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fantomette22 · 8 months

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Hello, I need to know your thoughts about Ludwig (and Laurence if you don't mind?) - headcanon, relationship with others or just something you think about him! >:) (I didn't found them in your blog sry if you answered something like that already xd)

Alright! So for Laurence I already share a few ideas here : X - X - X - X and here.

Now for this dear Ludwig I do have a few ideas! I don't remember If I share things I don't think I share a lot 😐

Last time it was my last design of him eventually this funny idea with his sword. And I did a few other drawing on him they are around my blog somewhere 😅 I share a few here too like you have seen (I forgot some too...)

Now, what could I say before sharing a tons of lil headcanons... Well the first time I beat him it was thanks to Valtr! I found him so hard! Now it's way easier XD just a few tries in NG+ His lore is super interesting and even if he probably made tons of mistakes and bad things (see all the blood he have on his hands + church + that people even treat him like a monster?) I feel pity towards him 😢

Also the music is so good 👌 and he's the only one to maintain a bit of humanity and of himself after he turned into a beast?! JUST WOW And even if his design is sure quite... particular... an equine like beast with eyes? So unique. It could be based on the horse guardian of the underworld in Chinese mythology. (I need to look more on it there might be other influence as well).

And of course he got the holy moonlight sword! It's not anything.

And before doing the dlc I always find really interesting the bit of lore around him! (Gehrman mentioning him, the sword, badge description etc) So finally seeing him for real is impressive! If the dlc didn't existed I would have assume he was the beast possessed soul below the old workshop (yeah I have an headcanon for the poor guy too).

Now for the headcanons I have him less develop than the rest so I will just do some list! And in one of my headcanon timeline I still don't know if he should died years before Laurence or should he be there when the dream was create, kill Laurence when he turned in to a beast and die after etc.

Ok go for a few headcanons!

🗡️ He's from either a small noble family or bourgeois family. (he's ancestor were great warriors after all! That originated from Pthumeru & Cainhurst too). I don't know if he have any sibling 🤔 that would make sense if he was the youngest son or something.

🌖 He have heterochromia! His right eye is green (if not teal) and his left one dark brown. At some point his right eye will become more teal colored (same as holy moonlight sword) then blind from and injury (or the contrary).

🗡️ He's left handed. I mean I think it was already kinda oblivious and really one of the only thing that for me is not an headcanon but well canon.

🌖 He was a student at Byrgenwerth at the same time of Maria, Caryll, Rom, Mico etc whom he became fast friends with as well as Laurence & Gehrman. He studied in hm check notes either theology or something in history or military history perhaps? 😅 I am still unsure and I need it for my next fic chapter help.

🗡️ HE LOVES HORSES!!! He had a lil white shetland pony (place holder name is Leonard...) when he was a kid and he did ride horses some times to times but he didn't have one that belong to him for a lot of years. So yeah he was quite a horsegirl with Maria XD she did have a horse and she bring him at Byrgenwerth on her 2nd year and let Ludwig go on ride with him, take care on and all. As such he ask Byrgenwerth to work as a part job at the stable.

All the horses and equine love him too! Even the scared or agressive ones! He have a gift it seems.

🌖 Later on when he had to go somewhere with a horse that was either one of Maria black horses, a brown mule and his last horse a white horse (with a black mane?)

🗡️ He adopted a baby orphan crow too. I don't have a name yet but it's the research hall crow that give us the guidance rune.

🌖 Yes Laurence convince him to become a cleric how surprising I know. (They guy convert so many help)

🗡️ Before wearing the executioner / beta hunter healing church clothes he wear something similar to the Yharnam set. With a tricorn hat yep. A gift from Gehrman.

🌖 He's the first one to have wear the hunter chief emblem.

