lips. On these nights, Hunter would crawl into bed with Lily and hold his broken mom close as she slept.

It was later uncovered that Hunter's IQ was off the charts, just like his mothers. Doctors suggested advanced work and study methods. This led into some of the most aggressive fights. Lily wanted her son to be taught as a regular kid, instead of being held at a higher level like she was. Constantly being singled out and then ridiculed if she got anything wrong. Scott, however, believed Hunter should be taught at an advanced rate, so in the future he can be worth billions.

That night got particularly heated, and Aunt Gen had to come and pick him up to stay at her apartment above her cafe. They stayed up all night and watched movies before falling asleep on the couch. The following day, his Grandpa and Grandma picked him up and said he'd be staying with them for a bit.

A week later, he was informed of his parents' separation.

And now, he lived happily with his mother 90% of the time, dreading the weekends he'd have to be at his fathers with his dad's new wife and baby girl. He was ignored most of the time, being left to fend for himself as Mary, his step-mom, and his father would go out to friends' homes. He had to care for Leila, his half-sister, with a useless babysitter.

Anytime he brought up a change of custody, Lily would shut the conversation down. Though she suffered all those years with scott, the blonde knew that he loved hunter. Even if he did not have a very good way of showing it. She knew Hunter would rather be home with her, grabbing breakfast at Aunt Gen's, ordering pizza for dinner while watching movies and shows. Playing in the backyard with joey.

Sleeping in Lily's bed when he heard her crying at night.

-----

"Who's here?" Lily wondered aloud as she walked to her and Hunter's usual spot near the kitchen at a booth.

"Okay, Hunter, if I tell you, you have to swear not to go all superhero nerd on me okay?" Genevieve grinned while sliding into the booth next to the young boy, "I know your whole obsession with these righteous men and women." With a reassuring nod from the quiet boy, Lily watched as Gen began, "The one and only Captain America is here. With his two best confidants, Falcon and Winter Soldier."

Lily's eyes immediately turned towards her son. She couldn't help but grin widely at the bright and beaming smile that lit up his face after Gen broke the news. His chocolate brown eyes sparkled as the fanboy in him boiled to the brim. But, he had promised to keep his composure. Instead, Lily watched as he pursed his lips and his grin grew bigger.

"Where are they sitting?" he managed out, attempting to take deep breaths to relax an overwhelming amount of adrenaline and nerves dancing through his body.

Gen nodded her head gently towards her left side, causing both mother and son to glance slyly to where the few people in the cafe seemed to be also sneaking glances of. And sure as shit, there the three sat. Chatting lowly over coffee and pastries. Glancing back towards her son, Lily could see the excitement growing more and more the longer he looked at his heroes. All over his room, posters of Captain America, Iron Man, Black Panther, etc, littered the walls. Action figures and collectibles stacked up on his shelves. Hardcore fanboy. It was endearing to see.

"Mom! Could I go ask for an autograph?" Hunter pleaded as he looked over at his mom and aunt, who exchanged weary looks. The two shared that telepathic conversation that all best friends can do, before turning towards the boy sat opposite of them.

"Go ahead kiddo. But do not make a scene." Lily started with a gentle smile, leaning forward with her pointer finger extended. The blonde boy wrapped his pointer finger around his mothers before sliding out of the booth and towards the men he idolized, "We just made a huge mistake, didn't we?"

"Nope. You did. He will never shut up ever again," Gen chuckled while sliding out of the booth, "usual order I'm guessing? Secret blueberry pancakes for Hunter and croissant with icing sugar for you?"

"You know me so well, and I hope he doesn't shut up. It'd be nice to hear him talk from time to time." Lily chuckled as a waitress poured her coffee into a mug.

Bringing the hot liquid to her lips, Lily’s eyes turned to glance at the group her son just went to talk to. They all had sideways smiles on as they laughed at something said. Whether it be from her son or one of them. The heartwarming smile that Lily seemed to be known for stretched across her lips as she sipped the dark liquid in the white mug she held. All of the sudden, Hunter turned and pointed back towards their table, the three men's eyes following his arm. They all raised a hand and gave a gentle wave.

This in turn, caused Lily to basically spit out her coffee. Or more so...actually spit out her coffee.

One of the men, the one she recognized as the Falcon, noticed the spillage and stood from his seat, making his way over and sliding into the booth across from the young girl. Lily's eyes blew wide as her cheeks flushed a bright red against her fair skin.

"Steve has a tendency of making women spit out their drinks, something to do with his charm or something," the dark skinned man chuckled as he cleaned the coffee off the table, "Sam Wilson. And I'm guessing you know the blonde. and the rugged robocop would be Bucky Barnes."

Bucky Barnes. Lily's eyes slid from the coffee in front of her to the other two men still putting up with her obsessed son. She seemed to catch the gaze of the long haired one, the superhero mentioned prior. Right as they locked eyes, both turned away. Lily's cheeks only heated up more as she cleared her throat.

Like said before, she wasn’t much of a talker.

"Sorry about my son, he loves you all a lot," Lily said, her voice a mere murmur as held the mug up to her lips, "Oh and uh...I'm Lily. Lily Osborne."

Sam seemed almost...shocked? by the words that left the blondes lips. As though he didn't believe a part of what she had said. Was she known among the superheroes or something? Maybe her fathers botanist studies? Or the fact a young boy was in love with superheroes? But they all seemed pretty unlikely. Most young kids liked superheroes. Especially those who fit the same archetype as Hunter.

"There is no way in hell you're that young kid's mom. You're way too young." Sam laughed softly, shaking his head.

So that was why he didn't believe her. Most people have that assumption. That they were brother and sister rather than mother and son. Lily was only thirty three, and had a youthful glow to her it seemed. Though whenever she looked in the mirror, all she saw was all of those years of hard work and sadness. The weight of being a single mother weighing down the under eye skin that was now seemingly bruised. The dull aura of her busy work schedule and stress with handling a fairly difficult ex-husband.

"Yeah, he's my son. Look's more like me than his father, luckily." Lily laughed softly, nibbling at her lips. A nervous habit. Her mother used to scold her on the daily for it, saying that the precious skin on her lips was for the kiss of someone she loved, not to be pulled open by anxiety.

"Well he's a sweet kid-” Sam stated before being interrupted by Steve and Bucky calling him, as they headed towards the door, "It was nice meeting you Lily. You've got a good kid on your hands," he continued, writing down an address and number on a napkin, "Swing him by the compound one day. I'll give him a tour."

Lily gave a simple nod goodbye as she slid the napkin into her purse, grinning as her beaming son returned to their booth, looking more vibrant than ever. He began to rave about how awesome Captain America was and how quiet the other guy was. Bucky, right. Gen slid their food down in front of them before sending lily a quick wink.

"Aunt Gen these are blueberry!"

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female oc #female oc #oc tag #original character #marvel #marvel fanfiction #the winter solider fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #the avengers #tfatws #single mom #sebastian stan #fluffy #romance #comedy

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dolce-peach · 4 years

Note

Can you do a Loki x reader where they are from a parallel universe and somehow end up in the marvel one. Loki and their alt self used to date until they were killed. Usual stuff they and Loki hit it off. But they are scared Loki only likes them because they look like their alternative self. Hope that makes sense?

unconditionally

pairing: loki x au!reader

warnings: angst?, fluff

a/n: haha i think i got it, anon! thanks for being patient! hope you guys like it! 💗

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

You needed to get away. Something about following the responsibilities in life: getting married and bearing children. You knew your village wanted the best for you, but you couldn’t see yourself settling down for the rest of your life.

There were still parts of the world you wanted to see and experience.

You rode out into the woods on one of the many horses you cared for. The air was cool as you moved swiftly through the trees, riding as fast as you could. The sunlight that came through the foliage was blinding until you came to a grassy clearing, leading to the ocean.

Your horse came to a stop towards the edge, pawing at the dirt as you gazed out at the horizon.

You spread your arms out, taking in as much of it as possible.

If only you could grow a pair of wings and just fly away.

“You there!”

You turned around to see someone ride towards you. Your horse shook its head nervously as he approached.

He was someone you’ve never seen before, with eyes like the shallow ocean and hair as black as night. He wore a playful smile, until he got a good look at you.

“Y/N?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know my name?” you asked. “Who are you? A soldier?”

He pursed his lips. “We know each other, Y/N,” he said, his eyes pleading. “You know me.”

Feeling uneasy, you started your horse towards the woods again.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” you said.

He reached out, grasping onto your reins. His eyes gazed deeply into yours, as if he were searching your soul for some sort of sign.

“You’re not the Y/N I knew at all, are you?” he said softly.

“I’m not,” you said, grabbing your reins back. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Sir?” he mused. “I’m Loki.” He turned his horse alongside yours. “At least allow me to ride back with you, my lady.”

You smiled and nodded, giving your horse a gentle kick.

“I’ve never seen you before. Are you new here?” you said as the two of you trotted along in the trees.

“I’ve been here for thousands of years,” he chuckled. “I’m hardly new at all.”

“Then you’re a god,” you concluded.

He shrugged. “Yes.”

As you emerged from the forest, your eyes were met with a fantastic golden city. Your kingdom’s village was nowhere to be found. You wanted to panic, but the architecture was smooth and soothing.

“Where am I?” you whispered.

Loki glanced at you. “Asgard.” He furrowed his brow. “You’re not from here, are you?”

You shook your head.

Was this the life’s sick way of granting your wish?

“I’ve heard of universes colliding, but never like this,” Queen Frigga said, slowly pacing in thought.

“Do you know how I can get back?” you asked. “It’s just...I love it here, but I don’t belong.”

Loki frowned as he played with an apple before making it vanish within his fingers.

“Perhaps brother’s friends on Earth can help her.”

Frigga shook her head. “They’ve only barely scratched the surface to space and time,” she said. “Dealing with dimensions is a bit trickier.”

You looked down helplessly at your hands. There had to be a way. Of course you eventually wanted to leave your village, but you never expected it to be like this.

Frigga sent you a sad smile. “I’m sorry, my dear. I’m sure this is a lot to handle.”

You shook your head. “Thank you for your hospitality,” you said. “If you are in need of any assistance, please allow me to help.”

“I appreciate your gesture.”

Loki rose from the chair he was lounging on.

“I’ll go see if brother has any bright ideas,” he said. “He may be a dimwit sometimes, but he is intelligent.”

Frigga laughed as Loki left the room.

“Those two are always bickering, but they love each other,” she said fondly.

“His brother...”

“Thor,” she said. “They’re extreme opposites actually. Thor’s always been focused on solving problems physically, while Loki pulls strings discreetly, but they’re both good for each other.”

“I see,” you said, nodding.

She smiled as she touched your arm. “I’m surprised Loki is mostly unfazed. You look just like her.”

“Like her...”

The queen sat down beside you. “She was a fierce warrior and a passionate person. She was the only person in the world who saw Loki for who he was and accepted him. My poor boy.”

She shook her head.

“She died in battle,” she continued. “I’ve never seen Loki so destroyed...”

“I’m so sorry.”

It seemed like a silly thing to say, but what else could you offer? You were in an unfamiliar world with unfamiliar people. Nothing about you could even think about empathizing with her or Loki.

Frigga shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I’m actually glad you’re here. Loki’s never looked so happy.”

You tried your best to smile.

Maybe you were placed on this world for a reason.

Throughout your time in the palace, you often escaped to the stables, mostly to sneak apples for the horses. You’d care for the steeds when no one was watching. Although it was your job in your universe, it was the only think you could do to truly relax.

As you brushed a mare’s mane, you became aware of a presence leaning against the door frame behind you.

“So this is where you spend your days,” Loki said.

You quickly bowed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to --”

He poked your forehead as you came back up.

“Why are you bowing?” he laughed. “And there’s no need to apologize. You’re free to roam about.”

You blinked, looking down at your dress. “Well, you are a prince,” you said. “I’m nothing but a stable girl where I come from, but I’m not ashamed. It’s just who I am.”

Seeing his concerned expression, you covered your mouth.

“I mean, I’m not a princess or anything,” you said.

“You don’t need to be,” he said. “Since when does status matter?”

You frowned. “That’s how people make a living nowadays, Loki. Through leverage.”

“It shouldn’t be like that,” he said softly, approaching you.

You felt breathless as he leaned over you. His breath ghosted lightly over your lips.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“What I should’ve done the moment I met you,” he said before closing the gap between you.

Your eyes were wide as you felt his lips on yours. Part of you wanted to push him away, but the other part of you felt like you were soaring. For the first time in your life, you felt happiness swell within you. It slowly turned bitter when you realized the probable truth.

He pulled away, cradling your face. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, stepping back.

“I’m sorry,” you started. “I love you, Loki. I truly do, but I know the only reason why you’re doing this is because I look like her. I look like your Y/N.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true.”

“Don’t hurt yourself any further than you already have, and don’t pity me,” you said. “I’m sorry, Loki.”

“Y/N...”

You hiked up your skirts before running out of the stables back to the main part of the castle.

You ran down the empty hall, your dress trailing behind. Somehow you kicked your shoes off in the process, feeling the cold floor beneath your feet. Your face felt hot as you realized you confessed to him in your confused state.

You truly did love him, but you couldn’t yourself through torment any longer.

Once you got back to your chambers, you closed the door behind you, slowly sinking to your knees breathlessly.

Why does it have to be him?

A small knock sounded.

“Y/N?”

You got up, starting for the window Loki opened the door.

You kept your gaze on Asgard below, watching the streets streaked in the late afternoon sun. You played with your hair, hiding your face from his view.

“Y/N,” Loki sighed. “Please look at me.”

You shook your head. “I can’t,” you said. “If I look, then I won’t be able to look away.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he said. “Because I don’t have eyes for anyone but you.”

You turned, unsure as you met his eyes. They were just as calm as the first time you saw them, with hints of blue and green. As he gave you a small smile, you felt warm.

“I love you, Y/N, and I don’t care what universe you’re from,” he said. “I love seeing your smile when you come back from riding in the woods. I love picking bits of hay out of your hair, and I love that you let me braid it after. You’re fiercely kind, and my family loves your company.”

Your mouth parted, letting the tiniest gasp sound. You smiled back, watching his grin grow wider. Massive amounts of self control kept you from losing control as he stepped closer, and you leaned back against the window.

You gazed at his lips, then again at his eyes. “Do you mean that?”

“Every word,” he whispered, brushing your hair back.

You couldn’t help but smile as he pressed his lips against your forehead.

“What do you say we go for a ride?” he suggested. “Maybe by the ocean?”

You nodded. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

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magicianapprenticelyra · 4 years

Text

One Last Time

A/N: At the end of everything, what is a magician of her age to expect to see when her time comes? Upon reaching the other side, who’s waiting for her? Is it her late spouse? Is it one of her dearly departed relatives, of which she’s rekindled relationships with?

Oddly enough, no. It’s someone she’s met before, once upon a dream.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂ ⁂

It's strange to see this woman, who was blessed with both luck and misfortune in spades during her life, being so calm in my presence.

She’s staring at me quizzically, blinking as she turns her head this way and that, trying to discern what sort of face I have under my hood.

“Either I am looking into a mirror making me look sixty years younger,” Miss Nguyen chuckles, raising a wrinkled eyebrow, “or you have my face from when I was sixty years younger!“

"I must admit I did not mean to wear your face from your youth," I tell her, holding one hand up, chuckling as I lower my hood with the other.

I am not that much taller than her when we last met; Miss Nguyen’s shrunk since then. Humans have a funny way of doing that when they go gray, fuzzy and wrinkly.

“It was an unintentional thing, I assure you.”

“You’re a funny creature.”

“Thank you, I do my best,” I reply, dipping into a sweeping bow. She laughs at this. Even if she had the image of a grandmother, her laughter still rings the same as when I first encountered her...

"I... I feel like we’ve met before,” Miss Nguyen murmurs, looking me up and down.

"Do you remember at all?" I ask, blinking as I stand upright again.

"No," the magician shakes her head, her silvery-white hairs gently loosening from the messy bun they were in. "However, your presence makes me think you're an Arcana. Granted," she concedes, shrugging, “I’ve only met a few Major Arcana that I remember in all my years. Some I’ve met with more than others. You, on the other hand...”

Miss Nguyen’s hand dips into the purse-belt she wears around her waist. After rummaging around, she retrieves a familiar item: her former teacher’s deck.

It’s been so long; while the edges are worn and more than a few cards have been lovingly bent with all the shuffling, it is a beautiful deck as it ever was.

She remains standing, cards flying between her hands with ease, brows furrowed with concentration. Eventually, she stops, flipping over the topmost card.

“...The Fool,“ she names me.

I smile, trying to ignore the odd tingling sensations fluttering from the top of my head down to my feet.

I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her so much...

"Right you are."

⁂

“I... never expected to me seen off to the other side by an Arcana,” Miss Nguyen admits.

“You do know you’re special, right?” I counter. “You’re certainly not like everyone else.”

We’re having a lunch together. I promised her there was no strings attached with this arrangement: we’re just two friends catching up. We’re at either end of a table; she’s the one doing most of the eating. I never had a taste for anything she likes, but watching her eat is intriguing.

“Where did you go during all that time?” Miss Nguyen asks me, drinking some tea. “I mean... I eventually did figure out I had your body...”

“I don’t know,” I say, astonishing her. “Last I remember, I was with Asra. He was bargaining with me to help get you back and to screw over Lucio, and then poof!” I clap my hands together, startling some of the nearby fauna of my realm. “I am unaware of anything, until... about an hour before you arrived here?”

Time travels differently between the physical and the arcane realms. Who knows how long I was truly waiting?

“...huh.” Miss Nguyen murmurs. She fiddles with the remaining crust of a pastry, once filled with caramelized apples.

Strange, I thought she liked those. Before I can wave away the dessert, she holds up her hand,

“...Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me?” I reply, watching as she fidgets with her fork.

“That you don’t remember?”

I let out a pff, shaking my head. “While I appreciate your concern, Miss Nguyen, I’ve experienced a lot of strange things. Blacking out for as long as you’ve been alive—after your resurrection no less—is novel, but not surprising.”

“It was quite the spell,” she nods, bemused.

“Yes it was...”

With a wave of my hand, I summon some more platters of food. She marvels at each one I put in front of her, taking a little bit here and a little bit there...

I could spoil her forever. I’m pretty sure I could, if it weren’t for the Laws...

"...you know,” I state, trying to drag my mind out of those thoughts, “even when we had met multiple times in the past, you never really let me know about your life. A lot of what I knew of you then was cobbled from a lot of guesswork. Still is.”

“Too bad I can’t know what our conversations were like then,” Miss Nguyen shakes her head, sighing. “I wonder what we talked about...”

Bits of your life you didn’t mind talking about. Why you came to Vesuvia. How much you struggled but you were so optimistic, I wanted to scream. She deserved to know. I could fill her head with my memories of her: how she was always curious, how she was always willing to learn something. How much she cared for the other meat-bags she called people...

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t,” I reply instead. “Not everything in the past needs to be remembered. Sometimes it’s better to learn from it.” I nudge one last plate of ice cream to her, adding softly, “I know I did.”

“You learned stuff from me?”

“Is it that impossible?” I counter, my mouth quirked into a smirk. “As I find it, you helped to guide your spouse to better paths, to better choices.”

“We did it together,” Miss Nguyen reminds me. “They’re the ones who changed for the better. They put themselves up to it in the end.”

“All because of you, my dear.”

“Heh, if you say so.”

“You have quite the habit of underselling your abilities. I thought you got better with accepting compliments.”

“Being humble and being able to accept praises are two completely different things.”

“Is it now?”

“...You’re as bad as Magician.”

“Hey!”

⁂

When she’s had her fill, we take a walk together. As we make our way, creatures that haven’t seen me in so long greet me in excitement: they’re tackling me, they’re going up and down my cloak, they’re running circles around Miss Lyra and I...

In fact, I’m still amazed my realm managed to survive without my presence for all this time.

At the moment, I am currently being accosted by a certain bunch of creatures I would rather not have ever met nor existed with in the first place.

“They really do adore you,” Miss Lyra laughs as I struggle to get out from under a mass of fluffy, furry creatures. Their color ranges from white, gray, black, and a scattering range of patterns between brown, orange and yellow. There’s no discernible features on them beyond their round, furry appearance and the adorable sounds they make.

The last bit there, of course, is of the opinion of the too delighted grandma standing behind me, wickedly allowing the creatures to snuff me out with their cuddling.

“They’re trouble is what they are,” I grunt. When I’m able to grab a hold of one or three, I fling them back into the trees. Struggling a bit more, I finally find the leader of this pack and chuck them deep into the treeline. I can hear a splash of water, and the sounds of drowning. The rest go after their far-flung friend, squealing in distress.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Miss Nguyen tsks.

“I was boiling under all that fur!” I shake out the hairs littering my cloak, grumbling as she moved to help me pick them out. I end up peeling it off of myself, beating the article of clothing against a nearby rock. Hairs fly into the air as cloak meets rock, the errant strands drifting down to the ground.

I stop when I realize she’s staring at me.

“What?”

“You got my face, but the rest of you...” she’s marveling at me.

I glance at what she means, and I realize the rest of me has remained the same from when I first popped into existence. My body is a solid, but I’m translucent. Visible within me are arrays of stars and streams of magic, constantly twisting and turning within me. Toward the center of my chest resides an opalescent sphere, gently beating.

“Huh...” Her eyes are still on my body, curious.

I have to take my chance and say it now. I have to. It’s too easy.

I fold my cloak up a moment, standing so she has an unobstructed view of me. “You... do realize I am essentially naked?”

“Oh for the love of—!”

I dodge the shoes thrown at my head, putting my cloak back on before she decides to kick me in the crotch.

The few minutes of her chastising me afterwards is worth it.

⁂

We take a break under a shady area of the forest ahead.

Miss Nguyen’s tucked under a thin blanket I found stashed away in a false log nearby. A bunch of little, glowing creatures are settled atop of her, getting their whiffs of her as they rest from their activities. I’m glad they’re all careful to not disturb her.

I watch over her; even if this is my realm, I know there are dangers to a spirit such as her.

Miss Nguyen’s a special case. At the very least, it’s my duty to get her to where she needs to be safely.

I know Scout is far ahead of us, getting things in order. Bless that little innocent, I wouldn’t be able to do this without her.

As I shift, the contents of my cloak’s pocket jingle. There are six disks; by themselves, they’re nothing much. What each individual disk represents however is one of the six possible partners she decided to settle down with after the defeat of Devil.

Miss Nguyen will need to pick one of the tokens in order to pass on. From there...

Well, we’ll get there when we get there.

I’m envious of whoever her partner is... or would it be was? I asked her earlier: she didn’t remember who her Chosen was, or whether or not her Chosen died before her, but she knew she was very happy with them.

Whether or not they had children together is a completely different matter. We even had an argument about it!

“I think I had one to two of them...”

“One to two? Shouldn’t it be one or two? You, you can’t have half a baby!”

“Shut up, my brain is old...”

I didn’t dare to concur or disagree. I just laughed.

I’ll need to wake her up soon... but a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. She’s so peaceful.

Whenever she did fall asleep here in the past, Miss Nguyen curled up into a tight ball, almost like a dead bug. Her eyebrows were always furrowed, jaw fiercely clenched as if she were prepared to go into battle. Tension riddled her body like a string of an instrument wound too tightly, as if she were ready to snap at any moment.

More than once, I offered her a permanent residency in my realm. We wouldn’t be able to leave the realms of the Arcana, but we could visit the rest of the Majors, meet creatures no one from the mortal plane could dream of, and learn from texts that would have melted her brain if she were just a visitor.

If she was willing to stay, forever, she’d be able to unlock that knowledge.

Miss Nguyen always declined. I never understood it; I still don’t. That’s what makes her... her, I suppose.

I shift, stretching myself with a great big yawn. With the racket I make, she stirs from her slumber. The little creatures on her person immediately take flight, or scurry to the underbrush as she sits up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“...How long was I out?” Miss Nguyen mumbles.

“Not too long,” I reassure. I glance to the direction we’re heading. My gaze meets with the beginnings of a slope in the distance.

For some reason, my chest feels too tight...

Getting to her feet, she gently pads her way over to my side. Looking to where my gaze is directed at, she asks, “We’re almost there?”

“We’re almost there,” I echo, nodding.

Arm in arm, we make our way to that slope.

The annoying clenching continues in my chest as we walk. I half wonder if this was what Miss Nguyen’s body felt like when she used to be all scrunched up in her sleep.

⁂

“Why is there a giant cliff in your realm?”

“It was here before I existed, or maybe it existed at the same time I came to be,” I hypothesize.

We’re still arm in arm, slowly ascending this slope. The incline isn’t too bad, but Miss Nguyen continues to hang onto me, lest she take a nasty tumble.

I am not ashamed to say I am happy about this arrangement.

We’re about two-thirds the way up when it gets too much for her. We stop off on a protrusion of the slope, just a few meters away from the very edge of this cliff.

The top of this rock mound is smoothed out, save for several sets of hand prints pressed into the rock. Upon their discovery, Miss Nguyen cannot help but marvel at them.

“Whose are these?” she asks me.

She had to fucking asking me. She had to fucking ask me—!

