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avengerscompound · 1 year

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The Tower - The Science Conference

The Tower - The Science Conference

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2535

Warnings: smut (MMF bisexual threesome, triple penetration)

Synopsis: Tony and Bruce attend a Science Conference to support Elise. After her lecture they have their very own private conference.

Author’s Note: Requested by K-Destiiny on Wattpad. You can send in your requests too.

The Science Conference

This take place just after The Tower and before the Holiday Special.

Fear of public speaking has long been said to rate higher than any other fear. Above spiders, incursions from outer space, even death. As I stood at the podium in front of a crowd of mostly strangers staring up at me - I could see why.

It was stupid really. With everything I’d been through in my life, you’d think standing up and giving a lecture on spontaneous mutation would have been a cakewalk. I’d run away from home at seventeen and put myself through college. I dated not one but two ex-Russian assassins. I’d been kidnapped and held hostage - and on one occasion I’d infiltrated a HYDRA base and helped take it down.

Yet here I was, standing in front of a full room, just talking about something I had been studying for years, and my heart was hammering so hard that I think I might have been speaking a little too loud just so I could hear myself over it.

In the sea of faces in front of me, most of whom I didn’t know, there were two that I knew very well right at the front, beaming up at me like I was giving a lecture on how I’d personally hung the stars in the sky.

I’d been invited to talk at a Theoretical Evolutionary Genetics at Berkley. Bruce was speaking soon, and Tony had tagged along out of interest's sake. At least that’s what he’d said. I felt like there was some pride in the fact that this was my first big conference lecture, and he wanted to be there for it.

I was glad they were there. For starters, looking down and seeing them both beaming up at me, had a calming effect. It wasn’t just that though. I didn’t get to go out with them very often. We didn’t date the way most people did and this was an actual trip together to San Francisco. We were staying in a hotel and going out to dinner together. We were even going to take a couple of days to do touristy things, despite Tony’s objections. It was nice seeing them getting recognition for things outside of Avengers stuff too. Tony did draw attention even here, but it was Bruce who was the star of the show. Everyone wanted to talk to him, and I loved getting to see that.

Most of all, it felt so fucking good to have two people there to support me like this. I’d never had that before, and now we were out as being in a relationship, I got to experience something so many people just took for granted.

I finished my lecture to a round of applause and after answering some questions, the room started to empty. I collected my things and came down to where Tony and Bruce were waiting for me. They each kissed me and Tony ran his hands down my arms. “That was so great. I’m dating a genius here,” Tony said.

“Tony, you’ve already heard my lecture. Every version of it. Multiple times,” I said, as I took his hand.

“I know,” he said. “But it’s like I learn something new every time.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Liar.”

“Alright, come on. Let’s go back to the hotel and change and I’ll take you both out to celebrate a successful presentation,” Tony said.

“I hope you do the same for Bruce tomorrow. He is the keynote speaker,” I said.

“Oh definitely,” he agreed. “I have reservations for the best restaurant in the city.”

Bruce blushed softly and shook his head. “You say things like that and I don’t know if you’re joking or not.”

Tony clapped him on the shoulder and wrapped his arm around him. “I wouldn’t joke about that! Atelier Crenn. It has three Michelin Stars. You have to book a year in advance. Well - if you’re not me.”

“Tony,” Bruce said. “We don’t have to do anything fancy.”

“I know that,” he said. “But we’re going to. You’re worth fawning over too, Brucie Bear.”

That just made Bruce blush more.

The three of us made our way back to the hotel and I started to strip off the grey pantsuit that I'd worn for the lecture.

“What was it you wanted to do while we were here?” Tony asked as he hung up his jacket.

“I wanted to go to Alcatraz. I wanted to see the sea lions at pier 39 and ride on that big double-decker carousel. I want to drive past the painted ladies. Oh - I want to go to the Winchester Mansion,” I said, listing the main things on the list. We didn’t have a lot of time, but it was better to say what I wanted and run out of time than to risk not even attempt to do them.

Tony groaned and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Such a tourist…”

“Oh!” I said as I wriggled out of my pants. “If we had time I’d like to drive down to Santa Cruz. That’s where they filmed The Lost Boys.”

“We might need to pass on that one, Santa Cruz, Alcatraz, and the Winchester Mansion are full days and we only have a couple to spare,” Bruce said. He was already down to his boxers and seemed to be deciding what to do next. “Besides, I’ve seen The Lost Boys and you’ll be wanting to go to the amusement park, and no offense, but I don’t think Hulk will let me ride a rollercoaster.”

“I’ll ride the rollercoaster with Hulk then,” I said and tossed my bra aside.

He looked me up and down as he walked over, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Hulk thinks he’d rather stay here with you like this.”

“Just the Hulk?” I asked.

“No,” he said, as he leaned in toward me. “Not just the Hulk.”

He brought his lips to mine and I wrapped my arms around her neck and ran my hands up into his curls.

“Maybe we can drive out past the painted ladies tonight and go see the sea lions. I’m pretty sure we can find somewhere to eat there,” Tony said as Bruce and I kissed.

I broke the kiss and Bruce’s lips trailed down to my neck. I tilted my head back and curled my fingers into his hair. “We can go to the Hard Rock Cafe,” I joked.

“No we can’t,” Tony countered. “but I'm sure there will be somewhere we can eat that isn't tacky.”

I started giggling and Bruce guided me back onto the bed. He looked over at Tony as I crawled into the middle of the king-sized mattress. “Are you just going to stand there making dinner plans or do you want to join us?”

Tony froze in place and stared at us for a moment. “Oh yes. Right. Private Science Conference.”

He hop-stepped over to us as he shook off his pants and underwear in one go, and dove onto the mattress beside us. “So what are we doing here?”

“Come on, Tony,” I teased. “Do we need to have the birds and the bees talk again?”

He laughed and guided my chin back so that I was looking at him. “Smart ass,” he teased and kissed me. I kissed back slowly and deeply, and Bruce kissed down my neck to my breasts, pulling one of my nipples into his mouth. I moaned into the kiss and tugged on Bruce’s hair.

When Bruce pulled back, Tony broke the kiss with me and leaned over to kiss Bruce. For a moment I was just the filling in their sandwich. I watched them as I began to stroke their already hardening cocks. When they were hard in my hands, I wiggled down to the end of the bed and began to suck on both their cocks, moving from one to the other and back again. They rutted their hips and moaned, and with each thrust, they got closer to each other. I moved so they could press up against each other with their cocks touching, and I wrapped my hand around them both.

Both men broke the kiss and looked at me. “Whatcha doing, honey?” Tony asked.

“Just - go back to kissing. I like that,” I said.

“Me too,” Bruce agreed.

Tony started laughing and began kissing Bruce again. He looked so cute kissing the other man while his eyes were closed but crinkled at the corners. I watched them for a little as I pumped my fist up and down the length of their shafts. When Tony lost himself fully to the moment, I dropped my head down, opened my mouth wide, and began to suck the heads of both their cocks.

I had done this before, with bigger men than Tony and Bruce, but it still wasn’t easy. It put a strain on my jaw and was difficult to get the angle right. I couldn’t take them far, only just a little further than just their heads, but they both reacted exactly how I wanted them to. Each man moaned, and Tony’s hips jerked forward. Bruce trembled and his hand went to my hair, his fingers flexing as his legs shook. I bobbed my head up and down as best I could, moaning and drooling down their shafts. Precome began to leak from the tips and mixed with my saliva so it fell from my lips. I moaned around them and dug my fingers into their thighs.

“El… El, honey,” Bruce moaned, breaking the kiss with Tony. “I can’t… please.”

I pulled back and crawled back up, so I was straddling his hips and looking down at him. He was taking slow, uneven breaths, and his pupils were blown out, with a slightly wild panicked look. I pushed my fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp.

“Is he right there?” I asked.

He nodded. “Just - that was a lot.”

“I trust you both, B,” I said. “I know he won’t take over because I know he loves me and doesn’t want to hurt me. But what can I do for you?”

“I just want to …” he rolled his hips and his cock rubbed against my soaking cunt. He moaned and bucked up under me.

I took hold of his shaft and raised myself up, hovering over it. “This?” I asked

He pushed up, the head of his cock penetrating me and he grabbed my hips and pulled me down on it. I gasped and squeezed around him.

Tony moved behind us. “What if I fuck you, while Elly rides you?” Tony asked.

Bruce shook his head and groaned. The sound came out in stereo, both him and Hulk at the same time. “That’s too much. Still getting used to more than one of you at a time.”

“That's okay, Bear,” Tony said. “What about we both fuck her at the same time. You'd love that, wouldn't you, Elly?”

“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, sitting back against Tony and swirling my hips. Tony ran his arms around my rib cage and cupped my breasts, and for a moment, Bruce didn't say anything. He just lay there staring up at me through lust-blown eyes. A ring of iridescent green had started to glow around the small line of brown visible in his irises. Hulk was well and truly part of this too, and we needed to carefully balance things. I trusted Hulk to not want to hurt me, but if Bruce got too excited, he could slip by accident.

Bruce squeezed his eyes closed and took three deep breaths. When he opened them again he looked calmer. He nodded. “Yeah. Both of us.”

I rolled my hips on his lap, and took his hands, putting them on my breasts with Tony’s. He gazed up at me as I moved in a slow figure of eight and Tony kissed my neck. His chest was slowly rising and falling but he looked a lot calmer than he had a moment ago.

Tony pulled away and went to the side table and fished out the lube we’d hidden there. When he returned, I pushed myself down flush with Bruce and nuzzled into his neck. Bruce wrapped his arms around me and slowly smoothed his palms up and down my back. Tony squeezed lube onto my ass and generously slicked his cock. He pressed the head against my asshole and pushed in slowly.

I moaned and pressed my face into Bruce’s neck. I breathed deep, willing myself to relax through the burn in my ass and the overly full feeling. This wasn’t new to me, but it still took a moment to adjust.

I started to move between them, shifting up and down on their cocks. They took the lead, each thrusting up into me. As the burn and the pain of them both fucking me faded back and pleasure started to take over, I pushed myself up so that I could look down at Bruce.

“Feel good, B?” I breathed.

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed. “So good. It always does, El. God, I can feel Tony.”

Tony groaned behind me and braced a hand on my shoulder. “I love feeling you through her, Bear,” he groaned. “Fuck… Love being inside you, El.”

I leaned back against Tony and tilted my head. His hand went to my jaw and we kissed.

As we did, Bruce pushed himself up and began to suckle on my breasts. Moving from one to the other and back again. My nipples hardened and an ache spread through them, blending with the warm current that was flowing up from my core. My moans easily drowned out the soft grunts and choked sounds Tony and Bruce were making. I felt like an overwound spring, ready to snap. I broke the kiss with Tony and began to kiss Bruce. Tony’s hand moved into my hair, and he pulled on it. The sharp tug on my scalp was enough to send me spiraling over. I cried out and clenched up around them both, my whole body trembling with it.

Bruce groaned and arched his back. He squeezed his eyes tight, and he shuddered under me. When he opened his eyes again, they flashed green, and with a roar, he shoved up into me and came.

Tony kept thrusting. I kept rocking my hips, squeezing around Bruce’s pulsing cock. “Fuck, Tony, please,” I begged. “I want to feel you. I want your come inside me. Please.”

Tony grunted and jerked forward as his orgasm hit and came inside me. “Fuck, El,” he moaned. “Such a dirty mouth.”

“It’s not that dirty,” I argued. “I bet you’ve heard worse.”

He laughed as he pulled out of me. “You’re probably right.” He sat at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily as I lay down on Bruce. Bruce hummed and trailed his fingers up and down my back as I slowly came down from my orgasm high.

After a little bit, Tony gave my ass a playful swat. “Alright, come on, you two. We need a shower after that. We have places to be.”

I laughed and climbed off Bruce, and we followed Tony into the bathroom so we could wash up to go out.

~ END ~

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louwhose · 2 years

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Blind Spots | Flowers

AO3 | Previous | Next Well, I may not have posted a chapter yesterday, but I DO have this one today! I should theoretically be able to finish the rest of the story on time, but... we shall see.

flowers | noun

flow·ers | \ ˈflau̇(-ə)rs \

1d : a cut stem of a plant with its flower

Thorn Princess.

Derived from Yor’s surname, or rather her maiden name, of Briar. The spines that accompany a flower. The thorns that protect a wild rose.

Of course, Yor hadn’t been clever enough to come up with it herself. No, that credit was due to the Shopkeeper.

Yes, the Shopkeeper, the Gardener of Garden. Her coworkers weren’t quite as bad as Yor, but they were all hitmen, not exactly valued for their brains. The Shopkeeper was always the mind behind each operation.

So Yor chose to tell him about her discovery.

Of course, she spent quite a few days debating about whether or not she should. After all, it was so easy to ignore, and pretend that she had imagined the whole thing. Was it really so bad if Loid was a spy for Westalis? Even the fact that they got along so well despite their opposing nationalities and conflicting interests gave her hope for peace beyond this cold war their countries were locked in.

But… their goals were just too different. Yor had married him to avoid discovery by the secret police, but it could hardly be good if the west knew she was an assassin either. And Loid was sharp. Sooner or later, he was bound to notice that something was off, if he hadn't already.

So Yor, after nearly a week of knowing Loid was a spy, she chose to call the Shopkeeper while her husband was away at work, whatever it was that he really did.

"Thorn Princess?" the kindly voice of the old man answered after a few rings. "You don't usually contact me. What is it?"

"Umm…" Yor hesitated. Not because the Shopkeeper was intimidating, at least not to her, but because this was something big, and important, and suddenly she didn't feel quite as certain that Loid was, in fact, a spy. But she had come this far. She might as well voice her suspicions, even if that was all they were.

"I think my husband might be a spy for Westalis!" she blurted.

All that came through the earpiece to the phone was the faint crackling and static that accompanied every call. Then finally, she heard a long breath being let out under the static. "What makes you think that?"

Yor explained how she had found the bug in Loid's room, and how she could think of no other possible explanation, and how there might be a scheme with Eden and Anya somehow involved.

The Shopkeeper sighed. "I can see why you thought that. It still might be for some other reason, but you're right, we can't discard the possibility that he might be a spy."

There was a suspenseful pause before he continued. "Do you think he might be Twilight?"

Yor froze. Twilight, the most infamous of all the spies, man of a thousand faces, able to infiltrate anywhere, do anything? While all of that did seem to be fairly in line with the kind of capability that Loid always showed, she didn't think that alone necessarily pointed to the two being one and the same. "Why?"

"We had so little reason to suspect him before. Your husband seems to have done an extremely good job of keeping his work removed from his home life, if he is indeed a spy."

Yor dragged a hand over her arm, as though there had been a chill in the air. “So he might be the best.”

“Yes.” There was a pause. “We’ll try to get some of our own people that are skilled in information gathering to try to confirm that Loid Forger is, in fact, a spy. It will be difficult, since a spy will take precautions to avoid detection. But until then, just act normal. We’ll let you know if we need you to do something.”

And just like that, the Shopkeeper hung up.

Yor slowly drew her hand away from her ear and let it clack back onto the receiver. Wondering what they might need her to do at all. She wasn’t good for much besides killing. Her hand started trembling before her thought process caught up with the emotion.

They might want her to kill Loid.

Of course. She was an assassin. What else was she good for? But that didn’t make it hurt any less, even as a possibility. Yor sunk to the floor, clutching her arms around her knees and crying into them.

Could she even do it? Kill Loid, or rather, an enemy spy? She wondered as she sobbed.

No, she realized with alarming clarity. No, she couldn’t. Because, no matter how much their professions opposed the other’s, he was Loid. Her husband, the one that she… loved?

Yes. Loved.

She realized it now.

Yor loved Loid. Had for… a while now. Might have first fallen for him when he stood up for her at that first date where he pretended to be her husband. And everything since had only built it up.

This little family was real, to her, anyway. And no matter what she was told to do, she couldn’t destroy it. She took this job to create peace for others, and… well, killing Loid was not the answer to that. If the Shopkeeper told her to do it anyway…

Yor clenched her fist.

She stood up and wiped her tears off of her cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from them after getting so worked up. She went into the bathroom and washed off her face, which both helped her to cool down and refreshed her.

The door opened and slammed shut, and Yor came out to see Anya bursting in, just back from school. She smiled.

“Mama! Mama!” Anya squealed, literally bouncing up and down with joy. “You’ll never guess what Sy-on boy said to me to—”

Anya’s ramble quickly came to a halt as she somehow tripped over her own feet and face planted on the floor.

Yor hurried over to help the girl back onto her feet.

“Are you alright?” Anya nodded, and besides her nose being a little red and her eyes a little wide, she didn’t look any worse for the wear. “What were you saying about Damian?”

“Mama.” Anya stared at Yor with an oddly determined expression on her face that managed to make her nervous. “Are you a good or a bad person?”

Yor’s jaw just dropped in shock. What was this now? Sure, she had been considering the fact that she might have to kill Loid, and hadn’t quite recovered from that train of thought once Anya came home, but what would make the girl question it?

Yor raised her hands defensively and waved furiously. “Good! I’m a good person!”

Anya nodded solemnly. “That’s good. I see, I see.”

Yor stood there, looking at her daughter and wondering if she should ask about the story again. Or about her day? Or maybe just offer to let her play for a while as she prepared a snack for her. Any of these were fine, really, but she was still reeling from that question out of the blue. It was hard to figure out what to do when you found out your daughter seemed to think you might be a bad person for some reason.

Of course, Anya had no consideration for this, and proceeded to ask a question that somehow managed to take Yor even more off-guard. “Do you like Papa?”

“O-of course!” she answered instantly, face starting to burn up to a bright red once again. She had barely managed to realize that she was, in fact, in love with Loid, and now to talk about it, with her daughter of all people. If she hadn’t just realized that she loved him romantically, it would have been no problem to admit it, since she had been aware of loving him in a broader sense for a while now and had no shame in admitting that. “I mean, of course I love him, just like I love you. Well, maybe not just like the way I love you, but…”

Yor trailed off, unsure of what she was trying to say. She must resemble a fire engine now. She buried her head in her hands.

And of course, that of all times was when Loid came home. With a bouquet of red roses clenched almost uncertainly in hand. Not nearly as large as the one Yuri brought that first time he came over, but that was truly ridiculous and this one was still large by any normal scale.

Of course, Yor only knew any of this by peeking out between her fingers, taking in his slightly perplexed expression as he tried to figure out what was happening here, with his wife beet-red and face in hands in front of his daughter.

“Papa!” Anya exclaimed, running over to him and hugging onto one leg. “Mama likes you!”

One corner of his mouth quirked up in something between understanding and amusement. “Well, I would hope so.”

She rested her chin on his leg, looking up at him pointedly. “No, Papa. Mama actually said that she loves you.”

“Oh?” Loid asked, raising an eyebrow before turning his gaze from his daughter to meet Yor’s eyes.

She immediately uncovered them from behind her hands as she explained. “I was just saying how I love both of you, of course. You’re both my only family, besides Yuri, after all. And…” No. She was not confessing yet. Not here, not like this. Not so totally unprepared to do so. She changed the subject. “What are the roses for?”

Loid looked back down at them. “Ah, I saw them on my way home from work.” He looked back up to meet her eyes again. “And thought of you.”