🗡️ As he kid he was kind of a Labrador/good boy type of guy that become more ruthless after becoming the leader of the hunter of the church and bad things happening around him. He was really kind, protector and courageous for his friends! even if at times he seems he bit oblivious to what was going on around him XD and shocked lot of the times 🤣 see the encounter with a shadow of Yharnam hvhqf

🌖 I am still hesitating on when/where he got the holy moonlight sword. I guess he got a blood transfusion before hand and either lost himself 2-3 days in Pthumeru, Loran or Isz or another underground labyrinth. The other were really worried and glad he was alive. Even if he was hurt had a weird magic sword and say he heard and saw things now. "Yeah like Caryll! Nothing to be worried of." "But Laurence-"

🗡️ He know how to dance in ballroom properly and could play piano and a horn.

🌖 He was kind toward the new hunters (workshop & church) and help Simon got his bow for example.

🗡️ He was choose as the leader of the church hunters because of many aspect : cleric, better vibe to the public and to talk to LOTS of people than poor Gehrman rip, proximity with Laurence, Holy moonlight sword, guidance rune, hear voices don't let Flora lure you Ludwig!, one of the first tomb prospector for the church etc

🌖 Yeah he was, maybe, really close with Laurence if you see what I mean 😏 he might have mercy kill Laurence too... that's the huge crack on the skull...

🗡️ he had great relationship with Maria, Gehrman, Caryll, the scholars and all when everything went well. Still when everything began to spiral down (after Maria died, before Moon presence) he still went to see Gehrman with Micolash to drink tea really occasionally, without Laurence knowing.

🌖 He got at least a scar on his face because of the fishing hamlet.

🗡️ At the end of his life he went kinda crazy and smash everything while closing his eyes... so yeah many collateral damaged... things become worst and he transformed and many people died.. the hunters who discover what happened to Ludwig where shut in cells (Yamamura, Gratia, + a few other guys)

🌖 And last one, if he have a cute nickname it would be Lulu ^^

I probably forgot a few things but it should be all for now!

#bloodborne #my asks #bloodborne headcanons #ludwig the holy blade #my art #laurence the first vicar #ludwig the accursed #also I just discover a saint was named Ludwig lol

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jksprincess10 · 9 months

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Dressed for revenge 12. Two ghosts standing in the place of you and me

CW: talks of death and murder ig??, Joel and Ghost being Ellie’s parents, angst, religious trauma, low self confidence, FLUFF, dysphoria, humping, shame.

Masterlist for this fic

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Please reblog!*

17th of December 2023, community of Jackson

Ellie, Joel and Ghost were sitting in the living room like a little family.

Outside, the snow was falling in slow-motion.

Inside, the fire was burning vividly in the fireplace.

“Ellie, we were thinkin’…you should know everythin’ before you think about meeting with the fireflies. Tommy did some diggin’ through his contacts… he thinks they’re in Salt Lake City. There’s a lot of them there… They have a hospital…”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” She asks with hope.

Ghost puts a reassuring hand on Ellie’s knee. In just a few days living in Jackson, they had more color to their face, and they smiled more.

“Yes… and no. Ellie, they… they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing. The hospital is probably run-down and barely usable. If there was a cure, there would’ve been one a long time ago. Plus… the cordyceps grow in the brain, which means…” Ghost says.

“Which means they’ll kill me.” Ellie completes.

“With no way of knowin’ if this is gonna do anything in the end.” Joel states. “I was gonna do it for Tess.” The name burns his tongue and his heart.

Ghost wants to ask.

Tess.

Before.

But they stay silent.

“Made me promise. But things changed, kid. We changed.”

“And we can’t just bring you to your death without you knowing what will happen.”

Ellie looks paralyzed. Ghost just wishes she would say something. Anything.

“I… I need time.”

Before Joel and Ghost can say anything, Ellie climbs up the stairs and disappears in her bedroom. They hear the door closing, then complete silence. Joel gets up, but Ghost holds his hand to keep him there.

“Give her space, Joel.”

Someone knocks on the door. Joel opens it to reveal Maria standing in the doorway, bundled up in a warm winter coat.

“Oh, hi. I was going to show our new nurse where they will work.” Maria says with a bright smile.

They told Maria and Tommy they would help in any way they can; Ghost would help with first aid, occasionally patrol and Joel would hunt and patrol.