“They’re yours,” I murmur. “They’re... they’re all yours.” I take one of her wrinkled hands, guiding them over each and every hand-shaped indent of this rock face.

I tell her everything I knew that was related to those hand prints. When it happened, why she came to my realm this time or that time, how long she stayed...

I couldn’t help myself, I really couldn’t. I try to keep the emotions roiling in my chest at bay—I really did my damnedest—but it isn’t working. They’re bleeding up, up from my crucible of a heart and into my throat, into my voice.

If you could color my voice with smoke as it billowed out from between my lips, it’d be the colors of pining, of the most forlorn love that someone could experience, of an immortal loving one that was not...

I’m so overwhelmed I fail to realize my whole realm is reacting with my emotions. I try to right myself, but I miscalculate where my feet are in relation to the jolting rock face.

“FOOL!” Miss Nguyen cries when I slip off the edge.

“AH!” I thrust my arms out, scrabbling to get a grip before I fall to the ground far, far below us.

One of my hands completely misses it, but my other hand catches onto edge. I desperately dig my nails into the rock face, grimacing as ichor bleeds from my torn skin.

Miss Nguyen grabs my wrist before I completely lose my grip, but she is old. She cannot hang onto me.

My weight is going to drag us down and kill us both!

“RUFF!”

I gasp as a pair of paws help her yank me from certain doom. Before I can orient myself, the top of Scout’s staff swats me in the head, each smack punctuated with chastising barks, growls, and more barks.

“OW! SCOUT, STOP—!” I plead, but I earn another five smacks to the cheeks of my face in return.

Scout’s giving me the chew-out of the eon, smacking some part of me if I try to make a rebuttal. Nothing is off limits to the reach of her walking stick: my head, my torso, my arms and legs!

“Scout!” Miss Nguyen grabs Scout’s stick before she can aim it a delicate place when I make a particularly disrespectful retort. “I’m for discipline, but this is too much!”

I’m afraid to verbally concur with Miss Nguyen. Preemptively I slam my thighs together, scooting away from Scout as the two of them argue.

Scout growls and yips at the spirit, gesticulating to herself, back to Miss Nguyen, and then the peak of this cliff. I can see the realization dawning upon her face...

I cannot go with them.

“Wait, what do you mean they can’t see me off?” Miss Nguyen looks at me, back to Scout, and to me again, confused.

“...It’s a preventative measure,” I finally explain. I get up, dusting myself off. I wince as my hand brushes over the marks Scout’s stick left on me. They’ll smart for a while, but they’re nothing in comparison to... to this...

“Preventative measures?” Miss Nguyen echoes.

“I’m not going to lie,” I begin, exhaling.

“Arcana can’t lie in general,” she retorts, a small laugh puffing out of her. I can only give her a small smile.

“Anyway...” I look to Scout, who waves me off. Thankfully, she’ll leave us alone for a bit. “...I’ve been tempted in the past to keep you here, forever. I like you a lot, Miss Nguyen. I like you enough to not let any sort of harm come to you.” I reach out, gently tucking away a stray hair from her face.

“I will admit I actually begged you to stay when you told me the Red Plague reached Vesuvia. You had a chance of getting it and dying and... well, we know what happened...” I shrug.

“Scout is going to take you to the top, and you’ll meet a door,” I add, fishing my hand into my cloak’s pocket now. I pull out the disks, presenting all six of them to her.

“One of these keys are going to lead you to your partner.”

“These are keys?” Miss Nguyen looks at them skeptically.

“Picking one will turn it into a proper door key,” I reply. “The rest I’ll dispose of.”

“...How will I know which one is right?” she asks, her aura warbling with anxiety.

“You won’t be wrong,” I reassure her, jingling them in my palm. “Pick one, and then you can go...”

“...hm..”

“What? What’s the matter?” My directions are clear, aren’t they? Even a human toddler—or wobbler??—could understand what I said.

She places her hand over my upturned palm, gently lowering my arm.

“Miss Nguyen?”

She exhales, her gaze momentarily to the side before looking back to me. “You still have my face.”

“...yes at this juncture I can see it being problematic,” I murmurs, rubbing my neck with my free hand. “Unfortunately, I’ve tried to reverse it on my own in the past, and with Scout’s help, and some of the other Arcana, to no avail.”

“Even The Devil?” Lyra balks.

“Oh stars and moons, no!” I shudder. I swear I can hear his menacing, husky laugh in the far, far distance. The choking smell of ash, smoke and sulfur irritate my senses, making me sneeze.

After the courtesy ‘bless you’—and I manage to not feel that dreaded unease anymore—I reply, “I may be The Fool, but I am not a fool.”

“Fair enough,” Miss Nguyen chuckles.

“What haven’t you tried?”

“I don’t remember,” I say. “We tried magic, pinching and punching my face in to try and get it to reform my original one, and other methods, but none of them worked.

“How about a kiss?”

My realm freezes with me. The Winds halt, and together blades of grass and the creatures of my realm are stopped mid-motion.

“W-what? I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me: a kiss!”

“Aren’t you a married woman!?” My voice is so unlike what it should be for an Arcana. Scout’s laughing her tail off, rolling in the dirt and limbs flailing in wild abandonment with amusement.

...I’m temped to zap that fluffy tail of hers, but her stick is not merciful.

“I am!” she laughs, “I don’t mean the kind you’re thinking though.”

“Oh? What am I thinking?” I stand tall, eyebrow raised.

“Nothing decent, at least in that head of yours. By my case however, I mean platonically.”

...

....

.....

She will be the end of me.

I exhale. “Where, and... what kind?”

I still asked, even if I knew. I knew intimately which one she was going for.

It was how she bade me farewell after our first encounter:

It was before she ever befriended Asra.

It was before she ever met Muriel, a boy forced to grow up in the most harsh, violent ways imaginable.

It was before she apprenticed under Julian, hoping with all her heart and soul they’d find the cure, together.

It was before she ever glimpsed Portia in the Marketplace

It was before she ever entered the Palace at Nadia’s invitation.

It was before she ever met Lucio, and wondered at his motivations for everything.

She’s silent, stepping towards me with her arms outstretched. Out of habit I scrunch myself down, so she wouldn’t need to strain herself. Her soft, wrinkled hands cup either side of my face.

As she observes my expression, my thoughts run amok. Could she see? Could she see...?

I close my eyes, dipping my head a bit further as she graces my forehead with a gentle kiss.

I feel... light. I feel so light a gnat could’ve easily knocked me over if it landed on me.

I open my eyes, and I know from both Scout’s and Miss Nguyen’s expressions I had returned to my former self. I’m significantly taller than her now, though I would still be shorter than Magician. They’d get a laugh out of this, I’m sure.

I smooth my hand over my too-short cloak, extending the fabric enough to cover my limbs. Reaching back, I tug on my hood like stubborn dough, widening the space in it. Once satisfied with the size, I throw it over my head. With my face fully hidden in the shadow of my hood, I offer her a grin.

“тнιѕ ιѕ wнy yoυ’re мy ғavorιтe,” I say. When I speak, I sound like I have multiple voices overlapping each other. Male, female, in between and neither, my voice never sounds the same from one moment to the next.

Miss Nguyen is startled to hear my true voice, falling down on her behind. Scout comes over, helping her back up to her feet.

The Innocent Guide looks at my closed fist, snorting.

I nod, extending my hand to Miss Nguyen once more. I open up my palm, and the six discs shine in the light of my realm.

“pιcĸ тнeм any wнιcн way yoυ lιĸe,” I tell her. “yoυ won'т go wrong wιтн any oғ тнeм."

She closes her eyes, reaching out to my palm. She feels the different discs with the pads of her fingers. Finally, she pulls one disk out of my hand and into her palm. As the disc transforms into a key in, I shatter the rest. I only needed to close my palm around them, crushing them down into dust.

The sound like glass breaking, but my skin remains intact.

A gentle wind breezes past us, ruffling cloaks, tickling through Miss Nguyen's hair...

Finger by finger, I let the multi-colored dust in my palm drift off into the four winds. They’re indiscernible from dirt, at first. The winds carry them off, going faster and faster as they leave us.

Once the particles gain enough speed, they explode into lights. They squeak and squeal as they burn through the air, joining the blanket of ever-shifting stars above us.

Turning back to Miss Nguyen, I see she’s drinking in the view overhead.

I wonder if where she’s going, they’ll have stars like these?

“тιмe тo go,” I nudge her toward Scout, not too unlike a mother cat coaxing her kitten to walk. “ιт waѕ a pleaѕυre тo ѕee yoυ, one мore тιмe...”

She surprises me with a hug, squeezing me tight. I reciprocate, laughing a little as her old bones creak. As we sway in place, arms wrapped around each other, I can feel my selfishness creeping in the back of my mind; it’s urging me to keep her here, to keep her ‘safe’.

Reluctantly, I release her into Scout’s care.

“нave a nιce тrιp!” I wave them farewell. “ѕay нello тo yoυr вeloved ғor мe!”

#The Arcana #fan apprentice #The Fool #Asra #Nadia Satrinava #Julian Devorak #Muriel #Portia Devorak #Count Lucio #Scout #asra x apprentice #nadia x apprentice #julian x apprentice #muriel x apprentice #portia x apprentice #lucio x apprentice #the scribe writes #angst #tw: death

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spideyy-girl · 5 years

Text

Hope ~ Peter Parker (pt. II)

Summary: it’s been five years since the Decimation, and a lot has changed. Y/N has yet to give up hope and move on from the death of her best friend and the love of her life, Peter Parker. But when Ant-Man reappears from being stuck from the quantum realm, could there be a way to reverse the effects of the snap, and bring everyone back?

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Warnings: INFINITY WAR AND ENDGAME SPOILERS, swearing as always, sort of mentions PTSD and depression, angst, sad, dad!tony x daughter!reader, doesn’t really follow endgame canon

Word Count: 4910 (13.7 pages)

A/N: had to repost because for some reason the tags weren’t working lol. Anyways hope you enjoy! Tony isn’t actually the reader’s dad, but he sort of takes her in after the decimation y’know.

If you haven’t read the first part I would suggest reading that first before reading this one! Let me know if you want to be tagged!

READ PART 1 HERE

~~~

Five Years Later…

Y/N pried her eyes open, feeling the warmth of the summer sun soaking into her room. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before stretching her arms over her head. She lay back down, confining into the comfiness of her mattress, turning to her side to see the time on her alarm clock, which read 10:03 am. It was a little later than she usually woke up, but she did fall asleep a little later than usual last night.

Y/N threw the covers off of her body, standing up and stretching her arms over her head, the oversized white shirt she wore rising up her thighs. She walked over and grabbed a pair of shorts, slipping them on under the shirt, although the illusion that there were no pants remained. She walked back beside her bed and unplugged her phone, grabbing it off the table. She pressed the button which illuminated the screen. She smiled at the background, the one that used to make her cry every time she saw his face. Pocketing her phone, Y/N opened the wooden door and walked down the hallway, the cold floor tickling the bottom of her feet.

Soon she could here pitter patter of small feet hitting the hardwood floor. Small giggles echoed off the walls throughout the house, the sound could bring a smile to anyone’s face. As she turned a corner into the kitchen, she found the source of the sounds, the young girl turning quickly, her laughter increasing as she flings herself onto Y/N.

“Y/N!” Morgan screams as the girl mentioned crouched down to pick up the four-year-old, placing her on her hip. Morgan Stark had become like a little sister to the woman and had helped her through more than the little girl could ever understand. Y/N placed a kiss on the younger girls messy brown curls, bringing her into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Morgan,” she says, smiling at her as she gets a small toothy grin back. Y/N sways with the girl still on her hip to the soft melody of the music playing in the kitchen, spinning around every once in a while, causing a string of laughter to escape the child’s lips. “What are you up to this morning.” Y/N dropped the girl back onto the floor gently, thought Morgan still held tightly onto Y/N’s hand, dragging her further into the room, where you see two other familiar faces.

“Daddy is making pancakes!” Morgan says, giggling as she goes up to her parents. Y/N laughs, going over to Pepper Stark and giving her a kiss on the cheek before replying.

“Oh boy. That must not be good,” she jokes as Morgan pulls on her father’s sleeve, causing Tony Stark to lean down and pick up the girl who was curious about the process of flipping the batter. Tony turned around to face Y/N, a girl who he’s become close enough to consider a daughter as well, an expression of faux hurt painted on his face.

“I take offence to that,” he says sarcastically, tilting his head. “I am the ultimate maker of pancakes, and I’d bet you’d love them.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head and passing by him, bumping his shoulder lightly.

“I’ll stick with cereal, thanks,” she says. Tony scoffs, his attention going back to the now burnt pancake as he urgently tries to flip it. Morgan slips out of her fathers’ arms and goes over to Y/N, tugging you down to whisper into her ear.

“I think you and mommy are much better at pancakes than daddy,” she says not-so-discreetly. Pepper laughed from the other side of the kitchen, taking out plates and cutlery to set the table with as Tony brings his attention back to his stubborn daughter. He furrows his eyebrows, looking at the girl as she stared back at him, her nose scrunching up and a giggle escaping her lips. Tony rolled his eyes as he goes back to the task on hand: breakfast.

“Wow, betrayed by my own daughter,” he says, using the spatula to put all the pancakes on a plate before pointing the flat handed tool at her. “Just for that, you are getting the burnt pancake.” Morgan laughed again, going down and grabbing onto Tony’s leg, clinging onto him like a monkey.

“Nooooo, daddy,” she smiled as he walked, slowly with the extra weight of the toddler on one leg, to the kitchen table. Y/N decided to make his life a little easier and take the plate and put it on the table, before sitting down in her usual spot. She lifts up Morgan, after pulling her off of her dad’s leg and placed her into the high chair so she can reach the table. She placed a smaller pancake onto the little girl’s plate, cutting it up in little squares for her before grabbing one for herself and doing the same. The house was silent, the only sounds being the soft music still playing from the kitchen radio and the soft sound of chewing and forks scraping against the ceramic plates. After a few minutes when everyone except Morgan finished her food (it was harder since she lost her tooth just a week ago), a conversation started to flow.

“Oh, Y/N,” Tony interrupts the quiet, catching the girls attention as her eyes go up from her plate pooled in syrup to meet his. “Nat wants you at the compound this weekend for some training. It’s been a while since you’ve gone.” Y/N nodded, making a mental note.

“Yeah. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss those dorks,” she laughed, and Tony smiled. Although he still wasn’t on the greatest terms with the rest of the Avengers team, he’s happy that she had gotten closer to them all. It really was true that the team was like a family to her, they’ve all helped her so much the past few years, more than they know. Even the ones who she had just met the first day she came to the compound, and the ones she didn’t get along with at first.

“Alright, great. I’ll send her a message,” Tony says as he pulls out his phone, which was quickly snatched from Pepper, explaining how “there are no phones at the table, you can do that after,” earning an eye roll from the billionaire, but accepting the rule none the less.

Y/N grabbed the empty plates and went over into the kitchen, washing them in the sink. As she was drying them with a towel and putting them onto a dish rack, a photo caught her eye. She placed the plate she was cleaning and reached up to grab it on the shelf, having to go on her toes just a bit.

The frame held a photo of Tony and her old friend Peter Parker, who had died after the snap. It was the two of them holding Peter’s Stark Internship certificate, both smiling goofily and holding bunny ears on top of the others head. Y/N had never seen the photo before and wondered why Tony had never shown her before, or how she had never noticed it before, although it did seem to be hiding behind everything else.

“I love that picture,” Tony said from behind her. Y/N almost dropped the frame in surprise, quickly turning around to face the older man. “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. I just hide it because it makes me sort of emotional seeing it,” he explains, his eyes not leaving the photo. Y/N could only nod, watching as tears start to form in his eyes.

“This is a great photo, it’s very… him, y'know?” Y/N says as she tries to smile at him. Her eyes also trailed back to the photo, noticing how happy he looked. “I remember when he came home with that, he was so proud… He really loved you, Tony.” She confessed, now not even trying to hold back tears. Tony smiled softly, finally ripping his gaze to look at the girl, only to see her own eyes looking at the boy in the frame.

“He loved you too,” he says, so quietly she almost missed him saying it. “You both loved each other so much, I could tell even when I first met you. And I know you still do.” The words made a sob escape her mouth. It had been a long time since she had cried for Peter, not that she was sad that he was gone, but she had finally accepted that he was gone. He was never coming back, and although it was harsh it was the truth, no matter how hard she and the other Avengers tried to find a way to reverse what happened. Y/N pursed her mouth into a thin line, squeezing her eyes shut to try and control herself as she nodded at Tony’s words. They were true, he was right.

Although he was gone- and she realized and accepted that a long time ago- she could never stop loving him, maybe in a way more than she was supposed to.

Tony watched the girl trying to hold herself together in front of him. It was sad but even sadder that he had gotten used to the sight. But trying to fix her was like trying to put an expensive vase back together with craft glue, as much as you try and even though it will hold for a moment, everything will come crashing down again, breaking even more than before. Tony held her shoulder, before pulling her into his chest, letting her cry into his chest. He could feel his shirt getting wet from the salty tears but he didn’t mind. He closed his eyes, letting a few warm tears of his own slide down his cheeks, disappearing into the girl’s hair.

They stood there for a few moments, letting her calm down in his arms. Once she stopped shaking, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head, before pulling her away from him, holding her by the shoulders again. She looked back at him, her eyes already bloodshot. She sighed, closing her eyes in a longer-than-normal blink.

“Do you miss him?” She asks him quietly, although she knew the answer. He smiles, nodding at her question.

“Of course,” he says, replying in a small voice so she wouldn’t hear it crack. “To be honest, there isn’t a day that has gone by in the past five years that I hadn’t thought of him at least once, or what happened.” Y/N nodded, her eyes dropping onto the floor, letting out a cold laugh.

“Yeah me too,” she sniffles, wiping her extra tears away before her eyebrows pull together in confusion, looking back at Tony. “God, has it really been five years already?” She asked, thinking of all that has happened. Tony laughs, nodding.

“I know right, all feels like yesterday,” he says, not really meaning it in the way your mother would say after explaining a fond memory from when you were a child. It was meant more in a way like the event was so tragic that it stuck with and haunted not only the two, but everyone who had lost someone that day.

“Daddy?” a little high-pitched voice says from the kitchen entrance. The two looked over to see Morgan standing at the doorway, a stuffed bunny hanging limply from one of her hands, dragging along the floor. “Are you okay?” she asked, this time the question was directed more at the other person in the room. Y/N gave her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, of course,” she said, crouching down so Morgan could run into her arms. Y/N placed the ever-growing girl on her hip and she kissed her cheek, the girl in her arms immediately making her feel so much better. “I was just thinking of my friend, remember I told you about uncle Peter?” Morgan nodded, smiling.

“Spidey!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. Y/N smiled, a laugh escaping her own lips as she nodded. Even though the girl had never met Peter, she already loved him, always listening intently to all the stories Y/N told about him and his adventures as Spider-Man. Tony smiled at his two daughters, even though one wasn’t his blood, he loved them both. He went over and patted Y/N on the back, kissing Morgan’s still messy hair.

“I’m gonna go text Nat that you’ll be there tomorrow,” he said, winking at the smaller girl being held by her. He walked out of the room, leaving the two girls. Y/N bounced Morgan on her hip a bit before turning to her.

“How about we got get you dressed, okay?” Y/N suggests. Morgan nods, placing her head on her shoulder, closing her eyes. Y/N smiled at the girl, carrying her to her room to pick out a nice outfit for her and maybe even do her hair.

~~~

“Oof.”

Y/N hit the ground hard after her legs were swept from under her. She groaned, propping herself up on her elbows and blinking to make the stars appearing in her vision fade away. Over her stood the red/blonde woman, Natasha Romanoff. She shook her head, although she had a small smile on her lips.

“You gotta pay more attention, Y/N,” she said, holding a hand out for the girl under her to grab. Y/N only rolled her eyes. “You can’t let your enemy see your weaknesses, you can’t give them a chance to take over you.” Y/N reached up to grab Natasha’s hand, only to pull her down and roll over, pulling her arm behind her back in a lock, standing on her knees over her.

“How’s that for seeing my weakness?” Y/N asked sarcastically, smiling down at Natasha, who had the side of her face squished down on the mat below them, unable to move from the position Y/N had her trapped in. Although half of her face was pressed against the mat, she could see the smirk growing on her trainer’s face. She tries to nod the best she can in her current situation.

“Well done, Y/N,” she compliments, trying to kick herself up again to set the girl off, but was only met with a foot on her back to keep her side. “You’ve learned so well the past few years.” Y/N finally let her go, releasing her grip on her wrist and taking her foot off of Nat’s back. She quickly jumped up, dusting herself off and looking back at the girl, who shrugged.

“I learn from the best,” Y/N says, winking at her as they both make their way out of the training room into the locker room connected. Nat smirked as looked over and offered her a towel, before grabbing one for herself.

“And this is why you’re my favourite one here,” she laughs. The two of them get changed into your normal clothes before going into the conference room. Natasha sat down in a chair and called Rocket, Okoye, Nebula, Carol and Rhodey while Y/N offered to go to the kitchen to make them both a peanut-butter sandwich, to which she happily agreed to one. She quickly went in the kitchen and pulled out four sliced of bread, lightly buttering them before putting on a smack load of peanut butter on two and a little bit less of jam on the other two. She put the peanut butter and jam slices together, making two sandwiches, and also poured the two of them a glass of chocolate milk.

Y/N’s past experience with being a waitress at Delmar’s made carrying all of the items easy, setting a plate and a glass down in front of her mentor before taking a seat beside her and putting down her own. By the time she got back, only Rhodey was standing, talking to her about who she assumed was Hawkeye, or used to be Hawkeye. Natasha sat teary-eyed while talking to the War Machine.

“Will you tell me where he’s going next?” She asked, voice shaky. Y/N felt horrible for her, knowing that they used to be close and she couldn’t imagine what it must be like to have your best friend turn into something you thought they weren’t. She couldn’t even imagine if Peter had gone off randomly killing people just for the hell of it, but she knew it would destroy her too.

“Nat…” Rhodey trailed off, giving her a silent warning to her actions. But she persisted.

“Please,” she asked again. Rhodey looked at her with sad eyes for a second before responding with a small “okay,” and walking off the screen, the blue light dissolving. Nat out her head in her hand, trying to hold herself together. Y/N reached out and placed a soft hand on her arm. She knew Natasha wasn’t exactly one who found physical contact more comforting like she did, but Nat looked over and gave her a smile, putting her bigger hand on top of hers.

“I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you already look horrible,” Steve says, leaning on the doorframe. He gives Y/N a smile, to which she returned before they both brought their attention back to Natasha. She looked up at him, rolling her eyes as they had small banter. Y/N drowned out of the conversation, focusing on the small meal she prepped for herself before something caught her eye.

“Hey, there’s someone at the door?” Y/N said, pointing at the notification that popped up from the table. Nat swiped it to open the front door camera and was met with a sight that none of them were expecting.

“Hi? Hi! Is anyone home?“The voice of Ant-Man called from the screen. Y/N had to rub her eyes because from what she remembered Scott Lang had disappeared too after the Decimation, yet there he stood, just outside the front door. She stood up immediately, checking for a date on the camera.

"Is this an old message?” she asked, and she didn’t know what answer she was expecting. Hell, she didn’t even know what answer she wanted to hear. Natasha and Steve stood as well.