Yor felt her face warm up again, not from embarrassment, but from the warmth of being… loved? Was that it? The revelations she’d had in the past week made it seem unlikely, but she certainly felt like she was being loved.

“Papa and Mama are going to kiss!” Anya exclaimed. Yor’s attention turned back down to the girl looking back and forth between the two parents and felt the embarrassment creep back in.

Instead of loudly protesting with a “no” like she usually would, Yor just… considered it. And how, erm… nice it sounded.

Loid drew her attention again with a sigh as he leaned down to gently pull Anya off his leg. “Why don’t you go put your stuff down in your room, and we’ll get a snack for you once you’re out?”

Anya grumbled about being kept out of the “juicy stuff,” but went as she was asked.

Yor managed to shake herself out of her daze enough to walk over to where Loid was, first helping him out of his coat to hang it by the door, and then taking the bouquet from him. “I’ll put these in a vase. Thank you so much for these, Loid.”

And then, with a burst of confidence from she didn’t know where, Yor leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him. Just on the cheek, but still.

Then, too afraid to see how he would react to that, she hurried to the kitchen to get a vase and prepare the flowers. Loid did follow her a few moments later, setting to work on preparing Anya’s snack.

Yor went to place the vase on the table, listening to Loid and Anya’s banter absentmindedly as she carefully checked the arrangement to see that it was nicely done.

As she drew back to admire it finally, one hand lingered, and she was suddenly struck by a bit of melancholy. These flowers were beautiful, of course, but cut off from their roots, they wouldn’t stay alive very long, no matter how much water they had.

She couldn’t do much for the flowers. But Yor would not let herself be cut off from her family.

If you have questions about Loid and the flowers like my brother did, I will simply ask you to please wait until the next chapter, because that should clear things up. Probably. If I did my job right. *sweats nervously* Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a comment! I love hearing what people think about my work (even if I'm not the best about replying)! Previous | Next

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

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Burn The Witch 6 - The First Date [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s a surprise chapter to celebrate TFATWS starting, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: First dates can end in strange ways.

Series Masterlist

Every agent in your division knew the Winter Soldier, the unstoppable assassin, the infamous ghost story, the man who had been fighting for over 80 years. He was a legend, and meeting him was something you were all taught to avoid ever since the espionage world had found out about his existence.

The last time, a whole team of heavily armed soldiers were sent to take him down and he had managed to disarm every single one of them without even needing a weapon. So theoretically if you were to send an agent to meet him, you would probably make sure that agent carried about a thousand weapons and preferably went there in a bulletproof vehicle.

Instead, you were told to wear a cute dress for the first date.

Lovely.

“How come I can’t wear any of my clothes?” you asked, pressing the phone to your ear as you took a look at all the dresses lying on your bed.

“Not that your sniper outfits aren’t hot, but wearing them to your first date with the Winter Soldier might not be the brightest idea.”

You heaved a sigh, “I still can’t believe you changed my whole wardrobe when I was outside, Chloe. What was wrong with my usual clothes?”

“They’re not what your cover would wear.”

“Uh huh.”

“Pick the one with those small flowers on it,” Chloe said, “Mini dress, chiffon. Cream colored.”

You hummed and grabbed the hanger, then held it over your body.

“Are we sure?”

“Trust me. Perfect for the first date.”

“Did mini dresses exist back in his time?” Keith’s voice reached you, making you frown, “Or was he born in those times with those giant dresses?”

“Excuse me, why am I on speaker?” you asked, “Also Keith, what are you doing in the headquarters? I need you and the team ready to interfere anytime.”

“I’m not in the headquarters, I was grabbing coffee and Chloe wanted to come with me. No worries though, we’re around your area.”

“Are you insane?” you snapped, “You brought her to the field?”

“We’re just getting coffee—“

“Chloe, get back to the headquarters,” you insisted, “Now.”

“No! You have a date, Keith gets to relax at this new café, and three of us can barely spend time together nowadays!” Chloe said, “It’s always you guys who have the fun.”

“Honey I’m on a date with the Winter Soldier so that I can gather intel, Keith is going to be at that café because he and the team needs to be nearby in case my cover is blown,” you said patiently, getting into the dress, “It’s not like we’re hanging out without you.”

“Detail.”

“It’s not just a detail-“

“No I mean the security detail is ready.” Chloe cut you off, “I got my laptop with me, I hacked into the café’s wifi.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “You did what?”

“Yeah I figured I could use a change of scenery and Keith said yes.”

“Keith, I need you to listen to me carefully,” you said, “I’m going to kill you.”

“Y/N!”

“You can’t kill me.”

“Can’t I though?”

“Yeah you have a date, remember?”

You checked your wristwatch and cussed under your breath, rushing to put your shoes on.

“I put a small gadget into your wristwatch,” Chloe said, “I figured he’d recognize the ring if he saw it again. If you press the button there, the team will be called to your location shortly.”

“And if things get exciting, make sure to take the watch off,” Keith let out a laugh, “You don’t want us to interrupt your fun over an accident.”

“It’s just the first date, idiot.”

“Yeah and I’m—I’m sure there’s a rule against killing on the first date.” Chloe said, “Right?”

“Nah I killed a target on the first date before,” you mumbled, “But I wasn’t told to get into a relationship back then so… It’ll be different this time.”

“Try not to give the guy whiplash though, will you?” Keith said and you frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“It means dating etiquette changed since 1940s.”

“Oh don’t worry, I got that covered,” you said but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring. “I have to go.”

“Okay, but—“

“No time Keith,” you murmured, walking to the door. Your heart was pacing against your chest for some reason as if it was a real first date, and you swung the door open to reveal Bucky waiting for you at your doorstep. He put his hands into his leather jacket, taking in your appearance.

“You know what to do if you get in trouble.” Keith said and you hung up quickly to push your phone into your purse, smiling wide at Bucky.

“Hi!” you said, “Shall we?”

***

Now to think of it, the last time you had been on a date without carrying any weapons had to be ten years ago if not more. But you had clear orders for this one, your superiors were convinced that carrying any kind of gun or a dagger would alert him, even if you thought it was invisible to outsider eye.

After all, he was an assassin and looking for weapons on a person from miles away was second nature for assassins.

You would know.

“So you moved here a month ago and you just know one place?” he asked as you waited for the barista to prepare your coffee, “A coffee shop? That’s it?”

“I know a milkshake shop too.”

He tilted his head, “You mean where you work?”

“That still counts,” you defended yourself “But if you insist, I might let you show me around next time.”

“Please do,” he said, “Just a heads up though, there’s a huge possibility that most of the places I know has been closed down years ago.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you told him as the barista put your coffees in front of you. “We can explore the new sights together then.”

A smile graced his lips while he led you to the table furthest from the window facing the door and you had to suppress your grin.

You weren’t the only one who was scanning the cafe for possible emergency exits and safest spots after all. Sitting by the window was a civilian mistake because in case of a shooting, you’d be in the clear sight for the shooter.

You had a feeling not many people considered that possibility on a first date.

“That sounds good,” he pulled your chair for you and you paused only for a moment before taking your seat.

Right. Born in a different era.

He took off his leather jacket and your gaze wandered off to his vibranium arm before snapping back to his eyes. He was watching you with his brows slightly raised, as if waiting to see your reaction.

“Sorry!” You said quickly, “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Bucky—“

“Really,” he assured you, “Don’t worry.”

You took a deep breath, pushing your behind your ear.

“So, it’s good to meet in a place that looks like it belongs to 21st century isn’t it?”

He hissed in a breath, a mischievous light glimmering in his blue eyes “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Brutally honest.”

“I would be lying if I said I don’t miss the uniform.”

Your jaw dropped before a smile spread over your lips, “Look at that,” you said, “Told you you weren’t rusty.”

He chuckled, “I’d hope not.”

“And hey, if you miss how it was back then, some things aren’t that different than 40s,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands. He tilted his head.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Like what?”

“You know, I’m glad you asked because I actually did research in case it came up.”

He lowered his cup, “You did what?”

“Um… do you promise not to be intimidated if I am brutally honest?”

He leaned in, eyes locked to yours, “Cross my heart.”

“I did research,” you nodded, making him let out a small laugh. “No wait, listen— I just… I didn’t google you or stalk you over Instagram so I had to prepare myself in a different way.”

“I know some of those words,” he pointed out and you took a deep breath.

“It means I didn’t look you up.” you said, “When I was sixteen, I promised myself I wouldn’t look anyone up before the first date but that rule doesn’t extend to doing general research.”

“You didn’t look me up?” he asked and you shook your head.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I like getting to know people on my own,” you said, “I’m not really interested in people’s pasts, does that make sense?”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, “But I’ll do it anyway. Trusting people is kind of my thing, past or not. I’d rather be mistaken than prejudiced.”

A silence fell upon him as if he was astounded and you rested your chin on your fist, keeping your eyes on him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said after a beat, “Nothing at all.”

“So—anyways, some things aren’t that different,” you said, leaning back, “Some details, that is. People still— we still go to movie theatres, that was a big thing back then too right?”

“Oh absolutely,” he said, “For first dates too.”

“We still wear hats sometimes,” you counted with your fingers, “Some people still prefer to call their partners daddy—in a different context, don’t google that— and we still have jello.”

“I heard about that,” he mused, a playful smile on his lips, “The jello, that is.”

You grinned, scrunching up your nose.

“So yeah. There’s your crash course.”

“I appreciate it,” he said with a chuckle, “And hey, if it makes you feel any better I didn’t google you either.”

“Because you don’t know how?”

“Because I don’t know how,” he admitted, “I should probably start making a list, I keep asking Sam about some pretty common information.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I mean—for example, I don’t know if it’s still acceptable to bring a gal-a girl,” he corrected himself and cleared his throat, “Flowers for the first date.”

“You were going to bring me flowers?”

“Yeah! Yeah . I was going to actually, then Sam said it was old fashioned. Sharon said it was a good idea, but…”

You furrowed your brows, “Okay let me get this straight, you listened to your friend who’s a guy and not your other friend who’s a girl. About what girls like on the first date.”

A look of realization dawned on his face, “That might not have been the brightest idea now that you mentioned it.”

“No disrespect to Captain America but he might need to work on his romance skills,” you pointed out and took a sip of your coffee.

“How about you?” he asked, “What’s your story?”

I was recruited at the age of 16, just last year I took down a whole team of bad guys all by myself, I could probably kill someone in 5 different ways using this coffee cup and spoon alone.

Or not.

You had been over this. You had a full file back at home filled with details of your new identity, designed to look unsuspicious.

“There’s not much to tell I’m afraid,” you muttered, “I grew up in a small town. Everyone knew each other, and I thought it was nice, until my grandmother passed away. Then there were way too many people asking me if I was okay. In the grocery store, on my way to work… I just wanted to get away.”

“I know the feeling,” he said softly and you nodded.

Of course he did. This whole identity was fabricated for him after all.

“So I figured I could move away,” you said, “There was nothing to keep me there after all. I lost my parents when I was little, that was the reason why my grandmother took me in.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be,” you said quickly, “Really. They just….”

My mom died in a car crash when I was 5, and one day I came home from school and my father was nowhere to be found.

Neither was his suitcase.

You had to give it to him, he had bothered to write you a note. If you could call that a note.

The infamous genius scientist had nothing to say other than he was sorry. You had burned that note that night, along with every picture in the family album.

“There was a car accident,” you tried to smile, ignoring the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “Drunk driver, came out of nowhere. They both died on impact, that’s what everyone says. I don’t remember them much.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and you took a deep breath.

“Anyways,” you managed to say, “Enough about me. What about you?”

He paused before turning the cup between his hands, “That’s kind of a long story,” he said, making you arch a brow to shoot him a look.

“Well as it happens, my milkshake making schedule just cleared out.” you stated, making him smile, “We have unlimited coffee and time. Bring it on.”

***

Well, you didn’t know what you had expected but it wasn’t this. Considering he was under the impression that you were a civilian, of course he didn’t tell you any gory or top secret details but he didn’t try to make himself look innocent either, or any different than he was.

He was as sincere as an ex-assassin could be.

Cover or not, this was probably the best date you had ever been. In fact, after the first half an hour you almost forgot that it was fake, that you were supposed to dig for information instead of enjoying yourself.

You were still playing your part but it didn’t exactly feel like work.

“So no to motorcycles?” Bucky asked as you turned around to look at him better while you walked backwards.

“No to motorcycles!” you exclaimed, “Those things are deathtraps.”

“So when you said you couldn’t get on it because of your dress….”

“It wasn’t a complete lie,” you motioned at your dress, “Half because of the dress, half because I don’t want to die.”

“Do you seriously believe I’d let that happen?”

“Maybe.”

“Mmm and what was it you said earlier?” he taunted you, “About trusting people?”

“I trust people,” you insisted, “I don’t trust death machines, there’s a difference.”

Well, he didn’t need to know you had a motorcycle in Chloe’s garage.

“Here we are,” you pointed at the building standing a couple of feet away from you, “My apartment. See, I told you it was close. No reason for putting our lives in danger when we can just walk.”

“Does that mean I can’t show you around the city the next time?”

“On a motorcycle?”

“Mm hm.”

“I don’t—that’s a terrible….” You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Hypothetically speaking, what would I get in return?”

His smile was calm, almost amused, “What do you want to get in return?”

You crossed your arms, looking up at the sky as if you were deep in thought, completely aware of his gaze on you.

“Flowers,” you said after a beat, “I didn’t even know they were an option but now that I know, I want flowers.”

“Is that it?” he asked, “It’s ‘a death machine’, but flowers are enough to convince you?”

“Depends,” you mused silkily, a complete opposite of the wide-eyed look in your eyes as you batted your lashes, “What else do you want me to want?”

A shadow moved behind his gaze only for a moment before it disappeared again but it was more than enough time for you to see it, and that was when you realized that there was a reason why Chloe had sent you that file.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t completely a stammering love-struck puppy when it came to flirting. While it was true that he could be a little rusty –you didn’t know how he was back in the 40s-, he also knew when to stop talking to see how far you would go in this game.

He was letting you play and think you were in control before making his move.

Patience of a sniper.

“Um- thank- thank you for tonight,” you said, averting your glances as if you were embarrassed under his gaze, playing it coy, “I had so much fun.”

“Me too,” he said, “The next one will include flowers, I promise.”

You let out a nervous giggle and stepped closer to him before you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He inhaled your scent deeply, probably not even aware of what he was doing but you tried to hide your smile.

It was on the file Chloe had prepared about him. Bucky Barnes liked the scent of vanilla.

“Be careful riding that death machine,” you told him, biting on your lip before you made your way to the building. You hopped on the stairs to push the exterior door to get into the building, and pressed a hand on your chest, closing your eyes.

Why were you so giddy all of a sudden?

You threw your shoulders back and got into the elevator to press on the button to your floor. As soon as the elevator started to move, your reflection in the mirror caught your attention and you tilted your head.

Chloe had a point, it was a nice dress.

The elevator made a small noise and the doors slid open for you to pass, but when you entered the hall you stopped dead on your tracks. There were four agents waiting on your doorstep and before you could question what was happening, one of the doors in the hallways opened and Keith stepped out.

“Be careful riding that death machine?” he asked, “I could tell you the same thing but you didn’t invite him up here.”

“I wasn’t wearing a wire, how did you-?”

“We had a car around the corner just in case,” he said “You’d be surprised how far we can hear with these new gadgets.”

“I told everyone we can’t—“ you stopped yourself, taking a deep breath. “What are you doing here and why are there agents at my doorstep?”

He grinned at you, “How do you feel about being neighbors?”

“I feel fuck no about it, and why are there agents—“

“General is waiting for you in your apartment.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “What?” you asked as you walked past him and opened the door to your apartment, then stepped in.

“General?” you rasped out as you walked into the living room to find him there, sitting by himself.

“Shrike,” he greeted you, “Good evening.”

You tried to smile, “Good evening sir.”

“I wanted to see how the mission was going,” he said, “Your team says it’s been very successful so far.”

“It’s going according to plan sir, yes.”

“This was what, your first date?”

You licked your dry lips, commanding yourself to be calm. “Yes.”

He hummed and stood up, running a hand over his gray beard, his eyes darting around the room.

“Y/N,” he murmured, making your head shot up at hearing your name instead of your alias. “It’s possible that the last time we talked face to face about your mission, I came across a little…uncaring. I want you to know that it’s not easy for me either.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“You’re like a daughter to me,” he said, “For me, putting you on this mission was no different than sending Chloe into Barnes’s bed. Granted you have an edge and proper training for field missions like these unlike her, but…”

Right. Manipulation of Enemy.

A.k.a the seduction class.

Your superior had almost failed you in that class.

“But all your superiors in the division is aware of your success so far,” he said, “There has been no hiccups, nothing to alert him which is a surprise. You’re playing your role well, and we will keep that in mind after this mission is over. You’re at the top of our list for possible handlers.”

For the first time in your life, that didn’t make you fill with excitement for some reason. You frowned at yourself and plastered a smile on your face.

“Thank you sir.”

“Anything you would like to report so far?”

“I’m going slowly in order to make sure I gain his trust,” you said, “But sir, there’s a reason why I didn’t even wear my earpiece tonight. Barnes is a pro, anything could make him suspicious and putting agents in cars to listen to us… That could go wrong.”

“You want to be completely alone on this mission?”

“I still want to have my team, but I want them to be completely invisible. I already have a tracker and an emergency signal on my wristwatch, but unless I specifically call for them, they need to be away. I can’t risk anyone compromising my cover, even if it’s unintentional by my team.”

He thought for a moment, “I see,” he said, “You make a good point. I’ll make the necessary adjustments.”

“Thank you General.”

He squeezed your upper arm as if trying to assure you and walked to the door, then turned around.

“Shrike?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’ve heard what happened to Marco, right?” he asked, “He was one of our best agents but got too involved in his seduction mission.”

You swallowed thickly, “I heard he’s missing.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, “That’s right. He was removed from his mission, then went missing.”

Killed.

He was killed by the agency when he fell for his target and both of you knew that.

“That’s unfortunate,” you managed to say and he nodded.

“It is,” he said, “Don’t make the same mistake. Actions have consequences.”

With that, he left your apartment and you let out a breath as you fell back to sit on the couch, your hands shaking.

“Yeah,” you muttered to yourself, “Yeah they do.”

Chapter 7

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader

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sirenprincess15 · 3 years

Text

Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 3

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: Aleksander learns of the attack on Marie.

Chapter 3

Aleksander let her drift asleep in his arms. He didn’t think he could sleep, but he didn’t mind. His body was strong from using his power recently, and he was quite content to revel in the heaven of having her in his arms. For the first time in centuries, he had hope. Alina could be everything--the end of his worries with the Fold, the power needed to stop the torture and murder of Grisha everywhere, and maybe even the soulmate strong enough to match his lifeline. He tried not to get too carried away with his dreams, but it was difficult as she lay half naked beside him with only his black kefta draped around her.

Ivan was in the war room and pacing with anxious energy, he could hear, despite Fedyor’s attempts to calm him down. It was likely important. Ivan didn’t rattle easily. He really should go see what it was, but it was difficult to pull himself away from her.