“Sorry, I know I was supposed to meet you! Wait outside, I’ll be there in a sec.” Ghost says, trying to reciprocate the smile. They were trying really hard to be nice to her, but they didn’t like what she said about Joel. She made him seem like he was controlling his brother.

He did bad things, too, and brought Tommy along…

Ghost gets up and wraps their arms around Joel’s neck.

“Good luck on patrol, be safe.” Joel nods. “I’ll see you later.”

“You know I always am. See you later, darlin’.” Joel leans down to leave a kiss on their lips.

17th of December 2023, evening, community of Jackson

When Ghost comes back from their first shift as a community nurse, they immediately climb up the stairs to see if Ellie was still hiding in her room. They knock softly on the door.

“Els, it’s G. Do you want to help with the dinner, so I don’t burn the place down?” Quietly, she opens her door. Her eyes are red and puffy. “We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, okay?”

Ellie nods, and follows Ghost down the stairs. They both cut the vegetables in silence for a while, before the teenager opens her mouth.

“I want to help people… But shit, I don’t want to die. ”

“Both valid points.” Ghost agrees with a slight smile. “But what if… it changes nothing in the end? We’re not in a movie. You’re not Jesus.” They say to lighten the mood.

Ellie chuckles weakly.

“But what if I am Jesus?”

“Then I’d be mad at you for all my religious trauma.”

Ellie cringes. “Fair.”

“Look, Els… I can just say that I don’t wanna lose you. We just… we want you to be happy. That’s all. You deserve it. And the fireflies can’t decide your faith. No one can but you. But whatever decision you make… we will support you through it. I promise.”

Ghost abandons the vegetables in the boiling water.

“G, what do you think death feels like? Do you believe there’s anything after this? Light at the end of the tunnel or whatever shit people say?” Ellie sits on the counter as she watches Ghost cooking.

“I think death is just… darkness. I don’t believe there’s anything after this. We can’t just live and hope for salvation and for an after. There’s no after. There’s just… now. When I thought I was gonna die… I just saw black. That’s all.”

As they talk, the door opens on a freezing Joel, snow still clinging to his rebellious curls.

“Rabbit’s out of her hole?” He says as he sees Ellie.

“Yep, I told her I’d burn the house down accidently if she didn’t help me cook.” Ghost says with a devilish smile.

Joel gets rid of his thick coat and boots, before meeting the duo in the kitchen. “You know darlin’ I can cook too… I don’t wanna… put you in gender roles or anythin’…”

“How progressive of you.” Ghost says as they grab Joel’s flannel shirt to bring him closer for a kiss. His lips are cold and chapped from his prolonged stay outside. “You can cook tomorrow. Go warm up by the fire.”

Ellie barely acknowledges Joel other than a nod. It seemed like she was only comfortable talking to Ghost, rightfully so. The older man was pretty bad with words and reassurance.

“Do you want to… take a bath with me?” Ghost asks tentatively to their lover.

The luxury of a bathtub had to be used and abused. The luxury of human warmth as well.

“Only if you’re… comfortable.”

“Yes. Wanna be close to you. Please?” When Joel nods with a slight smile, Ghost grabs his big hand and disappears with him in the spacious bathroom. Ellie had returned to her room, to do some introspection – and probably some healthy crying.

The older man closes and locks the door and turns around to look down at Ghost almost nervously.

“We don’t have to look at each other.” They say as they lean down beside the bath to let the warm water fill the bathtub. They didn’t think Joel would be as self-conscious as them in this situation.

They hear a long sigh, and clothes falling on the floor. When they hear Joel getting closer to the bath, they close their eyes and turn around to give him some privacy while he submerges his body in the water.

“Okay, you’re good, darlin’. I’ll close my eyes and you can get in.”

Ghost undresses silently and sits carefully between Joel’s muscular, and slightly hairy thighs. They turn off the faucet when the water reaches a sufficient height.

They turn their head slightly to look at Joel’s peaceful face, and he opens his eyes, unveiling beautiful brown irises.