“It’s at the front gate,” Nat said breathlessly. Y/N shook her head, her ears starting to ring and her head feeling dizzy but she paid no mind as she sprinted out the door, going to see Scott Lang, the two Avengers followed closely behind her.

~~~

Y/N, Natasha, Steve, Scott and Tony stood on the latter’s porch outside his new house in woods, the same one you had been in just a day ago. Scott was trying to explain how he was stuck in the quantum realm for the past five years, even though it was only a few hours for him. He then used this information and thought about how you might be able to use that to go back in time and reverse what happened. The idea was extremely intriguing to the girl, thinking of the possibility for if it were to work. But she didn’t want to get her hopes up too much.

Because last time she put all of her hope into something, it ended up destroying her.

“That’s not how quantum physics works,” Tony sums up. Y/N sat in a chair beside him, taking in his words but not really processing them. She picked on her lip in a nervous habit as she undevotedly listened into the conversation.

“Tony,” Nat steps in, standing up. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand,” he replies quietly, looking down at his hands before looking back at the group. He glances at the girl beside him. “And yet here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line; you’ve got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me, a lot of people did,” Scott said, the statement catching her attention as she stared at him, pleading him to go on. He spares a glance at her, he’s going through the same thing she was. “But now we have a chance to bring her back, to bring everyone back! And you’re telling me that you won’t even-”

“That’s right, Scott, I won’t,” Tony interrupts his speech. Y/N looked at him in disbelief.

“But Tony, what if-” Y/N tries to speak in, but Tony interrupts once again.

“I said NO, Y/N!” he says, his face turning red as he looks at her. “Kid, you don’t understand. It’s never gonna work, okay? It’s not worth the risk!”

“I’m not a kid, anymore! Stop calling me that!” She yells back. “And I don’t give a shit about what you think. We have a chance! I’m gonna do whatever I can to get him back, and honestly, I thought you would too…” her words are silenced by her trying to hold back her sobs as she standing up, the metal patio chair scratching harshly on the porch before storming off the balcony and down the driveway. She ran down the dirt road and into a path of trees that she’s grown familiar with, it would be her safe spot when she first arrived at the cottage with Tony and Pepper and the sound of the nature around her and the green tinted light from through the leaves of the trees would silence her crying.

After a few minutes, she sees Steve emerge from the thick packet of trees. He walks over to the girl hunched over herself, the sun perfectly reflecting the tear tracks staining her cheeks, and crouches down in front of her, squeezing her arm in reassurance.

“We’re gonna be on our way now,” Steve says quietly, causing the girl to look him in the eye. “Tony wanted to know if you’re still staying for the week. I think it’d be good for both of you.” Y/N averted her gaze back to the mossy forest floor and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she says, her voice drowned out by the rustling of the 50-foot trees in the warm wind. Steve wouldn’t have heard it if his hearing wasn’t enhanced by the super serum, as well as pretty much all of his other senses. He gave her another pat on the shoulder, before standing up and making his way back to the little cottage. Y/N sat in the clearing, watching the small river flowing steadily just a few inches beside her, the quiet trickling of water crashing over small pebbles steadying her nerves. She closed her eyes, intrapping herself in the sounds surrounding her, wondering why her life couldn’t always be this peaceful and carefree.

After she felt she was good to go, she carefully stood up, walking through the shrubs and out of the woods, walking back down the rocky driveway and opening the screen door. She smiled at Pepper, who offered her a grilled cheese and garden salad for lunch, but Y/N politely declined, telling her that she’d be downstairs.

In the basement is where Tony’s little lab was set up. She liked to come in every once in a while when she was bored or had nothing to do, helping Tony with new technology or even updating her protocol suit. She never even put it on, but she had it ready just in case. Tony called it the “Silk” suit. The design was very similar to that of Spiderman’s, but instead had the colours of white, black, and pinkish-red. The torso was white, with light webbing details in the red, and of course the infamous symbol in the middle of the chest. The arms and legs were black, with light white webbing details that could only be seen when reflecting light, and lightning like designs coming down on the shoulders and things in the same colour. And the last detail was a thin material that covered half her face, which was a beautiful shade of red. It was breathable, but still a tight fit to reassure that it wouldn’t fall from her face and reveal her identity while fighting.

She walked up to the suit, which was encased in glass and stood proudly beside past suits of Peter’s. Her slim fingers delicately traced against the glass, admiring all the tiny specifics of the suit, and how the webbing reflecting a certain way in the light. She averted her gaze to walk over to the glass table, to do what she really came here for.

What Scott had said about using the quantum realm for time travel had intrigued her, and although Tony couldn’t see how it could ever work, Y/N had seen it as an opportunity. She brought up the pop-up screen and started making models, mixing certain materials and chemicals to see if anything could be stable enough to go through with the idea. She spent hours with her head swarming with possibilities, trying every single combination. And soon enough 1 in the afternoon became almost 11 at night, but it made no difference to her. Y/N let out a long yawn, rubbing her eyes before speaking to FRIDAY again.

“Hey, FRIDAY, one more sim before I head off for the night,” Y/N spoke to the AI, turning the holographic model, looking for points of improvement. “Umm, try an… inverted mobius strip? Please?” Y/N watched as the hologram shifted and turned into the shape she asked for, turning the model around and inspecting certain particles. “Also, do you mind giving me the eigenvalue of that particle there? Factor it into the spectral decomp, yeah.” Y/N points at a certain point, which shifts immediately after she says the command.

“Processing, this might take a few minutes,” FRIDAY responded, changing the model into different structures to see if any of them fit with the girl’s idea. Y/N watches intently, not noticing the small Stark girl climbing down the stairs looking for her sister. She sat on the steps, watching her work. It reminded her a lot of her dad.

“Don’t worry if it doesn’t work out. I’ll be back on it tomorrow,” Y/N states, looking down at the glass table, watching the reflection of the changing model. After another minute or so, FRIDAY finishes up, a sound notification letting her know that the model had rendered. When she looked up she couldn’t believe her eyes, bringing her hands up to her mouth and falling into the chair behind her. There, in big letters stood tall and proud.

‘MODEL SUCCESSFUL’

Y/N felt tears spring up into her eyes, staring at the large words printed beside the efficient time travelling device she created herself. “Shit,” she spoke quietly into her hands, before springing up again and starting to pace around the table, a smile making its way onto her face. “Holy shit! Fuck! Oh my god, oh my…” she rambled on, spewing profanities as she looked onto the device until she heard the smaller voice.

“Shit!” Morgan said from the stairs. Y/N whipped her head around, shock taking over her features. She shook her head, giving Morgan a stern look.

“Morgan, no no no, we don’t say those words, okay?” She said, as Morgan stood up and walked over to her, Y/N going up to her as well. “Those are very bad words, I shouldn’t have even said them.” Morgan only giggled at her.

“Fuck!” she said and then laughed. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of how yes, she was most definitely a Stark. Y/N picked her up, shushing her before bringing her over to look at the model.

“Yeah, fuck is right,” she whispered, more to herself. She felt Morgan lean on her shoulder, probably trying to fall asleep. Y/N held the little girl close to her, rocking her back and forth to soothe her to sleep as she felt hot tears fall off her cheeks. She sat back down on the chair, still carefully holding Morgan as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, silent sobs raking through her body. She didn’t really know how to feel, but she felt the need to cry.

Tony came down a few minutes later, he saw Y/N crying on the chair, still holding his sleeping daughter, and beelined towards her. “Hey, Y/N calm down, okay. What’s wrong?” Y/N could only shake her head, looking at him before looking back at the screen. Ton looked behind him as well. He straightened his legs quickly standing up and turning towards the model. “Holy shit,” he whispered, looking back at her for a second before turning his attention to the screen again.

Y/N stood up with him and leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his embrace as he continued to stare at the model, not even bothering to blink. He placed a kiss to the top of her head, before guiding them up the stairs and into their bedrooms, Y/N saying she didn’t mind if Morgan slept with her that night.

~~~

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Save the Date

Sorry it’s late

… Implying of assault/groping, general sarcasm following ...

“I was gone for five minutes, and you’ve already knocked someone out, and you didn’t even try to stop them! Are either of you going to explain yourselves?!?!!”

“…..To be fair, they were a genuinely shitty person.”

“Incredibly shitty.”

…

“I was gone for five minutes, and you’ve already knocked someone out, and you didn’t even try to stop them! Are either of you going to explain yourselves?!?!!” You and your twin sister glanced between one another and you shook your head.

On your right she said, “…..To be fair, they were a genuinely shitty person.”

Mumbling to yourself in wiping the Man’s blood from your knuckles off on a tissue from your purse you said, “Incredibly shitty.”

“No excuses! You’re fired! The pair of you, out, NOW!!”

Strolling past your former boss you said, “Not a problem. Enjoy the Coral Festival.”

The smirk on your face making their grimace drop in realizing the multimillion dollar event taking place each year was looming. And now the two planners in this lush company drawing the biggest and best names would now be left to the hands of the next to useless sons of the Man lying unconscious across the floor of the glass enclosed meeting room.

Your shared office held little you needed to take with you and fit well into your purses you crossed your hands over in the ride down the elevator.

Glancing at your sister in her grin at you she said, “I guess this means we’ll have more time to plan my wedding!”

Giggling to yourself you nodded and leaned back against the wall feeling the dull ache growing in your feet from the new platform strapped heels showing off your new pedicure your sister took you to in hopes of settling the final look for her beach side affair. “So it does, Trix.”

When the doors opened again she smirked saying, “Well, I’m off, Glori should be home soon and I want to surprise him.”

You giggled again starting the stroll out of the building, perfectly unaware as you followed the growl of your stomach sending you to a nearby diner that the Elf waiting in the hall outside the meeting room having witnessed the whole event had been chasing you down in the next elevator over.

Two blocks later and you eyed the crowded diner knowing it would clear soon when the lunch rush died down. The only empty seat in a string of single seating grey tables with wooden booth seats opposite wooden polished red seats to the right of a burly Dwarf with scowl fixed onto his face. Under brunette hair hanging loose around his shoulders his bright blue eyes shone and by the flexing of his arms in your sideways slide past his mini table you got the feeling he preferred your seat to remain empty. In the seat you sat resting your bag on your lap grinning at the Elven waitress approaching you, “What can I get you?” She asked in Hobbitish at your ears and height, being half right in her guess.

“Mango sweet tea please and the meatloaf special with all the trimmings.”

She nodded and turned, “Have that right out for you.”

Curiously you peered up feeling the dreamboat of a Dwarf drawing the eye of countless others to him staring right at you when your hand dipped into your purse. “I’m gay.” He flatly stated, as if he would scare you off any plot you might have been working out in your mind.

You nodded thanking the waitress returning with your drink and tore open the straw cover easing the tube into your glass catching the man’s eye again in saying, “Demi.” Your eyes lowered and his brows furrowed in your reach to pull out a rather thick collective binding of novels by a famous author you had been trying to find time to get through.

“That wasn’t my name.”

You nodded saying in finding your bookmark, “Not mine either, but I’ve brought a book you see, so your penis is safe from me. Hands right where you can see them.” Your cocky smirk made him smirk playfully in return in your gaze dropping to the page before you again while a woman looking almost the twin of the man sat across from him lifting your gaze again in her smirking question of, “Frerin, are you going to introduce me?”

Flashing her a wide grin you said, “He’s gay and I’m Demi.”

You looked down again and she scoffed at her brother, saying in Khudzul, “Rin, you didn’t!”

Smirking at her he replied, “She caught me off guard.” Making her brow inch up.

A muffled chime from your phone had you sigh and bring it out as one of your crossed feet rocked on the toe in a try to ease the ache in your sore feet. Upon answering a shout sounded through the line and you promptly hung up and looked to the book again. Four more calls came, each with scathing messages you listened to just long enough to hear your boss was still screaming drawing their eyes to the clear tear in your blouse and the bruise forming on your knuckles making them assume the worst.

The woman wet her lips and asked, “Are you hurt? Your hand is bruising and your blouse is torn.”

You glanced down remembering the button that used to be on the now dangling corner to the pocket over your breast then back up to her, “Ya, all good. Just had to deal with a particularly charming asshole this morning.”

Frerin, “Did you want us to call the police?”

You shook your head, “No, my sister posted the video his backers should drop him by morning.”

Inhaling sharply a blonde body dropped into the seat opposite you and before the pair could say anything you said, “Careful, he’s gay.”

Breathily he chuckled and replied, “I am aware, practically family,” nodding his head at the pair, “Dis, Frerin,” he looked to you again, “Miss Pear. I understand you happen to be in need of employment.”

“That got around fast…”

Again he let out a weak chuckle, “Well, I was in the hall when Tarn grabbed you.”

Frerin growled, “Tarn did this?!”

The blonde nodded then looked to you again as Frerin pulled out his phone starting to text someone while Dis did the same on hers. “Miss Pear, my name is Thranduil Greenleaf, and I would like to offer you and your sister full positions at my families company. I’ve tried getting around your receptionist before but without luck, Lyon is a shit employer and an even worse person, no doubt paying you half what you’re worth.”

You sighed putting your book away at the arrival of your food and his giving his own order before you asked, “What event are you planning that you need us for?”

“Well there is two.” You nodded and he began again as you lifted your fork to sample your veggies. “I’ll start with the larger of the two.” A full scale wedding anniversary for the two biggest Elven clothing designers in Middle Earth he went into a detailed list of all they wanted showing just how perfect you were for it with your connections. In the few minutes you had been speaking the glimmer in his icy blue eyes grew in his relaxing at your string of questions and comments that you had given making him ask, “Is this your acceptance then?”

With a smirk you answered, “Always worth a shot.” In relief he let out a weak chuckle then thanked the waitress bringing his meal in your next bite of food. “The second event?”

Lowering his glass from a sip he replied, “Mmm. Yes, well that one is on a far more intimate occasion.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. This one has an especially exclusive guest list.”

“What sort of occasion is it for?”

Lifting his fork he answered with a ghost of a smirk making Frerin and Dis looking you both over curiously. “A first date.”

Your brows furrowed curiously at him in your asking with an amused smirk trying not to laugh, “Your Company handles first dates?”

“This would be the first. Though it’s not entirely part of the company, exactly.”

“I’m confused, you’re planning a first date, with an exclusive guest list, but it isn’t part of the company? Why hire me then?”

“I’m not hiring you for it, but asking you to attend.”

A tick of your brow had you tapping your fork into another bite asking, “Are you asking me out?”

“Depends, are you saying yes?”

“Won’t you be my boss?”

He shook his head, “Nope, Ada owns the company. I work in the background on the legal end with paperwork keeping things running, completely different section of the company.”

“Hmm. What did you have in mind?”

Frerin couldn’t help but smirk at the hint of a blush on his friend’s ears poking out through his loose hair dropped halfway off his shoulders over his chest. “A classic, dinner, movie. Nothing too spectacular to keep it simple to start with.”

“All right. Can’t go Thursday, have to pick out a wedding dress.” His brow inched up, “Oh, and you should know my sister is wanting to get married in five months, she’ll be wanting nearly a month off. I’ll need two weeks myself.”

He nodded and smirked, “I can work with that.” Lifting your fork for a bite you smirked at his saying, “I’m free tonight if you are?”

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

X Thranduil - @evyiione, @sweetlytenacious25, @tigereyesf, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thranduil x Reader OC #Theincaprincesswritingchallenge #30daywritingchallengebytheincaprincess #Hobbit #lotr

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marquis1305 · 5 years

Text

Silk and Steel Ch 2

AO3 Link

Rating: Mature

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

Additional Tags:

Slow Burn, Reader-Insert, Florists, Reader is an Enhanced Individual, Nick Fury Knows All, SHIELD, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Bucky Barnes Feels, Protective Steve Rogers, Hydra (Marvel), enhanced!reader, Reader's Brother works for SHIELD, POV Female Character, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Rhodey is skeptical, Vision is curious, Tony feeds good behavior with blueberries, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Blueberries, backstory incoming

————————————————————–

Chapter 2: The Team

You are introduced to the Avenger's Facility, and with it the first half of your team. Skepticism and witticism abound, and Blueberries are totally a thing.

The trip to the facility was nerve wracking, all the more so for the security checks you had to pass through to get in. You knew that your record was clean, but despite everything you always hated background checks.

Maybe you were secretly a criminal. Stranger things had happened.

Running your hands down the thighs of the jeans you were currently sporting, attempting to mask the nervous energy as it built. Your gaze unable to rest on a single detail for too long as the AI guided your way into the conference room, where Rhodey and Vision were already sitting.

Apparently discussing you.

“So we’re just supposed to trust a file anonymously sent to us, on an enhanced individual that the world has absolutely no knowledge of? Because there’s no way that that can go wrong.” Rhodey huffed, tossing the file onto the table. Unaware of your presence.

“I believe we have reason to trust the information sent to us. The files have already been verified, and Mr. Stark seems to approve.” You can’t be completely certain, but he seems to have moved into your line of sight on purpose.

“Tony also approved of half the other people that we ended up needing to lock up, or are we just going to forget that?” Rhodey sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I get that her brother needs help, and taking down Hydra is just something we do. But that doesn’t mean we need to involve more people.”

“Except that the princess here is probably the only one who can break her brother’s code.” A voice popped up behind you, making you jump. Whipping around to catch sight of Tony Stark himself. Rhodey turning to face you at the same time and groaning.

“You couldn’t warn us that she had arrived?”

“Where’s the fun in that… blueberry?” Tony offered you the bag as he passed you to enter the room. Smiling disarmingly as he did. “Right, so here’s the thing, Fury forwarded us your file. Except not a lot of it makes sense. Mostly because over half of it was redacted even before ‘Tasha spilled the beans on SHIELD.”

Accepting a small handful of the treat, you followed in behind him, keeping a wary gaze on the other two in the room. “That’s because it was part of the agreement my brother had with whoever was in charge. He works for them, they keep me out of it. Unless I agreed to come on board. It was supposed to help keep me safe if anything like this ever happened.”

“So what, you’ve just managed to stay under the radar this entire time? I’m not saying that I doubt your story, but it’s got a lot of holes in it. And how did Fury even find out about any of this? He’s not involved with SHIELD anymore.” Rhodey waved a hand towards you, the other crossing over his chest to cup under his elbow.

“Look, if you think Fury isn’t still pulling strings, then you’re obviously not the person I need to talk to about getting my brother safely home.” You scoff, though meeting his gaze.

“She’s got a point.” Stark chirped, obviously delighted.

Vision sighed audibly, moving closer to you, his gaze tracing over your face. “We have no intention of allowing your brother to come to harm, miss. But we do need your cooperation if we are to find him as quickly as possible.”

“Cooperation. Right, because that’s how it always starts. And then somehow people like me end up getting sucked into some crazy scheme or another, and things start blowing up.” You grumble under your breath. Taking a moment before shaking your head. “I stayed out of this life for a reason, the only reason that I’m here is to get my brother out of whatever mess he has gotten himself into this time. The way that I always do.” Looking between each of the Avengers for a long moment as they weighed you.

“Right, so first things first.” Stark hums, offering you the bag of blueberries once more. “We need to figure out what exactly you can do to help. I mean, all it says is you’re enhanced, but the details get a little blurry after that. So if you can say… I dunno… Walk through walls, or read minds, that would be pretty useful about now.”

“If I could do that, do you honestly think I would have been able to stay under the radar for so long?” A wry smile finding your face as you reached out for another handful of the berries, popping them into your mouth one by one.

“I mean, Bruce turns into a giant green monster and he did a fairly good job of it for awhile.” Rhodey raised a brow at you, obviously still not buying the truth of the matter.

“Fine. It’s easier to show it than explain it.” Sighing before you were reaching out for Tony’s arm, focusing your power into a single jolt of energy connecting the both of you.

“Whoa! Right… Walking shot of espresso… Can we keep her?”

Vision frowned slightly. “Your heart rate has elevated, and it would appear that she has stimulated the growth rate of your cells. Not to the point of mutation… But almost reminiscent of the healing factor found in Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes.”

“Before you ask, no I’m not a healer. It’s not magic or sorcery or anything like that.” Offering a far gentler smile before stealing another handful of the blueberries. Rubbing your lips together for a moment. “With my brother, I can make the totem aspects he chooses stronger. When he chooses the bear, his strength grows. Panther and his reflexes are quicker. Owl and his perception enhances. Et Cetera. All of that is in his files.” Nodding towards the stack of papers on the table.

“Right, but that doesn’t explain what you do.” Rhodey butted in.

“Well that’s the thing… My brother and I were almost inseparable for most of our lives. It wasn’t until I headed to University that we even realized I had any abilities.” You shrug slightly. “I was fine with not being Enhanced, worried with his life choices, but I knew that I didn’t want to be apart of any of this. We had never asked for this. But when he called me almost sick with worry about losing his abilities, or that they were growing less powerful with time instead of being able to hone them with training… I agreed to come in for testing as well. Fury had had a theory.”

“He seems to have many of those.” Vision chuckled softly. Leaning against the wall across from you.

“Yeah. It’s a thing.” You quip back. “So, as soon as I was within a certain radius of my brother, his powers returned to what we thought were normal.”

“So you enhance the enhanced.”

“Not just enhanced.” Here was where things got tricky, running a hand through your hair to shake it out. “Anyone. Any living thing. It’s just more obvious with people like us. I run a floral boutique, my flowers seem naturally longer lasting than most, bouquets last for hours without wilting, no matter the weather. Or as Mister Stark just felt, it can feel like a burst of energy.”

“Right, and you what… chose to pick daisies for a living?” Tony scoffed, brows furrowed in almost confusion. “Think someone with that ability would be more likely to become a doctor or nurse… you know, use your abilities to boost immune systems or something.”

“Yeah well, not all of us want to a be a walking cliche, mister mechanical genius in a walking suit of armor. I just happen to like flowers.”

That drew a snort of laughter from the billionaire, looking at you with something nearing respect. “FRIDAY, can you get Happy in here please? I’ve got a new job for him, and he’ll probably like this one as much as he does watching the kid.”

“Of course Mr. Stark. I am certain he will be eager to assist.”

“Right, well, while we wait for him, why don’t we all move somewhere more comfortable. Not that I don’t appreciate the glass walls and fancy tech, that I designed by the way, Bunny-” “Bunny?” Your brow arched high with that, lips beginning to purse.

“Yeah, as in energizer, not play boy… Not that you wouldn’t fit that description either, but my point being…” Tony waved his hands as he spoke, you wondered if it was a nervous tic, or just left over from the burst he had felt by connecting with you. “Is that we are not the only people that Fury called in for assistance on this matter. And I am going to require something along the lines of liquid courage to deal with the rest of the team. Who are, also, waiting on you.” Nodding his head in your direction before gently placing a hand to your back, guiding you from the conference room.

Apparently it was time to meet the rest of the team.

#Silk and steel #bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers #reader insert #long post #fanfiction #ao3

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kusunogatari · 5 years

Text

[ @wanderingmelodies ] 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩 𝕩

Soft leather boots are soundless against the cobbled street...and even if they’d not been, her footsteps would still be drowned in the hustle and bustle of the busy little village.

Well…‘little’ is a relative term. Rin has certainly been to places smaller, but it’s still not quite the same as the large cities closer to the center of the continent. But this one suits her well enough. A place with a sizeable port of comings and goings. Perfect to receive shipments of her goods without being breathed down upon by large city inspectors and tax collectors.

For Rin, you see, is a witch. One most typically working with plants, herbs, and the concoctions one can make with them. And while she grows a great many things herself, every so often she’ll come across a spell or potion requiring something a bit...out of the ordinary. And that means finding it elsewhere. And while she’s gone galavanting across the countryside before, she’s not eager to leave her little hideaway too often.

Magic, after all, can be a bit of a dirty word, depending on the tongue it sits upon.

Rin’s own is used primarily for good! Poultices for wounds, brews for illnesses, charms that help ward against pain or evil. But...every so often, she won’t deny having crafted something a bit...devious. A poison for a deserving throat, or an acid to melt through hard-crafted locks over treasuries. Not her favorite things to do, but...one must eat. And to eat, one must have coin.

While the forests she calls home are plentiful, and her house built herself in a place few can find it (let alone scaredy cat statesmen who won’t dare venture so far to collect her dues), Rin still has expenses. She can hardly do everything for charity, though her large heart indulges when it feels it must. Hers is oft a cruel world, after all. She does what she can to lighten it.

Hood of her cloak drawn over her head, she weaves her way through the rumbling masses. The markets are in full swing, people yelling and bartering for this, that, and the other thing. The sounds of animals brought to be sold join the cacophony, and all in all, it’s a block of chaos.

Exactly what she wants.

Guards, after all, have to keep close eyes on the daily gathering to ensure nothing is stolen, illegal, or being traded without proper taxes atop them. Which means they aren’t as watchful elsewhere.

Slipping into an alley, Rin keeps her face hidden as she meets with another shady figure. Ruddy eyes and flyaway black hair peek out from beneath the hem of another hood.

“You have it?” Rin ask quietly, trying to look nonchalant.

“So long as you have my coin.”

“Of course.” From a belt at her waist she draws the pouch, which jingles pleasantly with gold.

The other woman’s eyes alight, accepting before handing over a parcel. “Do be careful with it. Getting you another won’t be so easy...and I’d have to charge you double.”

“Double?”

“I’ll bore you with the tale later, but you’ll not get me to run such an errand again on so light a payment. There’s a concealment charm you’ll have to break: thought it wise in case you’re checked. Until then, it’ll just look like some spare fabric.”

“I’ve been meaning to make myself a new blouse,” Rin replies blasely.

Giving a subtle nod, the other witch exits the way Rin came, and Rin in turn takes the other mouth out. Package tucked under her arm, she winds her way back around to the eastern gate of the village.

Home again, home again.

The cobble gives way to dirt, thankfully dry after a week of no rain. That doesn’t rid it of the deep wells from uncounted wagons, but Rin keeps to the center, shifting her path only when encountering another traveler. A few miles pass, and then she takes a trail off to the north. This she follows a ways before cutting west again to a path barely discernible to the naked eye.

Just as she likes it.

Here the trees of the forest seem to grow ever thicker, dense foliage blotting out all but the most determined light. Ivy hangs in thick sheets from sturdy branches, and after a long, silent trek, Rin waves a hand.

Heeding her call, the flora shifts to reveal a small, yet cozy cabin. Plants of all shapes, shades, and sizes grow in what looks to be chaos around it, but Rin knows every stalk and stem. A ways behind her dwelling, the chuckling of a brook can be heard.

And what a curious dwelling it is.

Formed from wood, rather than cut...it’s been grown. Several trunks meld together to form walls, the roof a conglomerate of branches and leaves thick enough to waylay any rain. The floor is flattened roots, walk to a shining after so many years of her pacing and passing. Even a hearth crackles warmly, the wood of its belly and chimney simply made so dense with magic, it can’t begin to burn.

And even inside there’s a plethora of plants. Every shelf and surface is home to bottles, planters, crystals, vials. Several of the stones glow brightly to illuminate her space, colored by the gemstone that houses the werelights.