Eventually, he forced himself to leave the bedchamber and hear the report. He sighed. “What is it?”

Ivan strode to his side, nodded in respect, and then quickly dived in. “Marie and Genya were attacked in the fitting room. Alina was the target.”

He clenched his fists. He had expected something like this, thus why he had insisted on the decoy in the first place, but his anger at them for actually attempting it … he found it hard not to unleash a dark burst throughout the Little Palace. “Who?” he asked. He would kill those responsible. How dare they try to kill her just for being different, for being special? Grisha had endured the attempted genocide of their people for far too long.

“We have a suspect in custody. He’s being held for your interrogation, sir.”

“Good,” he said. He appreciated having someone to torture for it. He would make the death slow. And he would enjoy it. His darkness needed to be released.

“Genya?”

“Alive. Shaken, but well, sir. The assassin shot her straight in the chest, but it hit her kefta.”

He was relieved. Genya was a favorite of his. She understood ambition and sacrifice for her people. “Marie?”

Ivan shook his head. It took all of Aleksander’s control not to let darkness fill the room again. That could have been Alina, would have been Alina if not … And she would have been gone just as easily as Luda had been taken from him, just for being Grisha. Dark emotions overwhelmed him. He really needed someone to kill. Luckily, the moron had been stupid enough to get caught so he could do just that.

He glanced behind him at Alina’s sleeping form in his bed. “Fedyor, stay in my chambers with her, keep her in a calm sleep until I return.”

Fedyor nodded his acknowledgement.

“If anyone besides myself or your partner approaches this room, anyone at all, kill them.” He was taking no chances with Alina’s life. The assassin was likely not alone, and he could not lose her.

He noticed Ivan’s eyes looking at her with curiosity. He met his heartrender’s gaze and cocked his head to ask if he was really peeking at her, and then he used his power to cast a shadow over her body for her privacy.

“Is that how you’re going to convince her to wear the Stag?” Ivan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Aleksander stared at him until he made Ivan nervous enough to add a quick “sir.”

He quickly checked his protective instincts. Ivan was trustworthy, not at all interested in women, and thoroughly committed to their plans. “She doesn’t require convincing. She wants to. She wants to protect and help Grisha, and she knows she needs more power for it. She will do it willingly. Our interests are aligned.”

“And if your interests are ever not in line?”

He shrugged. He didn’t want to go to that possibility, that she might turn on him and betray him some day, that someday she might not understand his determination to protect Grisha. It was not a good thing to be thinking about when he was already riled. Ivan had likely done that on purpose. Ivan had been pushing caution with Alina and making sure they could control her power. David had a theory on how they could make that possible, but Aleksander didn’t like it, and Ivan knew it. Ivan was probably using the moment to remind him what it felt like when things went wrong. When you trusted the wrong person, Grisha ended up dead. Aleksander did not need that reminder, and he was overwhelmed with enough dark thoughts without dwelling on these theoreticals. “Show me to this assassin.” He would direct his darkness where it belonged.

#darklina #alina x darkling #kirigan x alina #alina x kirigan #general kirigan #aleksander x alina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morovoza

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years

Text

Satisfied, Part 47

First

~~~

She hummed to herself as she wandered through town. She really wished they would have trusted her enough by now to just tell her their hideout location. Even if they were right to be suspicious, they really had no reason to be. She didn’t think she’d be alive if they found out she was working for the bats, so why…?

Marinette was pulled from her thoughts when she saw the henchmen. She calmly put her hands in the pockets of her dress as they approached. Fighting back or running away was useless, considering it was about ten on one and she was still trying to remain mostly unknown, so why bother?

“Hey, fellas!” She chirped.

They didn’t smile or respond, but she was used to that.

What she wasn’t used to was them forcing a bag over her head without giving her tranquilizer. She gave a tiny, confused frown as she was hoisted over someone’s shoulder and carried out into the night.

She felt her feet touch ground and smiled as she pulled the bag off of herself.

A glance around made the difference obvious. Joker wasn’t there. She resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air at the tiny victory.

Harley nearly tackled her in a hug and she rolled her eyes, but still hugged back. “Woo… almost time,” she said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster.

Harley seemed to brush off her hesitance as nerves, as she pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said: “Don’t worry about it, darlin’! Everything's going to plan!”

“Right, so… what is the plan, exactly?”

The Rogues went still. All eyes slowly made their way to Penguin, who gave a small shrug. “Hm... guess I never told her… oops?”

“I thought we all agreed she was trustworthy!” Said Scarecrow.

Penguin gave a small shrug. “Information is power.”

“Not when you’re keeping it from your allies!” Hissed Catwoman.

He shrugged as if to say ‘agree to disagree’. “Joker was right, though, she’s not cut out for murder. Maybe we shouldn’t involve her.”

Crap. There was no way in hell that she was going to screw up this close to the end… she raised her eyebrows teasingly. “Aw, Penguin, is that you trying to care about me? That’s so sweet of you!”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He knew that she was just doing it to annoy him into including her but that didn’t mean it didn’t work: “Of course not! I just don’t want a liability on my team!”

She hummed lightly. “Mhmm, sure. But Joker agreed I wasn’t a liability, so…”

“How would you know that?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Marinette smiled. “So, what’s the plan?”

Poison Ivy smiled and walked over to pull out a handy chalkboard. She drew a crude map of the layout of the Wayne Mansion with a bunch of squiggles in the middle of the courtyard to represent all the people. “Right. At eleven-thirty you’re going to portal us inside the house because that doesn’t change. We crash the party and after that… how many portals can you maintain?”

She hesitated. “For more than a few minutes? One set.”

Harley nodded slowly and circled the two gates. “Alright, then we need you to hold up portals by these two main exits so people will have a hard time escaping.”

“Escaping… what?”

Poison Ivy beamed. “We’re going to assassinate every person in a position of power.”

That wouldn’t work unless… She went pale. “But… it’s a masquerade. There’s… how will you tell?”

Please, please, please don’t be saying what she thought they were saying --.

“Everyone there has power of some sort, either politically or economically.” Scarecrow explained. “And if the past few years have proven anything it’s that they aren’t using it right. So: anarchy.”

“But anarchy doesn’t just work like people think it does! Sure, there will be no real laws for a little while, but it’s temporary! It’s a power vacuum! Eventually someone will come along and grab everything.”

“Exactly!” Said Penguin. “And since everyone else will be rather… indisposed, it’s ours!”

Hands came up to rest on her shoulders.

She swallowed thickly and looked away. Her mind found its way to the question he’d asked her when they’d been playing cards. ‘What is it you need?’ She’d given him the answer ‘power’ and this was his appeal to that.

And she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t tempting. She’d never be hurt again, she’d never be weak again. But she wouldn’t give into that temptation. She couldn’t. Couldn’t even pretend to. Because they would give power to her if she asked them to.

And she didn’t know what she’d do.

She pushed his hands away and took a step back. “There are going to be kids at the Gala.”

“Don’t worry, we have a plan to get them out,” said Catwoman, who walked over and slung herself over Marinette’s shoulders. “Why? Scared for your little boy toy?”

Her face warmed and she sighed. “A little, but also for the actual kids. How are we getting them out?”

The woman shrugged against her. “Manually. We’ll all pick them up, give them a bit of money, and send them on their way before we open fire.”

Marinette cringed. “You’re going to ‘send them on their way’? They’re kids! They won’t survive!”

“At least we’re giving them a chance to,” said Scarecrow.

“Besides,” added Penguin. “If they want they can join us as henchmen! Most of the street kids end up that way, anyways.”

She felt bile build in her throat.

She’d hoped, somewhat naively, that with a little bit of work and guidance they could all be good people. Sure, they all had done some horrible stuff, but she’d thought that they were mostly victims who had been manipulated by people who knew what they wanted and how to get it -- like Joker and, to a lesser extent, Penguin. But now… she was forced to confront the fact that, beyond whatever had happened in their lives to make them snap, they were ultimately smart people. They were perfectly aware of what they were doing and were absolutely okay with it. Took joy in it. It would take theoretical years of work for them to ever be fully rehabilitated, and even then she had her doubts it could work.

But then Harley reached out and poked her cheeks up into a smile and gave her such a kind look that Marinette managed to hold onto a scrap of that hope. There had to be some little pieces of humanity left in them, she’d seen them poke through -- they’d been angry when their henchmen had hurt her, they’d decided to spare the children (even if they had to justify it like that). There was still someone in there, some conscience begging to be listened to. And that was enough. She could work with that.

She at least had to try.

Marinette brought a smile to her face, taking Harley’s hands in hers. This was all if the bats won, of course, and though she hoped they would...

She figured she should have a backup plan in place. And if the Rogues won, there were some people who would need her help far more: “Can I have a mansion to help the kids? I don’t like the idea of just leaving them to fend for themselves.”

Harley smiled and squeezed her hands. “Of course! I’m sure Penguin can give you a nice one in his territory.”

Penguin opened his mouth to protest.

The woman’s eyes went cold. “I’m sure Penguin can give you a nice one in his territory,” she repeated.

He let his mouth fall closed and nodded his agreement.

Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. Then she pursed her lips as she mused aloud: “Right, so Penguin is doing this for the money and/or power.”

“Of course.”

“I assume Scarecrow is here for the fear.”

“And the elite status, really,” Scarecrow waved her off.

She nodded. “Noted. Ivy is here for killing the rich.”

“Woo!”

“Riddler…?”

He shrugged. “Is bored.”

“Right. Sorry about that. Wanna do a puzzle together in a minute?” They exchanged smiles and she continued: “Catwoman wants money.”

“Money is good,” the woman agreed.

“And Harley is here for Joker. But why is Joker doing it?”

Harley shrugged calmly. “Why does he do anything? For Batman’s attention.”

“Doesn’t he always have it? The guy could probably walk through town and Batman would show up.”

She gave her a sad smile. “It’s never enough.”

~~~

Taglist

@comet-kun @thatonecroc @trippingovermyfeet @swiftie-miraculer13 @nickristus-dreamer @moongoddesskiana @i-am-ironic @indecisive-mess-named-me @thebooki3h @insane-fangirl-of-everything @deepestobservationwombat @theymakeupfairies @fatimaabbasrizvi @clumsy-owl-4178 @fanofalittletoomuch @iamablinkmarvelarmy @nathleigh @lilkymilky @silvergold-swirl @dino-lovingreen-angel @thestressmademedoit @kissa-chan @ladybug-182 @alysrose-starchild @t1dwarrior-of-earth @spyofthenightcourt @rowanrouge @nik-nak-3 @momothefemur @aestheticnpoetic @labschaos @our-preciousss @mochinek0 @eliza-bich @mythogaychic @severelyenchantedwonderland @sashakoi @smolplantmum @bluesimani @tropestropestropes @kitsunebell @keepingupwiththemalfoys @sassakitty @2confused-2doanything @too0bsessedformyowngood @all-mights-asscheeks @demonicbusiness @meg-an-ace @fantasiame @qualitypeacepainter @multplelifes @kokotaru @spicybelladonna @ultimatetornshipper

#timinette #timari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin #satisifed #maribat

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cherrywoes · 3 years

Note

AAAA YES- I have been waiting for this opportunity haha! May I ask for just a soft moment between the reader and (now known as) Shion? I’m absolutely enamoured by their relationship and I just want to see the two maybe cuddle a bit and act disgustingly domestic. I wouldn’t mind either headcanons of how they generally act around each other maybe even a small story of maybe 2k ish words? Whatever you’re comfortable with!

Tbh I’m just looking forward to learn more about Shion and his mannerisms TT I hope you have a wonderful day and take care!

a/n: haha i was waiting on this to show up! <3 i did both the small story and the headcanons (at the end) so i hope you enjoy! this ended up around 3k so i’m pretty happy with the result. you have a wonderful day as well! for those of you who don’t know who ama-no-kagaseo/shion is, he’s an oc from my jjk fic dark sun.

of custard buns, apples, and mandarin oranges.

— ama-no-kagaseo (shion) + reader.

It was a quiet day for you today. There were no assassins, no awful weather to rain on your parade (quite literally, might you add), and, somehow, Sayaka would not be at your side today. Something about a first grade Curse had pulled her away for the day, sending her to the countryside—a place not known for its Curses—for the time being. You weren’t sure why Gojou couldn’t do it, since he was perfectly capable of going himself, but you weren’t going to ignore the chance that this brought you.

You were going to make pastries.

“Pastries?” Ama-no-Kagaseo (Shion, now, you needed to remember) materialized at your side, so close that he was practically leaning on you. He was oddly more in tune with your thoughts than usual after you’d given him that name, or something had changed—more specifically, his attention revolved around you more than anything else now. While that malevolent nature still crept out at times—never to you, but to nearly everyone else on the campus—it was subdued, and he appeared almost docile though you knew that was far from the truth. “I’ve never seen you make them before.”

His innocent curiosity of everything you did was endearing, to say the least. Having never taken interest in human pursuits before, he was set on learning everything you did even if he had no true want to learn it in the first place. He learned it because, through that activity, whatever it may be, he was closer to you, and therefore, in his mind, any time spent being close to you was precious time to him. Being a god and immortal, time that was considered anything other than ‘boring’ was important to him, however, most of it being linked back to you could be a very deadly double-edged sword… for other people, perhaps.

With a smile, you shook your head and held up an index card with the recipe for coconut custard buns. It was one of your favorites, something Sayaka had always bought for you when you were younger and had a notorious sweet tooth, and you’d been craving it recently. But without any way to contact her while she was off on a mission, you were left with only one other option: to make them yourself. You’d discovered the recipe (admittedly, you’d been snooping at first) in a magazine that had belonged to Gojou at some point. It had been left in the common rooms and, well, you considered it free game if he had just left it there when he was done with it.

“That’s because I haven’t,” you replied with a small laugh. You could feel his question burning into the side of your face without even having to look over at him. If you did, you would see a slightly pleading expression on his face, followed by the faint bunching of his brows because Amatsumikaboshi did. Not. Plead. But for you, he most likely would and that was all that mattered. “Yes, you can help me make them, Shion.”

He lit up like a light at the sound of his name. You’d been struggling to remember to call him that and not Ama-no-Kagaseo or Amatsumikaboshi, having done so for years beforehand, so breaking a habit like that was difficult for you. There was a set preconception to those names; all the higher ups saw him as was the malevolent, admittedly vicious god who would see them all destroyed if he had his way, but this was not ‘Amatsumikaboshi’—at least not to you. You’d seen several sides of him in the past few years, but this one—excited, happy even—was the one you liked the most, even if you were fond of both aspects of his godhood.

In his adult and personal form, he looked almost like a giant, overeager puppy—dragon, you thought, at a second glance, peering at the horns poking out over strands of white hair—at the idea of helping you cook. Which, to most people, might be bizarre in and of itself; what god would lower himself to cooking?

“What do they taste like?” He inquired, further leaning on you to the point where he was about to push you over. He wanted a glimpse of the index card, you thought, but then he rested his head on your shoulder instead. He was careful to avoid poking you with his horns and had his head situated at an odd angle that looked uncomfortable. “[Name]?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, pressing your mouth to the top of his head in a mockery of a kiss. He did this to you all the time, and now you understood why: it was extremely intimate, very close and comforting. He always smelled like an interesting mix of the ocean, some tropical flower that you had no name for, and almond oolong tea. It never changed, even when he was in a different form, oddly enough. You didn’t mind it. It was a very sweet, pleasing scent. “Oh, they taste like… custard and tangzhou bread, but I guess you wouldn’t know what that tastes like. You can try it and see if you like it, since you will be helping me.”

“Can we make them now?” He asked, shifting so he was looking up at the underside of your jaw and eyelashes. “I’m curious.”

“Of course.” You smiled and gently pushed a few strands away from his eyes so you could see them better. He’d always had pretty eyes, you’d thought, that seemed to shine with more knowledge than you could ever fathom. Now, though, they were focused on you, those slit pupils wide enough that you could see your reflection in them. As an afterthought, you leaned down and kissed his forehead, much in the same way he did to you when he thought you were napping. When you pulled away, you watched a pale blush creep up his neck and ears, which was just adorable. “But first, we need to make you blend in a bit.”

Confusion rolled across his face like a thundercloud. He stood and helped you to your feet when you struggled to get your legs out from under yourself, numb from sitting so long, and held your weight for a few moments while you waited for the blood to flow back into your legs. “Blend in?”

“Mhm.” You touched his horns and then pointed to his kimono. “I don’t think there’s anyone here right now, but in case someone comes in you’ll look like you’re just a sorcerer. If someone found out you could separate yourself from me like this, they’d report it to the higher ups and I’d be put back in confinement again.”

“No,” Shion said, and at first you thought it was to making him blend in. The scowl that appeared on his face was lethal. “I’ll kill them first.”

With a light laugh, you rose to your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was almost like watching magic, the way his scowl turned into a pleased little smile. “You can’t kill everyone who finds out about you. Then they’ll get suspicious and know it was you.”

“You’re right,” he acknowledged, after a moment, leaning just a bit closer to you. “How will I ‘blend in’, so to speak.”

“Well…” You looked up at his horns, then his hair—which wasn’t all that strange, Gojou had white hair and Itadori had pink hair—and afterwards, his yukata. He could easily be mistaken as a member of one of the three clans and you could say he was replacing Sayaka for the day. You reached up and fingered his horns, surprised at how sharp the individual points were; they were almost like a deer’s horns. “Can you make these go aw—”

And just like that, they were gone, leaving you touching nothing but air.

“Right,” you mumbled, lowering your hand to pick up the astronomically long lengths of hair running down his back. It ended right at his hips, so you could, theoretically, just tie it into a bun and leave it like that. You’d seen plenty of Zen’in men wear their hair like that. “Okay, sit over here.”

You sat down on the edge of your bed and patted the floor with your foot. You retrieved your brush from the nightstand and waited until he was settled, then picked up a strand of hair and started brushing from the bottom to the roots. While they weren’t tangled, you didn’t want to cause him any kind of pain—could he even feel pain?—and gently ran the brush through his hair. He made no complaint and allowed you to continue sectioning off parts of his head, and obediently let you tilt his head this way and that so you could get the areas hanging over his shoulder.

When you were finished brushing it and making sure there weren’t any knots, you set down the brush and began combing his hair back with your fingers. He went entirely limp against your legs, a deep, rolling purr echoing from somewhere in his chest although you could feel it echoing in your shins. You’d heard him purr like that a few times before, usually when he was sitting in the sun of your window like a particularly lazy cat, but this was the first time he’d done it because of something you did. And it was unusually loud, as well, and you had to wonder if it was because he was starting to drift off.

You gathered the rest of his hair up, brushed out the parts that stuck out, and tied it off with a piece of twine you’d had lying around. You didn’t think he would appreciate wearing a sparkly blue ponytail—actually, he more than likely wouldn’t mind matching you. An idea for another day, then.

“Alright,” you said, resting your hands on his shoulders. The purring stopped and he stretched, lifting his arms above his head and popping almost every single bone in his back until he was done. Then he relaxed, head in your lap, and stared up at you. “What?”

Shion continued staring, golden eyes flicking over your face contemplatively. “You’re the most beautiful human in existence to me.”