“Hi.” Ghost says awkwardly.

“Hi darlin’.” Joel chuckles and wraps his arms around their tattooed chest. They feel so small compared to him. In their head, Ghost was invincible. But when they were secluded in Joel’s warmth, they were fragile and needed to be protected. There was this aura around him, the one of a protector. And their need to be protected was instinctive, primal.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” He asks after a moment of silence, his lips leaving soft trails of love on their lover’s neck. Goosebumps make the small hairs on their skin rise.

“Just thinking about how I feel in your arms.”

“Hmhm?”

“Good. But fragile.” They say with a light chuckle. Ghost’s long fingers caress Joel’s strong arms.

“You’re the strongest person I know.” He reassures them sincerely. “I might be stronger physically, but…you’re strong in here.” He says as he points to their head.

“Thank you… ” They smile, let the words sit. Silence has the time to settle before they speak again. “Joel? Why don’t you… rarely say my name?”

Joel shrugs and takes a moment to think.

“Don’t wanna be rude. But I don’t like the name you chose for yourself.”

Playfully, they pinch the skin on his arm. “Rude. Why?”

“Because, you ain’t no ghost, baby… ” He says as his hands caress their arms. “You’re flesh and bones. You’re real. You’re warm.”

“After… Wyatt killed our parents on Outbreak day, I was never the same.” Joel listens, taking in every piece of their story they’re willing to give him. He knows how hard it is to share pain. “So as I grew… I never felt like I was… alive after that. We were just two ghosts wandering to find our place.”

“But don’t you feel alive now?”

“More and more every day.” They smile softly.

“So… Why don’t we find another name that sounds right? Masculine and feminine at the same time, a strong name…”

“Got it. Call me boo!” They exclaim with a laugh.

“God. No. Never, darlin’. There’s a limit to what I can handle.”

They hear Joel’s laugh, a loud, genuine sound.

“We’ll find something else.”

“Hmhm.” Joel agrees. His robust hands grab the soap, lather the lavender scented bar in his palms, before starting to wash every part of Ghost that was accessible to him. They lean into his touch, starved for love and affection.

“Fuck, sorry.” Joel says suddenly as he feels his blood rushing south.

Ghost laughs, amused at his physical reaction. “Guess it just confirms that you’re attracted to me.” When they turn around to look at him, his cheeks are turning red.

“You thought I wasn’t?”

“I just thought… I was missing too many parts for you to find me attractive.”

Slowly, Ghost turns around and climbs on Joel’s lap, feeling how hard he is against their thigh. Joel shakes his head and puts his hands flat on his lover’s chest.

“You’re badass. It’s… different, for sure. But you didn’t have a choice. Can’t hol’ that against you.”

“Different is good?”

“Different is good.” He confirms. With a smirk, they lean down and latch their lips onto his, starting soft and slow. Joel’s hands take place on their waist as he deepens the kiss, tongue sneaking in his darling’s mouth.

Kissing Joel was overwhelming, like their body was on fire and every lick just fed their alight senses, making the fire consume everything in its way. Ghost lets him invade every part of their mouth. Heat is building up in their stomach; a new sensation to feel with a man, and without even noticing, their body moves on its own; their hips grinding on Joel, creating a pleasing friction. Joel whimpers in their mouth. Ghost curses under their breath, they didn’t think something so primal and sinful would feel so good.

Sin.

Lust.

Desire.

You cannot want pleasure.

You don’t deserve it.

The waves stop when realizations take ahold of them. They distance themself from Joel, taking over the other side of the bath, their cheeks heated.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Joel leans more in the bathtub, broad shoulders sinking in the water. His strong hand circles his erected cock. “It’s okay darlin’, I’ll just… take care of this. God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” He says, like it pains him.

They stay fixated for a moment on the thickness of him ; their mind flooding with unholy images of him filling them up and fixing all of their broken pieces.

Joel doesn’t move, doesn’t look at them, cheeks still red from embarrassment.