It’s a strange, almost alien place. But for Rin, it suits her perfectly.

Clearing a space on her table, she sets her package, unraveling the string around it and finding - as Kurenai warned - a simple folded stack of velvety fabric.

To most, the charm would be completely undetectable. But Rin is both aware...and talented in magics herself. Taking a moment to feel out the particular incantation, she breaks it with a few murmured words.

The fabric is no more. In its place is a pelt.

A rather particular pelt.

Grinning widely, Rin runs fingers over the scaly hide. As she does, the pigments change to match her skin, blending perfectly.

Exactly what she’s been looking for: a chameleocan skin. A rather peculiar beast with a marvelous adaptation: it can blend into any environment and become practically invisible. While not perfect, it’s far more stable than a cloaking spell, and has no mana cost.

All she has to do with it now is tan and shape it into a cloak, and she’ll finally be able to prowl about unseen. At least, to most eyes.

Giddy with excitement, she takes it outside, giving it one last wash in the river before stretching it on a tanning rack to dry and finish curing. Admiring her handiwork, her smile vanishes as a sound reaches her ears.

A voice.

Spinning around, she tries to place it. Still a ways off, it’s nonetheless far closer than Rin would like anyone to be. She’s not expecting any guests...which means this person isn’t welcome.

Subtly, she begins tightening the ivy around her little homestead, doing her best to further hide it. Creeping quietly, she listens.

Another cry. Still too far too make out words, but...she can hear the tone. It sounds desperate, like...a call for help.

Though there’s a reflexive want to go investigate - someone might be in trouble! - her worry is tempered by experience. Often times, such a plea is a charade. A lie to draw in unaware travelers before your throat and coin purse are slit.

Weighing her options, Rin pulls her lip between her teeth before parting the ivy. Either way...she needs to make sure her home isn’t discovered. Easier to do the further away she keeps this person. A woman, judging by the pitch of the cries. For a ways she steps carefully, pausing every so often to listen for the voice. Once she’s close enough, she peers around trunks before finally catching sight of them.

Whoever they are, they’ve donned a silvery-white cloak. That immediately draws Rin’s brow. Something of that make looks costly...what would someone able to afford finery like that be doing this far out in the woods? Their gate shuffles, occasionally stumbling as they call out for help. Spinning in a slow circle, taking in the endless swaths of the same trees and undergrowth, they eventually turn to face Rin in her hiding place.

They certainly appear feminine, from what she can see. The cloak covers a gown of downy grey that sweeps the forest floor. It, too, seems fine in make. Along their front spill waves of white hair...curious. And the expression on their pale face - seemingly even paler with fright - looks far too deeply etched to be rehearsed.

Something more is going on here.

Magic humming at the ready along her fingertips, Rin cautiously steps out of hiding. “...lost?”

Sharpening their focus on her, the stranger stumbles back a few steps, gait still quite warped. Staring a long moment, they dare to ask, “...you...you’re the woman who was in the village this morning, are you not? You’re a witch!”

The words, by reflex, earn a small flinch. Typically they’re thrown with disdain...but this one utters them with a desperate hope. How did they spot her, let alone figure what she was? “...I’m learned in magic, yes.”

“Please...you have to help me. I…” Looking stricken for words, they ask, “...may we speak somewhere...private?”

“Why?”

“I...I’ve need of help regarding a curse. I…” They turn to glance around. Surely the woods are empty, but they seem fearful to risk being seen. “...I can’t let anyone know.”

Still wary, Rin considers the request a moment before murmuring, “...follow me.”

They trudge back toward the cabin, and Rin - taking the lead - continues to listen. Her companion’s gait is still...off. Not quite a limp, but not even steps, either. Almost like…

Parting the ivy, she lets them in, seeing the wonder on their face. “...try not to touch anything. Some of these are toxic,” she warns, gesturing to the plants.

Once inside, she sets a kettle to boil water, glancing up to see her guest lingering uncertainly in the doorway. “...you can come in.”

“...thank you.” Taking a few cautious steps, they offer, “...my name is Ryū.”

“...Rin.”

“I...I know this may be rather forward, given that it’s me asking for your help, but...may I ask for your silence? If anyone else were to know what I’m to tell you…”

“I don’t vomit up secrets,” Rin assures her. “So long as you’re not going to harm anyone else -”

“Oh, no no! Never that! You see, I…” A weary sigh. “...I’m of a royal line. Of a land north of here. I’m...their princess.”

Brow furrowing, Rin tries to think. She mostly keeps her dealings to this land - she knows little of any others. She barely knows her own royal family, given how low she tries to keep her profile. “...you said you’ve a question about a curse?”

“I...yes. A few weeks ago, a curse was laid upon me. I’ve been searching for help ever since. While magic is not viewed so...poorly in my homeland as it is here to the south, I couldn’t let anyone see me like...like this.”

A brown brow perks. “...like…?”

Hesitating, Ryū wilts with a sigh. “...I...I hope it doesn’t cause you alarm.”

“I’ve seen a great many things. I assure you, little can shock me.”

One last pause, and then Ryū begins to remove her traveling gear. Gloved hands lift the hood from her head, laying the cloak atop a chair. Rin’s eyes slowly widen the more she removes, until she’s left in little more than her skivvies.

From her temples grow short horns of a moonstone color. In patches along her limbs are silver and white scales. In fact, her entire left leg is distorted, looking more like a beast’s in its proportions than a human’s.

...that explains her gait.

And from her spine as she turns, posture clearly ashamed, is the beginnings of a scaly tail topped with white hair. Strange lumps stretch the skin over her shoulder blades, as though something lurks beneath the surface, ready to burst.

“...by the gods…”

“It...i-it’s been slowly taking me over. At first it was just a few scales...t-then my back started aching, and my leg shifted in shape…! I...I’m turning into a -!”

“A dragon.” Moving, Rin walks in slow circles around her, expression both horrified...and yet fathomlessly curious. “...do you know who cursed you?”

“I...I do - he’s a member of my mother’s court. I’ve always had my suspicions about him, but his influence is too great to simply be ousted. He…” Her face turns aside, expression pained. “...he’s nearly thrice my age, but has been...attempting to court me. I know he only wants to sneak his roots into my kingdom. I rejected him again and again, as softly as I could. It seems...he realized I’d never have him, and has decided to remove me instead.”

“Did you speak to your mother?”

“I couldn’t…! Before I could find her, I’d already started changing. I was scared, and unsure what to do, so...I-I fled.”

“...you should pen her a letter. Tell her what has happened, and why you left. She needs to know, and your absence may be having drastic consequences, m’lady.”

Ryū gives a sorrowful nod. “Can...can you help me…?”

The witch heaves a heavy sigh. “...transformations aren’t my forte,” she admits. “Nor are curses. Magic has many branches...and mine lie mostly in flora. It’s rare they can attain such results...or counteract them.”

“Do...do you know of anyone else who might be able to aid me…?”

A pause to think. Kurenai is skilled in illusionary magics...Anko in poisons and beast taming. But this isn’t one that needs to be calmed. “Not personally, no...and I fear by the time I find one, it may be too late. How long has it been?”

“Um…” She thinks. “...three weeks, perhaps? I...I’ve not tracked the time since I fled.”

“Why come here where magic is harder to find?”

“I didn’t want to be recognized. If my people knew their next queen might become a beast, surely they would panic…!”

“And they’ll not panic with you simply up and disappearing?”

“...I…”

Rin sighs. “...fear can rob anyone of their sense. I understand. But we really should alert your mother. This man that cursed you may very well have other schemes waiting in his sleeves...if he’s not implemented them already.”

“Yes...you’re right.”

“Here...let’s get you redressed, and then we’ll find some parchment and ink.”

Once a warning letter is written, Rin calls upon a feathered friend to bear it. “They’ll be swift.”

Seated at Rin’s table (which grows right up out of the floor), Ryū braces her brow in a hand, eyes weary. “I don’t know where else to go, what else to do…”

“Does your mother not employ a court mage?”

“Several...and he’s one of them. I feared they may reject my claims and protect him as one of their own. I could never have asked…”

“Mm...a fair point.” Sitting opposite the princess, Rin rubs at her chin, racking her brain. While she’s heard of curses like these before...she’s never seen them for herself. Nor does she know anything about them. Their casting, their effects...or their cures. Nor do any of her own types of magic immediately come to mind when it comes to a possible remedy. Transformation magics are their own branch, one she’s never really breached.

Standing, she goes to her bookshelf, looking over her collection of tomes. A finger trails over their spines, trying to find a title that might at least hint at a possible solution. She looks among her collections of flora, stretching her imagination to possible uses among theirs that might help.

...and then an idea starts to bloom.

A risky, terrible idea.

Biting her lip, Rin goes back to her shelf and pulls out a glossary of plants and herbs. Flipping through the weathered pages, she finds the proper entry, finger tracing along the text. As she thought she remembered, there’s no mention of human ingestion...just uses on blades to aid in battles…

“...have you thought of something…?”

“I…” A pause. “...I don’t know...in all honesty, it’s not a thought I’ve ever entertained before…” Sitting once more, she lays the tome atop the table, turning it round so Ryū can read. “...this is dragonsbane. Typically used to concoct an oil you coat a blade with to better your chances at slaying a dragon. In short, it reacts very...negatively to a dragon’s biology.”

She then flips a great chunk through the book to another page near the end. “And this...is wolfsbane. It has similar effects, but on werewolves. However…” A digit points to a small paragraph near the bottom. “It’s also used, in a far more diluted form, to help control werewolf transformations. Werewolves, of course, only take that form during full moons...and yours is instead happening slowly, until - I’m willing to assume - you take a fully dragonic form...or perhaps one like the old draconids, but they’re long extinct…”

At Ryū’s curious look, she expounds, “A specie of dragon that walked upright, and could speak. They were hunted after a war broke out, and it’s assumed there’s no more of them left. That might be more like what you’re facing, given that your anatomy has only changed slightly, like your leg.”

Back up she gets, on a whirlwind of thought now. “I’ve made wolfsbane potions for a very long time, for a dear friend of mine afflicted with the bite of a werewolf. I’m intimately familiar with it. But...I have no idea if the same principle could be applied to dragonsbane. I’ve never heard of it done. Then again...I’ve never heard of someone being cursed exactly as you have: to become a dragon, I mean. Werewolves aren’t cursed, per se...”

Hands trace up to the wolfsbane plant, and then over to dragonsbane. “...I’ll have to do some tests. Because if I’m wrong...that potion might kill you. If I make it too strong, and it affects you too potently…”

Ryū pales, looking quite frightened for a moment. Head bowing, eyes flicker over the table before closing with a soft sigh, resolute. “...well...I’ve nowhere else to turn. No other leads to follow. Whatever you need me to do in order to see this through, I’ll do. It’s either we take this chance...or I certainly turn into a monster.”

“Well, it depends on your view of dragons...or possibly draconids, if that’s more what you’re headed toward.” Rin then fetches her kettle, finally boiling, and begins to make tea. “In some cultures - mostly those more...remote and perhaps a bit...outdated - dragons are seen as sacred beings. Almost akin to gods. Then in other places, they’re simply nuisances. Monster, then, is a relative term. If it does fail, maybe you could go find a land where you’d be welcome. Possibly even worshipped.”

At that, the princess blanches. “I’d...rather we simply find the cure.”

“Well, of course. But that’s a better alternative than death, isn’t it?”

“...to never again see my home, or my mother? Being held aloft by strangers? I don’t know…”

Well, Rin can hardly change this young lady’s priorities. “...I’ll write to my friend. Ask him to come. Maybe he’ll have some insight into how you can best handle this. I don’t know if your...conditions have similar enough roots, but it can’t hurt.”

Another bird is sent with the invitation, and the pair get to work. Rin begins asking all sorts of questions: her routine, her diet, her birth sigils. Anything and everything that might have an impact on how her body handles the curse, and its progression.

“Curses do tend to act most slowly in those who are larger,” Rin notes, taking measurements. Ryū is returned to her undergarments, a bit pink as the witch gets all manner of personal with her person. “You’re rather tall, so that might be helping slow the transformation some. It obviously can’t stop it entirely, but it helps.”

Looking to some of the princess’ scales under a magnifying glass, Rin compares them to a few dragon scales she has on hand for potions and charms. Ryū’s are considerably smoother, and quite a bit smaller, but appear to be made of the same material. “Hm...well, given all your measurements, compared to the apparent progression of the curse...I do think it’s safe to say you’re not going to change into a full-fledged dragon. If you were, your anatomy would be changing far faster, given the rest of your symptoms.”

“Is...is that a good thing?”

“...I’m not sure.” Rin taps her glass against her chin, thinking. “...it does make you more similar to a werewolf. They too are anthropomorphic creatures, just...another breed. And also directly correlating to a celestial body. You, however, seem to be taking a permanent form.”

The word ‘permanent’ clearly doesn’t sit well, and Ryū can’t help a small whine of worry.

“But, if the dragonsbane potion does work in a similar way, then...it would simply be a matter of ingesting it more regularly. Rather than just on the worst nights of the moon cycle, you’d likely have to take it once a day, depending on how safe the maximum dosage is, and how potent it can be without harming you. All things we’ll need to test. Very carefully, of course.”

The princess gives a slow nod, brow knitted.

“Don’t worry, m’lady. I’ll do all I can.”

“...I know.”

That evening, there’s a call from beyond the ivy. “Oi!”

“Oh, that’s Kakashi.” Abandoning her work, Rin moves to let him in. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure. Though I’m not sure what use I’ll be.”

“Neither do I, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt.” Taking him inside, Rin gestures. “Ryū, this is Kakashi. Kakashi, Ryū. She’s a princess.”

Grey brows lift in surprise. One dark eye looks her over, the other clouded with blindness, an angry scar cutting through the lid. “Wasn’t aware I’d be meeting royalty.”

“I’m hardly a proper princess at the moment,” Ryū offers somberly. At Rin’s request, she shows the scales on an arm, and then blushingly lifts her skirt to show her leg.

Squatted to a lower level, Kakashi rubs his chin thoughtfully as he observes the limb. “It’s definitely the same structure as what I change to. Just, uh...scaly rather than furry.”

“As I thought…have you ever come across this while traveling?” At Ryū’s curious look, Rin expounds, “Kakashi is a monster hunter. Rather ironic, eh Kakashi?”

He just grunts in response, still thinking. “...can’t say I have. I’ve only ever had to face one dragon...and thankfully not for very long. Never seen one shaped like this.”

“Nor have I. I’ve read about the draconids, but...that’s ancient history by now.”

“Interesting that someone would choose it as a curse, isn’t it?”

“There are dragons in my homeland,” Ryū offers, “but...none like you say. We are...neutral towards them. They can be quite wise, and have aided us in the past. But we mostly try to stay out of one another’s way.”

“Out of a dragon’s way is the best way to be,” Kakashi agrees dryly.

“Well...it’s getting late now,” Rin offers. “You should get some rest. You can take my bunk.” A hand points up to a small loft.

“Oh no, I couldn’t -”

“I insist. I’ve slept in worse places for worse reasons,” Rin offers with a wry smile.

Looking sheepish, Ryū accepts, climbing the ladder up and disappearing.

The pair below watch her go before looking to each other. With a nod of her head, Rin gestures them both outside. Out they walk to stand on the riverbank.

“...so?”

“...I don’t know,” Rin muses softly. “I’ve never heard of using the plant this way, but...it has the same basic properties as wolfsbane. There has to be a way to mirror its effects, but…”

“Testing will be dangerous.”

“...yes. And if she has to consume it every day, she’ll need a steady supply. I wish there was a way to just...rid her of it completely. But I don’t know how. Or if it’s even possible without the proper countercurse. And I have no way of knowing how to do that, given I don’t know the curse that started it.”

“...I could always go nab the guy.”

Rin gives him a pointed look. “I’d like to keep this from turning into an international incident, if you just go up there and kidnap a court mage.”

“I could explain.”

“We’ve sent a letter to her mother...perhaps we’ll hear word back. For now, though...time is my biggest enemy. If she finishes changing, there might be no going back. There’s so much unknown…”

“You’ll figure it out,” Kakashi assures her. “You always do.”

Rin doesn’t reply, not so sure.

The pair sleep downstairs, Rin waking with the dawn. Letting the princess sleep, she goes about prep work to begin making the first attempts at the potion. Thankfully she has a decent supply of dragonsbane, but...she might want to start propagating more. Out in her garden, she starts encouraging new seedlings to sprout.

By the time she returns, Ryū is back on the ground floor. “Sleep well?”

The small grimace she gives in return speaks well enough.

“Well...we’d best get started.”

Using her data of Ryū’s physiology against the wolfsbane potion, Rin starts calculating conversions. Even then, she begins with a fraction of potency. The brew takes nearly three weeks to properly simmer, so in the meantime...there’s little else to do but talk. They exchange stories of their pasts, their families, their friends. Strolls are taken within the woods and along the riverbanks, gaps slowly filled in their knowledge of each other. Little by little, Rin gets to know more about the mysterious princess and the lands she comes from. In turn, she reveals things long-buried about herself...things she hasn’t dared to think of in years.

Like a vine-covered window slowly pried open, light starts to shine through into her solitude. The air starts to clear form the years of idle dust. And things start to seem...different.

Rin starts to realize how...alone she’s felt all this time. And how much company her guest has proven to be.

...she’ll be sad to see her go.

“My name actually means dragon in the old tongue,” Ryū muses one afternoon as Rin puts the finishing touches on the first batch. “I wonder if that’s where he got his inspiration from…”

“It’s possible,” the witch muses, carefully tending to her cauldron. While wolfsbane is always a deep green, this concoction is a noxious purple. “...all right, I think we’re ready. Now, I can test it on your skin, first. See if you have any reaction before we go pouring it down your gullet.”

Ryū nods, baring an arm as Rin carefully takes a small spoonful, letting it cool before a drop is spared to a patch of scales.

It hisses, smoking and bubbling for a fraction of a second. Then, after a pause...a scale pops off onto the floor with a clatter.

Both women stare at it before looking up. “...um…”

“...it might be a bit strong,” Rin offers nervously. “I’ll...try diluting it a bit.”

“Maybe...maybe it’s something we should apply topically…? Rather than, um...internally?”

Rin nibbles her lip in thought. “...let me try one more thing.”

Baring Ryūs back, Rin takes another drop and lets it dribble onto one of the protrusions on her shoulder blade: something she can only assume will later tear and reveal wings, as the base of her spine has done for her new tail.

Immediately, the skin begins to burn.

“Ah...ah!” Curling up in pain, Ryū’s hands scramble back to try and reach the sensation. “I-it’s like...acid! R-Rin!”

Panicking, Rin summons water from a nearby bucket and tries to wash the residue away. It steams upon contact, and she can’t help but blanch at the hole left behind. Ryū’s muscles twitch and flutter in lingering pain, and Rin just...stares at the infant fifth limb now uncovered, like a lanced boil.

“That...t-that didn’t work,” she notes, tone a bit weak in residual shock.

Shaking and biting back tears, Ryū looks over. “...is...is it bad?”

“...I’ll tend to it.”

Mixing up a poultice for burns, Rin carefully applies it to the melted flesh, covering it with clean cloth. “...I’m so sorry…”

“You didn’t know.”

“But the scale, I -!”

“It’s okay, Rin.” Ryū gives her a shaking smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “You...you tried. Maybe floral magic just...isn’t the way to go.”

“But…!” The witch deflates, frustrated tears in her eyes. “...I don’t know any other methods…! And I don’t know any witches who specialize in curses, we’re - we’re running out of time!”

“It’s okay. I think...I think I knew this wouldn’t work.” Ryū’s expression shifts to a somber acceptance. “Surely there’s no stronger curse than one born out of scorned love...even if he never really loved me. All he wanted was what he could take from me… and now he’s taken everything. My mother has no other daughters. She’s too old to bear another. The crown will have to find another path, and...maybe he’ll find a way to take it with me removed. Maybe this was his plan all along...”

Her own face defeated, Rin mulls all that over. Part of her is so angry, she has half a mind to drag Kakashi back here, march up to the north, and duel that bastard herself with him as her second. He couldn’t have her...so he’s turned her into a beast no one could love. He ended her line, and...he…

...wait.

Perking up, Rin scarcely dares to breathe. No...that can’t...but could it…? Looking to Ryū, whose face is turned aside with shame, she looks over the princess’ form. There’s been more changes since her arrival. Her horns are longer, ears taking a more bestial shape: long and hollow (and currently drooped in sorrow). Scales coat more than half her arms and abdomen, both legs now inhumanly distorted. Even her tail is longer, thicker. To anyone in their right mind, she’s a horror to look at. Something to be feared.

...but…?

It’s a rather cliche solution to curses. One often used simply because it’s so glaringly specific. It has to be pure, unmatched, and without any pretense or force. And given all of the lined up circumstances - she’s ugly, now removed from a royal line with no other branches, given up on by the man who sought to use her - it only makes sense.

“Ryū.”

Turning to face her, the princess stiffens with widened eyes as Rin takes the front of her gown in her curled fingers. For a moment they search one another’s gazes before Rin closes the gap, and locks their lips.

As she does, she recalls all the hours of talking, laughing, secret sharing they’ve done since Ryū has arrived. How Rin’s inherent loneliness has been lifted. How much warmer and brighter her little cabin has felt with two people within it, bound by a common goal.

It’s then Rin admits to herself that she’s grown quite fond of this cursed princess.

It’s then she admits that she loves her.

...but it can’t be one-sided if this is going to work.

Still tense with surprise, Ryū stares as Rin kisses her with closed eyes. Heat blooms in her face. She...but...what…? Her heart flutters in her chest, a warmth spreading from her mouth to every end of her nerves. Then slowly she relaxes, lids sliding closed, returning the kiss softly.

With a clatter like a box of marbles spilled upon the floor, scales shed in a torrent. Magic flares and ruffles at their clothes and locks. Horns drop from her head, flesh rippling as time seems to reverse, anatomy shifting back into human until a flawless princess slowly opens her eyes.

Rin looks up, her own gaze softened with the fog of affection, before they both turn to look at the mess. Lifting her slip, Ryū stares at her legs. Pale, fleshy, human legs. She wiggles her toes, and then breaks into a torrent of giggles.

“You...you did it! You really did it!” Eyes starry with unabashed joy, she launches forward and embraces Rin, who squeaks and topples over. Laughing and crying, Ryū then spares a moment to kiss her again, butting their brows as she looks to the witch adoringly. “...you saved me,” she murmurs, tone soft with gratitude and affection.

Face flushed and eyes wide, Rin lingers in shock for a moment before giving a curt, nervous laugh. “I...I guess I did...didn’t I?”

Still beaming, Ryū giggles a bit more, sitting up and looking around at the mess of scales. “...well, I guess you won’t have to buy any more dragon scales for a while, will you?”

Rin then does the same, and snorts. “...I guess not.”

They sweep up the silver and white shards, Ryū carefully picking up the pair of horns. “Wow...these are actually really pretty.”

“I agree. I’ll have to make them into something.”

Setting them atop the table, Ryū looks to Rin thoughtfully. “...so...now what do we do…?”

“Well...I guess you get to go home now, m’lady. Hopefully your mother has taken care of the bastard who cursed you...though we may want to be cautious until we hear back.”

To the witch’s surprise, something falls in Ryū’s expression.

“...you...do want to go home, don’t you?”

“I...I do. And I must. But…” Somber, demure eyes glance up. “...I wonder if...you would come with me…”

“Me?”

“It was love, wasn’t it? That broke the curse?”

Rin suddenly turns sheepish. “I...well, yes - but -”

“I don’t want to leave that behind.”

At a loss for words, Rin...isn’t sure what to say.

“I know you love this place, and...if you want to stay, I cannot fault you. But...if you were to come with me, you wouldn’t have to hide…! You could practice your craft without fear!”

“But...you’re a princess! Surely you need to marry a prince, bear an heir -!”

At that, Ryū laughs. “I can bear an heir without marrying a prince. My line, as I’ve told you, is matriarchal. We don’t need a king. I could very well make a witch my queen if it’s what I want,” she adds coyly. “...and...if that is what the witch wants.”

Rin flounders. “...I...I-I don’t know...I’ve lived here so long, and -”

“I don’t expect an answer now,” Ryū assures her, holding up a placating hand. “...but I should go soon. My mother is surely eager to see me...as I am to see her.”

“...I’ll send Kakashi with you. He’ll keep you safe, especially if things are still...unsettled there. And...I’ll take time to think.”

Ryū smiles softly. “...very well.”

The next day, set with supplies and with the werewolf at her side, Ryū stands outside the ivy. Silvers lock with umbers, unnamed emotions flitting through both.

“...be careful,” Rin murmurs.

“I will be. I’ll write soon.”

“Okay…”

Drawing her hood, Ryū then leans in, giving the little witch a gentle kiss. “...I will see you again.”

Flushed pink (and ignoring Kakashi’s snickering), Rin manages a jerking nod. “...until then.” Watching them go, she feels something in her chest sink with every step. The impulsive part of her - a very large part, at present - almost goes running after her.

...but for now...she has thinking to do.

It’s not every day you fall in love with a princess, after all.

.oOo.