Oh. You could just feel the blood rushing up to your face, hot and tingly. You stared down at him, mouth falling open in useless stutters, then closed your mouth and pressed your hands to your face. “I… Um…”

“You don’t need to say anything.” He reached up and gently nudged your arm out of the way so he could rest the pads of his fingers against your heart. “I can feel everything you do.”

You were hesitant to lower your hands, but at an encouraging pulse sent through your connection, you dropped them to your lap and cradled his face in your hands. It was moments like these where you had to wonder if Shion knew everything or what you only made obvious. He never said anything, if he did, so you supposed he kept to himself so you could say what you wanted to and nothing else.

The both of you stayed like that for a few moments, caught in an interesting limbo, until you remembered the whole point of making him look somewhat human in the first place.

“Alright,” you sighed, sufficiently calmed down enough that you could make sense of your words again. You patted his cheek softly in a gesture for him to get up. “Let’s go make those custard pastries, hm?”

The college kitchen was nothing to scoff at, but it was also everything you’d never had before. You had cooked before, of course, but not with anything super high tech. Luckily it was easy enough to figure out how to work the oven and you gathered the ingredients from the cupboards, setting them all down on a counter, and got to work.

Shion (even wearing an apron) helped you through every step, although you left the kneading and stirring to him since he was the god and you, decidedly, were not. He was happy to do whatever you asked of him and it was funny watching him get irritated with the ball of dough when you said it needed to rest before you could stuff it and cook it.

While you waited thirty some minutes for the dough to sit and rise, you retrieved a small bowl of fruit you had cut while watching him labor over the dough. It was mostly apples and mandarin oranges, both some of your favorites. You didn’t want to get your hands sticky so you used chopsticks to eat them, and offered an apple slice to Shion when he sent a curious glance at the bowl. He stared at it for a moment and then leaned down to take a hesitant bite of it, pulling away so you couldn’t make him eat the rest if he didn’t like it. You popped the rest in your mouth and watched his face for any sign that he didn’t like it, but when he finished chewing he nodded his head and gestured for you to give him another.

You spent the next thirty minutes like this, eating apples and oranges and offering some to Shion whenever he indicated he wanted another. He spent a lot of time savoring the flavors while you just ate one and immediately ate another, which you assumed came down to him never eating human food before.

When the dough finished rising, it took you no time to fill them and pop them in the oven with Shion’s help. With thirty five minutes more to wait, you sat down in a chair and Shion followed, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“Shion?” You asked, inching your head back to mimic the pose he had been in earlier. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He looked amused that you had to ask. “What is it?”

“Why do you always want me to wear kimonos?” You inquired. You’d always assumed it was to signify that you were his vessel in the most obvious way possible, but you’d also never asked him. You’d just assumed. “These ones specifically.”

“Ah.” He nodded and his eyebrows furrowed deeply in thought. “Before I was cast aside as a failed product, my mother—Izanami, as I’m sure you know—made a set of kimonos specifically for the one I would choose as a partner one day. She did this for all of my siblings, I believe. The originals are lost to time, so I made these in their fashion.”

“Oh.” You touched the hem of your kimono thoughtfully. “And these—they don’t remind you of your mother?”

“No.” Shion rested his chin on your head with a pleased sigh. “You wear them, therefore they remind me of you.”

And you had to say you didn’t mind that.

The custard buns were done after twenty minutes or so, so you parted from Shion and pulled them out of the oven to let them cool. Or, at least, that was your intention; Shion, foolishly or stupidly, you didn’t know, picked one up with his bare hand and you had to watch in disbelief as he took a bite of nearly scalding hot bread and custard and said ‘It’s good’.

“Shion!” You exclaimed, watching his eyes dart over to you over the custard bun in his hand. “That’s hot! You can’t just eat it like that—”

“Why not?” He interrupted, taking another bite as if just to spite you. “It’s not too hot.”

“For you, maybe,” you sighed, watching with envy as he polished off the rest of his bun in one go. “I have to wait for them to cool.”

He seemed to realize, belatedly, what he had done—or he felt your envy, at any rate—and frowned. He approached you and swept you into his arms, nuzzling his nose into the side of your head affectionately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

You exhaled through your nose and rubbed his back soothingly, indicating you weren’t mad at him. “It’s okay, Shion. Here, help me clean up while I wait for them to cool off and consider it forgotten.”

He nodded eagerly and, in the span of about two seconds, proceeded to use his curse energy to sweep everything back into the cupboards they had come from. You watched, dumbfounded, as the doors unlatched and opened to allow flour, sugar, and yeast to return inside and slam closed once he was done.

“That’s one way to do it,” you laughed and began packing the rest of the custard buns into a small box, holding your hand out for Shion to take. He took it willingly, falling in step beside you and following you back to your dorm room. “Did you like the custard or was it too sweet?”

“Mm…” Shion watched as you kicked off your shoes and opened the door to your room. “It was good. I preferred the fruit more.”

“I’m guessing you like natural sweets, then,” you guessed, opening the box. They were now pleasantly warm and not too hot for you, unlike Shion, so you took a bite and nodded in satisfaction. They tasted just like your memories, if not a little sweeter but you didn’t mind it. It wasn’t going to be a perfect imitation, after all. You finished your bun and closed the box so no more heat would escape and laid on your bed, careful not to allow Shion’s human body to flop to the side in his sling. You’d almost forgotten it was there, you’d been so occupied with him for the day, and you wondered how he felt about it.

“It’s an irritant,” he answered, following your thoughts. He joined you and snuggled up to your free side, your arm instinctively coming up to lower your hand to his cheek. Shion slung one arm across your stomach, just under the sling, and pulled you closer, intent on getting comfortable even at your expense. “That body keeps you prisoner to it, and I am not even within it—just linked to it.”

“You’re not in it?” You repeated, turning your head to look at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Those Sukuna cultists ruined the ritual,” he replied nonchalantly. “Not that these people here know that. So you don’t have to hold it all the time; there are no repercussions unlike if they had actually completed it properly.”

“So…” You allowed a hand to come up and touch his human form delicately. “I could let your body lay next to me and I wouldn’t have to worry?”

“No.”

So you unhooked the sling from your shoulders, free of the weight for the first time in years, and held your breath as his human body rested next to you. Shion reached over you and tugged a blanket up and over you, his human body, and himself, finally comfortable.

“I wonder…” You stroked Shion’s cheek in thought, staring up at the ceiling while he drifted off, that interesting purr kicking up against your side. “Hmm.”

With a cursory glance at his human body, still deathly still as it always was, you turned your back to it and snuggled up to Shion, nudging your head under his chin and settling in for a nap.

Like all the times you had slept with him near, you felt, of course, at peace.

headcanons:

shion and the reader are very close--and i mean very, very close, to the point where they freely share affection and (as indicated) their food. they are also very comfortable with each other as well, more than with anyone else in their lives.

shion’s natural curiosity extends to the reader and only the reader. so anything she does, he will most likely either a) want to participate or b) ask her about what she’s doing and if she likes it or not.

shion actually has a very bad habit of listening in on the reader’s thoughts and feelings even if she isn’t aware of it, which usually gives him a head’s up on her emotional state. while the reader doesn’t listen to his out of respect, she sometimes takes a peek, unaware that he does notice when she does.

shion’s purring comes from the fact that he does have a dragonic form. he does this when he’s at ease, or happy, both of which are shown in this drabble. it translates into his human form through an extra set of vocal chords.

the reader is shion’s favorite anything, and as such, he’s protective of her—perhaps too protective. shion is still a malevolent god and he still has those tendencies to become violent, and while he will never become violent with the reader (he doesn’t have the heart to even shout at her) that does not go for anyone else who is in her general vicinity.

shion has a little habit where he’ll instinctively want to be touching the reader, almost like a particularly clingy cat. sometimes he won’t, but most of the time he most absolutely will.

because of his origins as a formless god, he’s touch starved, which might not mean much because he’s a god, right? he had no affection from his mother and father, izanami and izanagi, so he knows nothing about love and affection, so when he gets it from the reader, he feels like he belongs, and thus, has no qualms about doing whatever is necessary to keep her safe.

shion doesn’t actually understand the emotions he feels. like referenced in the chapters, his emotional understanding is around that of a toddler’s—he knows what it is, can feel it, but he doesn’t understand the deeper meaning to them. he just knows they are there and acknowledges that they are caused by the reader. his logical understanding, however, is that of a god’s, and so he makes logical equations of his emotions instead, which can be quite the double edged sword.

shion is an intj-t.

shion can’t really taste anything synthetic, so he was lying when he said the custard was good so he wouldn’t hurt the reader’s feelings. :’)

that gif at the top perfectly represents shion’s reaction to being offered an apple slice.

requests are: open.

#jujutsu kaisen #dark sun #oc x reader

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irelise · 4 years

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Yassen Gregorovich - Books vs TV

With the excellent new Alex Rider tv show out, I thought I would make a comparison post for one of my old favs, Yassen Gregorovich, who has a somewhat different feel in the books as compared to the show! This post will largely cover the first book Stormbreaker and should theoretically contain no spoilers for the potential future arcs of the show, since the events of Stormbreaker are presumably non-canon now. (Spoilers abound for the episodes of the show already out, though!)

If there’s any interest, I’ll put up a second post covering Eagle Strike and some parts of Russian Roulette that delves deeper into Yassen and his complicated relationship with Alex. Just let me know!

Much like the show, Yassen was the one who killed Ian Rider. Unlike the show, however, he’s known to be active on the field and the first time we “encounter” him is prior to Alex’s first mission, where Mrs Jones gives Alex a warning:

She took out a black-and-white photograph and laid it on the table. It showed a man in a white T shirt and jeans. He was in his late twenties with light, close cropped hair, a smooth face, the body of a dancer. The photograph was slightly blurred. It had been taken from a distance, possibly with a hidden camera. “I want you to look at this,” she said.

"I’m looking."

“His name is Yassen Gregorovich. He was born in Russia, but he now works for many countries. Iraq has employed him. Also Serbia, Libya, and China.”

“What does he do?” Alex asked.

"He’s a contract killer, Alex. We believe it was he who killed Ian Rider.”

There was a long pause. Alex had almost managed to persuade himself that this whole business was just some sort of crazy adventure…a game. But looking at the cold face with its blank, hooded eyes, he felt something stirring inside him and knew it was fear. He remembered his uncle’s car, shattered by bullets. A man like this, a contract killer, would do the same to him. He wouldn’t even blink.

[…]

“Why are you telling me this now?” Alex asked. His mouth had gone dry.

"Because if you see him, if Yassen is anywhere near Sayle Enterprises, I want you to contact us at once."

“And then?"

“We’ll pull you out. It doesn’t matter how old you are, Alex. If Yassen finds out you’re working for us, he’ll kill you too.”

I always thought this was a pretty good introductory scene -- Yassen has a very deadly reputation in the books, which is established at once then hammered in over and over again. Other traits which come up again and again include his coldness and his dancer’s body which is totally something I’m into, gotta love those “elegant and deadly assassin” tropes

(also, yes, Yassen is blond in the books and definitely not a brunet or even a redhead as in the movie. he also doesn’t have a distinctive facial scar!)

Yassen doesn’t actually have many scenes in Stormbreaker, although the shadow of his presence looms pretty darkly over the narrative. Alex only runs into him twice on the mission: once from a distance -- A lean, fair-haired figure dressed in black detached himself from the assembly line and walked languidly toward a door that slid open to receive him -- and the other encounter also occurs from a distance, when Alex is spying on a mysterious delivery at the docks in the dead of the night...

And then the tower opened and a man climbed out, stretching himself in the cold morning air. Even without the half-moon, Alex would have recognized the sleek dancer’s body and the close cropped-hair of the man whose photograph he had seen only a few days before. It was Yassen Gregorovich. Alex stared at him with growing fear. This was the contract killer Mrs. Jones had told him about. The man who had murdered Ian Rider. He was dressed in grey overalls and sneakers. He was smiling. He was the last person Alex wanted to meet.

[…]

Meanwhile, the guards from Sayle Enterprises had formed a line stretching back almost to the point where the vehicles were parked. Yassen gave an order and, as Alex watched from behind the rocks, a metallic silver box with a vacuum seal appeared, held by unseen hands at the top of the submarine’s tower. Yassen himself passed it down to the first of the guards, who then passed it back up the line. About forty more boxes followed, one after another. It took almost an hour to unload the submarine. The men handled the boxes carefully. They obviously didn’t want to break whatever was inside.

By the end of the hour they were almost finished. The boxes were being repacked now into the back of the truck that Alex had vacated. And that was when it happened. One of the men, standing on the jetty, dropped one of the boxes. He managed to catch it again at the last minute, but even so it banged down heavily on the stone surface. Everyone stopped. Instantly. It was as if a switch had been thrown and Alex could almost feel the raw fear in the air.

Yassen was the first to recover. He darted forward along the jetty, moving like a cat, his feet making no sound. He reached the box and ran his hands over it, checking the seal, then nodded slowly. The metal wasn’t even dented.

With everyone so still Alex heard the exchange that followed.

“I’m sorry,” the guard said. “I won’t do that again.”

“No. You won’t,” Yassen agreed, and shot him.

Largely a reaffirmation of what we saw from the photograph scene, this time in person: Yassen is generally quiet, understated and deceptively relaxed -- up until the point he murders somebody without blinking. I think the show does a good job capturing that aspect of Yassen, with scenes like Ian’s death and Dr. Greif in the car coming to mind in particular. Gotta love that pairing of Yassen’s generally calm demeanour with the bursts of restrained yet lethal violence!

Some other minor but interesting character notes: despite being one of the most highly-paid and successful assassins in the world, Yassen is perfectly comfortable doing grunt work (passing boxes, dressing in shitty grey overalls). Similarly, despite being (presumably) more comfortable working alone, he’s also at ease with giving orders and coordinating large groups of people.

Now, moving onto the last time Yassen shows up in Stormbreaker. This is right at the end of the book after Alex successfully foils the plot of the big bad (Herod Sayle), only to get kidnapped by him while his guard is down. Sayle takes them to a rooftop where a helicopter is coming to whisk Sayle away, but first he wants to have some revenge...

"That’s my ticket out of here!” Sayle continued. “They’ll never find me! And one day I’ll be back. Next time, nothing will go wrong. And you won’t be here to stop me. This is the end for you! This is where you die!”

There was nothing Alex could do. Sayle raised the gun and took aim, his eyes wide, the pupils blacker than they had ever been, mere pinpricks in the bulging white.

There were two small explosive cracks.

Alex looked down, expecting to see blood. There was nothing. He couldn’t feel anything. Then Sayle staggered and fell onto his back. There were two gaping holes in his chest.

The helicopter landed in the center of the cross. The pilot got out.

Still holding the gun that had killed Herod Sayle, he walked over and examined the body, prodding it with his shoe. Satisfied, he nodded to himself, tucking the gun away. He had switched off the engine of the helicopter and behind him the blades slowed down and stopped. Alex stepped forward. The man seemed to notice him for the first time.

"You’re Yassen Gregorovich,” Alex said.

The Russian nodded. It was impossible to tell what was going on in his head. His clear blue eyes gave nothing away.

"Why did you kill him?” Alex asked.

“Those were my instructions.” There was no trace of an accent in his voice. He spoke softly, reasonably. “He had become an embarrassment. It was better this way."

"Not better for him.”

Yassen shrugged.

“What about me?” Alex asked.

The Russian ran his eyes over Alex, as if weighing him up. “I have no instructions concerning you,” he said.

"You’re not going to shoot me too?”

"Do I have any need to?”

There was a pause. The two of them gazed at each other over the corpse of Herod Sayle.

“You killed Ian Rider,” Alex said. “He was my uncle.”

Yassen shrugged. “I kill a lot of people"

“One day I’ll kill you.”

“A lot of people have tried.” Yassen smiled. “Believe me,” he said, “it would be better if we didn’t meet again. Go back to school. Go back to your life. And the next time they ask you, say no. Killing is for grown-ups and you’re still a child.”

He turned his back on Alex and climbed into the cabin. The blades started up, and a few seconds later, the helicopter rose back into the air. For a moment it hovered at the side of the building. Behind the glass, Yassen raised his hand. A gesture of friendship? A salute?

Alex raised his hand. The helicopter spun away.

Alex stood where he was, watching it, until it had disappeared in the dying light.

HOO BOY where to start! This is a longer scene compared to the rest but I love it so much, it’s probably the best part of Stormbreaker for me and obviously it’s fairly different from the show. I adore the last scene of the show since the tension was delightful, but this hit in a different way. Alex! And Yassen! Actually talking!!! It’s a sparse scene (like most of AH’s writing), but very atmospheric and loaded with meaning all the same.

Let’s start with the obvious stuff first - book!Yassen is fair-haired and blue-eyed (or grey, depending), and has a very measured way of speaking without any accent at all. He very much falls into the archetype of “inscrutable Russian assassin with a mysterious connection to the protagonist” and it’s delightful.

I do like the fact we only really see Yassen in person for two scenes in the entire book, and both times he kills someone ruthlessly and efficiently. (...yes, he did kill Sayle while piloting a helicopter) His reputation is well-deserved and I think the show does an excellent job with that too; every time we see Yassen on screen there’s a feeling that shit is about to go down and somebody is about to die.

The show also does a pretty good job hinting at the connection between Yassen and Alex (ughh Yassen’s expression when he sees Alex for the first time kills me every time). In Stormbreaker, Yassen does (initially) seem colder towards Alex, emotionless, just a man on a job. But even then, we get little hints of warmth shining through such as the way he smiles when Alex promises to kill him, and of course the salute! It’s pretty clear that Yassen has some measure of fondness for Alex, because no way an assassin would normally just let somebody go after they promised to kill him, even if that person is only a teenage boy (especially considering that teenage boy is driven by a desire to take revenge on his uncle’s killer). I also think it’s interesting that Alex reciprocates his salute. He’s clearly aware (even if only subconsciously) of the connection between the two of them.

Though I think what hits the hardest for me is the fact Yassen is the one to tell Alex that he belongs in school, that he’s a child and he shouldn’t be part of this world. Alex in the books is much, much lonelier compared to the show. There was no Jack or Tom there for him, since Jack was kept completely out of the loop and Tom doesn’t even exist in the book. Wolf and the K-Unit largely either ignored or bullied Alex. As for Blunt and Jones, Alex just saved thousands of kids in England yet the only thing MI6 tells him afterwards is that his actions can never be revealed to the public, his youth will make him useful for future missions, and then the only thing they give him is a doctor’s note(!!!) to explain his absence from school.

If that sounds all sorts of terrible and unfair, Alex agrees:

In the end the big difference between him and James Bond wasn’t a question of age. It was a question of loyalty. In the old days spies had done what they’d done because they loved their country, because they believed in what they were doing. But he’d never been given a choice.

Nowadays, spies weren’t employed. They were used.

And of all the people to point out how fucked up the whole situation is and how Alex needs to get out...it’s Yassen, the contract killer, his uncle’s murderer. And Yassen says it straight to Alex’s face instead of just making token protests about how wrong it is to send a teenage boy into danger and then doing it anyway. I think the moment had a fairly big impact on Alex, and I was sad it wasn’t included in the show, but ah well. Another time, maybe?