“Oh fuck, sorry, I’ll… I’ll give you some space.” With that, they get up and step out of the bathtub. They quickly wrap their wet body in a fluffy towel and leave to their room.

There, they dry up, and they finally take the time to look at their body. They never thought of it as a possible object of desire – except with her, and they felt almost… shameful.

July 2015, The Haven

“You’re so beautiful.” A quiet whisper in the night from the night between their opened thighs as their head is looking up at the stars, counting them in silence.

Their white linen pants were discarded to the side, and her beautiful head of blonde hair was between their parted thighs. They whimper softly when her tongue circles their small bud of pleasure. They almost can’t take it, the building fire their stomach transforms in an explosion as they wet their lips as quietly as possible.

“My turn now.” Ghost whispers, hands sliding under the white dress of the angel, finding her perky breasts to caress them.

They almost miss their past body, that way, she could use it.

Hiding on the side of the church, he watches, a sinister expression on his face.

She will repent.

How dare you.

You cannot want pleasure.

You don’t deserve it.

17th of December 2023, evening, community of Jackson

Ghost wraps their body in a blanket, and they try to find sleep while waiting for Joel. But their mind wanders, fighting the voices calling them sinful.

But soon enough, Joel calms them with soft words, apologies, and tight embraces.

#dressed for revenge

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skaruresonic · 3 months

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What do you think SA2's flaws are? Not nitpicks, but valid criticisms?

Story and Characterization: • It kind of doesn't make sense that Eggman's threats "fell on deaf ears." The game doesn't really tell us what that means, so we have to assume Shadow meant the negotiations between Eggman and the President didn't go quite as planned. But even that doesn't make sense because Eggman either ended the call first or had his call hijacked by Sonic and Tails. It's not like the President staunchly refused, you know? • Sonic and Tails' attitude towards Amy is a little :L because they treat her like a tagalong, some burden they have to suffer rather than a member of the team. It gives off this uncomfortable "lol girls amirite" vibe. • Sonic and Tails leaving Amy behind becomes something of a running gag. It gives off the impression they're just lugging her along and only lends Amy more reason to "whine," as she puts it. • Amy's also a little bratty in this game. I kind of don't like how much she pouts. In addition, she becomes pretty passive despite having infiltrated Prison Island all on her own. • Sonic's characterization is serviceable but his portrayal really doesn't do a whole lot with his character aside from the faker plot. (This is reflected in SA2B's manual describing Sonic's role rather than his character.) Not a criticism as much as an observation, per se; just pointing out that SA2!Sonic is probably not the most fleshed-out version of the character the series has to offer.

• It's probably a side-effect of a poor English translation, but SA2!Sonic comes off as a bit of a jerk sometimes. He frequently leaves Amy behind and jokes that he'd have to "think about" handing over the fake Emerald in exchange for her. In addition, the lyrics of "Deeper" imply Knuckles wishes Sonic would be more sympathetic to his plight. • It would have been nice if the game confirmed that Maria had NIDs and that was the reason for Project Shadow's existence. As it stands, the reason why Gerald was working on it can be difficult to parse if you're judging from the game's contents alone. • The fact that the Biolizard is kinda this "giant space flea from nowhere" plot development. And yes, I acknowledge that he was foreshadowed in Rouge's report, but that's too much of a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment to really count imo. • While I get that he was busy with other things, I think Eggman should have tried to keep a keener eye on Rouge. He seems a little too laissez-faire with letting her run around the colony and giving her access to the mainframe.

• I still don't know how Rouge expected to make off with the Emeralds considering they were ensconced in the Cannon. Or why Shadow simply left her there when he knows she wanted to take them.

• The time stamps can be a little confusing, and in one instance contradict the timeline of the narrative. • We could have benefited from maybe one or two more Shadow and Maria flashback scenes in order to cement the nature of their relationship.

• I sometimes question the President's relationship to GUN - they seem to be acting independently of his orders, going batshit at that - and whether he was willing to let Rouge die in the course of her undercover work. Because GUN hadn't gotten the memo that she wasn't the enemy and sicced Flying Dog on her.