Day three! This time RyūRin with @wanderingmelodies‘ Rin! Which is...technically a ship we never really fleshed out, more just...hinted at, and usually in crack xD But I’ve always liked the concept, so...here it is in a fantasy verse! Woo! So far this is the longest one by far up til now - had to do a lot more worldbuilding to set things up here, sooo I got a lil carried away lol - what can I say, I’m a worldbuilding nerd =w= But uh, yeah! I dunno why, but I’ve always gotten like...flora mage vibes from Rin. Which is also how I write her in Divine Light! Hence her being a wee plant witchy here. And ofc Ryū’s got dragony things going on! Was tempted to let her keep the ability to transform, but this is long enough as-is xD Mey, I know you don’t write on that blog anymore, but I miss yer beans and I hope you enjoy this...very random story, lol And with that, I’m gonna sign off! We’re about halfway through the week, woo! Ngl I’ma be sad when this is over...but it’s fun while it lasts!

#narutoocxcanonshipweek #noxcsw #wanderingmelodies #nohara rin #suigin ryū #like magic [ au ]#gore //

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fireandgloryrpg · 5 years

Text

Unity Feast || Group Chatzy

Roman’s and Greeks gather together to celebrate their unity. Piper loses her purse and the night has a dramatic ending.

Percy had lived in New Rome for most of his adult life and he had yet to see it in such a beautiful condition. He didn’t know who was responsible for it, but the progress in the cities reconstruction was astounding. Where they hadn’t completed work, delicate decorations such as fairy lights or neon signs had soften the atmosphere around the square where the festivities were taking place. Striding through the crowds of people, he greeted friends left and right. He was wearing one of the few pieces of his wardrobe that he’d managed to salvage after he’d returned to his apartment at the war’s end. A dark navy blue suit with a light pink shirt and blue tie. Brown belt and brown shoes of course. Heading towards the bar, he ordered a drink. This was going to be a good night, at least that was what he hoped.

Wally had left after Z. The pair decided to meet each other at the feast separately. Wally came in a dark purple tux with a dark tie to match. He had added a laurel wreath to his head for the evening, something he felt was a nice addition. Wally was openly nervous, looking around every few minutes, waiting for something to pop up. It felt like nothing could be enjoyed anymore. The smell of food was quick to reduce his fears. Maybe if he ate something he’d feel better. As trays of food passed around, Wally picked up what seemed to be a fried ball of filled with stuffing and mashed potatoes. “Holy shit, has anyone else tried this?!” Wally snuck a few more of the things off a tray and made his way over to the bar to order a drink. He smiled when he saw Percy down a few seats. “Hey! You look good, man.”

As a general rule, Abigail was not a party person. Partially because bumping into other people was inevitable, partially because talking to other people was inevitable, partially because it meant getting all dressed up when she’d much prefer to lounge around in her couch, braless, hair tied up in a bun, wearing an oversized shirt covered in Cheeto dust and with her cat, Shelley, curled up on her lap. Counterpoint: she liked drinking, dancing and eating fancy snacks. So this was kind of a conundrum. In the end, she solved it by giving into peer pressure and going to the friggin’ party. Wearing a full-length light blue gown (with full sleeves and gloves, of course) and with her hair in a neat braid, Abigail was thoroughly enjoying the open bar, ordering the drinks that looked the fanciest and the wackiest. Later, once her legs had rested from the walk over, maybe she’d dance.

Noticing the two children of Hecate that had arrived around him, Percy finished his drink order. “Hey Wally,” he said as he finished ordering a pint of beer, turning to look at Abby and then leaning back and engaging both his friends, “you and Abby definitely know each other right?” he asked with a gentle smile. He’d known both Wally and Abby separately. Both of them were children of Hecate and though he’d spent time in New Rome and Camp Half Blood with them separately, this might’ve been the first time that he’d seen them together. “Is it too early to start really drinking? I’ve been considering when the appropriate time to start doing shots would be.”

While Jason wasn’t the world’s biggest fan of overly formal events, he couldn’t deny that he looked pretty good when he attended them. Anxiously smoothing down the front of his dark gray jacket and adjusting his dark red tie he strode purposefully into the half-finished Senate house, marveling at the beauty of the edifice. As he turned slowly to take in everything around him he caught a familiar bearded face from across the room, and wandered over to his best friend, snagging two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray as he did. “It might be too early for shots. However I think you’re in the clear for some bubbly.” He squeezed Percy’s arm and nodded to the people he was talking to, brushing his hair out of his face. “Evening. You both look lovely.”

While Percy was all fussy about when was the right time to start drinking, Abigail was on her third tequila shot. “Uh. Wally? Never heard of him. Sounds like he got jealous of my nickname, though”, she said, deadpan, before licking off the salt from the back of her hand and downing her shot like a pro. “Evening, Jason. Thank you, I always do. You two look nice, too.” Unable to help herself, she added, teasingly: “For guys, I guess.”

Annabeth had never been one for much dressing up, and she much preferred her shorts and t shirts, but in the spirit of the Unity Feast she was now sporting a long blue gown. Praying to all the gods that she didn’t trip over it somehow in the course of the evening, she headed over to where a cluster of her friends stood. “ Hey, what’d I miss? ”

Wally nodded. “Yes we know each other, sadly.” He smiled at Abigail and thanked the bartender when his drink arrived. “I think we all look pretty sexy, myself included, of course.” When Annabeth came over, he shrugged. “Nothing yet. We’re getting drinks, but it seems Percy is apprehensive. But my guess is: put something blue in front of him and he’ll drink it, no matter what.” Wally took a look around and showed his plate of kind-of-stolen delicacies to the small group. “You guys gotta try these. There is mash potatoes and stuffing mixed in. It’s like . . . I don’t know. It’s the kinda stuff the gods hoard away from us.”

Turning, Percy accepted the glass of champagne off of his best friend and took his place besides Jason. Smiling graciously, he shrugged. “I want to be clear, I’m not the type of person to shy away from a good drink. I definitely don’t think that I’m the type of person to turn down a shot, I was simply musing as to whether or not it was worth considering if there was an appropriate time for shots. Four for shots perhaps?” he smiled gently and looked to Annabeth, winking gently at his friend before taking a sip from his champagne flute as the music filtered through the evening air. The sound of violins singing in the background.

“I never really associated this outfit with pounding shots at the bar,” Jason laughed, straightening his tie and vest, but if we’re lining up at the rail, I’ll do my duty and uphold my collegiate honor.” As Annabeth joined their group he gave her a small wave, sipping from his flute. The entire scene was a little surreal, but he didn’t all together hate it. They had earned this party, with blood sweat and tears and hopefully it would give them all a chance to heal some of the ugly wounds the war had opened. “I hope there are more than canapés at this thing or we’re going to be drunk in a corner in the first five minutes.”

Connor took his time arriving at the party. Sure, he enjoyed them, and all the things that came with parties, such as food and alcohol and pickpocketing, but he just wanted to take it slow tonight. Walking through the crowd, he wore a white button up shirt with floral patterns on, half buttoned down, along with navy pants and matching brown shoes and a belt. Flashing flirty grins at most people he passed, his eyes fell upon his friends at the bar. “I see we’re forming a sub-party over here, is it invite only?” He joked before ordering himself a whiskey and lemonade. “Glad to see we all turned up, everyone looks stunning.” His eyes flickered over everyone before finally landing on his drink. Tonight would have been great, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was terribly missing someone.

Marcus leant against a building on the outside of the square, tapping his ring against his glass. His eyes gently scanned through the crowd making mental notes of everyone he knew. So far, he hadn’t noticed anyone who caught his particular attention, other than a couple of greeks that had started to gather at the bar. Sighing he pushed himself off the wall and moved towards the centre of the square, slipping past people with ease. A smile tugged at the edge of his lips as he spotted his co-centurion and began to move towards her. “Cat, imagine seeing you here.” He joked.

It was strange to think that once upon a time Marcus had been Cat’s subordinate, but now they were partners in leading what was essentially her life’s work. Marcus had been the most suitable choice after Jax had left, however without him here, now, it felt strange. “Marcus,” she drawled, raising a glass of red wine to her equally crimson lips, “a pleasure as always to see you here.” Wearing a sleek black silk dress, Cat reached up and played with the black diamond she wore around her neck. Absently taking everything in. “It has truly turned out well, morale should benefit from the extravagance, don’t you think?”

Brock had been there since before the event started. He offered to act as guard but his higher-ups still felt he was a bit too off balance to be working. They believed it would be better for him to enjoy the event, as if he could. The entire feast, while he was happy to see Romans having a good time, it felt like a joke. Seeing Marcus and Cat, Brock got into stepping. Seeing familiar faces, ones incredibly friendly took a weight off of Brock he hadn’t been aware of before. “Marcus, Cat, how’re you both? You both look nice.” His eyes strayed from Cat but he kept an even smile. Brock had come in a suit lent to him by his friend, tailored of course. A dark green suit with a thin belt around his waist, similar to those of the strings tied around a tunic.

In her defence, Piper hadn’t meant to get so tipsy. She’d only meant to stay for a little while, have a couple of drinks, and then go home. But that wasn’t what happened. She was on her second drink by now, a complete and utter lightweight, swaying in time to the music as she swallowed the sweet taste of cranberry-vodka down her throat. She hadn’t put much effort into her appearance tonight, wearing a tight red dress and pair of heels. She looked great, however, but didn’t feel on her A-game. Nonetheless, she wanted to see everyone. Following after Connor, she said, “Hey, has anyone seen my purse? Pretty — pretty sure I left it somewhere. Don’t know where, but it’s got to be here somewhere.” Even when tipsy, she could talk eloquently.

Eyeing the drinks available, Annabeth was torn between making a conscious decision to stay sober, or throw caution to the wind, because let’s face it, they all deserved a night to get shitfaced after everything that had gone on. “ Cheers to the night? ” She lifted her own glass at the group, raising her eyebrow as Conner and Piper joined them. “ I haven’t, but I could go with you to take a look around if you’d like? ” She offered, noting the slightly slurring girl. There was a voice in the back of her mind telling her that if the beginning of the night was any indication, it might be safer for there to be at least one sober person. God knows what might happen when you mixed a bunch of demigods and legacies who had still unresolved tension and alcohol.

Despite everything that had happened in the last few months, Percy found himself relaxing and enjoying himself. Swallowing a few mouthfuls of champagne, he glanced between Annabeth and Piper wondering whether Piper had even brought a purse with her, “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Percy replied with a smile as he reached for several more glasses of champagne and passed them around the group, ensuring that anyone who didn’t already have a drink was well provided for. “If I can just take a moment, I’d like to toast us all, Roman and Greek alike, we’ve been through so much and we’ve come out stronger. So a toast to the years to come, with all the friends we’ve made along the way.” He raised his glass towards the small group they’d formed by the bar. Completely oblivious of all the people they were blocking from gaining access to said bar, but in that moment they couldn’t care less.

Despite his love for these events, Aidan was nervous with how things would go. If he’d know anyone there, if he’d be dressed well enough. He fidgeted with his outfit in the storefront windows as he made his way down, feeling over the soft pink lace sewn over his creamy white jacket. Matching pants, and rose gold cufflinks. He stared at the lights of the party before entering, putting on his best smile. His anxiety washed away seeing people he knew. “Hope I’m not too late to join in?” He asked, picking up a glass of his own, knowing to be mindful of how much he had, eyeing Cat. Aidan wasn’t about to embarrass himself further. Everything felt surreal. Calm. Okay for the first time and Aidan felt good about the night. About the future a little bit too.

Jason raised his glass as Percy launched into a toast, nodding along to his friend’s words. “Here here. To the friendships we’ve made along the way and to the peace we now work to construct. May they both last an eternity.” He downed his glass and passed it off to a passing waiter before snagging another full one. He was more than his usual amount of awkward; given that this was the first event he’d been to where he didn’t have a title and job to hide behind, but he was bound and determined to make it work. Which meant acknowledging the presence of the bitch in the black dress across the circle from him. “Ms Karavadra.” He half bowed “you look lovely this evening. Hopefully you’ll save a dance for me later, provided your dance card isn’t already full.”

By the time Abigail came back, she was still a little tipsy and her feet -- foot, her foot hurt. She slid delicately onto the stool, propped her elbows up onto the bar. Her cheeks were flushed with the exercise, her hair only slightly out of place. “I missed the toast?” she asked, then ordered a side of French fries, one of her few guilty pleasures. Out the corner of her eye, she saw Karavadra, promptly deciding to ignore her. It had always been obvious how Karavadra felt about the Greeks, so Abigail felt no obligation to go out of her way to be nice.

Honestly, as Cat, Brock and Marcus made their way past the group of merrymakers toasting and loudly talking about shots, food and the food time that they were having. Cat’s emotional mask slid into place as she gave Jason the most beautiful smile that she could muster. “You look positively ravishing yourself, that suit really brings out your eyes.” She smiled kindly at him as she continued gliding past. “I shall endeavour to save you a dance,” she gestured to Marcus and Brock as if to indicate that she was already inundated with potential prospects, “but as I am sure that you can see Mr. Grace, my dance card is filling up fast, so make sure you get in while stocks last.” She gave him one final sickly sweet smile, a mischievous glitter in her eyes as she imagined what disembowelment would be like for him. She hoped painful. His self righteous smug nature was almost sickening.

Cat had a way with people, she knew what to say and how to seem elegant and hide her true feelings. Marcus however, struggled with it despite his natural gift with the mist and his illusion spells. Instead, he opted to simply showing his true emotions, one of disinterest towards the group. He remembered all the Roman legionnaires they had lost through the war, not to mention their legionnaires on every other day too. He might have seemed old fashioned with his ways, but blood must have blood, just, not now. Leaving Cat’s side, he flashed a chaotic smile at Jason and then the others. “You don’t mind if a join you right? You did make a toast to Romans and Greeks alike, that includes me right?” A tone of mischievousness danced in between his words as he placed his empty glass on the table and ordering a new one, purposely leaning over and Greeks in the way.

“Oh, Zeus”, Abigail said under her breath. She didn’t mind the Romans’ company on grounds of them being Romans, but she didn’t like the atmosphere they’d brought with themselves. Growing up in a hostile environment, she could pick up on the slightest of signs of someone getting angry. Her magic probably had something to do with it, too. Always a hater of physical contact, but too stubborn (too fucked up) to display weakness, Abigail didn’t even twitch as Marcus leaned over her to get a new drink. Her plate of fries arrived, and she used a toothpick to stab at them, eyes flicking between Jason and the Romans.

Connor rolled his eyes as Cat showed up. He recalled their previous conversation and couldn’t help but feel a taste of disgust in his mouth. “Piper, I could also help you look for it if you like? I’d rather be anywhere but in the presence of her.” He felt like spitting her name out of his mouth but held himself back. Besides, it honestly wasn’t worth it. “I haven’t seen anyone steal it, perhaps you left it on a table and a waiter picked it up?” Connor had been drinking but he was sober enough to help look for a purse.

Wally turned himself around when Cat showed up. He prayed to his mom that she was passing by. If he never saw her again, he’d be fine. Wally poured back half of his drink and signaled the bartender. This would be more fun, and a lot easier to get through if he was a lot less sober. “Whiskey shot,” he chimed. Wally vaguely heard the daughter of Aphrodite talking about a missing purse. He knew somewhere in his room there was a locator spell, but that was all the way back in his apartment. ‘Sides, Connor’s already offered, he reasoned. Waiting for Z might just be his best option.

Brock grinned at the Greeks and caught the eye of Annabeth and Jason. Even before the war, after the Greeks had shown up, word of Annabeth’s skill in battle came around quickly. He had imagined a few times what it would be like to fight her, what he could learn from her. Jason on the other hand made him feel agitated and annoyed. It was aggravating to see an unfaithful Roman, but Jason wouldn’t allow himself to get too deep into thought on that. There was mystery on both sides and it was easier to just protect the civilians. “Cat, maybe we should go somewhere less rowdy? You wouldn’t want to get anything spilled on that dress.”

It wasn’t like Z to be so terribly late. He had always been the punctual sort, but times were changing and he had a bit of elephant business to take care of before making his way to the festivities. As he slipped past people with faces he knew and treated, he fiddled with the cuffs on his suit jacket. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had the prior inkling to get anything new tailored and his recent surplus of physical activity was making his clothes fit a little snug. It couldn’t be helped. “Oh; excuse me,” he politely exclaimed as he passed by a couple talking privately amongst themselves. His shorter stature easily snaked beyond them, only for him to come to a complete stop when he nearly bumped into Aidan. “Lace? To an event like this? You’re bolder than I thought you’d be.” The tease came easily as he reached over and wrapped his fingertips around a glass on a tray passing by. He eyed the contents warily. The last thing he wanted was alcohol, but this was clear. The squint he gave the glass was almost threatening.

Percy winced internally as the Romans moved over to the side of his group and Marcus made it clear that he was welcoming himself to the proverbial party. Reaching into a small bowl of olives, Percy chewed on a thick green one soaked in chilli oil and made sure that it was crushed into nothingness before he even considered opening his mouth. “Yeah can I get two shots of tequila with lime and salt,” he turned to a Jason whom he knew couldn’t stand Catherine Karavadra, especially after what he considered to be her wrongful arrest of former Praetor Reyna and Frank, “down the hatch bud,” he grimaced as the tequila poured down his throat. The tension in the room was near unbearable as Connor and Cat seemed to glower at one another from across the room. However Percy was determined to ease things off, he knew that the easiest way to do so was probably to break the group up. Turning to Piper and Annabeth, he looked at Jason and grinned. “Ladies?” he asked as Boogie Wonderland began to play in the background, “may we have this dance?”

Cat knew that she was the least popular Roman in miles, and considering the high density population of this square that was truly something to say. The Karavadra family hadn’t done itself any favours by funding and leading the war effort. But Cat knew deep in her stomach that she had done the right thing. She’d been protecting her city, protecting her people. “Yes, I think we should move along Brock, are you coming Marcus?” she asked as she strode away and moved towards Aidan and Z. “I agree, lace was certainly a very bold choice, however I am not convinced that Aidan’s got it in him to be anything less than bold, it has always been a trait that he has possessed.” Despite the fact that he’d previously drunk too much on a mission, she had to admit that the guts which that took was impressive to say the least, she didn’t know many Legionnaires that would survive an ordeal or even risk it.

Piper, ever the eloquent one, grinned at Annabeth, giving her an appreciative glance as she did so. About to accept the offer, she was interrupted by Percy. “I wouldn’t worry about it usually,” she replied. “But I’m pretty sure I left a few important items in - in the bag.” A hiccup sounded, soon followed by another giggle. She was about to say more — perhaps launch into a great speech herself — when Percy beat her to it. Honestly, his way of speaking was much better — and more eloquent — than hers was, so she let it slide, lifting her glass in the air and saying, “Hear, hear!” in response to what he had said. Then, noting Connor at her side, the young demigod latched onto him, curling an arm over his shoulders as she said, “The more help the merrier! I really, really need that bag. Seriously.” She’d already forgotten what she’d put in there, beside a pack of gum, but she was sure it was important. And whoever Connor (and Jason) were trying to avoid, Piper would happily help them do so. However, the thought of her bag was soon forgotten upon Percy’s invitation to dance, and with yet another grin in Jason and Percy’s direction (and with a slight stumble), she said, “I’d love to. Annabeth, what do you say?”

On the surface, this was the time for Greeks and Romans to make up, but as the daughter of a strategy goddess, or even someone with a smidge of common sense, Annabeth knew that things would never be that easy. She nodded in acknowledgement, smiling slightly at the ones who recently arrived, feeling the need to set an example, but it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t wary, especially of Catherine. Grateful for Percy, she silently commended him in her mind, knowing that if they continued here any longer it wouldn’t end up well. “ Don’t yell if I step on anyone’s toes, though. The rest of you want to come? ” She grinned, moving in their direction and extending a hand to steady Piper. The responsible part in her, though, couldn’t help but question Piper again. “ Are you sure you don’t want to go look for your bag first? If there’s important things in it … ”

Frowning at the situation, Percy decided that before any dancing was to be done they would have to discover the whereabouts of the bag. “Has anyone asked some of the staff?” he turned around to the bartender behind the bar and turned to look at Piper. After a hurried conversation, Percy turned to the group. “The bartender says he hasn’t seen it but there is apparently an official lost and found across the way,” he turned and strode off, unsure of which way to go, but he led the way all the same, doing everything that he could to indirectly combat the tension growing between them all. “What colour is your purse?” he asked curiously as the music shifted from Earth Wind and Fire to something a bit more modern that he couldn’t place his finger on.

Connor grinned as Piper placed an arm around him but simply slipped away when she left for a dance. He wasn’t in the mood to dance right now, not after the atmosphere that Cat brought with her. He was about to suggest that he go look for the purse whilst they danced, but then Percy set off on a mission. With a skip and sprint, he caught up to Percy’s side. “I can check the square entrances? Perhaps someone picked it up and dropped it off there. I don’t think it was stolen, and if it was, I could find that out too.” Without waiting for a response, he turned to face the others. “Anyone want to join me?” He then turned and made his way to the entrance that he had come through.

Marcus picked up the drink the bartender had whipped up for him but before he could say anything else, the group seemed to split up and Cat somewhat summoned him to follow her. Sipping his drink he grinned and followed behind Cat, free hand in his pocket. He wasn’t exactly impressed with how Aidan acted during the raiding of the Greek party, but it was amusing. He wasn’t there but he had definitely heard about it. It had been brought up at one of the Centurion meetings so that the Centurion of the 5th could deal with it. “Can you handle your alcohol tonight Aidan?” He said with a teasing smile. He then turned to look over the crowd. Frankly, he was rather bored. “Brock, interested in doing some rounds? I wouldn’t mind reprimanding a few legionnaires that have gotten themselves drunk during the festivitie?”

All the Greeks seemed, suddenly, very concerned with Piper’s bag, and Abigail suspected -- no, she was certain -- that, while their concern was real, they were all the more grateful to get away with the least popular demigod in New Rome. It was a pity that Marcus was so heavily associated with her (at her beck and call, in Abby’s opinion), because, as her mother always said: she was always Hecate. That was why she’d been the least affected by the Roman-Greek split. In her opinion, Marcus and the other children of Trivia were almost as much of her siblings as their Greek counterparts... “See you ‘round, brother”, she said, stabbing another fry with her toothpick. Deciding to help out, Abigail stood. “I’ll come with you, Connor.”

Cat gently watched the majority of the Greeks depart from the large part of the bar that they’d been occupying. “Make sure that you don’t pick on too many of them, I’ve got a nice 10 mile run in full gear for any of our Legionnaires returning to the barracks intoxicated underage, and anyone late for duties will be joining them.” It was a tradition she and Jax had formerly run, and one she intended to continue running in her brother’s absence. She didn’t mind her soldiers enjoying themselves, but they had to always put their duty first. Arriving to duty hungover was unacceptable and it was not something she was willing to tolerate. “But do make sure that our soldier’s are minding their manners. I’d hate for anyone to get upset in such a tense time.”

Aidan’s face flushed and he shrugged. The situation had grown increasingly uncomfortable with Cat and Marcus’ presence, and it felt weird to receive what felt like a compliment from her. “Thank you Z, thank you Cat. And don’t worry, Marcus, I will be watching my intake. I’ve learned that lesson. The rather hard way.” He said remembering how hot and heavy that armor had been the full 10 miles. His muscles ached from the memory. “But maybe go easy on my fellow legionnaires? Gods know we could all use tonight as a break. All work and no play, you know.” He watched as the group split, most people going after his sister’s mysteriously lost purse. He wondered if she’d even brought it. “How’ve you been Z? I haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

There was a lot to unpack at once. Z recalled, during the final declaration in front of the senate, that there was some sort of tension between Cat and Aidan, but the wording tonight from the centurion and also the man following her alluded to something more. The child of Hypnos would’ve given why a bit more thought, only the voices of a few familiar people caused his head to tilt away from those closest to him to garner a glance at the slight commotion. His ears could faintly pick up on them deciding to split up to look for Piper’s purse. He thought it was best to join them, since it would give him a chance to avoid whatever was about to happen before him with the Romans, but their talking drew him back in and his honey eyes snapped back to them quickly. “Never a dull moment for the Legion, I suppose,” he mused over the rim of his glass. Wagering a sip told him it was very much not water and he hated how smoothly the small bit of clear liquor went down without causing him to wince. “I’ve been as alright as I could be. It’s hard not falling victim to the ‘all work and no play’ sort of thing nowadays. I take it that it’s been fairly similar with people on your end as well?” His words were in the addressing of all the parties before him, not simply to Aidan. He didn’t want to be rude, no matter how much his skin crawled and itched at the thought of what sort of snap could possibly come from Cat or the, frankly, curt man with her.

Brock laughed and shrugged, picking his head up to look around at all that was going on. “Sure, though I think Aidan’s right, Marcus, go easy on them tonight. It’s not everyday that we get to go to a feast.” Roman life was hard and as understatements go, that was certainly one of them. But it made their parties, the times when they did relax all the better and everyone was more grateful for it. If he couldn’t relax tonight, on day when everyone was suppose to be thankful for things, maybe his superiors were right and he was too rigid. “Maybe have a drink first, Marcus.”