BONUS

OK i know this was meant to be a book vs tv show thing BUT I WOULD BE REMISS IN MY DUTIES NOT TO LINK TO THE LAST SCENE AS DEPICTED IN THE OLD MOVIE

‘2 minutes of questionable everything’ from the video description about sums it up. the violins. the closeness. the long lingering looks. “i’ll never forget you.”

Anyway, hope this was interesting and at least a bit informative! Do let me know there’s any interest in a part 2 of this post covering Eagle Strike and maybe a bit of Russian Roulette!

#alex rider #alex rider tv #yassen gregorovich #stormbreaker #anthony horowitz #meta #mild spoilers

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huskeddevotee · 4 years

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I really wish we could have seen more CoV. For them being our main enemy, they’re hardly a factor in the story.

You’re never fighting the CoV, you’re fighting Ty and Troy. That worked in BL2, where the bad guy was a CEO and your frontline enemies were just his hapless employees doing as they were told. The Hyperion employees don’t care, they don’t matter - Jack matters, so you only interact with him.

But the Fanatics are so doped about the idea of maiming you. They want you dead, not just because Tyreen told them to kill you, but they hate your and the Raiders’ guts. The Fanatics are all of the bandit clans that the Vault Hunters cut through like butter, and they want vengeance and to appease their gods.

And we literally never see them.

We shoot at them. That’s it. That’s our interaction with the CoV.

We never get to see how they actually feel about the Twins. We don’t get to see in-fighting as the game progresses and people realize they’re full of sh*t, watching their brothers and sisters die by the hundreds and their ‘Gods’ not do anything to save them. We don’t get to see the different bandit clans clash from culture differences. We don’t see how the Twins are worshiped, if the cult is more social media-based or if it’s just a plain cult with social media flair. We don’t get to see why the Twins are worshiped in the first place. In an Echo recording, Ty promises food and shelter and everything people stranded in hell would want.

Does the CoV even provide that?

We don’t know. We don’t see people have food, water, medicine, clean shelter, or anything like that - nothing has changed about the bandits, so why would we think that? It looks like the Twins promised all of those things in the Great Vault. It looks like the CoV was built off of empty promises and people desperate enough to listen. This could have been a fascinating thing to watch and discover, but...no one cared enough to put it in.

And god, you barely get to interact with Tyreen and Troy themselves. Not like how you did with Jack.

When against Hyperion, you did all kinds of sh*t to tick off Jack that had nothing to do with the main story. You released animals in the Preservation. You blew up their trains and stole their Eridium. You liberated Overlook from Hyperion control. You killed his girlfriend and presumably liberated Lynchwood from Hyperion control. You killed his assassins in Three Horns. You destroyed his Arena, Statues, robots, and infrastructure in Opportunity.

And all of this felt really god-dang good. The satisfaction of breaking his crap knew no bounds, and still feels so victorious to this day. You developed an actual rivalry with Jack - he wanted you dead not just because you were opposing him, but actually screwing with him on the side that had no effect in the actual war. You were just ruining his art pieces for the fun of it and it made a relationship with Jack. That’s why his boss fight was so personal - you screwed with him, and he bit back at you hard by killing Roland, kidnapping Lilith, and actually achieving his goal of awakening the Warrior.

Most games would have you never interact with the main antagonist, but still act like you have the relationship of mutual hatred you do with Jack, with none of the effort to actually show and develop that relationship.

Y’know, like they did with Tyreen and Troy.

The Twins are your only interaction with the CoV beyond shooting CoV. You do nothing to anger them; you can’t, they’re always one step ahead of you. You have no relationship with them beyond “Game says I have to kill them” and the game acts like it’s this bitter rivalry. It acts like you’re constantly causing problems for the CoV, like you’re this huge pain, when the only time you actually do anything is AT THE END OF THE GAME?

You ‘storm’/walk into the Cathedral and shut off Troy’s Eridium. That’s it. The whole game, you’re fighting Katagawa and Aurelia. Never the CoV, never the Twins. Killing their allies and ‘war meat’ does nothing to actually hurt them.

And sure, you do things that should, theoretically, hurt them. You kill Mouthpiece. You kill Carnivora. You kill Troy. (And with Troy...usually, you feel smug when avenging a killed character. During that fight, I didn’t even think about Maya until my character mentioned her. Because that is the only thing Troy did, and it was nothing of his own merit. Maya’s death did nothing to build Troy up as dangerous - it was her own stupidity and a plot hole, because someone had to die this game.)

And yet you never seem to touch or interact with the CoV.

No matter what you do, it never effects them. You are constantly fighting an uphill battle. Even when you kill Troy, you don’t see Tyreen have that tantrum that Jack had. You don’t see the antagonist crack. When Jack started screaming his head off, there was this euphoric rush of satisfaction and bada**ery in my body that made shooting him all the funnier. You’d watched Jack go from a tyrant to a screaming loser in seconds and it felt good.

Tyreen doesn’t care about Troy dying. He’s mentioned once. Jack mentions Angel multiple times after he death, with a threat that he’s gonna destroy you for killing her.

Tyreen has no real come-uppance. You don’t actually defeat her. You kill her. You shoot her, then she dies.

You beat the hell out of Jack, then his Warrior while he bleeds out and watches his defeat play out in front of him, and then he screams and loses his mind as he realizes he lost, and while he tries to deny reality, still insisting on his hero fantasy while literally stomping his foot, he gets shot.

It’s so satisfying. There’s no grand defeat, no epic battle. He cries like a child and gets shot. It’s everything a corrupt, abusive father like Jack deserves.

And with Tyreen, she taunts you, then dies. You don’t get a moment of her realizing that she couldn’t stop you, that you were better than her, that she isn’t getting her way like you did with Jack. She just dies.

You might win, but it doesn’t feel like it.

#bl3 #tyreen calypso #troy calypso #handsome jack #borderlands #borderlands 3 #thoughts/rants

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sunshine304 · 3 years

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On to eps 25 + 26, my friends! It’s heating up!

Yang Jin was concerned because he saw Yu Wenzhi’s troups – but he definitely, absolutely was NOT concerned for Li Yan, no no! XD They keep on going together, but only... for 5 min or so? Until Li Yan tells him to go help A-Fei in town, since she can make the rest of the way herself (that worked so well before...). It’s cute how Yang Jin doesn’t want to go, but she makes puppy eyes at him and so he leaves.

I guess in the long run that isn’t such a bad decision to send him to A-Fei’s aid.

Poor Li Yan of course meets an outpost that’s already infiltrated by Disha. At least the man helps her instead of selling her out. And then it turns out that Li Sheng didn’t even include a message, just sending her away from where the attack will happen. Oh Li Sheng... He could have thought about how the outpost might be in Disha’s pockets, though, since it wouldn’t be the first time. Anyway, Li Yan steals a horse and goes to find help.

So much stuff is happening at the same time! Yang Jin asks after the Intinerary Gang who surely will help him (good idea), while Chuchu listens in on the Elders talking about how Li Sheng is very likely dead. She is devastated. T_T

Yu Wenzhi starts distrusting Kou Dan, because she now mentions a rumoured hidden path to the 48 Strongholds. She’s all like, “What, it’s just a rumour.“ and even I side-eye her for that. He wants to set a trap for A-Fei and leaves.

Meanwhile, Xie Yun has already strongly hinted to A-Fei that it would be an advantage if they could get YWZ to distrust at least Kou Dan. A-Fei uses YWZ’s ruse for just that, basically telling Gu Tianxian that this was an assassination attempt lead by Mingfeng Sect.

OMG the kiss by proxy!! I flailed!! Give me moooore! ♥

XY is off to distract GTX while A-Fei looks for YWZ's new hiding spot. But before that she stares into space, thrown by XY's proxy kiss. I swoon along with her. XD

Li Yan meets Li Jinrong, who was on her way back anyway since she missed her husband yet again. The army seems to have some problems, though General Wen is… perhaps downplaying? Anyway, LJR now knows that 48 Strongholds is under attack and hurries home.

Shen Tianshu has waited out the fire, it seems, and is now in front of the main gate to the 48 Strongholds. Also, YWZ’s private army has arrived. All in all, this huge combined army consists of about 30 people; 6 of them leave to find the secret path. I can’t get over the fact that the mean villains only have so few people! You really didn’t have a budget, huh? XD I mean srsly, there are definitely more people hiding at the 48 SH! XD

Look at his smug face! He always squints smugly at everyone, he’s so weird! XD

Love how XY is leading Disha around. Also happy that Wang Yibo could do lots of wirework in that scene, since he likes to do that stuff. XD Meanwhile, YWZ feels super threatened. Rightly so, asshole.

Aww the Elders Zhao and Zhang at the 48 SH want to go fighting! I actually enjoy that this show has many older characters as well.

Aaaand A-Fei has found YWZ! And she fights! And then there’s Yang Jin and the IG to the rescue! I love how they’re all fighting, while YWZ just stands there and watches with Kou Dan protecting him. Kinda. I cheered for the IG just fighting with big sticks and whatever else was at hand against that trained (? I assume) private army with swords – and they win by brute force. XD

A-Fei is all confused and Yang Jin explains, “I met Li Yan on the road and she started crying. She’s so annoying, I can’t say no to her!” He is so whipped. XD

YWZ really is a totally useless fighter. A-Fei reaches him and overpowers him easily. What kind of position does that guy have in the government? Doesn’t seem to be an army position… Since they won they want to get Disha to stop the attack on the 48 SH.

Meanwhile I fucking knew it that Ma Jili would betray them! Did he actually kill that one Elder? Or did they really encounter Disha and the Elder got killed there? Hm.

Anyway, look at Chuchu grabbing a sword! That was cool, you go queen! Though she didn’t get to use it, I’m sure there will be another chance for her to fuck some shit up!

A-Fei is so devastated that Uncle Ma betrayed her. I feel you, A-Fei. And then Uncle Ma feels guilty (or… was also misled by Kou Dan?) and fights KD, which doesn’t end good for him.

That fight between A-Fei and KD was really cool. Loved how they used the end credits song! I’m a sucker for that song! A-Fei gets her revenge and doesn’t even watch KD die.

Seriously, those poor kids will all be so traumatised. Yeah in CQL they all went to war at 19 or so, but they at least all had fighting experience in a real life situation against monsters, fierce corpses and whatnot. The kids from 48 SH grew up sheltered with this kind of fighting just a theoretical exercise.

OH nooo Xie Yun uses the super power needle! O_O He sees that 48 SH will likely lose (how, against only 20 Disha ppl, IDK…) and decides on that, because he can’t lose A-Fei.

Look at his conflicted face!!!

He also throws some exposition in there, that Chuchu’s necklace is the main key for the HTYS which he is looking for. Okay. Whatever, now pls fuck Shen Tianshu up, my man.

He does. He also tells A-Fei that he wants to enjoy himself here. (Meaning he doesn’t have long afterwards anyway and wants to go out with a bang I guess. T_T) STS is shocked because it seems that Xie Yun has some SERIOUS FIGHTING SKILLZ.

This is getting really long... XD

Xie Yun fights and it's pretty cool! A-Fei also keeps fighting, but she gets weaker, and also seems overwhlemed by the situation. I can’t blame her.

And then Li Jinrong signals her arrival and Shen Tianshu kinda panics while A-Fei decides that this is a good moment to faint. She does a lot of fainting in this show.

Have this gif for the drama of it all. XD

Yay, Chuchu has found Li Sheng! She had to wade through some corpses for that at the river bank, but she is a badass and doesn’t care. MVP Chuchu! ♥

Excuuuse me!? STS punches (!!) Li Jinrong's horse. Seriously, asshole?! WTF?! LJR fucks him up anyway, destroys his metal hand (he later has a new one so I guess he just... has a lot of these things lying around?). Disha + YWZ’s troups finally retreat, and Chuchu immediately tells them where Li Sheng is. He is now safe, yay!

Okay this shot of LJR is really cool.

There LJR goes again with her tough mother routine. XD A-Fei is awake and happy to see her; she also aks after Xie Yun, and her mother is like, “Do you know who he is?” and A-Fei conveniently does not mention that she knows he's royalty and just tells her the important stuff like, “He does poetry and songs to make a living.” LJR just dismisses her with, “We'll talk about him later.” Oh oh.

Cute scene with A-Fei and Li Sheng, who tease each other good-naturedly. Li Sheng now can admit that A-Fei is better than him at martial arts, but he doesn't want to give up – perhaps he'll manage to be better than her one day anyway? ;D I like his growth so far.

Xie Yun comes over to flirt and invite himself into A-Fei's bedroom. XD But this time A-Fei flirts back! It's the, “I know I'm good looking, but you have to pay money to stare at me,” and A-Fei answers, “You can stare at me too and we'll call it even,” scene. XY is surprised and delighted. XD

That whole conversation between these two. ♥ T_T A-Fei knows XY so well by know that she sees through his act of putting on a happy face whenever he's worried. She wants to ask so many questions but doesn't because she thinks he won't answer them honestly anyway. T_T And she sincerely asks him if he's alright. T_T He's obviously thrown by all of this, and he talks around some things and yep, he isn't really honest. And then she asks too many questions anyway and he uses her accupoints to knock her out. My God, just talk to her!!

And there's the other ship that's shyly circling each other! Chuchu and Li Sheng have an awkward conversation, because now that it's not live or death they don't know how to act. XD He wants to look for Chuchu's brother and they perhaps could live at the 48 SH? *puppyeyes* I mean seriously, where is that kid?!

Shen Tianshu is pissed, Yu Wenzhi is too. He's going on about how Xie Yun (=Xiao Chuan) should be dead, damnit, since he was poisoned 10 years ago with that super rare and deadly Bone Piercing Blue poison (we remember, the one that 9th Madam Duan also suffered from until Li Zheng helped her). We get STS exposition that a master must've helped XY so that he survived (and the master should've died of it), but now that XY used the power needle his meridians are no longer blocked and the poison is free to circulate again = He only has a few months to live. OH NO! T_T They don't know if he's also looking for the HYTS but want to keep looking anyway; Disha masters are sent out after the two men yet again bitch at each other. XD

Sometimes it's nice to actually get some exposition here...

There's a funeral scene at 48 SH with cool music and all of them swearing their oath again to do their best with a clear conscience before Heaven, Earth, and themselves. That “clear conscience” idiom is really popular I think?

A talk between Xie Yun and Li Jinrong. She thanks him and seems sincere enough, but she also seems wary/distrustful of him (well, he fetched her ill husband to go to war again, sooo...). He yet again circumvents actually answering her questions about his former master (although I assume she at least has a hunch who he is), and he tells her she should perhaps be nicer to her daughter and compliment her from time to time. Well, I guess he's dying anyway and hasn't anything to lose. XD

She comments on his pale complexion, is he perhaps ill? Wow the passive-aggressiveness in this scene from LJR. XD Then she hands him a sigil to pass the guards and basically throws him out. Charming. Good start into that in-laws situation. XD

OMG Li Sheng sends pastries to Chuchu! ♥ And Li Yan is all excited, like, “Yes please fetch your little brother, I always wanted a little brother, that would be awesome!” XD

Xie Yun and A-Fei have a romantic stroll under the not-moonlight. ♥ They are holding hands, be still my heart! ♥ While they are hand holding we also get a MV of their best moments so far.

She tells him she's working on a gift for him, and she wants to help him look for the HYTS since it seems to be a shitty thing and she doesn't want it to fall into Disha's hands. Xie Yun would like to stay at 48 SH and of course doesn't tell A-Fei about his talk wit LRJ nor that he's, you know, dying. It's obvious that he will leave without her because he doesn't want to drag her into this (the trope of “I know what's best for you without giving you a real chance to make a decision yourself” ugh) and also because he's fucking dying. OMG. T_T

We end with A-Fei knocking on his door the next morning (where he very obviously isn't anymore) to give him her gift. Before she can actually see that he isn't there Chuchu intercepts her, so A-Fei tries to give her back the necklace. Chuchu is all like, “Nooo you keep it, it's far saver with you!” so there's that. This will surely be important later. The two girls leave for town to fetch medicine, while Xie Yun sits near the river and sadly plays his flute. T_T

#legend of fei #sabrina watches legend of fei #my posts #my gifs #gifs

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nobodywritesthings · 4 years

Text

Some more random bits of trivia about With Great Power

Part 1

Might as well just… put this here. Spoilers below! I ended up talking a lot about the villain side of things.

All for One uses a quirk he refers to as “Clothing Swap” to replace Izuku’s hero gear in Chapter 1. For some random reason, I made a description of the quirk that ended up in my notes, though it never became relevant again. Here it is: Clothing Swap: The target may have any article(s) considered to be “worn” swapped with any other article(s) the user has seen them wear previously. The user may choose themselves as a target. The swap may be uneven - a hat can be swapped for a full outfit, leading to someone really overdressed, or a full outfit for a hat, leading to the opposite - but “nothing” is not an option for either side of the swap. Objects in pockets or similar places of holding may be transferred into similar places in the new outfit, if available; otherwise they will stay with the clothing they were originally in. See that part about the user needing to see the target wearing the clothes previously? All for One’s been stalking, and Izuku would’ve been able to guess almost immediately if he heard the details of that quirk.

Speaking of my notes, I tend to name the random fic ideas I write down in order to keep them easy to reference in my notes (or head). I don’t always use those names for the finished product. I liked the reference to the quote, “With great power comes great responsibility”, that I ended up going with for WGP’s story/chapter titles; but I actually came up with that theme after the majority of the fic was done. For most of the writing process, I kept it filed under “Kingmaker AU”.

All for One’s threats to Izuku in the first chapter were something of a bluff. If Izuku refused to listen, All for One would’ve been in quite a pinch - he certainly didn’t want to kill or Noumufy Izuku, and he had the feeling that “lock him in a vault and make him listen” wouldn’t work any better here than it did with his brother. He did have other plans in case getting Izuku to agree to parley failed, but he was massively relieved when it worked. (Izuku’s threat in Chapter 10, on the other hand, was definitely not a bluff.)

Gigantomachia saw the resemblance between Izuku and All for One the moment Izuku opened his mouth - not just in the contents of Izuku’s self-introduction, but Izuku’s voice itself. As seen in canon, he has a very dramatic emotional reaction to hearing All for One’s voice; and while Izuku’s isn’t an obvious match, he could hear similar notes. This was helped by the fact that Izuku was very tired and decided to start making threats, and was consciously using All for One as a model for those. Gigantomachia’s easy initial acceptance of Izuku was mostly down to this (”He speaks with the voice of my Master”). Of course, Izuku’s speech about not proving himself to everyone who asked did make something of an impression on its own merits.

As for the rest of the villains, Shigaraki and Kurogiri were the only ones close enough to All for One to notice Izuku’s resemblance to him (or care; if Dabi had any suspicions, he kept them to himself). It took a few days after Izuku was left with the dictatorship for Shigaraki. Kurogiri, on the other hand, noticed years ago - but decided it wasn’t his place to wonder about it, so he didn’t.

None of the villains guessed that Izuku was a close relative of All for One’s. They all thought, at best, that he was some distant relative who All for One had taken an interest in and who happened to suit his plans. They were immensely surprised by All for One’s choice of successor.