• Knuckles' story doesn't seem terribly connected to the overall narrative.

• Knuckles is made a buttmonkey a bit too often for comfort's sake, getting yelled at by multiple characters, shaken and insulted by Rouge, pulled on by Amy, called a "knucklehead" by Sonic, volunteered by Sonic to find the keys when he doesn't want to, and Sonic ofc saying Knuckles piloting the shuttle was more dangerous than Eggman could ever be.

• I think maybe we could have benefited from hearing a bit more of Eggman's thoughts on Gerald's motives and how they related to his own. --- Gameplay and Graphics:

• The graphics are rough, unfortunately. Character models don't really look that good up close and the mocap can get pretty janky at times.

• I think, also, when comparing SA1 DC to SA2 DC, the framerate isn't as smooth. Scanlines become especially noticeable during the final Sonic vs. Shadow fight when the catwalk loads in.

• Kart racing sucks pretty bad; they probably could have cut it entirely, and it's annoying that you have to do it in order to earn 180 emblems. The computer's a cheating bastard and will make perfect 90-degree turns whereas you're forced to swerve all over the road like you're drunk.

• Raising Chao takes way too fucking long and it shouldn't be an emblem requirement. It's an interesting system but, again, shouldn't be a requirement for 100% completion.

• Overall I think the desert stages are SA2's weaker stages in terms of level design. It's not that they're terrible or anything, but they seem to lack the polish of other stages. Egg Quarters Hard Mode is especially annoying because it depends on the Kikis' wonky AI functioning correctly. Half the time they blow themselves up and ruin your A-rank. • Sonic's Cannon's Core section feels rather short and too easy compared to the other segments. I would think in terms of gameplay it'd make more sense to make it the most difficult and tightly-paced. --- Soundtrack: • Not as diverse as SA1's, although I do like how the "Live and Learn" leitmotif is woven throughout many different tracks. • Not sure why they decided to make some tracks on SA2 DC's sound test DLC-only.

#asks #sa2

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signoraviolettavalery · 2 years

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I’m still living in season 1 and god this will probably start 3-year-old Discourse but

I’m still a little annoyed about how Alex walked away from michael, unequivocally dumped him, walked away again after he said “I’m done walking away,” then showed up with a guy Michael hates to go on an alien-related field trip with no preamble, a field trip in which Michael watched his mother die and was fucking traumatized

and people still give Michael shit for running from that relationship. I hate Maria, I think Michael could do 10000x better, he probably shouldn’t have run to a relationship, but like

After Alex spent the entire season repeatedly dumping him and running away from him, and Michael took him back every time only for it to happen again

Are we really surprised that Michael didn’t believe Alex would actually start sticking around? Are we really surprised he didn’t want to put himself through what he thought was a 100% certainty of heartbreak after he’d experienced something so traumatic?

Anyway Michael magically having a functional relationship with Maria after all that trauma made zero sense and did I mention I hate her, but Michael had no reason to believe Alex would actually stick around this time. Yes, yes, we know why Alex ran away, we know Alex changed and worked on himself, we know he actually meant to stick around this time, etc, etc but Michael had no reason to believe that and he wasn’t going to take a chance in his fragile traumatized state

Did I mention fuck Maria

#malex #anti maria deluca #because fuck her and not in the fun way

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snowbatsims · 7 months

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VAMPIRE INTERMISSION #4, part 3

After most of the the party guests had left, only one remained: Maria-Elise, mother of Morten. She wanted to move in. Time to discuss.

BAT: ZZZZZZzzzZzZZzZZz

EINARR: Don't mind Bat. EINARR: So! You wanted to move in? MARIA: That I did! EINARR: Why? If I may ask... MARIA: Well, I think I'm getting a bit too old to live on my own. And I trust you guys to not eat me.

EINARR: Old? You? Maria-Elise Torsteinsdóttir, you're speaking to a man nearly twenty lifetimes old, MARIA: Well, I'm still a bit old for a human. EINARR: Fair enough! EINARR: And yeah - personally I kind of swore an oath to never hurt Morten's living relatives, he'll only have you for so long. EINARR: Actually, how long did you mortals live these days?