Wally watched the group of Greeks leave as he stayed at the bar, deciding to wait on Z. It was a few more minutes until he heard the sound of his boyfriends voice. Turning around, he saw him talking to the kid who Wally had looked after children with. He smiled, happy to see that Z was making friends. He looked back and realized his shot had been sitting there, waiting for him. He threw it back and grabbed his other drink, and went to join Z by putting an arm around his waist and saying hello to both him and Aidan. “Nice night for a party. How’re you boys?”

“Definitely.” Aidan replied. “Reconstruction efforts, civilian complaints…” He sighed, shaking his head and grinned. “And children watching. Wally here sure knows his way around the kids.” He greeted the man as he appeared. Aidan felt like gushing over how cute the pair were, but he held himself together for his current superiors. “I’m pretty good, and how are you? Did you get called back to the daycare since last time? I’m sure the kids wondered why you haven’t been back yet.”

Nico was never huge on social gatherings. The whole idea had his anxiety skyrocketing, but given the general atmosphere of New Rome following the full blown war he'd completely missed out on, he figured making an appearance would be a good thing, especially considering his history of attempting to maintain peace between the Romans and the Greeks. He arrived in an all black three piece suit, despite the fact that he absolutely hated dressing up, but a dress code was a dress code. The decor was breathtaking, and the reconstruction seemed to be heading in the right direction. Deciding against immediately seeking out human interaction, he made his way over to the bar and, after a millisecond long internal discussion about just how old he was (sometimes he forgot his exact age, given the fact that he was technically almost a century old), he ordered himself a Guinness and took a few small sips from the glass.

Percy had checked three bars across the square, doing his best to find Piper’s lost property. He had been enjoying the night well enough, and it only improved as he spotted the black three piece suit of Nico di Angelo. Drinking his typical pint of Guinness, Percy wondered if his friend drank Guinness for the aesthetic or whether he genuinely enjoyed the taste. Either way there was something striking about his appearance. “Nico!” Percy beamed, “I was wondering if you would show up.” Turning to the bartender he ordered himself another drink. The waiters that were moving around the room with Champagne seemed to have disappeared for the moment and Percy wanted to try reconnect with his friend, if he possibly could. “Isn’t the party going well?” he asked as the bartender passed him a pint of Blue Moon. Sadly the drink itself wasn’t actually blue, but the name at least made up for it a little bit.

Nico had no intention of moving from his spot at the bar just yet. Social interaction was draining, something he had to work himself towards. He’d blown through a quarter of his Guinness before he made out a familiar face moving through the crowd and towards him, a small smile forming on his lips. “Figured I'd at least make an appearance.” he responded, turning his body toward his friend. “I think so, yeah. Part of me forgets you guys were at each other's throats not too long ago, but then I spotted a couple Legionnaires giving me the stink eye.” he added with a light laugh. “I think things are going in the right direction for the most part, though.”

Percy had to admit that he was pleased to see his friend. Slipping his hand into his jacket pocket, he reassured himself by patting the pen which would transform into Riptide on the inside pocket of his jacket. Sipping at the hoppy larger he’d been given, Percy shrugged. “We were all manipulated into fighting one another, that’s something that’s going to take time to adjust to that,” sighing gently he took another long drink and sat silently. “The tension seems undeniable.” He sighed gently and shrugged. “But these things are the best worked out in social situations with a shit tonne of booze and food, right?”

Connor accepted the company and began checking the entrances. “No luck, this is really strange. I’m sure it’ll show up sometime though. He shrugged and dug his hands into his pockets, slowly heading over to a bar and ordering shots. “I suppose we should reward ourselves for the effort.” He states as 5 shots per person were poured. They were called sours and weren’t potent but 5 of them were surely to get the party going. He took all 5 swiftly and tilted his head back to enjoy the head rush. Spinning, he turned to locate everyone. He noted Percy’s location, watched as Marcus seemed to leave the party and finally his eyes fell on Cat. He stared as anger boiled. He couldn’t believe how stubborn and selfish someone could be. Not offering help to refugees simply because she’s helped the Romans already and was busy rebuilding. Perhaps it was the alcohol crowding his judgement but he spat on the floor and pulled a subtle middle finger at the Roman before turning and ordering his favorite drink. “I hate her.” He said to whomever was still with him after the shots and the purse hunt.

Cat hadn’t seen Connor’s less than subtle attempt at swearing at her. Mainly because as she had been crossing the square, she had noticed a small bag. Squatting down delicately, she scooped it up and returned to her less than lofty heights. Although the heels she wore allowed her to stand above her usual stature. Opening the purse, she flicked through it to find an ID. Piper Mclean. Interesting. Cat hadn’t exactly ever talked to Jason Grace’s former flame, and though she was sure that Piper was as insufferable as the rest of the heroes of the prophecy who had earned their fame through a few lucky quests, unlike her prestigious career through the Legion, leading and fighting for her people as it should be done. She was aware that a purse had been lost, and set out to return it to its owner. They had to at least pretend to play at peace right?

Connor turned and leaned his back against the bar, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes scanned the crowd again. It was a habit of his, searching the crowd for potential targets even if he had no plans of stealing anything. That’s when his eyes landed on Cat yet again. Seeing the purse that clearly did not match her outfit, he squinted and pieced things together. He launched himself off the bar and stormed off towards her. “I see you’ve found a purse, how convenient after Piper’s had just gone missing. I don’t suppose that’s hers is it?” He stood in her path, arms folded across his chest. “If you’re done doing who knows what with her belongings, I’ll return it to her thanks.” He held his hand out for her to hand the purse over.

Cat had no intention of speaking to impudent Greek that was angrily crossing the square across from her. However it soon became clear to her that Connor had every intention of speaking to her. Not even bothering to suppress the roll of her eyes she tutted at him. “Are you always this arrogant and rude?” she asked with a sneer quickly dancing across her face before she composed herself. “For your information, I only just picked this up, unlike you children of Hermes I have no intention or desire to steal. If I wanted this purse then I’d simply purchase it. However as this is hardly my sort of taste,” she looked somewhat disdainfully at the purse and frowned gently, “now if you’ll excuse me then I shall return this myself, I don’t need your interference, please step aside and next time remember who you’re speaking to. I’m not one of your cabin mates from Camp Half Blood. I’m a centurion of the twelfth Legion, I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“Actually, yeah I am.” Connor spat. “Especially to people that have given me a clear reason for me to be rude to them.” He spoke with confidence and met her gaze. “It’s not the purse you wanted, it was the information. Like you said, you’re a Centurion of the twelfth Legion, it’s your job to collect information on people who could be a threat, maybe you’re just collecting knowledge of the Greeks so that next time you declare war against us, you’ll have a better fighting chance.” He laughed dryly. “Yeah, so you get your henchmen to do everything else for you, but this you’d like to do yourself? To paint yourself as a hero when you stole it in the first place? That’s the thing with Hermes kids like myself, we don’t just steal things, we know other criminals moves as well.”

Laughing quietly and mirthlessly at Connor, Cat actually had to place a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from really shrieking with laughter. “Ah, you’re truly a fool, I am more committed to the peace process than any of us, if you don’t remember it was my orders that had the senators taken into custody.” She would’ve liked to say that she hadn’t collected information on what she considered to the main strengths and weaknesses of all of the most powerful demigods who could be seen as a threat to her or to the Cult. “However, just because you’ve developed a vendetta against me and my people, like so many of your people is not of interest to me. I have nothing to benefit from painting myself as the hero over something so petty. You’re drunk and making a fool of yourself. Now I’ll ask you one more time step away from me and allow me to continue on my path. This is none of your concern. Go back to your drinks.”

“Connor.” Abigail said, resting her hand over his chest to stop him from possibly advancing over Cat. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm, commanding respect. In another life, she would’ve made a good commander. “Stop. It’s not worth it to pick a fight. Actually, it’s downright a bad idea. Peace is fragile right now. Don’t. Blow it.”

Past experiences had trained Annabeth to sense trouble brewing pretty quickly, though she was too far away to stop the confrontation between Connor and Catherine. She’d never been much of a peacekeeper herself, one much more likely to fall victim to her own pride, but even then her analytical mind knew that de-escalation would be the correct path here. Noting that there was already someone attempting to hold Connor back, she caught his eye for a moment, hand slightly tapping his back as she passed, hoping that he would take the hint to back down. Instead, she turned her attention to Cat, smile on her face. “ Thanks for finding it, but Piper’s a little tipsy at the moment, and would probably end up losing it again if you gave it to her now. We’ll take care of it for now, but I’ll let her know that you found it. ”

Raising an eyebrow at the situation, Cat dipped her head gently and nodded. Handing the purse gently and carefully over to Annabeth before taking a step away. She had no intention to further the conflict with Connor, she wasn’t nearly childish enough to do so, perhaps that wasn’t entirely true but she had airs to keep up. Her professionalism was meant to be the core of her personality. “Hopefully she doesn’t lose it again,” she turned and strode away, moving towards Marcus with a slight smirk. That had been somewhat satisfying.

The Legionnaires had a lot on their plates, but this was certainly not a concept localized for just them. Z couldn’t quantify the amount of work the Greeks were also busy with. His own workload was enough to make him dizzy sometimes. “That does seem like quite a bit—Oh!” he gasped out softly as an arm snaked around his form. He looked over, and then subsequently upward, to see his boyfriend’s face, and his heart skipped a beat. Thank the gods it wasn’t someone random. “Aidan was the one you were working with at the daycare? What a coincidence. We met while I was keeping some children company in a game of hide and seek.” The universe worked in mysterious ways, it seemed. It was basically fate that they meet, just as it seemed to be fate that some sort of loud conversation broke out at an event for peace. As short as he was, he couldn’t quite see over the heads of other partygoers, but he did catch the faintest of sights of Connor and what sounded to be Cat’s voice as well over the cacophony of others. A frown graced his face as he fiddled with the glass between his hands.

Aidan sighed, thinking about how cute Wally and Z were, wishing he too would someday find something like they had. Or at least had thought to bring a date to dance with. It felt like a middle school dance, as tensions kept most the groups to the bar and food areas. Chatting quietly. At least it was passive until he heard the commotion, and felt a vague sense of dejavú watching Connor drunkenly yell at Cat. He just felt glad it wasn’t himself, not having even finished the glass in hand. Aidan downed it and trying to keep a smile on his face as he began to feel suffocated from the ensuing silence cleared his throat. “Brock- would you uh, would you care to dance?” He asked, trying to change the subject. “I love the-the cha cha slide, everyone… knows it…” He trailed off, hoping someone would jump to his aid. Surely he wasn’t the only uncomfortable one.

The Dominus has watched eagerly as the party had progressed. Tension burning bright after all the chaos they’d caused for them lingered in the back of their minds. Placing their empty palm on a sphere of crystal they stepped forward and cleared their throat before exerting their will on the magical artefact in their possession. Across the city, in the unity feast a shimmering apparition appeared before darkening into a silhouette made of pure shadow. With a voice like nails being dragged across slate, the Dominus began their first address. “Demigods. I hope you have enjoyed tonight’s festivities as it may be one of your last.” They pause for dramatic effect, drinking in the silence that had fallen on the crowd. “I appear before you tonight with some information for all if you. An omen, a warning. By now, you are aware that there is a cult that has burrowed and wormed its way into the city’s roots and corrupted almost every aspect of this society. The members of this cult are among us as I speak, yet in the shadows, they hide. The cult is one of the most powerful forces in New Rome, and it obeys my bidding now. I have poisoned this city, and used the cult to do so. Watch in despair as your hopes rot away, leaving nothing behind, you are witnesses of the end of New Rome. Your city will soon collapse in terror and despair. You may be asking yourself who I am, well that’s easy. I, am simply known, as the Dominus. A name that will be on your tongues as you die in the rubble of this fallen city. Enjoy tonight, as soon the time of reckoning will be upon you.” The Dominus stepped away from his artefact and the vision cut off, a moment later the unity feast exploded into a chaotic roar of questions and shouts, confusion and concern enveloping the whole group.

#f&gevent #unity feast

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waywardimpalawriter · 7 years

Text

Memory Lane

Memory lane

Summary: Life is full of memories.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel,

Setting: anytime

Rating: PG:13

Warnings: none just sugary sweet fluff

Word count: 3,103

Notes: Written for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog #mimi's romcom fluff challenge. My prompt: Besides you claimed it was a matter of life and death.

Forever: @winters-buck @angryschnauzer @marvel-lucy @aquabrie @fandommaniacx @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @supernaturallymarvellous @feelmyroarrrr

Supernatural: @smoothdogsgirl @ruprecht0420 @oneshoeshort @aprofoundbondwithdean

Memory lane tags: @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @bradygabrielle-blog @chennyetomlinson

Stretching, working the kinks out in your back feeling nothing beside you but cool sheets. Eyes open to find what you guess you’re alone in bed with just a note on his pillow. Curious picking up the crisp white folded in half paper, seeing Dean's surprisingly neat handwriting.

Wildflower

Remember the first time I called you that? What were we 10 no 12, you’d made one of those flower things for your hair. Made one for me to if memory serves but I think I laughed calling it too girly and tossed it in the dirt. Had more important things back then, than some silly flower crown. If only I knew back then what I knew now baby girl. I bet your wondering why I’m bringing this up, in all do time Wildflower. For now I want you to shower, dress and come to the kitchen.

Dean…

“What do you have up your sleeve Dean Winchester,” a smile and shake of your head at his antics but you comply anyway.

The shower felt so nice lonely without him but the pressure made up for Dean’s absents nicely. Coming back to your room puzzled as to why the door is half open. You tip toe towards it pushing slowly to see the most beautiful butter yellow sundress you’d ever seen laying spread on the bed. Fingering the delicate white lace bra in the style you normally buy for special occasions which truthfully had become few and far between. You can’t even remember the last time you and Dean went out on an actual date that didn’t get ruined by a case. All in the name of protecting humanity from the supernatural and beings that most they would rather choice to ignore.

Seeing another little note that simply said ‘wear me’ placed between the dress and panties/bra set. Beginning to wonder if a pod person hadn’t abducted your boyfriend like the fairies had all those years ago. A soft chuckle, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room, memoires flowed through your mind while staring at the magnificent pieces you hoped hadn’t cost a fortune.

Tossing the scrap of paper away only to pick it back up when you see something written on the other side. This time a full belly laugh leaves your lips, ‘don’t worry about the cost your worth it’. Instead it became a memento tucked away in your own, very worn and dearly loved journal.

Soft smile on your lips while getting dressed which takes you almost no time, applying a light bit of makeup, grabbing your purse on the way out heading for the kitchen. Delicious smells of pancakes, bacon and eggs meeting you’re growling tummy even before entering the kitchen. Fresh brewed coffee mixed in with but no sign of your wayward boyfriend only Sam.

Puzzled, “What’s going on Sam, where’s Dean?”

“Busy with something Y/N he wanted me to make sure you had a good breakfast first before giving you the next clue,” Sam answered arm out indicating the table. Which is laden with all the mouthwatering foods you smelled and even a few, the fresh fruits and juices, you hadn’t.

Glancing from the table back to Sam, “I don’t understand it’s not my birthday or our anniversary. What’d Dean do?” arms crossed not making a move towards the table no matter how much your stomach begs.

Chuckling shaking his shaggy brown head, “He’s done nothing Y/N scouts honor.”

“You were never a scout Sam so you can’t use that,” you relent slipping into a seat and piling your plate high with a little bit of everything. Watching as Sam sat down opposite you digging in to his own plate. “So what’s this really about?” suspicious to Dean’s true motives.

“It almost sounds like you don’t trust Dean?” brow lifted though there’s a smirk on his syrup coated lips. Grinning he adds, “Just eat I’ll explain everything after.”

Wanting to ask more though you knew from experience Sam wouldn’t give anything up, he wasn’t as easy to persuade as Dean. Therefore you did as he said tucking into your breakfast muttering a string of praises to whoever cooked.

“I’ll have to let Dean know you approved.”

Glancing up from your plate, “Where is he anyway I could tell him myself.”

Pulling another white piece of paper from his back pocket and handing it to you, “That’s all I have to say Y/N.”

Narrowing your eyes at him though taking the note opening; seeing that once again Dean has left you another clue, hint for what you’re not sure.

Wildflower

By now you’re wondering just what I have up my sleeve aren’t my little Sherlock? Don’t lie I know you all too well sweetheart. Just trust me when I say you’ll love what’s to come. As to the clue, remember where we met, how we met it’s a long drive I know that’s why I enlisted a little help from our pal. Look over Y/N…

Dean

Doing as the letter instructed a rustle of wings and a trench coat filled the tiny kitchen, Castiel appearing with a soft genuine smile on his slightly pink lips.

“Morning Y/N I trust you slept well?” he greeted with a little tip of his head in your direction, “Sam good to see you as always.”

“Cas,” he acknowledged with his own half smile. Holding out the plate of bacon, “Want a little something before y’all leave?”

“Thank you no Sam I don’t eat remember,” Castiel replied waving him off looking to you.

“Where exactly are we going?” voice a little weary though you’ve always trusted Cas.

Extending his hand, “You shall see Y/N, Dean has this all set up and we must be going.”

Accepting his surprisingly callused hand, you raise and step into his embrace, eyes close not really enjoying this mode of transportation much.

“Be safe you two and bring her back in one piece Cas,” mirth in his voice watching as your eyes pop open to glare at him.

“You ain’t funny Winchester,” managing to get out before the kitchen disappeared and your standing now in the school yard in small town Ohio.

Stepping away to look around, “Some things just never change,” you whisper walking towards the swings and sitting down.

“So this is where you met Dean?” he asks taking the swing next to yours.

Nodding, “Yeah my parents were on the same hunt his dad was. They teamed up to lay waste to a nest of vamps. Myself, Sam and Dean stayed here went to school and tried to live what we could of a normal life. Course I didn’t know they knew what our parents did.”

Curious, “Mind telling me the story?”

Smiling memories filling your mind, you point to the slide not far from where your slowly swaying, breeze fluttering around them. “I’d always been a tomboy growing up, mom teaching me how to shoot and handle myself from early on. As I said I knew of Dean, new kid in the same year I was fifth grade if I remember right. It’d been a cold afternoon class just got out and I always came over here to just chill out for a bit. Didn’t have any friends.”

“Why not, you’re a very likeable person Y/N?”

“Thank you Cas,” smiling looking over at him, “but back then being the new kid in school wasn’t fun, especially for an odd ball like myself. Ratty old cloths a size to big, long hair always in a french braid my mother would do for me. As it so happens the Winchesters were new to and the school yard bully likes picking on fresh meat as he’d say. I heard the picking and crowd that grew around the two boys. Well dad always taught me to stand up for the little guy and when I saw this bigger kid picking on little Sammy I couldn’t let this happen.”

Chuckling, looking down at the skirt move with the wind as you swung slowly gathering your thoughts. “I stepped in punching the other kid in the nose using the technique mom taught me so I didn’t break my fingers or thumb. The crowd backed up a little afraid of me by this point as I stood in front of Sam who’s on the ground skinned knee, tears on his cheeks. Not five minutes later Dean came pushing through seeing what happened and even then having that patent eye brow raise he uses.”

“Ah yes the one where he’s intrigued and trying not to smirk at the same time,” Castiel states a fond smile on his own lips.

“Yes that one,” clearing your throat, “anyway I helped him bring Sam back to the motel and get patched up. Not really saying much to each other till Sam thanked me quietly and went off to watch TV. I went to leave and Dean, against his dad’s wishes asked me to stick around. We traded stories quietly as Sam had fallen asleep finding out that our parents were in the same business.”

“How long was it till you saw each other after that?

Glancing over, “Couple of months by that time my dad had gotten his self-killed fighting a banshee that mom would later take care of. John asked us to tag along and at first mom didn’t want to rather having us go our separate ways. But she finally relented and we joined up with the Winchesters for quite a many hunting trips; sometimes going our different directions when there were more cases than people.”

“As Dean instructed me,” Castiel hands over another crisp fold white piece of paper.

Head tipped, “So you hadn’t really…”

“I did, originally Dean only wanted me to bring you here so you could look around and read that letter then we’d leave. I wanted to know more about your history together.”

“That’s very sweet of you Cas,” unfolding to see Dean’s neat handwriting not hearing Castiel get up and walk for a few paces to give you privacy.

Wildflower

I never thanked you for standing up for my brother that day. Being there when I couldn’t; even before we knew each other you watched out for my ass like you always do. Held me up after Sam’s almost death, when I got back from hell, and through the fucking apocalypse; bringing me back from myself and the brink, always showing no kicking my ass when I needed it. I owe you so much more than I can ever repay sweetheart you are my life. Ah crap this is sounding like a chick flick moment so I’m ending here. Next stop you have to guess at sweetheart.

Dean

Racking your brain for where Dean could’ve put the next note, there’s so many places you’ve been together. Many important times in your lives though a few stick out more than others.

“Hey Cas would you mind taking me to Harvelle’s?” an idea popping into your head as to your next destination.

“Of course Y/N but you know the roadhouse is gone right?” he states matter of fact a frown on his handsome face.

Nodding, “I do indeed Cas but there’s a reason I need to go there next.”

With a tip of his head and extended hand which you take and step into his arms the two of you are whisked away. Landing the sight of charred remains, grass growing through the black crumbling building. Swallowing hard stepping the white folded paper sticking out from the black that you pull off and hold close. Same hand fondly touched the burned wood, so many memories in one little place.

“How did you know?”

Turning, “My mother and I came here so many times, Jo and I were good friends though she was a bit jealous of the fact that Dean chose me over her. We made amends before she died,” taking a deep breath to steady yourself as not all the memories of this place are good. “Ellen and my mother were best of friends to though Ellen never understood why my mom kept fighting after my dad died. She didn’t understand the drive to protect and rid the world of evil so humans could be safe.”

Stepping away, “Plus this is the first place Dean and I went on an actually date. It was after a simple salt and burn Sam got sick with the flu so he stayed behind at the motel while Dean and I took care of the ghost. Even dirt covered and smelly he asked me out on our first date. Ellen hadn’t been too thrilled with how we showed up. She let us use her guest room to clean up and more presentable. Good thing we always carry extra clothes in the back of Baby.”

Fond smile slides over your lips as you finger the white piece of paper in your hands finally opening to read what Dean has put this time.

Wildflower

I’m betting your standing in front of the Roadhouse remembering good time right now. I can still hear Ash’s snores from the pool table that one night we got there so late most everyone else was gone. But you wanted to see Jo and Ellen since we’d been so close. I also remember our first date, how even covered it dirt from digging a grave you looked so beautiful. To this day I still can’t figure out why the hell you ever said yes to an asshole like me. Don’t roll your eyes sweetheart they’ll stay like that. Last stop can you guess where?

Dean

This time it’s a two for and a little harder to pin point than all the others. You don’t even have to ask when Castiel took your arm and brought you into the circle of his arms. A rustle of wings and trench coat and you’re in the middle of a corn field Baby sitting off to the side which makes you frown in wonder how…

“You were in on this weren’t you like Sam. You know what Dean has planned all along don’t you Cas?” tone light but firm wanting to know but at the same time this trip down memory lane has been charming though confusing to.

Smiling, “I cannot say anything to what Dean has planned he just asked me to transport you around as most of the places would be too far for you to get to and back in time.”

Scowling, fixing to give him what for only to find him gone when you turn around. Left thankfully not far from the Bunker. Curiosity has you moving towards the driver’s side finding the doors unlocked, before you can slip in a color catching your eyes. A bundle of carnations lay in the seat, soft yellow in color, another note attached. Picking up the bouquet and inhaling the fragrance you slide into Baby’s drive seat opening the note.

Wildflower

That night what four years ago one of the best I’d ever had. The moment I told you I loved you and meant every word and will always. You’ve made me a better man Y/N, kept me alive and taught me the meaning of life without knowing you had. You are my life Y/N and this; this is the only way I can tell you and be able to get out without cracking some kind of joke or inappropriate comment that’ll get me slapped. I love you Y/N.

Dean

Tears gather in your eyes, a few slipping down your cheeks at his sweet words. Jumping at the sound of your cell going off, you pull it from the small bag you brought with. “I was wondering when you’d call,” voice light and teasing, putting the bouquet beside you on the seat.

“Baby I hate to cut our day short but you need to get back to the Bunker we have a case,” his voice sounding off like he’s holding something back.

“Already I was hoping that today was our off day,” a playful pout in the cadence of your tone even as you start Baby and putting her into gear heading back towards the Bunker.

Sighing, “I know sweetheart I did to but you know evil don’t rest for no man nor will it stop. It’s a bad one sweetheart we gotta hurry, life or death things are happening.”

“I’ll be there in a little bit Dean, hold your ass baby,” flooring it and kicking up a cloud of dust on your way out.

Fifteen minutes later, pulling Baby into her spot in the underground garage, getting out, grabbing your flowers and making your way upstairs, you’re surprised to see a path of flower petals. Following them towards the library where Dean’s standing dressed in his FBI dubs a single red carnation in his hand.

“What,” stepping forward eyes taking him in, “what’s going on Dean?”

“Surprise,” he smiles dropping to a knee before you sea green eyes sparkling in the low light.

Glairing but your heart is beating so fast inside your chest, “I rushed to get here thinking… because you said and made it sound horrible.” Shaking your head, “Besides you claimed it was a matter of life and death.”