Shigaraki and Kurogiri got emails after All for One disappeared, too, not just Izuku. All for One drafted them beforehand, as well as a few alternate versions for theoretical scenarios that didn’t happen. Shigaraki’s gave him some sarcastic advice on how to make nice with the new Overlord, which worked surprisingly well. Kurogiri’s included advice on Izuku’s preferred coffee brands, which also worked surprisingly well.

All for One had discussed a few things with Gigantomachia beforehand and so didn’t bother with an email - namely along the lines of, “I’m planning to make someone else the Supreme Overlord in my place. Do what you want, but your life will be short and painful if he doesn’t stay in one piece.”

Shigaraki and Kurogiri spent most of their free time after All for One disappeared trying to track him down. Izuku won their loyalty over time - or more accurately, having gainful employment and being surrounded by decent people while trying his best to behave himself helped Shigaraki feel less inclined toward villainy, and Kurogiri appreciated being given a fair chance at all. However, Shigaraki in particular had many questions for All for One, and Kurogiri followed his lead. Gigantomachia them helped out for a while, until…

Gigantomachia saw Izuku’s “father’s” signature, and realized he might’ve accidentally stumbled upon a secret that All for One would be happy to kill half of Japan over. He smartly refrained from telling the other two, and pulled back somewhat on his assistance in their search.

When Gigantomachia met “Hisashi” in person for that trip to America, he sent a panicked text to Shigaraki that he wasn’t offering any more help and that they should stop going behind Izuku’s back if they truly valued their lives and limbs intact. This sparked their decision to bring their research to Aizawa while Izuku was away. Yagi’s assumption that they were afraid of Izuku’s reaction was entirely legitimate, but that wasn’t the full reason for their choice of timing.

One more note about Gigantomachia: When Izuku had his panic attack in Chapter 5, the reason Yagi showed up was because Gigantomachia made a beeline for his office and told him that the Supreme Overlord needed his help. Yagi ran.

I honestly didn’t expect for the villains to take up so much of the fic (or this trivia). I also was hoping to have more of Aizawa and Class 1-A in the story. But since criminal rehabilitation ended up being such a focus, the villains ended up being particularly relevant. I’m still a tiny bit annoyed about it.

How much did Inko know about Hisashi? He tried to give her a similar story to the one he gave Izuku once he returned. However, she knew him and his views well enough that she managed to get out of him that he wasn’t “working with villains” entirely under duress, and that he had done a few things to earn the enmity of “people who were after him”. She was surprised when Izuku made All for One tell her the truth about his villain identity, but less than Izuku expected.

I don’t usually have soundtracks for my writing - I’ll put on whatever music I feel like listening to, or even nothing, depending on my mood. However, for Chapter 10, I wrote most of it while listening to “Devastation and Reform” by Relient K on repeat. I think it fits the self-inflicted tragedy that is All for One’s existence pretty well, and helped me capture the right tone for his side of the story.

Alright, a cheerier note is in order. Originally, Chapter 6 (now the Social Media Chapter) was an utter slog of exposition that made me despair. I ended up scrapping it and rewriting it as a social media interlude that communicated the stuff I wanted it to communicate, but I ended up cutting along with it a draft of the scene Hatsume’s video refers to. Y’know, the one where Izuku sets an attempted assassin on fire. It was indeed accidental - she was hounding Izuku to let her make the perfect Supreme Overlord outfit, and had shoved an ordinary-looking watch at him when the assassins showed up. He threw the watch at one of them and it exploded. Hatsume got yelled at by a tired Izuku afterward for endangering the paperwork he’d have to fill out all over again.

In the Discord conversation where I mentioned the initial concept of this fic, someone proposed a scenario in which Izuku starts crying in the middle of the UN because some representative was being an asshole about how Japan was being handled, and then everyone else would jump in to go, “Nice going, Rick, you ruined a perfectly good Supreme Overlord, now he has anxiety.” I therefore decided that I would indeed make Izuku cry at the UN. This was how the UN chapter came to exist. Of course, in my version, the tears were because of the support Izuku got, and the good guy was named Rick.

Izuku setting someone on fire was also a concept I got from my favorite Discord server. Several other people had Izuku setting people on fire in their stories. I decided to join them.

Finally… you know how I abbreviated “Supreme Overlord” to “S.O.”? Yes, I’m aware that the abbreviation usually stands for “Significant Other”, and I decided to go with it because I thought it was funny. And a good way to embarrass Izuku even further.

I think that got all the major trivia and a few minor bits too. Though I probably can dig out other things from my brain if people have questions; my askbox is open. Otherwise, I’ve got a new prospective writing project in the concept stage, so I’ll switching mental gears off of WGP, I think.

#wgp #bnha fic #my fic

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neuxue · 4 years

Text

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 5

Gawyn tries his hand at a murder mystery and relationship negotiation, Graendal tries her hand at wolf-hunting, and Moridin is, as ever, a Situation.

Chapter 5: Writings

Gawyn? Must we? Though there’s a Forsaken chapter icon so I hold out some hope for this chapter.

And Sleete’s back, it would seem. And okay Gawyn your description of him is rather detailed and lingers lovingly on his ruggedness, grace, and cheekbones. Maybe you should ask him out and leave Egwene alone.

Oh, I see; we’re doing a murder mystery. Mesaana? Is that you?

“Do you really think you’ll find anything the sisters did not, Trakand?” Chubain asked, folding his arms.

“I’m looking for different things,” Gawyn said

Sorry Gawyn, but I don’t think you’ll find any critical thinking skills beneath that rug. You never know, though! Or maybe it’s hiding that sense of purpose you left behind in Andor?

Jokes aside, I think I know what’s going on here: we’re setting up a murder mystery so that Gawyn can solve it where no one else could and, in doing so, redeem himself in Egwene’s and I suppose theoretically the reader’s eyes as well.

Meh. It feels a little contrived, but that might just be because my patience with Gawyn ran out a book or two ago.

Or maybe because he was actually more interesting to me, in a kind of character-study sense, when he was falling, and I’m just not that interested in watching him rise.

[The guards] weren’t as antagonistic towards [Sleete] as they tended to be towards Gawyn. He still hadn’t figured out why they were like that with him.

Wow, Gawyn, I wonder why that could possibly be. Maybe because Sleete’s a Warder and also doesn’t go about antagonising the Amyrlin Seat and demanding to be let into places and annoying everyone within earshot? And also changing sides several times – and okay, yes, Gawyn picked the ‘right’ side in the end, but from the perspective of the guards… really, Gawyn? You can’t think why they might not like you?

At least he can figure out that this is probably not the Black Ajah’s work.

Why did nobody sense channelling from the places where the women were killed?

So this still fits with it being Mesaana but it reminds me of something that I’ve wondered about a few times: if Mesaana is masquerading as an Aes Sedai, how does no one notice her strength, if she’s not hiding her ability, or the fact that she apparently can’t channel, if she is? Or is it possible to partially mask the ability to channel?

When Egwene had told Gawyn he could visit the scenes of the murders if he wished, he’d asked if he could bring Sleete with him.

Good first date ideas: visit a murder scene!

(To be fair that’s basically the plot of most crime dramas, so)

True, he didn’t know much about gateways yet, and people could reportedly make them hang above the ground so they didn’t cut anything. But why would the Black Ajah care about that?

Because not all villains like to chew scenery? It’s awfully gristly, you know.

Also to avoid leaving evidence and make forensics harder. Come on, Gawyn, you’re going to have to step up your detective game a little bit here.

I am with Gawyn, though, on feeling itchy at the thought of setting up a desk that seats you with your back towards the door. How are you supposed to tab away from the embarrassing fanfic you’re writing on the shared family computer in time when someone can just walk in and see your screen? Clearly this Aes Sedai did not grow up in the early 2000s.

Aes Sedai, for all their cunning, sometimes seemed to have remarkably underdeveloped senses of self-preservation.

Gawyn. Please. No one in this series has a functioning sense of self-preservation, with the possible exception of Moghedien.

“But why kill with a knife?” Gawyn said. All four had been killed that way.

Ah. Not Mesaana, then; sounds more like one of the Seanchan bloodknives has thus far avoided notice or death. So we are setting up a victory for Gawyn. Fine. If we must.

Sleete thus far actually seems better at thinking things through and generally playing the detective game, but no doubt Gawyn’s going to get by on instinct and ‘it just doesn’t feel right’. Yes, I am probably being too hard on him. No I don’t care.

A part of him thought that if he could aid Egwene in this, maybe she would soften towards him. Perhaps forgive him for rescuing her from the Tower during the Seanchan attack.

Well, you’re in luck, Gawyn; that seems to be exactly what this narrative arc is being set up for.

Chubain really doesn’t like him. Shame, Chubain; he thinks you’re handsome.

Insufferable man! Gawyn thought. Does he have to be so dismissive towards me? I should—

No. Gawyn forced himself to keep his temper. Once, that hadn’t been nearly so hard.

Why was Chubain so hostile towards him? Gawyn found himself wondering how his mother would have handled such a man as this.

Character growth!

Seriously, though, this is a step in the right direction for Gawyn. To be able to think past that sense of anger and…entitlement, I suppose. To take a step back and think about the situation from another perspective, and think about how best to handle it, rather than just pressing forward with his first instinct. And to consider the wisdom of others who have experience in dealing with things like this, and learn from them.

Though he segues straight into blind rage over Rand al’Thor, Dragon Reborn and murderer extraordinaire, so we’ve still got a little ways to go.

In his heart, Gawyn wanted to meet al’Thor with sword in hand and ram steel through him

Pretty sure that’s not a euphemism.

Also, Ishamael tried that once. Didn’t work out too well for him. Not sure you’d fare any better.

Light! Gawyn thought as Chubain shot him a hostile glance. He thinks I’m trying to take his position.

The triumph of critical thinking! Okay okay, I give Gawyn a lot of shit, but this is the sort of thing he’s not actually bad at, when he takes half a second to do it. It’s just that for the majority of the last several books he’s been jumping to premature conclusions and acting on them without a second thought, assuming he knows best, refusing to listen to others or consider their perspectives, and trying to play his role as he thinks it should be, rather than as it is.

Gawyn’s reasonably clever and reasonably perceptive and generally reasonably competent; his downfall is that he thought he knew his place in the world, and the world didn’t comply. He was the fairytale prince, the noble hero, brother to a future queen and loyal to his oaths and son of a great nation and he knew how all of that fit together, knew his place in it, understood and embraced it.

Only this isn’t his story, and the world went ‘nope, fuck you’ and he’s spent the last several books scrambling to find his footing and not quite understanding that the world isn’t reading from the same script he was handed at age four.

(I think I’ve said elsewhere that it’s like he’s reading, say, Romeo’s lines in a production of The Tempest, and not understanding why nothing makes sense).

Gawyn could have been First Prince of the Sword—should have been First Prince of the Sword—leader of Andor’s armies and protector of the Queen.

And yet, you’re not. How lightly you take that broken oath, Gawyn.

Also, he thinks that makes it laughable that he would want Chubain’s position, but let’s continue to look at it from someone else’s perspective. The man who should have been First Prince of the Sword for some reason isn’t, and you have no idea why, and now he’s here doing some kind of independent investigation and trying to talk to the Amyrlin at every opportunity, having deserted an opposing force that he was commanding. Wouldn’t you be a little confused as to what he actually wants? He clearly doesn’t want the role you assumed he’d hold, so who’s to say he doesn’t want yours?

To give him credit, though, he handles the ensuing conversation with Chubain rather well. Keeps his temper, makes it clear without shaming Chubain that he’s not interested in usurping his role, and thanks Chubain graciously as a way of basically saying ‘I submit to your authority here, or at least I will recognise it and not challenge it’. Well done.

“I don’t think this is the work of the Black Ajah,” Gawyn said. “I think it might be a Grey Man, or some other kind of assassin.”

Yeah I think you’re actually right. Or close, anyway. My money’s on Bloodknives.

Especially now that Sleete’s found a scrap of black silk. What is this, Cluedo?

“I think this is more proof. I mean, it seems odd that nobody has actually seen these Black sisters. We’re making a lot of assumptions.”

Since when has that ever stopped you?

Egwene’s clearly still giving Gawyn something of the cold shoulder, and Gawyn’s being somewhat petulant about it and no, Gawyn, letting Hattori bond you in order to make Egwene jealous is probably not a wise move, but you know that.

It had not been easy to decide to give up Andor—not to mention the Younglings—for her. Yet she still refused to bond him.

Yeah, funny thing about choosing to make sacrifices for someone: if they haven’t asked it of you, it doesn’t actually entitle you to anything in return. A measure of respect or thanks, perhaps, but beyond that, they were your choices, Gawyn, and that’s kind of the point here.

Silviana’s clearly running interference for Egwene, telling Gawyn to wait while she writes a letter which probably means trying to teach him patience and what it actually means to date the Amyrlin.

Egwene saw him. She kept her face Aes Sedai serene—she’d grown good at that so quickly—and he found himself feeling awkward.

Good. You should.

Gawyn’s pursuit of Egwene just makes me want to hit my head against a wall repeatedly, in no small part because I’ve been on the receiving end of something similar and it is Not Fun.

Then again Egwene actually likes Gawyn, which… Egwene you could do so much better. But fine. Sure. Whatever. Sigh.

“Burn me, Egwene. Do you have to show me the Amyrlin every time we speak? Once in a while, can’t I see Egwene?”

“I show you the Amyrlin,” Egwene said, “because you refuse to accept her. Once you do so, perhaps we can move beyond that.”

YES. DRAG HIM.

But, my delight in this aside, this is exactly the point Gawyn needs to get through his head. She is the Amyrlin, and he has to actually understand that, and right now he still… doesn’t. I mean okay, being in a relationship with someone like a head of state is probably not exactly easy, but this is important water to be able to navigate. She is the Amyrlin, and he has to understand that sometimes that’s who she needs to be, and that he doesn’t get to ignore that just because he also knows Egwene. He needs to understand where those boundaries are between Egwene and Amyrlin, public and private, lines he can cross and lines he can’t, and when and how and where. Is that fair? Eh, maybe, maybe not. But it’s the reality, and if he can’t deal with it then maybe dating the Amyrlin Seat is not for him.

“Light! You’ve learned to talk like one of them.”

“That’s because I am one of them,” she said.

He still doesn’t get it. This isn’t just an act she’s putting on for fun, or something she can drop whenever she pleases. He doesn’t get all-hours access to Egwene al’Vere of Emond’s Field, because her role means she can’t be that all the time. She isn’t just that anymore. That’s what she’s trying to tell him here: just as Rand is both himself and Lews Therin, shepherd and Dragon Reborn, both and not separate, she is Egwene al’Vere the girl he first met but also the Amyrlin Seat, innkeeper’s daughter and Aes Sedai. That’s a part of her now, not just decoration (and not a distinct personality she can toggle on and off).

Gawyn sees her as playing a role, when in reality she is that role. And you know what they say: if you love someone you have to accept them for who they are. Or something like that. I wouldn’t know.

“I accept you,” Gawyn said. “I do, Egwene.”

Oh, if saying it made it so.

“But isn’t it important to have people who know you for yourself and not the title?”

Yes. Critically so. But you’re still missing a key part of that: it’s important to have people who know her for herself, but who also understand the title, and understand the necessity of it, and what it means for her.

Like Nynaeve and Elayne: they accept her authority as Amyrlin, and know that when she gives them commands as Amrylin to Aes Sedai, it doesn’t impinge on their friendship. And they also know that there are times to be her friend, and times not to be.

It’s about balance: the point of having people who know her for herself is to have an anchor, a steadying force. But Gawyn doesn’t see the balance; he’s just looking at a single part of her and trying to make that into the whole.

And again: it’s not easy! This is not going to be a simple relationship to navigate! But it’s not going to work if he can’t respect her day job that actually demands quite a lot of her and is sort of a little bit important and sometimes means he’s going to have to take a step back and let her be Amyrlin.

Right now, though, he’s still acting as if… as if he knows better. Which has kind of been the tone of their relationship all along, and is probably part of why it grates on me so much. He listens when he wants to, but as soon as he thinks he knows better he just ignores her. And so even this point he makes comes across as a form of entitlement: ‘play at Amyrlin, but I Know Better, so you should keep me around’.

(Also, how much does he really know her for herself? For one thing they never actually spent much time together, and for another he continually underestimates her, questions her judgement, sides against her because he doesn’t realise she’s not just a helpless child caught up in politics…I could go on).

Anyway. Point being: you still have to accept the title.

Her face softened. “You aren’t ready yet, Gawyn. I’m sorry.”

He set his jaw. Don’t overreact, he told himself. “Very well. Then, about the assassinations.”

Okay, credit where it’s due: this is exactly the right response.

Because this is, in effect, treating her like the Amyrlin. This is listening to her, much as he doesn’t like what he hears. Rather than pushing back again with hollow claims of accepting her, rather than saying ‘I am too ready’, he accepts, however grudgingly, the chastisement and also the framing of the conversation. She is speaking to him as Amyrlin, and so he pushes everything else aside and responds in kind.

Which is exactly the point she’s been trying to make, so… we’ll go ahead and call it progress.

And now he’s rewarded narratively by getting to make a point she apparently hasn’t considered: that there aren’t enough Warders given they’re heading into the Last Battle.

“The choosing and keeping of a Warder is a very personal and intimate decision. No woman should be forced to it.”

“Well,” Gawyn said, refusing to be intimidated, “the choice to go to war is very ‘personal’ and ‘intimate’ as well—yet all across the land, men are called into it. Sometimes, feelings aren’t as important as survival.”

I have…very mixed feelings on this particular argument, and kind of don’t want to go into that right now because I know a can of worms when I see one, but it sets my teeth on edge a bit.

I also don’t want Gawyn to get to score any points right now just because he managed to react the right way one time, but I can accept that this is, in fact, petty of me.

Egwene is less petty than I am and says she’ll consider it.

And I have to say, the two of them are actually navigating this whole conversation rather well. Gawyn’s trying his best to interact with her as the Amyrlin Seat, and Egwene, probably because of that, is answering his questions as much as she can. They’re establishing a working relationship, basically; they can work on their personal one next.

“You’re keeping secrets,” he said. “Not just from me. From the entire Tower.”

“Secrets are needed sometimes, Gawyn.”

“Can’t you trust me with them?” He hesitated. “I’m worried that the assassin will come for you, Egwene.”

Okay that’s toeing the line a bit, but again, he at least asks for her trust here now, rather than demanding it. Expresses his concerns, but in a way that feels more like open communication than like ‘I know best’.

And that earns him a measure of that trust, moments later:

“One of the Forsaken is in the White Tower.”

True, but I actually think Egwene is perhaps mistaken about her being the assassin. Which again annoys me because I’m petty and don’t want Gawyn to be right where she’s wrong, but hey at least I acknowledge it, right?

Point being, Gawyn, that you have to earn the trust you’re asking for, but you’re on the right track, and so you get a part of it.

And she even explains a bit of why she’s keeping it secret. This is the most openly and honestly these two have communicated with each other in… uh… ever. Round of applause.

Light, a Forsaken in the Tower seemed more plausible than Egwene being the Amyrlin Seat!

Damn it Gawyn, you were doing so well. This is the kind of thinking you need to train yourself out of. This is exactly what Egwene is referring to when she says you don’t accept her as Amyrlin. Yes, she was an unlikely appointee to that seat. Yes, she’s young and wasn’t even Aes Sedai when she was raised. Yes, it’s hard to believe. But you need to get past that now, because this just comes across as… incredibly condescending, honestly.

“For now, there is something I need of you.”

“If it is within my power, Egwene.” He took a step towards her. “You know that.”

“Is that so?” she asked dryly. “Very well. I want you to stop guarding my door at night.”

“What? Egwene, no!”

She shook her head. “You see? Your first reaction is to challenge me.”

“It is the duty of a Warder to offer challenge, in private, where his Aes Sedai is concerned!” Hammar had taught him that.

“You are not my Warder, Gawyn.”

That brought him up short.

YES. GOOD.

It is… a rather excellent demonstration of her point. They’ve made some progress here, but this… she makes an open request and he immediately promises anything in his power. But then, Gawyn’s made other promises before, and doesn’t exactly have a perfect track record of keeping them, when it comes down to it.

What he means is: ‘if it is within my power, and if I want to’.

His challenging of her request is almost secondary; the real issue here is that he says one thing (‘if it is within my power’) but immediately shows that he doesn’t actually mean it. Just as he says he accepts her as Amyrlin, but when it comes down to it, he still doesn’t. And that’s the part that erodes trust; that’s the part that means he’s not ready.

A challenge to that request—or perhaps a question as to why she’s asking it—is not completely out of line here. Like, leaving aside the question of whether or not Egwene needs a guard, or of whether he should get to guard her door when she hasn’t actually asked him to, if he hadn’t promised blindly to do whatever she asks, it would be more or less fair to ask why, before agreeing.

But he doesn’t. He makes that empty promise—so like his empty words that he does accept her as Amyrlin, really, I swear—and then immediately goes back on it. Shows that he’ll only actually listen to her when it suits him, and that he still thinks he’s free to do whatever the fuck he wants when he thinks He Knows Better. That he doesn’t actually trust her, or listen to her, when he doesn’t want to.

Turns out Egwene is literally setting herself up as bait, hence not wanting a guard. And again, challenging her on that is, I think, fair. It’s a pretty big risk! It is arguably kind of reckless! And that’s the sort of thing he could and should be able to do as someone who (supposedly) knows her as more than just Amyrlin: say ‘are you sure’ and ‘I don’t like this’.

That’s not the problem. The problem is that he doesn’t approach it that way at all: he approaches it with a blank-cheque promise that he then pulls back as soon as he realises what she’s actually asking, because in his view he only needs to listen to her when he wants to.

It's not a good look, Gawyn.

“Exposing myself is only one of my plans—and you are right, it is dangerous. But my precautions have been extensive.”

“I don’t like it at all.”

“Your approval is not required.” She eyed him. “You will have to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he said.

“All I ask is that you show it for once.”

That’s pretty much it. It’s easy to say ‘I trust you’ or ‘I accept you’ or ‘anything within my power’. But those words have to mean something, and unfortunately he’s shown that they don’t. And so in this case she needs to see that he can obey her as Amyrlin, because this is a plan she is making as Amyrlin.

And Gawyn, you’d probably be better able to protect her if you demonstrated that trust once in a while, because then she’d know she can let you in on her plans without worrying about you going rogue and doing something against them. Then she’d know she can actually rely on you. Then your challenges – if you’re no longer challenging everything she says – would probably carry more weight, because she’d know they’re not just coming from a place of ‘I know better and I’m not listening’.

Well. They’ll get there. Maybe.

***

Over to Egwene now, which means I have to deal with the fact that she does actually like him and feels emotions and things when he’s around. Why, Egwene? Why?

That passion of his was entrancing

Trust me, it’s vastly overrated.

And it was important that she have people she could rely upon to contradict her, in private. People who knew her as Egwene, rather than the Amyrlin.

But Gawyn was too loose, too untrusting, yet.

That’s kind of what I was getting at. Because it is sort of ironic: he wants to be let into her confidence and be able to protect her and challenge her—and they’re both right that she needs people to do that! But she has to be able to trust him, and has to know that he understands her and her role, in order for him to be able to do that in a meaningful way. She has to know that it’s not just him refusing to listen, or not understanding what her role as Amyrlin actually demands of her. And has to know that she can trust his judgement when it comes down to it, and weigh up how he feels for her as Egwene vs what she needs as Amyrlin.

She looked over her letter to the new King of Tear, explaining that Rand was threatening to break the seals. Her plan to stop him would depend on her gathering support from people he trusted.

Ha. Speaking of trust. I am certain the placement of this is entirely intentional.

I’m still rather uneasy about this, but I also think there’s a decent chance that it’s not so far from what Rand actually expects or even wants. Because even if her intention right now is to ‘stop’ him, if she can get all the rulers behind her and get everyone to the right place at the right time…

But it could also go so badly. I have a feeling this is going to be one of those razor-edge kinds of moments, where the world hangs in the balance and the thing that will tip it one way or another is whether or not Egwene and Rand can in the end trust one another.

***

Oh hey it’s Graendal! Is this my reward for putting up with Gawyn? (For a certain definition of ‘putting up with’…)

Poor Graendal, having to make due with a mere cavern, in which she’s still managing to lounge on a silk chaise. I weep for you, really, I do.

Moridin stood inside his black stone palace.

YES! GOOD! MORIDIN!

Er. I mean. Oh no, scary, evil, bad. Listen, I love him.

“Aran’gar is dead, lost to us—and after the Great Lord transmigrated her soul the last time. One might think you are making a habit of this sort of thing, Graendal.”

THE CHOSEN DWINDLE, DEMANDRED. BECAUSE GRAENDAL FOUND A SNIPER RIFLE.

Anyway, whatever Moridin is here for, it’s not to play Graendal’s games. Sorry, Graendal; you’re good but he’s kind of… quite literally operating on an entirely different level here.

He’s a bit more…direct here than he usually is, and I can’t tell if that’s just Sanderson or if it’s because he’s bored of these petty games he has to play with the others and impatient with them and it’s time to move things into position for the ending so he doesn’t have time to deal with their bullshit. Probably a bit of both.

“Moridin, don’t you see? How will Lews Therin react to what he has done? Destroying an entire fortress, a miniature city of its own, with hundreds of occupants? Killing innocents to reach his goal? Will that sit easily within him?”

Moridin hesitated. No, he had not considered that.

But I wonder: did he?

Graendal is…not wrong, here, in what Natrin’s Barrow very nearly did to Rand. Did do, really; he was so close to the edge there at the end, repressing everything because if he allowed himself to feel the reality of it, it would break him. And so it drove him, ultimately, to Dragonmount, and nearly to destroying the world.

Graendal and Semirhage did their parts very, very well in that regard, even if Graendal is er… playing up how intentional it was on her side. It’s just that, at the last, Rand understood something deeper.

But how much of that whole process did Moridin himself feel? He and Rand are linked, after all, and I’m all but certain some of his existential despair crossed that link to Rand, so could he feel Rand’s suppression of emotions, and his anger and despair and everything else that threatened to overwhelm him? (Or is Moridin all too familiar with that, or simply too practiced at his own form of apathy, to even feel it as a difference?)

‘He must know pain of heart’, Moridin said; I don’t think he is as naïve here as Graendal seems to believe.

And still, I have to wonder if he felt anything, anything at all, of Rand’s remembrance of hope on Dragonmount. Or if, as the Betrayer of Hope, that is too far lost to him.

She could vaguely remember what it had been like, taking those first few steps towards the Shadow. Had she ever felt that foolish pain? Yes, unfortunately.

DAMN IT you can’t just TEASE me with things like this! That’s rude! It’s unfair! I need this story now! This is where I live! Turning points and the pain of them and your logic destroyed you, didn’t it and crossing thresholds that lead too far and losing yourself along the way but reforging something else until that loss no longer hurts and and and

But others of them had taken different paths to the Shadow, including Ishamael.

YOUR LOGIC DESTROYED YOU, DIDN’T IT.

CALLED FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF EVERYTHING.

BETRAYER OF HOPE.

(Did you betray hope or did it betray you).

I’m fine.

She could see the memories, so distant, in Moridin’s eyes. Once, she had not been sure who this man was, but now she was. The face was different, but the soul the same. Yes, he knew exactly what al’Thor was feeling.

Yeah. That. He… very much does, I think, and maybe even more so than you realise. (But if he can know the anguish why can he not know the hope—).

Also the face was different, but the soul the same is pretty and reminds me of men wear many names, many faces; different faces yet always the same man except that in this context there’s a sadness to it: as if that soul, that self, is something he cannot escape. Which, of course, seems to be exactly what Moridin himself believes: that so long as the Wheel turns, this is his fate. To be the Betrayer, the Shadow’s Champion, the one whose role is always to fight, always to oppose, and always to fall. The one for whom there is no hope except nothingness, and so that is his goal.

And it’s so close to Rand’s thoughts, there on Dragonmount just before that moment of epiphany. Why keep fighting, if all it means is another fight? What does it matter? It will only demand his soul and his self and his life over and over, and the Light’s victory only means another battle and the Shadow’s victory means annihilation so why even try?

Rand, in the end, has love and enough light to draw him back. The hint of a promise of a future that will come, even if he does not live to see it this time around. He has something – though he has had to struggle to see it – that he is fighting for. What is Moridin (Ishamael, Elan) fighting for? What does he have left to fight for? Nothing – for him there is nothing but darkness and despair and perhaps, if he is lucky, the nothingness of oblivion. For him there is no promise – and perhaps not even a memory – of Light. This is how he sees it, this is his role, and he does not see an alternative.

And so once again I have to wonder if he felt anything at all when Rand stood on Dragonmount and remembered the hope that Elan once betrayed. Perhaps not.

Sorry. I just. This is where I live and Moridin is a Situation for me and we all just have to accept that.

Anyway, Moridin may or may not be able to communicate – or at least be communicated to – directly by the Great Lord, so that’s a thing.

And Graendal’s going after Perrin now. Everyone’s set on a Perrin Aybara collision course this book, it would seem. Better get your levelling up done quickly, Perrin; she’s not exactly an easy opponent.

“He’s important,” Graendal said. “The prophecies—”

“I know the prophecies,” Moridin said softly.

Oh, and how. Knows them, knows—or certainly knows what he believes to be—his own role in them. And sees in them no way out, except the annihilation of everything.

Moridin’s not too confident in Graendal’s ability to take down Perrin.

And also has an entire storage unit full of objects of Power. That’s…interesting and terrifying, and I am keeping careful track of the mentioned inventory.

A dreamspike? That sounds…ominous, and also very much like something suited to a Perrin-centric storyline. So that should be fun.

It also comes with a very clear warning to not use it against Moridin or the others, and I’d recommend sticking to that advice, Graendal, because he will destroy you.

Then again, if he gets his way and you all achieve your victory, that will destroy you too. So, you know. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Oh and Slayer as well! Buy one object of power, get one wildcard villain free!

That voice of his… it sounded, just faintly, like that of the Great Lord.

Are his eyes on fire yet though?

But it would seem both Champions have well and truly been chosen, and invested with their power now. Rand can make crops grow with a thought and warp the air to light around him and hold a room in thrall; Moridin can speak with and almost as the Great Lord and wield the True Power and orchestrate annihilation.

“If you do succeed, the Great Lord will be pleased. Very pleased. That which has been granted you in sparseness will be heaped upon you in glory.”

She licked her dry lips. In front of her, Moridin’s expression grew distant.

Distant as those promises are empty, for I don’t think there will be any rewards or glory in the aftermath of a true success for the Great Lord. All that will remain is chaos, forever. And still, none of the Chosen but Moridin seem to quite…get that. Selfishness, Verin said, and it blinds them here.

(Which is not to say Moridin is free of that selfishness; I just think what he wants is…different).

Oh hey dark prophecies.

“They have long been known to me,” Moridin said softly, still studying the book. “But not to many others, not even the Chosen. The women and men who spoke these were isolated and held alone. The Light must never know of these words. We know of their prophecies, but they will never know all of ours.”

(But what do these prophecies say of you, Moridin? Or what do they demand?)

Interesting to have these referenced now, though, especially when we don’t actually get any of the actual text of them. Where do these come from? Are the like the Prophecies of the Light: true, but not always in the way they seem to mean, and not a guarantee but merely a possibility?

“But this…” she said, rereading the passage. “This says Aybara will die!”

“There can be many interpretations of any prophecy,” Moridin said. “But yes. This Foretelling promises that Aybara will die by our hand.”

Hm. Which of course immediately makes me think it absolutely does not promise that, but it’s a little annoying to have this as a kind of… supposed-to-be-ominous foreshadowing without actually having anything of the wording there to pick apart and see what it might really mean. That’s where the fun of a lot of the other prophecies and fortellings and viewings lies: in knowing it doesn’t always mean what the characters think it does, and trying to look at it from another angle.

Whereas here, all I can really say is ‘okay Perrin’s probably not going to die by their hand’ but I don’t get to have any reasoning or justification or ‘oh, maybe it means this’ other than ‘that doesn’t feel like where the story is going’.

Meh, oh well.

Next (ToM ch 6) Previous (ToM ch 4)

#weird POV combination but okay #I guess they both start with G?#wheel of time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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ballofstring66fanfic · 4 years

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Daisy Chain - chapter 2

A Hurt Locker / Staff Sergeant Will James story

A “Daisy Chain” is a booby trap consisting of multiple explosive devices wired to a single detonator.

Daisy Chain - chapter two

"Rukk?"

“Yeh, " Will draws on his cigarette, savouring the taste as he leans against the humvee, cultivating that air of nonchalance that he doesn’t always feel but he knows drives guys like Sanborn crazy.

"Where’d you hear that?" Sanborn is side-eyeing Will like he has something on his mind. Will knows what’s coming - it’s only a matter of time.

"The DVD kid, Beckham. I don’t know, you know, he talks a lot of trash, " Will says.

"Sinbad," Eldridge pipes up out of the blue, still staring out across the desert as if he isn’t really listening.

"What?"

Both men turn to look at the kid in surprise.

"Sinbad. A thousand and one Arabian nights - the Roc is a giant bird that threw, I don’t know, stones at him or something. "

"At Sinbad?" Sanborn always has to double check everything.

"Yeh. Rukk sounds like Roc - maybe?" Eldridge turns his head and gives them a shrug.

"A giant bird huh?" Will envisaged a giant bird and the sound it’s wings might make.

"Is this related to the naked woman?"

Will folds his arms, keeping his burning cigarette pointed up, and sucks at his cheek but doesn’t answer.

Fuck.

He knew that would come back to bite him in the ass.

"What naked woman? " Eldridge is on high alert now.

"Captain James here had a vision of a naked, British woman in an alley yesterday."

Eldridge just looks confused but Sanborn’s eyes are boring into Will.

"Mirage," Will shrugs as he drops the cigarette butt into the sand and stubs it out. "Guess I’m missing my not-wife," he says out of loyalty to Connie. But he isn’t. He isn’t missing her at all.

———————————-

The bed creaks as Will stretches to unlace his boots. It’s been hell today. His mind doesn’t dwell on the details, or they souls they lost - he tries to blank it - stay detached - but the memory crawls over his skin and seeps into his pores like poison. He badly wants a shower but he’s not gonna rush. The routine of removing his uniform brings a sort of comfort, peels away what he does for a living. He’s not sure what’s underneath though, what does it reveal? He does a good thing for a living but he doesn’t think he’s a good guy. Grandpa would have said it didn’t matter what your motives were - you do a good thing? Then you’re a hero. That was about the closest Grandpa ever came to talking about his war.

Naked, Will checks himself in the mirror. He can feel where the bruises will come up but there’s no skin broken, no unnoticed wounds. He stares at his body, fingers travelling of their own accord over the smooth skin. They pause at his one, tiny tattoo - the little jewel coloured figure over his heart, a copy of the tattoo Grandpa had - then they move downwards to trace the outline of the flak wounds. Another memory all too vivid right now that he wants to dilute with a shower even if he can’t quite wash it away.

The palm of his hand slides a little further but stops short. He’s getting hard - adrenaline - shock - whatever - but he doesn’t want to do anything about it yet - that’s not his routine. Shower first, then beer - the release comes later when alcohol has helped his mind let go of its grip on the horrors.

The shower is lukewarm - they never manage to get really cold - and he bends his head, feeling the water on the back of his neck as his eyes close and she appears, unbidden, in his mind. Not Connie. He tries to change it to Connie but he can’t - she resists. The woman in the alley - Jean Genie as he's christened her. It’s been days since he saw her - or thought he saw her but she won’t leave him alone. It’s always her eyes first - like the fucking Cheshire Cat or something, they are the first thing he notices. A rich, golden caramel they dance and flicker, draw him forwards - away from Connie - a burning candle in the dark.

———————————————-

The next time she shows up in person, he’s pictured the moment so often that he can just about fake his usual nonchalance but it takes some effort because she’s sitting on his goddamned bed. He has an armful of beers, cola and snacks and he’s pretty proud of himself for not dropping the whole damned lot when he walks in to his room.

"Make yourself at home." He doesn’t reach for his gun this time, he just rolls his eyes and dumps his haul from the mess on the chest of drawers before closing the door. Theoretically, he should be sounding every fucking alarm in this place but she’s naked again - passive - if she’s some kind of ninja assassin he doesn’t get why she wouldn’t just ring his neck before he even had time to register she was here.

"You seem much less trigger happy today," she says in an approving, sing-song voice. "How come?"

He purses his lips before he answers, sucks his cheeks in then turns around and leans against the furniture.

"I figure you’re either a manifestation of some kind of ..." It takes him a moment to come up with a likely mental illness. "...shell shock - whatever - or you’re a witch."

Witch? That’s ridiculous he doesn’t know where that came from...

"Either way if you’re aiming to kill me you don’t seem that committed."

"You think I’m a figment of your imagination?" The approval changes to a gentle hint of concern.

"I don’t know what you are, you seem real," he shrugs, "I can see your ribcage moving as you breathe so you look like you must be made of flesh and bone, you leave footprints in the sand, and you go out of your way to find me when I’m alone so I guess you don’t want to be seen which maybe means you can be seen by other people. If you were the projection of a crazy person I think maybe you’d show up anywhere and people would wonder who I was talking to."

"So, by default, if I’m not a figment of your imagination, then I must be a witch."

"I guess. Why are you always naked?"

"Does it bother you?"

He doesn’t want to answer that so he pulls his packet of smokes out from his pocket and busies himself lighting a cigarette.

"Would it help if you confirmed that I am flesh and bone?"

"It would help if you just told me who you are and what you want."

"Are you afraid of me, Will James?"

He exhales a long plume of smoke and plucks a strand of tobacco from his lip. He doesn’t want to answer that question either because he doesn’t know. But even if he is, he doesn’t walk away from things he’s afraid of, he walks towards them. Every day. Grandpa taught him that.

"I’m flesh and bone, " she says and rises from the bed. She’s not shy at all and he takes a real look at her this time, smoke drifting from his mouth as his eyes travel over her. He doesn’t know where this is leading but he can appreciate a beautiful woman when she’s right in front of him.

She steps up close and reaches for the cigarette, teasing it from him. He thinks she’s going to put it out but she takes a draw on it herself and lets it dangle from her fingers as that hand drapes over his shoulder. Her other hand slips under the hem of his tee-shirt and rests palm flat on his waist.