“Well actually it kinda is, my life or death,” he swallows pulling a little velvet box from his pocket.

Gasping, “Dean, what, what’s going on?”

“I had this whole long spiel planned to say, to talk you into saying yes to my proposal. I want you to marry me Y/N be my forever?” hands shaking while opening the box showing you the small garnet ring with a silver band.

Looking from the ring to Dean and back again, nodding slowly tears slipping down your cheeks again, as you drop down to your knees before him. Taking his face in your hands, kissing him softly, “Yes my love, yes I’ll marry you.”

Big smile breaking out over his features, capturing your lips in a deep passionate kiss; resting your foreheads together, “Yes Wildflower is that a yes baby?

“Yes Dean it’s a yes,” you laugh kissing him again the two of you falling over onto the cold floor.

Shaking his head, “Really you two get a room” Sam comments though there’s a big smile on his lips. “Welcome officially to the family Y/N.”

Looking from Sam’s retreating back to Dean, “So no case?”

“No case sweetheart,” he grins getting up then scooping you up into his arms. “And for the next few days you’re all mine.”

Laughter echo’s down the hall as Dean rushes the two of you towards your shared room.

#mimi's romcom fluff challenge #Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x You #Dean Winchester x Y/N #Dean x Reader #Dean x you #Dean x y/n #Dean Winchester fiction #Supernatural fiction

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years

Text

The Saga Begins (And She Doesn’t Stop)

Chapters: 44/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: None Relationships: Loki x Reader (Someday) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Loki Is Really Starting To Lean Into Those Fantasies, You Really Want To Attend An Avengers Party, No Ulterior Motives, None at all, Phil 2 Will Not Start Singing Anytime Soon I Promise, Summary: You gain a new teacher, Loki gains a new anxiety.

Loki held your hand in one of his, the other on the small of your back, steadying you as you walked slowly across the room. Standing no longer made you as dizzy, but if you moved to fast, your head still spun, and Loki was not willing to let you fall again.

He hadn't really wanted to allow you out of your chair yet, but you had heard that Thor was throwing a bash for his friends, and there was no way you were being consigned to your room, or stuck in a chair, while there was an entire Avengers party going on.

You definitely didn't want any of them seeing you like this. You still checked in once a week, and each one you talked to-Captain America, Falcon, a young lady with an accent you couldn't place and who didn't bother to introduce herself, even Doctor Banner once-they all held your situation in negative regard. There were plenty of questions about your treatment and your captor. Nobody had a gentle word for Loki. The kindest had been Banner who had told you Loki was a 'bag of cats', but had bid you luck in 'finding the kitten'.

You couldn't let them know an Asgardian had injured you. Who knew how they might take it?

So you walked until you simply couldn't anymore, and Loki had led you back to your chair, showering you with gentle praises for your strength and perseverance.

Today he had magicked you into more modest clothing, the kind you had started considering 'normal'. A deep, blue-green dress, hemmed with ribbon woven with black and yellow chevrons. Tan apron overdress, embroidered with horned snakes and the phases of the moon. Warm, soft felt trousers underneath, comfortable padded slippers. The domed brooches on your shoulder straps were fancy today, with curling dragon patterns, and strings of gold and pearl beads to hang your little trinkets from.

You'd found out from Saldis during one of your baths, that the clothes you wore were Asgardian versions of attire once found on Earth. The clothiers who worked in the palace had only very old book illustrations to go off of, and did not know that humans didn't wear these things anymore; Asgardian fashion moved and changed far slower than Earth fashion did. They'd been trying to make you clothes that would help you feel comfortable, as a guest of the king.

That was actually pretty thoughtful of them, you thought. And you'd told Saldis that the humans out in the believer's camp wore dresses like this, or at least some of them did. It was a process known as reconstruction, where modern humans tried to bring parts of the ways of humans from generations past into their own lives. Some did it in little ways, like learning an ancient language, and reading texts those people left behind, if any. Some did it in big ways, like trying to live entirely like they did. Others participated in reenactment, where they lived, dressed, and acted as people from times past, but only for a little while every week or month, then went back to their regular jobs and homes.

“So it's not all that unusual for me to wear clothes like that, I guess, since the last humans who interacted with Asgardians in any numbers were all wearing them. And the people out in the camp are probably trying to get in touch with the thoughts and feelings of those people.”

“Can you tell me about them?” Saldis had asked you. “I never get close enough to the gates to see them, and obviously, they aren't allowed in.”

“Well, I was only out there for a short time, but they aren't all that different from me.” You said. “They come from different countries, and they feel a connection to the Aesir. Some of them worship them, some of them came to study, I'm pretty sure. Some probably came just to be a part of all this.”

“All this?”

You gestured around you. “A whole new alien species, now permanently residing on Earth. We're a really isolated species, you know? We didn't know for sure there were other people out there until, like seven years ago. And we haven't shared the planet with another intelligent species for tens of thousands of years at least, and that was just another species of human.”

“There were more than one kind of human?” Saldis exclaimed excitedly, prompting you to explain the human family tree to the best of your ability. She left vowing to find more books on the subject.

When you had been dressed and finished with your exercises, Loki wheeled you out into the palace complex, Andsvarr following close behind.

“Since we cannot practice magic or self-defense today, I will be leaving you in the library with a new teacher.” He informed you. “She has a 'Seidkona Express' curriculum laid out for you, or so she tells me.”

Once in the library, he took you to a smaller room that held even more library. The books here looked especially old and important. Some were made of metal, their covers crusted in gems and pearls, some were scrolls inside climate controlled cases, and some were no more than clay or stone tablets. There were even a few staves of weathered wood, carved all over with foreign symbols.

Obviously, you would be keeping your hands and feet inside your ride the whole time. There was no way you were allowed to touch anything in here. Some of these things might be older than the entire human race.

What a thing to realize: that there might have been some people writing epics, even before yours had figured out how to bash two rocks together.

There were a handful of ladies in the Special Library, all beautiful, dressed and coiffed very similarly to the unfinished murals of the Queen. They were all very friendly with Loki, and somewhat less reverent than most of the other palace workers.

You couldn't help but to side-eye him a little. Loki didn't seem like a philanderer, but that didn't mean that he had no history, and it definitely didn't mean that he didn't get around at least a little.

To think that one of these ladies-or more!-could be a former flame...or even potentially a current one...It made you feel strangely bitter. You held it back from showing though, after all, it wasn't like it was any of these ladies' fault that you'd gotten spoiled by being the sole recipient of all of his attention for all these months.

At least, you thought you were. But there were times when the two of you were apart, and who knew what he was up to then?

It was none of your business.

“Oh, you've finally brought her!” One of them exclaimed in perfect American English, startling you. She didn't even speak with the vague accent Loki and the King used when speaking; it was like hearing one of your old neighbors. She even had the very slight Midwestern drawl you were used to.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, dear! Loki has kept you away for way too long, especially for a new Seidkona trainee! My, it's been ages since we had one. My name is Saga, and I am going to be teaching you about the history of Asgardian law for the next little while.”

“Saga is an Aesir.” Loki explained. “All of them are, actually. These ladies all used to be my mother's handmaidens, and are an elite force of stored knowledge. They will be able to teach you all of the things-”

“-That he hasn't got the patience for.” Saga finished. Loki pursed his lips in slight annoyance.

“She also will not hesitate to sass anyone who crosses her path.”

“I like her already.” You proclaimed.

“Of course you do.” He grumbled, but patted you softly on the shoulder before leaving you there.

“Now,” Saga began. “I have several translated manuscripts of law declarations made by our kings. Let's read and discuss the history and reasons behind them, starting with Allfather Buri's Declaration of Sovereignty Over Nornheim...”

*****

Loki arranged foodstuffs on a platter: dark bread, a pot of jam, cold sliced lamb, and a cup of skyr. You would be in lessons for several hours at least and, knowing Saga, potentially quite a bit longer than that. You would need something to eat, and it would be a good excuse to check in on you.

And to make sure Saga was teaching you to be as subversive as a good Seidkona should be.

Buridag would be coming soon enough, and he could not wait to pin the cloak of office to your shoulders. A powerful message would be sent that day, many centuries of tradition would be broken. But it needed to happen, and if something needed to be broken, he was the ideal candidate. Things would change, even if he had to shove them through with a battering ram.

And you, so important, so central to it all...and he didn't think you really understood how vital you were. You still had a shy streak, a deep down belief in the bedrock of your being that you were somehow not worthy of what was happening to you...Well. Loki understood that feeling implicitly, but he did not know how to alleviate it in you. Loki had been through every possible stage of life and death, but relating to the feelings of others was still sometimes difficult for him.

He felt as though he could not court you properly, though, until you had removed that self doubt, and accepted your worth. If there was anything he could do to help, he would, without hesitation.

He also felt that it was becoming important for him to get to the bottom of the strange, quasi-real dreams you were sharing. It seemed to him that they were becoming more frequent. It seemed also, that something that should be within his grasp was being purposefully kept out of it, which was frustrating. There were many clues before him, and he either was not seeing them, or he was not connecting them.

He knew he was close, dancing right on the edge, which frustrated him all the more.

“My prince.” An errand runner approached him, breaking his train of thought. “There is a Midgardian man at the north gate who says he has come from Reykjavik. He says he is with Íslandspóstur, and that he has a package for your Seidkona. Well, he did not call her that, but that is who he meant, my prince.”

“Is that so?” Loki asked suspiciously. “She is not available. I shall see to it. Andsvarr, please take this tray to the library. I shall be away for a short time.”

He dismissed the errand runner and stalked through the half finished streets all the way to the north gate. The person waiting there was certainly dressed as a postman, in his red and black, although that was not a difficult uniform to procure. He waited anxiously, being heckled by a group of nearby protesters. When he noticed that it was Loki coming to greet him, his anxiety seemed to skyrocket; he couldn't wait to be rid of the package-a large, light, very taped up box, signed by Tara Miller, your irritating friend.

Loki took the package and let the postman escape with haste. They would have checked it for dangerous things, such as explosives or venomous animals, but he was going to check it again, in the safety of his chambers.

He took a different route back, stumbling across a road crew whose work had ground to a halt.

“Is there a problem here?” He asked, as the supervisor rushed up to him with relief washing over his face.

“Your Highness! Perhaps you can put to rest a disagreement we are having, if it does not waste too much of your time.”

“There is little of more importance to a city than it's roads.” Loki said. “Tell me of your problem.”

“It's this bloody great stone.” The supervisor pointed to a large boulder, jutting out of the dirt. “Those Midgardian fellows are very odd about their rocks and hills; they refuse to muck about with them, and they don't even break them or build over them. They advise us not to either, but this one is right in the middle of the road.

Now, I know we're not Midgardian,” He continued. “But I want to stay on their good side, since they're trying to help us out. So we're having a bit of a debate as to whether we should just smash the thing and incorporate the rubble into the road, and leave the Midgardians none the wiser, or if we should respect their superstitions and try to move the thing whole, out of the city, or into some courtyard somewhere.”

“I see. I suppose there is nothing wrong with not wanting to offend our allies. If you can move it, do so.”

“Thank you your Highness.” The supervisor said, turning back to his crew. “You heard him! No more debating now, we dig it out and move it!”

The workers approached the stone with shovels and levers, Loki leaving them to their job. Funny, the things that seemed to require a Royal Opinion.

Far down the road, almost out of earshot, Loki heard the crack of breaking stone, and rolled his eyes. At least they had tried.

*****

Loki set the large box down on the sheepskin rug, in front of the fireplace. Knife in hand, ready to throw the entire thing into the flames if he had to, he slit the heavy wrapping of tape, and peered inside.

Loki was not inclined to feel guilt over going through someone's mail, especially not where your safety was concerned. Just because it was signed by your friend, did not mean that it really came from her.

There was a bright green, stuffed...creature, that did not resemble any earthly creature he knew of, which he checked for hidden dangers. It proved to be free of needles or poisons, or secret compartments, so he set it on the 'safe' side. There were several packets of snacks, which he set on the 'unsafe' side, to be sent to Bjarkhild for checking. There were several books, which he checked for hidden razors or pins, and of course, more poison. A tiny USB labeled “Music”. A knitted throw blanket. A few of what must have been your favorite articles of clothing and jewelry, all of it ratty and cheap.

Within another box was a very carefully wrapped leaf, large and variegated, its thick stem enclosed withing a vial of water. New roots were already growing. It was labeled “Phil 2: Electric Boogaloo”, a reference he did not understand, though he did remember you speaking of a cherished houseplant you had named Phil. This must be its offspring, a way to circumvent the extreme difficulty of shipping an entire live plant of the size you had indicated.

Beneath it all was a collection of papers, mostly keepsakes from the places you had visited with Tara, as well as a diploma from some place known as a 'High School'. Odd. You had told him that you had not been able to receive higher education, yet here was proof that you had not just attended, but graduated from a High School. Maybe there was a school that was even higher than that. A Greater or Grand School, perhaps.

Beneath that, were the calendars. THE Calendars. Tara had sent you all three, including the newest one. Loki hadn't even known it was available yet. There were still months to go before the Midgardian year ended.

Ugh. The calendars. How humiliating. He flipped the new one open, finding his picture on the month of November. How they had joked and teased each other, so friendly even though they were debasing themselves for money.

They had wanted him to put oil on his skin! He'd refused of course. If they wanted to glisten like sweaty, filthy, slime farmers, that was their prerogative; if he absolutely had to show skin like a trollop, then he wasn't going to do it like a common one.

They had eventually relented...then they had stuffed him into prisoner's clothes, opened them to the waist, tousled his hair, and handcuffed him to the prison bars! Everyone had had something scathing to say, some sly, insulting jest at his expense, their jeers bouncing off the walls.

After the photographers had gotten their shot, he'd snapped the cuffs with barely any effort, and had to be persuaded by his brother not to wreck the place.

He doubted he would be invited back for next year. He doubted he would want to go. But just imagine if there was a demand for it? A clamoring for pictures of Loki, outstripping even the desire for photos of the Noble Captain? The Playboy Philanthropist? Even his illustrious brother?

Did human women in fact, like a 'bad boy'?

Probably not.

Did you?

Definitely not, given the scoldings you had rained down on him.

But maybe...maybe if you came across him, in this particular situation; chained, unbuttoned, ostensibly helpless...what would you do? Would you help him out? Or would you 'help him out'?

He picked up one of the older calendars, idly flipping through as he floated on the thought of your sweet hands on his skin, right up until he noticed that for the months where Captain America was the feature, you had marked out all the days with hearts instead of crosses.

His heart sank in his chest, the reverie entirely broken.

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)

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wreathedinscales · 7 years

Link

Basically, Jessica gets an abortion and Matt’s there for her. Also there’s mentions of Defenders OT4, which is somehow @prouvairablehulk‘s fault even though we’ve never discussed them

Trying a new thing! This story’s also under the cut.

She goes to Matt because the bastard probably knows. He's weird like that.

He knows she's following him. She knows he knows she's following him. But aside from a side look―as much a side look as Matt Murdock can give―he doesn't say anything.

He definitely knows.

When they reach his building, he holds the door for her. She grunts when she passes him, since he won't see her nod. (Maybe he'd hear the wind or something if she did, though. 'Cause he's weird.)

"So," he says when they're inside, "to what do I owe the pleasure, Jessica?"

Without really meaning to, Jessica crosses her arms and curls her shoulders in. Bending around her stomach.

"Cut the crap, Murdock. You know why I'm here."

Matt's sardonic smile fades. He's still for a second. Jessica almost reconsiders. When he finally nods, she blows out a long breath. Because this has made her weird too.

"Did you smell it or something?" she drawls.

The smile twitches back. She prefers that instead of―whatever else. "The way you walk changed too."

"But you still smelled it."

His smile grows. Asshole. "Yes."

Jessica scoffs. "Weirdo."

He tilts his head towards her. "I can't hear a heartbeat, though. Still early."

She didn't know she'd been worried about that until he said it and strings cut in her shoulders. 22 days until the heart beats. That's what she'd read. But to hear it confirmed―fuck.

"Yeah, well. Only been a few days."

Matt inclines his head. But he keeps his trap shut. Leaving it to Jessica to steer the conversation. Fuck him and his thoughtful bullshit.

Jessica purses her lips, fingers clenching on her arms. Then it comes out in a rush: "Claire gave me a list of abortion clinics. I made an appointment for tomorrow." As an afterthought, she murmurs, "And I―don't know which one of you's the dad."

Even though she knows him, she expects disappointment. Or, considering it's Matt, some kind of rage, if not now, then when some fuck in an alley makes a wrong move. But instead of going tight-lipped or white-knuckling his cane, he remains as relaxed as can be.

As if he'd expected this.

And is okay with it.

He even asks, "Do you want me to come with you?" all calm and sweet, like he fucking cares, and that shouldn't be a surprise but―but it really fucking is.

"This could be your kid!" Jessica snaps, uncrossing her arms at last.

"Technically, it's nothing but a batch of cells right now," Matt replies, "And it's not my decision to make."

"You say that like you're―like it doesn't matter!"

Matt takes a couple steps to her. "Of course it matters. It's your body, Jessica. I care more about your feelings and what you want. And to be honest," smiling wryly, "I don't think any of us are equipped to handle a child."

Fuck. Fucking―fuck.

Jessica swallows hard. "Are you really leaving this all to me? I―I can't even keep my damn phone on the charger."

"And I'm a blind lawyer with anger management issues. Like I said: not equipped. But if you decide when you get there that you want to keep it, then we'll try our best. I'm sure Luke and Danny will feel the same."

Jessica snorts, glancing at the ugly ass billboard outside. "Danny'll freak. He'll probably decorate a nursery and. Buy flowers or some shit."

Her insides mesh. She can almost feel―she takes a sharp breath and flexes her fingers. This whole thing's got her fucked up. Even more fucked up. Whatever.

Matt telegraphs his movements. She lets him touch her arm.

"Danny lets his emotions run away with him―"

"Look who's talking."

Matt huffs but doesn't deny it. "He just needs to talk it out. Luke and I can handle that if you want."

Jessica clenches her jaw. "No. I'll do it." She looks at his tie. Red, of course, the asshole.

"They've noticed something's been going on with you. But it's still your decision. I won't tell them if you don't want me to."

Why does her throat hurt? Fucking hormones. "How the fuck are you making this so easy?"

Matt briefly ducks his head. "I'm learning that when you have the right people in your life―when you let them, rely on them...things don't have to be as much of a mess."

Jessica rolls her eyes. "Still a mess, though."

Matt squeezes her shoulder. "But doable."

It's quiet for a second. Their city yammers outside.

"It's probably Luke's," Jessica mumbles, idly bouncing her hand on her side, "His jizz is probably superpowered too."

Matt chuckles. "Very likely. But it's yours too."

Jessica stares at his glasses. "Yeah."

"...do you want me to come with you?" he asks again.

Jessica braces her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She can handle this on her own. Was handling it until she realized five days after the damn test that her blind weirdo lawyer could sense shit like a whale. Doesn't matter though, 'cause she can still do this alone. It's what she does best, what she knows, and right now, she could do with some familiarity.

But Matt's also familiar. Somehow, she's let him, Danny, and Luke become familiar. Well, more like they've been so stubborn with trusting her that she's been worn down through sheer exposure. Still. Only Danny says the L word, but there's no expectation, there's no―it's just. It's good. Jessica doesn't just have good in her life. She wasn't built for it, literally. Her whole life's one ongoing earthquake and shitstorm at once.

Matt's tilting his head again. Is he listening to her heartbeat? Fucker.

Jessica inevitably looks at her stomach. She's amazed she hasn't done it yet, considering she's been doing it ever since a shithole convenience store bathroom gave her the worst news she's had in a while. Since she's her, that's saying something.

Matt's hand is still on her shoulder. He's not bad at his job, at least to the extent that he knows when to be patient. Let the case simmer. Though he doesn't see Jessica as a case, none of them do, and ain't that a fucking miracle.

Fuck. Just. For once in her damn lonely life, she―she just doesn't want to be alone. Sure, she shares a bed with three men and has her back covered in a fight, but in this. In this kinda stuff...

Jessica straightens her shoulders and gives Matt an address. Matt's smile warms, and for the first time in a really fucking long time, Jessica might be able to think it'll be okay.

Clinic's small and poor as shit, but Claire's nothing if not reliable, and the receptionist hands Jessica paperwork without a hint of judgment. Matt follows Jessica to a set of cracking plastic green chairs, faded like the off-white walls. A couple fake plants are shoved in corners, and two pictures of flowers make up the rest of the decorations. Classy.

Jessica fills out the paperwork and tries not to be sick. "Don't hold my hand."

Matt's lip quirks. "I've just recovered from broken bones."

Luke and Danny won't know until after. Not that Jessica could ever be swayed to keep it. It's just better this way.

"Your freaky ears listening in?"

"They're kind," Matt murmurs, "Professional, understanding. One woman is crying, and the doctor is tired with her. Brooklyn accent."

Jessica wants that doctor. She'd rather have that than kind and professional.

"Dr. Nunez," Matt says after a beat. "That's what the patient's calling her. Patient's apparently still on the fence."

Jessica scoffs, flipping to the next page. "Why did she come here then?"

"That's what Nunez is asking. Demanding, really."

Jessica definitely wants this doctor. In Other Comments/Concerns, she jots that down.

"The place next door is actually full of prostitutes," Matt remarks, "Very convenient, I suppose."

"Sex workers know what they're about. Shit, what is this, a novel?"

"From what I've seen of medical documents, yes."

"Don't be a smartass, Murdock."

Matt smiles.

A few minutes later, the crying woman hurries out. Jessica finally signs the form and hands it over. The receptionist reviews it, raises an eyebrow at the request, but shrugs under Jessica's own eyebrow.

"That the dad?" she asks instead.

Jessica jerks her chin at the forms. "When's the doc available?"

"Should be a couple minutes at most. With all the shit goin' on at the White House, this is a slow day."

Jessica nods curtly and returns to her seat. She sits a little closer to Matt. He doesn't comment.

She tells Matt to wait there when it's her turn.

"Good luck," he whispers.

"Shut up," she grumbles.

Afterwards, Jessica heads to the nearest bar to get shit-faced. If she doesn't, she might throw up. Better to vomit from alcohol.

She tells Matt to fuck off. He says, "I've never tried this bar."

"You're not trying it with me."

Then she sighs and mutters, "Thanks."

Matt smiles. "I was wrong. That is the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Jessica flips him off. Makes sure to smack it against his chest so he can feel it. He grunts from the impact.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Jessica."

"Come between me and my drinks any longer, Murdock, and I'm gonna break the wall with your face."

"Thank you for letting me come with you."

Jessica nearly rears back. "What?"

Matt carefully holds his cane with two hands. "It must've been hard for you to accept me coming along. Thank you for letting me be there anyway. You deserved to have someone there." A small, self-deprecating smile crosses his face. "Even though you didn't have a choice in telling me."

Oh, fuck this guy.

"I could've ignored you," Jessica snaps, "I could've told somebody else." She probably wouldn't've. "I didn't. Cut the shit so I can get my booze."

Matt kisses her cheek like they're in a fucking movie. "Feel free to drunk call me. Chances are I'll be in the neighborhood."

Jessica rolls her eyes. "When are you not? I swear if you took a step outta Hell's Kitchen you'd combust."

He neither confirms nor denies.

She drags him into an alley and kisses him properly. He knows better than to put his hands on her neck the way he does for the others, opting to grasp her upper arm and keep his free hand on his cane. She digs her nails into his sleeves. The clinic still drenches them, but Matt feels the same, just shy of too hot with some maneuvering so his glasses don't slip between them.

She's torn his jacket.

"You've got a million others just like it," Jessica says as he takes it off.

Matt pats it on his elbow and says, "It's not as if I'm able to tell."

"Fuck. Off."

She feels. Okay? Something close to okay. And really, that's enough.

#the defenders #mattjess #ecriture

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feynites · 7 years

Text

I decided I wanted a krogan pathfinder so badly, I made one myself.

So. ME:A AU where there was a krogan pathfinder and Shit Goes Down.

Torvak Brev would never have anticipated playing a vital role in any krogan clan’s efforts to colonize another planet; let alone another galaxy.

She can admit, this would be because her thoughts on ‘colonies’ tend to revolve around shaman and big name clans, and efforts towards things like procreation, politics, and agriculture. And Citadel objections, laws, and restrictions, of course. Brev’s clan is – was – small, nowhere near influential enough or numerous enough to try and seize territory (legitimately or otherwise). And procreation has never been much of an option for her; a hereditary illness contrived with the genophage to remove that possibility before she was even full-grown. As for politics, that’s a game a person can play only if they can afford to buy the pieces.

Brev’s an explorer by nature, and it suits her just fine. Even without hopping through six hundred years’ worth of distance, there’s always been plenty of uncharted space to pioneer. Citadel law holds that unexplored space is treacherous, risky, and liable to hold untold peril akin to the rachni – the perfect niche for a krogan, really. She’s dug around the borders of known space for most of her life, working for everyone from smugglers to Prothean researchers, Batarian pirates and salarian astronomers, sketchy Matriarchs and Council Spectres and mining prospectors.