"See? Flesh and bone."

Man, she is beautiful. His fascination for things that could kill him has drawn him to some dubious situations but this one tops all of them. His head dips towards her and there’s barely a whisper of smoke keeping them apart now.

"Tell me your name." He breathes the request like an incantation and she’s so close that he feels the brush of her lips against his as she gifts it to him.

#jeremy renner #the hurt locker #will james #clint barton #hawkeye #hope the formatting comes out #though i dont know why i worry #literally ine person reads my stuff lol

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

Text

Spy x Family x Random Thoughts

I had the pleasure of reading Spy x Family, vol. 1, thanks to the dynamic duo of VIZ and Twwk.

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At first blush, it’s a normal (?) family: a father, a mother, and a six-year-old girl. But one of them is a spy, one is an assassin, and one is a psychic, and two of the three don’t realize just how complicated their situation is. Spy x Family is a droll genre mashup with a lot of heart. It draws on classic spy thrillers like the James Bond and Mission: Impossible films, mistaken identity comedies, two-people-pretend-to-be-in-a-relationship-but-fall-in-love-for-real romcoms, and reluctant-adult-suddenly-becomes-parent-to-cute-kid-and-family-ensues stories. Volume 1 details the start of this peculiar relationship dynamic.

Twilight is a covert intelligence operative in a world roughly modeled after Cold War-era Europe. He’s assigned to investigate a reclusive politician whose only known public appearances are at events as his son’s school. So Twilight has a week to find a wife and kid and enroll said child at the same elite private academy. This will, theoretically, grant Twilight a chance to get closer to his target. Under the alias Loid Forger, he finds an apartment, then visits a rundown orphanage that’s undoubtedly in violation of multiple laws and adopts a seemingly clever little girl named Anya. Of course, Twilight expects to ditch the girl and send her back to an orphanage as soon as his mission is over.

Anya truly is a gifted child, but not in the way Twilight hopes. Unbeknownst to him, this six-year-old girl escaped from some creepy mad science project after they did something that turned her into telepath, which has utterly hilarious results! For one, Anya easily learns her new papa is a spy, and thinks it’s super cool. Moreover, as a spy, Twilight often doesn’t want to share what he’s thinking…except Anya knows it anyway and often responds unpredictably to words he didn’t actually speak. She quickly gets attached to her cool new spy papa, and determines not to let him go. The next major hurdle arises when the super elite private school’s admissions process requires a family interview…which both of a child’s parents must attend. So Twilight needs to recruit an accomplice a wife within forty-eight hours.

Separate and apart, a clerk at city hall named Yor Briar faces pressure from coworkers and her younger brother to get a boyfriend. She ends up telling her brother she already has one…and quickly winds up in a situation where she’ll need to provide an actual human being to prove it to him. Also, Yor is an assassin known as the Thorn Princess. After she rips her nicest dress while slaughtering a bunch of dudes at a hotel, she goes to a clothing store, and chances upon Twilight and Anya out shopping for nicer clothes to the replace the ones Anya received at the orphanage. Despite their unwitting mutual interest (Twilight needs a shame wife, Yor needs a sham boyfriend), nothing happens…almost.

Fortunately, Anya is a telepath. She quickly learns that Yor is a super cool assassin and decides wants Yor for a mother. Anya also realizes that Yor and Twilight need each other for their respective situations. Thus the six-year-old cleverly plays matchmaker between the spy and the assassin. Initially, Twilight agrees to accompany Yor to a party to uphold her lie to her brother, and Yor agrees to pose as Anya’s mother for the family interview. After a bit of a violent sidequest the same evening as the party, Twilight arrives late, bloody, and battered…and he mixes up his roles, claiming to be Yor’s husband instead of her boyfriend. But Yor is actually on board with this – a marriage will better provide cover for her work as an assassin than remaining single. Stuff happens, as they end up legally married.

The resulting family contains three members, each trying to keep a huge secret to keep from the others, allthough Anya already knows their big secrets because, hey, telepathy. Both Twilight and Yor expect this to be a temporary arrangement in which they use the other to provide cover for their real work. Anya, meanwhile, is doing her best to make them a real family. And there are some cute hints that Twilight and Yor are starting to actually like each other.

Lots of other stuff happens in vol. 1, but that summarizes the main cast and how they wind up together. But you didn’t come here to read my scintillating summary, did you, dear reader? Of course not. Fortunately, while it seems this manga probably won’t be taking itself too terribly seriously, there were a couple of thought-provoking moments on which I shall pontificate further.

The story opens with this declaration: “Everyone has a secret they don’t show to other people.” Certainly secrets are a defining force in the lives of Twilight, Anya, and Yor. Those of us who aren’t spies or assassins don’t tend to find quite so much need for secrecy. Yet even we plebes can have secrets, both trivial and terrible. Secrets sometimes arise for positive reasons, but often they seem to stem from less healthy sources: shame and fear at best, or outright evil motives at worst. Secrets of this sort tend to be burdens. Of course, in the manga, someone does know the secrets of both Twilight and Yor: their adoptive daughter Anya (who knows thanks to her own secret!).

Anya brings to mind the one who knows all our secrets. Or, perhaps, it would be better to say that when it comes to God, we have no secrets. Long before we existed, God already knew everything about us. He knew every sin we’d ever commit. He knew exactly how flawed and broken and foolish and weak we’d be. Knowing all of that didn’t stop him from taking on human form, sacrificing himself for us, and creating us. I find this reminder especially relevant when it comes to prayer. There’s nothing so trivial or embarrassing that we can’t talk to God about it. Indeed, considering how much the Bible says about prayer, it seems God actually very much wants us to talk to him about our lives.

Another interesting moment in the manga was a realization Twilight has. He had remarked earlier about how he can’t stand to be around crying children. Later, he recognizes why: suffering children (like Anya) remind him of his own difficult childhood. Twilight acknowledges that trying to avoid these painful memories was warping his attitude toward children. In this, Twilight illustrates the reality that our childhood experiences have profound, dramatic, and often unexpected effects on us.

When I was a kid, my emotionally abusive dad was always right about everything. His authority was absolute, and anything other than instant compliance with his commands was sinful disobedience. As an adult, I learned that my dad was anything but always right, that parental authority is not absolute, and that my dad wasn’t remotely deserving of the extreme reverence I’d been raised to have for him. This has affected my attitude toward all authorities and is something I still wrestle with. After all, the central authority of my childhood, toward whom I had this warped sense of veneration, turned out to be wrong and untrustworthy in some really big ways. I can’t help but project that experience onto most other human authorities, leaving me leery of giving any of them too much trust, too much respect, too much obedience.

Whether those around Twilight will help him develop a healthy relationship with authority matches my own life: a progression that remains to be seen. Putting aside my own transformation, though, I’m eager to see how Twilight grows throughout the course of Spy x Family, and the same for the rest of his makeshift family. And so, I recommend volume one of Spy x Family—a most oddly cute and romantic comedy-action-spy-manga.

=====

Spy x Family is updated regularly on VIZ, where the most recent chapters are always free. Volume one can be purchased on Amazon.

#Manga #Christianity #SPY X FAMILY #Family #Secrets #Prayer #Authority #Articles #Author: JeskaiAngel

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worryinglyinnocent · 4 years

Text

Fic: Dead Man Walking (8/10)

Summary: Prime Ministers don’t normally wake up in morgues after they’ve been murdered, but that’s exactly what Robert Sutherland has just done. Right in front of Lacey’s nose. With limited resources and not knowing who to trust, Sutherland and Lacey must work together to get to the bottom of the attempted assassination.

Based loosely on this dream I had.

Rated: T, eventually E.

Note: This is meant to be ‘darkly humorous and amusing mystery’ rather than ‘gripping political thriller’…

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [AO3]

Dead Man Walking

Eight

Lacey woke up incredibly confused as to where she was and what time it was. It felt like it ought to have been the middle of the night, but there was sunlight streaming in through the windows, and she remembered that the dawn greyness had already been showing outside when she and Sutherland had been talking. She didn’t remember falling asleep and she only had the vaguest of notions of what they had been talking about when she dropped off. Student loans had definitely come into it somewhere.

She unfolded herself out of the chair that she’d crashed in, getting tangled up in the blanket that someone had tucked in around her. She wondered if it was Sutherland. He’d been the only one with her when she’d fallen asleep, after all.

The smell of breakfast was pervading through the house, despite it probably being closer to lunch time, and Lacey followed her nose through to the kitchen. Sutherland was in there, making eggs and bacon at the stove.

“Good to see that being poisoned hasn’t affected your appetite.”

He laughed. “And good morning to you too. Well, afternoon.”

Lacey slid into a seat at the kitchen table just as Mrs de Ville came bustling in from the conservatory with a bowl of fresh tomatoes. The domesticity of the scene made her snort. Here she was, hiding out with the Prime Minister in the house of an eccentric old woman that neither of them had met before the previous night. And the Prime Minister was happily making breakfast, and Lacey was trying to tell herself that this increasingly weird scenario was all just a dream and she would wake up back in the morgue having fallen asleep on the desk. Either Sutherland would still be under his sheet, or the morgue would be empty, and Sutherland would be where he belonged in Downing Street.

She pinched herself, but it was to no avail. She was definitely here.

“What time is it?” she asked. Mrs de Ville brought over a cup of coffee which Lacey accepted gratefully.

“Just gone twelve. Not too late for brunch.”

Lacey jerked back into full wakefulness. She’d promised to call her dad at noon to reassure him that she was still all right, and if she didn’t check in soon then he’d probably start scouring the countryside for her in the belief that she’d been kidnapped by the Civil Service.

She grabbed her phone and the coffee and went out into the garden. Hopefully, the others wouldn’t think too much of her sudden disappearance.

Moe picked up on the first ring.

“Lace? Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just overslept. It was a weird night.”

“You’re telling me. How’s you-know-who?”

Lacey glanced back over her shoulder at the kitchen and the figure of the Prime Minister standing there cooking. “He’s still alive and kicking. It’s really weird, you never think you’ll get to know someone like that.”

“Going into hiding following a failed assassination brings people together, I imagine.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Do you know when you might be home?”

Lacey didn’t reply for a long time; she didn’t really know. Theoretically, she could go home at any time. Nothing was stopping her apart from her own stubborn determination to see this through to the end and see justice done. She had no idea what had happened to Carrie on her trip to Chequers to look for evidence, but the fact that Sutherland and Maddie both seemed calm made her think that it had been a success. Or at least that Carrie and Ursula had both come back in one piece. The taxi was nowhere to be seen in the driveway, but Ursula likely had a home of her own to go to and was sensible enough to go to it.

“I should be back tonight,” she said. She knew that she couldn’t stay embroiled in this world forever, and it would help her to let go if she had a limit in place. The longer she stayed here, the more she would find herself thinking about Sutherland in ways that people really should not think about the Prime Minister.

“Well, keep yourself safe.”

“Of course. Thanks Dad. I’ll see you soon.”

She stayed standing in the garden for a long time after saying goodbye, thinking about the events that had transpired. More specifically, thinking about Sutherland. She really shouldn’t be developing feelings for him. They were part of two extremely different worlds for a start. She was an almost-forensic scientist in the middle of Buckinghamshire, and he was the Prime Minister and lived predominantly in London. She wasn’t exactly part of the elite that he was normally surrounded with. There was no way that he could find anything likeable about her.

Although, that said, he had been a great conversation partner and he had always taken her seriously when she had been arguing with him, never once brushing off her concerns. And he’d given her a blanket and made sure she was comfortable when she’d nodded off, likely mid-way through him talking.

She sighed. There was nothing to be gained from standing out here like a lemon, especially when her stomach was loudly informing her of the last time she’d eaten anything substantial and brunch was waiting for her in the house.

Sutherland and Mrs de Ville were both sitting at the table with plates of eggs, bacon, tomatoes, and toast in front of them when Lacey returned, and she helped herself from the dishes. The food was good, although Lacey would have been quite happy with anything vaguely edible at that point in time.

“I never had you down as the culinary type,” she said, to end the silence if nothing else. “Don’t you have staff to do all that kind of thing?”

Sutherland shook his head in despair. “You make it sound like I’ve lived in a palace my entire life. Yes, there are kitchen staff, but generally I cook for myself if I’m not hosting a grand reception for several world leaders.”

Annoyingly, that made sense, and Lacey just continued to chew her toast in silence. She really needed to stop finding reasons to like the man.

They were saved from any awkwardness by Carrie entering the kitchen. If there was one thing that Lacey had learned about Carrie in all of the very brief time that she had known her, it was that she never did anything by halves. Despite having been up all night, she was still dressed to the nines and wearing full make-up.

“Good afternoon, everyone! What a lovely day to get the head of the Civil Service banged up on an attempted murder charge.”

Mrs de Ville looked at her daughter with an expression that was part disbelief and part maternal pride. “Did you find something, then?”

Carrie waved her phone. “I most certainly did, and Spencer’s not going to know what hit him.” She threw herself down into the remaining seat at the table and grabbed a piece of toast out of Sutherland’s hand. “Hey, I found evidence that you’re at the centre of a bloodthirsty power grab plot, the least you can do is give me your toast.”

“When you couch it in those terms, I’m not entirely sure I should be grateful,” Sutherland muttered as Maddie got up to make a fresh batch of toast.

Lacey watched the interplay between Carrie and Sutherland, and a part of her had to wonder. She wasn’t exactly jealous of the easy familiarity between them, or the fact that Sutherland was so comfortable with Carrie in his personal space, but she’d spent so long trying not to be attracted to him that she hadn’t really thought about whether there was in fact anyone else in the picture, someone who would render her thoughts moot anyway. She knew that he wasn’t married and was nominally single, and she’d always suspected that if there was a significant other in his life then it would be all over the papers, him being such a public figure and all. On the other hand, if his significant other was his closest assistant, then they would certainly be in the best position to keep everything under wraps.

Carrie’s phone began to ring, and she gave a theatrical sigh, taking her toast with her out of the kitchen and into the living room where they had been holed up the previous evening. If it was a professional call then it probably wasn’t a good idea to take it in a place where the caller could potentially overhear that Sutherland was still alive. Maybe the news had been spread further than they thought.

Lacey still didn’t really understand what the plan was supposed to be in terms of keeping it under wraps. Sutherland’s death had not been reported to the public yet, which meant that there were three distinct groups of people: those who thought he was dead, those who knew he was alive, and those who weren’t aware that there had been any change in his state at all and would hopefully continue their lives none the wiser. She had to smile when she thought of the potential headlines regarding the assassination attempt, and she wondered if there would even be any or if the Civil Service would work to keep everything tightly clamped down. Especially since one of their own was heavily implicated in the plot. She knew that if she’d been reading about everything that had happened on the news, then she wouldn’t believe any of it. She only half-believed it now, and she was living in the middle of it.

“Darlings, I am afraid I am going to have to love you and leave you.” Carrie swept back into the kitchen, taking another two pieces of toast from the rack that Maddie was bringing over to the table. “News of your demise and resurrection has spread to my London-based colleagues and no one knows whether they ought to be planning a funeral, asking Archie to come and take over as interim Prime Minister, or sending the attack dogs to get Sir Albert. I think most of them are hoping for the latter. It’s absolute chaos up there, I’m going to have to go and sort it out personally before anyone else can do something catastrophic.”

“Should I come?” Sutherland was halfway out of his chair, but Carrie pushed him back down.

“No, no, you sit tight here with Lacey and Mother for a while longer. You’re my secret weapon, darling. I want to be able to pull you out of the bag with relish and enjoy the look on Albert Spencer’s face when he realises just what’s been going on whilst he’s been frantically looking for your corpse.” She kissed him on both cheeks in farewell and did the same to her mother. “I’ll call you when it’s safe for you to come back! In the meantime, avoid rhododendrons!”

With that, she left the kitchen again, and Lacey listened to her rushing around the house gathering her things together.

“I’ll go and see her off.” Maddie left the kitchen, and if Lacey didn’t know better then she’d say that she’d given her a very pointed look as she closed the door after her.

Sutherland looked at the door for a long time, then he met Lacey’s eyes. “I think she’s doing that on purpose.”

“What?”

“Leaving us alone together.”

Well, having a pensioner match-make her with the Prime Minister was certainly a new experience for Lacey, but she wasn’t going to knock it yet. Presumably if Maddie was attempting to set them up, then it meant that there was nothing between Carrie and Sutherland, but at the same time, Maddie may not have been the most observant of souls.

Still, it gave her an opening. If everything went completely down the tubes after this then she never had to see the man again, after all. Her moped was still outside, and she could be at home forgetting about the entire ordeal in half an hour.

“I was thinking the same,” she said. “But then you and Carrie…”

Sutherland laughed. “I’m the wrong gender for Carrie. No, I think she’s got her sights set on Ursula rather than me.”

“Oh. Right.”

With that particular misapprehension cleared up, Lacey didn’t really know where to go next. She and Sutherland were both still looking at each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

Lacey took a deep breath, sticking to her previous reassurance that if it all went wrong, she could just escape back home and never think of the incident again. She moved around to the seat at the table next to Sutherland that Maddie had just vacated and inched a little closer to him.

“So…” she began. “Over the last very weird day, I’ve come to the conclusion that despite everything I may have said about you and the government in the past, I do really like you. And I was just wondering if you perhaps liked me too, and that Mrs de Ville was actually making the right choice in leaving us alone together on purpose.”

Sutherland gave a slow nod. “Yes, Lacey. I do like you.”

“And not just because I rescued you from a morgue?”

“Not just because I rescued you from a morgue.” He gave a soft huff of laughter. “To be honest, I’m glad that you were the one to bring it up.”

“Really?”

“Well, you’re a beautiful, bright young thing and I’m a crusty old politician. Things could have gone very badly if I’d made the first move.”

Lacey thought back to when she’d found him in a towel on the landing, and the raging desires that had consumed her mind for those few moments.

“I get your point. I don’t think that things are going to go badly, though. I mean, by necessity our time together is limited, right? You’ll go back to London. I’ll stay here. It’s a very limited window of opportunity that we’ve got here, and if we both like each other, then we might as well make the most of it.”

Sutherland nodded. “If there’s one thing that I’ve always been good at, it’s seizing windows of opportunity.”

Lacey took the plunge then, leaning in and pressing her lips against Sutherland’s. He accepted her readily, hands coming up to cup her face and pull her in closer. He was a surprisingly good kisser, firm and eager, and Lacey could help but grin as she pulled away.

“No regrets, Prime Minister?”

“None apart from you calling me that.”

“I have to call you something.”

“I’ve got a name, you know. You can call me Robert.”

Lacey paused. Going onto first name terms made it so much more intimate, more than just a one-night stand. Well, one-day stand, considering how messed-up their sleeping patterns were at the moment. She’d had plenty of one-night stands before but having one with the Prime Minister was something entirely different.

Oh, what the hell.

“No regrets, Robert?”

“None.”

He kissed her again, and Lacey scrambled from her chair into his lap. Whatever happened now, she was definitely going to make sure that it was worth it.

#rumbelle fic #sutheracey #Robert Sutherland #Lacey French #Fic: Dead Man Walking

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