In hindsight, she supposes, the gave her pretty fair preparation to go poking around another galaxy. So far as anything might, anyway.

She remembers the message she got from Nakmor Kesh. The woman knew how to sell an idea, although Brev had initially scoffed at the subject line – how would you like to go where no other krogan has ever gone before?

She’d done that, she wanted to say. Going places where nobody else had been, and most couldn’t survive, was her job. It was what had put so many scars on her plates, and had her lungs regenerating so many times that she’d needed them replaced, thanks to breathing in one too many not-really-breathable atmospheres. It was why she’d spent eight months in quarantine a couple years back, waiting for her immune system to fight off a virus from a moon no one had ever set foot on ‘til she did; why she’d passed so many long years, alone in that little scouting ship that an asari mining venture paid for, setting beacons in the void and retrieving data off of broken probes. Ones that had gone too deep and too far for official types to legally send a ship after them.

The unknown was Brev’s day-to-day for years, and when she left, there was still more of it in the Milky Way than she could discover if she lived and worked a dozen centuries.

In light of that, she still doesn’t know why she said ‘yes’ to this crazy venture.

Or… well, no. She knows why. Nakmor Kesh is why. Kesh, and her crazy e-mails, and her arguments, and her love for their people. Going on about how Andromeda was a chance for the krogan. Getting the Initiative to agree to a krogan Pathfinder, and a krogan representative in terms of new colonization efforts was big. And it was an opportunity a lot of people were eager to renege on. Brev’s probably always going to remember sitting in Kesh’s surprisingly clean and tidy office, marveling at the way the sunlight caught on the features of her face. Kesh was beautiful, and she already knew that, but in-person it was a little overwhelming.

“There are too many opponents, even now, to the idea of a krogan Pathfinder,” Kesh had explained, pouring a vintage ale from Tuchanka. Not one Brev recognized, but then, she’d never been the ‘drinking’ kind of krogan. She liked the smoothness of the ale on her tongue, though, and noticed it had a more pleasant flavour than most alcohol she’d been served.

“You keep saying Pathfinder like everyone should know what it means. I’m guessing it’s just a fancy scout?” Brev had asked in return, settling into the conversation.

“Fancy, and well-equipped,” Kesh agreed. “Confidentially, we’ve developed a new system, specifically for navigating Andromeda. I can’t tell you more unless you sign on. But… we need you to sign on. Your credentials for this kind of job are the best I’ve found on any krogan who lacks a criminal record, or connections that would put enough of a black mark on your candidacy that our opponents could object to you. I honestly can’t say that we have a decent alternative. No one has your experience.”

Brev grunted, a little disbelieving.

“You’re kissing my ass pretty hard there,” she noted. “What about that fossil of a grandfather you’ve got? I doubt anyone can claim any experience that Nakmor Drack doesn’t have twice over.”

“He’d be my second choice,” Kesh had allowed, frowning at the idea. “But his experience is half the problem, in this case. The Nexus is pushing to launch within the month. It seems quick, but a lot can happen between now and then. My grandfather has too many… incidents people could dig up on him, and make a fuss over. Red tape could keep us from putting forward an ‘acceptable’ candidate in time, and if that happens, they’re going to scrap the whole idea. That means every group but the krogan would arrive in Andromeda with a Pathfinder to serve their interests.”

Brev could read it in her tone, clear as day. Once again, the krogan would be subjected to an artificial disadvantage. Whatever a Pathfinder was – the whole picture of it, anyway – it was something that would give them sway. Something every other group heading out to Andromeda would have, and be able to leverage when it came to settling worlds and establishing communities.

“…I’ll think about it,” she granted.

“Don’t think too long,” Kesh replied. “I’ll forward more data on the Initiative to you. I have access to a few scans no one’s seen yet. And you should know what kind of ships and equipment the Pathfinders are going to be using.”

Brev huffed.

“Sweetening the pot?” she asked.

The other woman inclined her head, not denying it.

“I’ll be blunt. If it’ll get you to agree, I’ll make arrangements for it. Special items, weapons, gear – you’re our best shot at making it to Andromeda on equal footing,” she said, meeting Brev’s gaze. “And Andromeda might just be our people’s best shot at a future. A fresh start.”

Our people.

And that was the real point, Brev thought. The krogan people. She turned it over in her head. Staying up late, going through all the files. The data packets, the pictures, the conjecture. It would take six hundred years for the arks and the Nexus to reach Andromeda. In galactic terms, that wasn’t long, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a significant chunk of time, either. Basic planetary civilizations had discovered flight technology and colonized entire systems in less than six hundred years. There was no evidence of a Mass Relay network in Andromeda, but even going slow, an alien species could crop up and thrive on all those lush worlds the Initiative had parcelled out so neatly among their little groups. And that was if everything was exactly as it appeared to be.

Torvak Brev would eat her own scouting ship if everything was exactly as it appeared to be.

It made her a little queasy, in fact, seeing how much certainty the Initiative seemed to have about what was out there. Any scout worth their salt wouldn’t head into an unknown solar system with that kind of confidence, nevermind an unknown galaxy. Meanwhile the Initiative was making plans six hundred years divorced from all the fancy, long-range scans they’d somehow managed to acquire. They were printing brochures.

Brochures.

And she kept thinking about the number of times some remote scan had assessed some planetary body or another as ‘viable’ for a mission, only for it to be a deathtrap up close. And her scans were all up-to-date, never more than a year old, preferably much newer than that. There was always the option to turn back, too. No matter how far out she went, she wasn’t centuries away from a decent port.

But.

A whole new galaxy… a whole new future, for the krogan…

No more living in the margins.

No more doing dirty work and getting all the blame for it, too.

No more staring at the Council’s gleaming structures and knowing there might as well be ‘keep out’ signs taped to the door.

She’d pulled an all-nighter, going over it, and then called Kesh the next morning with her answer.

And then it all turned to paperwork and bullshit. She’d been required to talk to people. Lots of people. Haughty salarians and ‘concerned’ asari, critical turians and smug humans. She met the other Pathfinders – ‘accomplished’ types, though most of them just seemed curious about her work. The matriarch was funny, and she’d met worse turians and salarians, just in that week. Alec Ryder struck her as the type who measured ravines by jumping to the bottom of them. It wasn’t hard to guess why they were all onboard with the Initiative’s insanity, anyway. They had that… quality, to them. Restlessness. Eyes on the stars.

And they were generous, after a fashion, volunteering people from their mission teams to serve on hers, too, since Kesh’s efforts had largely been focused on just getting Brev to pass muster. A whole team of krogan to go with her? Not on obstructive bureaucracy’s watch.

The administrative types were the worst. The people with the egos and the purse strings. It was clear where Kesh’s roadblocks were, but Brev knew how to answer certain kinds of questions, anyway. No, she wasn’t a smuggler. No, she didn’t have any addictions. Yes, she had some prosthetics. No, she wouldn’t be any use for repopulation efforts.

Some of them tried to make that a sticking point. But it couldn’t really land, there were too many other vital initiative members who were past the fertility stage in their species’ procreative cycles, and besides which, the Initiative was at least smart enough to bring along gene data banks, to allow them to artificially introduce genetic variables if population efforts ran into problems further down the road. Reproductive viability wasn’t a crippling issue.

It’d been a long time since Brev had had to chat about fertility, though. Not a set of conversations she ever enjoyed having.

The machine in her head was not nearly as unpleasant, by comparison. The thing’s voice was weirdly high-pitched, although she figured out that was because it had been modulated by human designers. And after a while, thinking of it as a squeaky little pyjak that noticed useful things was almost endearing.

It was also the last thing she heard, before they put her under aboard the Nexus’ cryo chambers. The last words spoken to her in the home still full of so many things she didn’t know about.

I will see you in six hundred years, Pathfinder.

One hell of a nap.

And now she’s in another galaxy, and Brev wants to say ‘I told you so’ to the morons who commissioned the brochures, but when she thinks about it, she’s not sure she actually told anybody they were planning their expedition like a pack of idealistic hatchlings. There was a lot going on.

She wakes up to the dulcet tones of angry alarms blaring. Pathfinders are ‘first revival’, along with vital medical personnel, but it means there’s no one to greet her except a VI medic. Her plates feel too hard, still cold, and the clothes she’s in stick to the rough patches of her skin and scars. She can feel her pulse thundering up her spine, ringing in her head. The VI’s voice, brittle in her ears.

“Please submit to immediate emergency medical approval. Station integrity has been compromised.”

Well fuck.

Did they even make it to Andromeda, she wonders, or are they still in the port? Or maybe something nudged them out of dark space. It definitely feels like she’s fallen down ten flights of stairs, though it passes pretty quickly. She takes a minute, blinking, looking around the cryo chambers. Emergency lights, alarms, and most of the other krogan still sleeping. Lined up in rows like icy coffins.

“Please submit to immediate emergency medical approval. VI medical assessment terminal is located in the Medical Bay.”

Her head aches, just a little, and then the SAM chimes in.

“Pathfinder, the emergency lights along the floor should direct you to the Medical Bay.”

She knows that.

With one last huff, Brev gets her ass moving, and starts plodding her way down the corridor.

“What’s happened?” she asks.

“Preliminary data suggests a collision with an unknown object,” SAM tells her. “Multiple hull breaches have compromised Stasis Decks 1A through 1C. Scanning systems have also been compromised.”

Well shit. That’s the leadership’s cryo pods, located nice and close to the Initial Operations bridge.

“How bad are the breaches?” Brev wonders, finding the VI medical terminal. It’s a tiny thing, that trills to life as soon as she’s within range of it, flashing up a welcome sign and advising her to submit to scans while she waits for medical personnel to make their own wake up and recovery. Apparently, it hasn’t gotten the message about the emergency. She can’t see anyone else waking up so far, but then, the krogan had ended up parcelled off to their own Stasis Deck, and none of their doctors had been approved for first revival. An asari, Doctor Tha-something-or-other, was supposed to be in charge of their revivals.

“Level of station compromise is currently unknown,” SAM tells her. “Life support is still functioning on all Stasis Decks, but breach alarms remain active, and emergency seals have been engaged.”

And the cryo pods can survive a certain amount of exposure to space. If they hit debris or something, Brev supposes, it’s not the end of the world. Unless…

“Were revival measures initiated before or after the collision?” she asks.

“According to automated logs, collision occurred two minutes and thirty six seconds after the Nexus exited dark space. First revival procedures were initiated upon exit.”

Damn.

That doesn’t look good. Command’s pods open up and two minutes later the hull is compromised. It’s nothing concrete, Brev supposes. They might have gotten lucky. But, it’s almost definitely her job to go and find out. The medical VI chirps at her, announcing that it’s completed its scans, and advising her to take a seat and wait for medical staff. Meanwhile, the alarms are demanding her attention elsewhere.

With a grunt, she veers away from the VI console, and heads over to the long row of lockers just outside the Medical Bay. Most of the stuff she was allowed to bring along is in the big storage room, down below livable decks, but she’s not going to go wandering through compromised areas with nothing but an ugly set of pyjamas standing between her and a second attack. Putting on her suit in a hurry is a habit she’s long been in, though. She shucks the familiar material over her plates, securing her hood, and then her helmet, and then, after a moment of consideration, her gun, too. A gift from Kesh. It’s got an advanced targeting feature.

Good thing, too, because Brev’s aim has always been shit.

She takes another breath, and tries to remember the layout of the station.

Or, well, it’s not exactly a station. Not yet. It’s a ship with all the component parts to become a station. Which, incidentally, gives it one hell of a baffling layout. She calls up her omni tool and does a quick assessment of what it can offer her. Revival procedures have been halted automatically, except for emergency personnel. So, that’ll be a small medical team, herself, her second-in-command, the chief of security, and Initiative leaders. There to assess the situation and then make the call on how to proceed, and who else to wake up. There’s power to most systems, at least, though huge blocks of the station are dormant, and the hull breaches seem to have automatically shut down elevator systems to the affected areas.

Maintenance ladders it is, then.

Just as she’s about to close out, her comm system crackles to life.

“This is Security Chief Sloane Kelly. All conscious Initiative members, report in for emergency check.”

Well. That’s someone else up and kicking.

“This is Pathfinder Torvak Brev,” she responds.

There’s a pause, and both of them wait to see if anyone else offers up a voice. Brev considers. Her second came from Macen’s Pathfinder team. She recollects him as a characteristically turian military type, very accomplished and by-the-book. An appeasement gesture for the twitchy higher-ups who were convinced a krogan Pathfinder would do nothing but run off half-cocked. She can’t actually remember his name right now; but she knows his cryo pod was on 1B, along with a cluster of other turian officials.

So he could be floating out in space, she supposes. Either in a pod or, less optimistically for him, not.

The silence isn’t promising.

“What’s your status?” she checks.

“Up, running, and heading for the maintenance ladder out of Stasis Deck 2A,” Kelly informs her. “We need to secure a command console to do a situational assessment. Is that chip in your head still working, or did cryo break it?”

“If it did, then I’m hearing voices,” Brev offers. “If you’re taking the command console, I’ll head up to the breached decks and see what’s going on there. Maybe get my eyes on whatever we hit.”

SAM chimes in then.

“There is an observation window located on Stasis Deck 1A,” it informs her. “But I would recommend localized scans before attempting to override any lockdowns, to assess chamber integrity.”

“Right. Don’t want to get spaced,” Brev mutters. Probably not the best thing to do after a six hundred year nap.

“With any luck, this is a malfunction,” Kelly says. “But, I’ve never had much luck.”

“Huh. Don’t jinx it by hoping, then,” she suggests, before getting the location of the maintenance ladders from SAM. It earns her cracked, surprised laugh. Brev won’t judge the waver in it, though. Waking up to disaster’s always the pits; no breathing time to let anything settle.

The shafts for the maintenance ladders are a tight fit. Not really meant to be krogan accommodating except in the most technical sense. Her armour scrapes at the wall as she climbs, and she tries to find that equilibrium between adrenaline and assessment. Her body’s urge to fall into intensity, urgency, and her awareness that it probably wouldn’t serve her well to let that go right now.

Always makes her think of the old Raoga when this shit happens. The shaman standing on that ancient thresher carapace, pointing at her with a single cracked claw.

“Any krogan can fight. Any krogan can feel the rush of battle lust, the fire in the blood. Any krogan can pull a trigger, can throw a punch, can roar and stomp and bare their teeth. There is nothing impressive about what any krogan can do. You have to do better.”

Raoga had not been a big fan of battle lusts and berserker rages, things that made thinking harder than acting. She’d never been satisfied with any of the accomplishments that the rest of krogan society praised. Brev had resented the hell out of that when she was young, but the first time she’d had to solve a problem in the dead of space with nothing but her wits to keep her breathing, she’d thought of her. And the pattern stuck. The lessons stuck.

A few good heaves and she gets herself up onto the first floor above the krogan deck. Not one of the ones ostensibly breached, but she takes a minute to scan it anyway, just in case the sensors are imagining things. SAM doesn’t pick up on anything significant, though, and so a minute later, she goes back to climbing. Repeating the process for each floor, as the alarms continue to blare, and the emergency lights gleam like angry eyes. Until, finally, she gets to a sealed door labelled Stasis Deck 1C.

Her omni tool sends orange light spilling up and down the maintenance shaft as she performs the close-range scan.

“Assessing…” SAM intones. “Multiple hull breaches detected. The cryo chamber has been compromised. Emergency measures have automatically engaged to seal off various compartments. Systems indicate that most pods are intact and functioning as normal, but maintenance and retrieval machinery has been damaged, as well as the main medical terminal for this deck. The pods will have to be relocated before revival procedures can be initiated.”

“Was anyone awake when the hull breached?” Brev checks.

“Revival procedures had not yet been initiated for any pods in this section of the ship when the breach was detected,” SAM tells her.

Brev grunts, considers, and then keeps climbing. The danger to those pods seems low at the moment, but time might be running out for the others. If it hasn’t already.

“Kelly, I’ve reached the first breached floor. The hull’s been compromised but it doesn’t look like we lost anyone,” she comms.

“They’re basic management in there. Colonial affairs, pencil-pushers, and some engineering crew. Mostly humans and salarians,” Kelly informs her. “Crisis management and most high-ranked security personnel will be on 1B, right above you. Heads of medical, too. That’s who we’ll need in a hurry.”

Brev offers up a gruff sound of acknowledgement, in between rungs.

“How’s it looking on your end?”

“Like a shit show,” Kelly admits. “Alarms have gone off on nearly every system, even ones I can verify aren’t actually malfunctioning or damaged. And the sensors are a mess. I think we hit some kind of… scrambling field. A defensive matrix, maybe. For all we know we’ve gotten tangled in the electric fence of some alien empire’s security grid.”

“Maybe,” Brev grumbles. “I’d rather not guess. Are we receiving any transmissions?”

“Hell if I know, I’m not a comms officer,” Kelly retorts, sounding frustrated. “And with these readings it’s not exactly simple to deduce. I’ve managed to secure the shut-down on all revival procedures for the time being, though. Turned off the VI’s operating pod removal. So even if the system gets confused, it won’t just restart the procedures and dump some poor fools into space.”

“Good of you,” Brev notes.

“Yeah, well, that’s my job,” Kelly replies, before sucking in a deep breath, and letting it out again. “Shit. I told them we needed to put weapons on these ships. For all we know, we’re being boarded by hostiles even as we speak.”

“Possible. Though, for all we know, we’re also being slowly eaten by a giant space maw,” she feels compelled to point out.

“I wouldn’t say no to a very large cannon in that situation, either,” Kelly says.

“Ha. Fair,” Brev allows. Stasis Deck 1B is in sight, by then. She grips the railing with one hand and starts her scan, but there’s an ominous feeling that settles beneath her plates just by looking at the door. That kind of gut-curling wrongness, that’s usually more accurate than she likes. The last time she felt it was also the last time she had to launch an escape pod. Staring at the narrow walls, knowing there was nothing but void on the other sides… sometimes silences can howl, like the wind in deep canyons, even if it's more of a feeling than a sound.

“Assessing,” SAM says.

“Not good,” she mutters.

“Lockdown procedures for this floor are incomplete, likely due to a severe hull breach interfering with system lines. Cryogenics machinery is not responding, and life support is non-functional beyond the entryway.”

“So... whatever it was tore right through this deck?” she surmises.

“That would seem to be the likeliest conclusion at this time. I would advise against proceeding through this door.”

“Can we at least tell if any of the pods were open?” she asks.

“According to revival system records, all twelve pods slated for first revival on this deck were opened at the time of the breach, including the pod belonging to Pathfinder SIC Ansus Iramus. Implant reception is being impeded, however, so I cannot confirm vital status at this time,” SAM tells her. “Additionally, Pathfinder command transfer would not be possible under these circumstances.”

“So, I should try not to die?” she grumbles.

“Maintaining functionality would be advised,” it agrees.

Brev’s not sure her people would actually prefer to a turian pathfinder to none at all if she bit the dust, but she opts not to mention that, and instead grimly makes her way up to the end of the shaft. The last floor left to assess, Stasis Deck 1A. Her gut isn’t telling her anything good as she scans again, listening to the hum of machinery, the tingle of her omni tool working overtime to take as many readings as she can get it to. Her gaze drifts to the readouts. Too many for her to digest them in even a fraction of the time an AI can manage it in, but she’s not really used to working with that, yet. And from the glimpse she has, she can at least tell, as SAM does his ‘assessment’, that it’s not going to be good news.

“Several interior chambers have been secured by automatic lockdown protocols,” it finally informs her. “Cryogenics machinery is not acknowledging the scan. Medical machinery is also not responding. It seems likely that the degree of breach beyond the secured areas is severe.”

“How many revival procedures were started?” Brev checks, climbing up off of the ladder.

“Twenty-four,” SAM tells her. “Including those for Director Jien Garson.”

The Initiative’s idealistic ray of human sunshine. Not a bad sort, in her way, Brev had thought. It was definitely easy to come by worse leaders, and the woman had at least been in support of her candidacy as a Pathfinder. Which was more than could be said for a lot of the other voices in the project. Brev lets out a displeased grumble, and after a moment more of consideration, starts procedures to override the lock on Deck 1A’s door. Sensor anomalies mean scans might not be getting the whole picture. If she was feeling optimistic, she might even let herself consider that the whole disaster is a bunch of misread sensory data. Machines imagining hull breaches where there aren’t any.

She’s not feeling optimistic.

The door opens to a circular foyer. The kind of room meant to be a comfortable waiting spot for ‘important’ types, with those weird round couches, and blank scenery screens settled against walls shining with emergency lights.

And the observation window SAM had mentioned. A long, wide wall, looking out into space.

Brev stares, and then walks carefully towards it. Because she’s seen a lot of space, but she’s never seen what’s on the other side.

Red. There’s red in it. Currents, like veins, in dark tendrils that end just a hair’s breadth away from the reinforced seals on the window. It’s not the same black as the void. There are hints of other colours in it, contrasted against the deep well of nothingness that is space; making it clear that the whatever-it-is has substance. And yet, it doesn’t look like an object. Not rock, or metal, or mesh. More solid than most gas, and not fluid enough to be liquid. And the edge of it that she can see, stopping just short of the window, are sharp.

Claws, almost.

“Pathfinder. A scan may reveal more about the nature of this anomaly,” SAM tells her.

“Is this what we hit?” Brev askes, even as she obligingly starts in with the scanning again.

“Readings are consistent with patterns detected in breached areas,” it confirms. “This is likely the cause of the disruption.”

She grunts, taking it all in. It’s almost like a painting. One somehow designed to utterly fuck them over.

“What is it?” she asks. Mostly to herself, but that’s not a distinction the AI’s been able to pick up on yet.

“Unknown. Substance does not correlate with any anomalies noted in long-range scan information observed before Initiative launch.”

“Six hundred years, a lot of shit can happen,” Brev mutters, and again, glances at the scan results herself. Nothing she can parse much, though. Material: unknown, radiation detected, unknown particles detected, assessment obstruction detected, signal disruption detected…

It’s a big mess of ‘fuck you’, in other words.

Radioactive ‘fuck you’.

She peers at it a moment more, before opening a comm channel again.

“I’ve got bad news, Kelly. Deck 1B is basically gone, and 1A is mostly just a room, now. And not one of the rooms with pods in it. Looks like we hit some kind of radioactive special anomaly. Some of the pods might be recoverable, but we’re going to have to figure out how much of this shit is pressed up against the ship before we can move away from it. And anyone who was awake is almost definitely dead, including the Director.”

There’s a pause, but it’s the kind of pause that makes her think Kelly heard, and is just trying to figure out what the hell to do about it.

Though, really, that might be Brev’s job as much as it is hers.

“Alright,” Kelly finally says. “We’ll need crew to move the station, and eyes to see what we’ve hit. A team to retrieve any spaced pods before they become too irradiated to recover, and security in case this ‘anomaly’ comes with hostiles. And we’ll have to figure out who’s next in line for calling the shots, but for the time being, I’m naming myself acting captain.”

Brev shrugs, even though there’s no way for the human woman to see it. There are two of them, currently, and she’s in no mood to quibble over ranks.

“Fair enough,” she allows, before chewing over the situation herself. Eyes on the exterior seem the most important, to her mind, but then again, she used to working with ships that don’t need massive crews in order to operate. And that’s definitely not the Nexus. Still, they can’t move until they know where they’re going, and figuring that out’s probably Pathfinder ‘jurisdiction’.

“I’m going to wake up my team. Or what’s left of it. We can take a shuttle out, do some exterior assessments and see what can be done about the pods,” she decides.

“Thank fuck they put a shuttle bay in an emergency access position,” Kelly mutters. “One thing they didn’t spray-paint with rainbows and naïve optimism. You’ll need a medic to make sure your team’s relatively mission-ready. SAM should be able to find the pods you need, they’re on 2B, if I remember correctly.”

Brev takes another look around the eerie chamber, nodding to herself again.

“Back down the shaft, I guess,” she mutters.

“I’m going to see if I can get a probe to launch,” Kelly tells her. “Then I’ll start waking up some more essential crew. Comm if you notice any disruptions or… fuck it, anything, I guess.”

“Nakmor Kesh is on the krogan deck. You should wake her up, she knows the Nexus better than most, and the crew, too,” Brev supplies, stomping back over to the ladders. It’s a good thing she’s not claustrophobic. Although the image of the anomaly decides to stick with her as she makes her way into the dark, narrow space; the clawed edges dredging up a certain amount of unease. Citadel databases list krogan as ‘opportunistic omnivores’, like most advanced species – though, they also tend to find krogan ‘advancement’ pretty questionable. Her people have been apex predators for countless generations, but it wasn’t always that way. Tuchanka never lacked for things that were capable of killing them. Krogan just rose to the challenge, and decided to be better at it.

Still, Brev knows, there’s a sense in any species that’s ever been hunted. A deep, old instinct, that rears its head at the first glimpse of a dangerous new predator. Whispers ‘now there’s something that could kick your ass’.

All the way down to 2B, she feels that sense climb with her.

Welcome to Andromeda, she thinks, wryly.

#mass effect: andromeda #me:a #andromeda #mass effect: andromeda fanfic #me:a spoilders #andromeda spoilers #krogan pathfinder au #may or may not continue #i have Ideas

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