MARIA: See, that's the thing! MARIA: I am getting concerningly close to my Elder stage. I'm kinda Rune's age, remember? If I weren't an elder already, I will be soon! MARIA: And then after that, who knows how long my elderdom will be? EINARR: Oh! MORTEN: Oh......

MORTEN: THAT'S IT, she's living with us!! RUNE: Yeah sure, I won't mind- MORTEN: I am NOT letting MY MAMMA randomly die of old age off screen. Nope, not happening!! MORTEN: I will renovate Kvikindi's old room for her all by myself if I have to!! EINARR: Hah, go for it, I won't stop you. Kvikindi moved out years ago, anyway.

RUNE: I'll help! EINARR: I would gladly help as well. RUNE: Yeah!! It will be great to have a human in this house again! MARIA: Oh, thank you guys! EINARR: We have never had a human living in this house, Rune. Unless you count the ghosts, who are by definition no longer alive. RUNE: Ah right... Wait, ghosts? EINARR: You didn't notice our ghosts yet? RUNE: No! MARIA: Ghosts?

MARIA: I mean, I knew this house was haunted, but only by vampires! BAT: You mean us???? MORTEN: Oh hey you're awake. EINARR: Welcome back, child. EINARR: And yes, dóttir, this house is quite haunted by ghosts. Sorry to say. MARIA: I mean, I don't know why I'm so surprised! How do you even deal with the ghosts?

BAT: We don't. They're friends.

BAT: Sometimes, we hear them making funny noises in the walls. And moaning... So much moaning. And tapping! Random tapping, going *tip tip tip* on the tables and windows and walls, BAT: Once one of them grabbed my shoulders, and shrieked loudly into my ears the most ghastliest noise! BAT: But that's just their way of saying hello, you know? :D RUNE: And you never told me??? BAT: Of course I didn't. You'd shit your pants. RUNE: :/ BAT: And hey, not to mention that time-

MORTEN: Bat I SWEAR to all of Einarr's gods that if you literally end up scaring my own mother from moving in with us, I am stealing uncle Sigurd's vampire slaying kit- BAT: Wow, Mort. Chill. No you won't.

MARIA: No, I appreciate the honesty. I think it'll be fine. It's just ghosts. Maybe I won't even notice them... just like Rune. BAT: See? :D MORTEN: ...

RUNE: Well!! Enough about ghosts! How about we just show her around? Like the room we were thinking of? MARIA: That would be wonderful, thank you.

MARIA: Yeah... yeah! Sure! MARIA: I can work with this space.

RUNE: Well hey, if you need any help moving your stuff, we're right here! MARIA: Yes. Thank you. Would it be too much trouble to also change the wallpaper in here? It's a bit too dark for my taste. RUNE: Not at all!

MORTEN: You sure you won't mind living in a house full of vampires? MORTEN: I mean, Einarr said he won't hurt you, but Rune has been known to snack on his family members - RUNE: Excuse me, I always asked them first. MORTEN: Alright, Rune's probably fine too. But you know Bat has been really fond of your blood. BAT: snnzzzzZZ Z Z MARIA: Yeah. MARIA: But you guys cannot enter without invitation, right? I'll just lock my bedroom door every night. MORTEN: Hah. Smart.

MORTEN: Welcome to the house, mom.

And so, she moved in.

#gameplay #vampire intermissions #haha yep sorry for the hiatus LOL #just realized i had most of these screenies already. just had to write #hope at least someone other than me enjoys this haha

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mckiwi · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 Day 15: Emotional Damage

Characters: Supreme Strange, Peggy Carter, Reed Richards, Maria Rambau, Charles Xavier, Blackagar Boltagan

Summary: The Stephen Strange of Universe 838 died defeating Thanos, right?

It was over. Thanos lay dead upon a pile of rubble. The universe had been saved due to Stephen's actions. The question still remained though… "So, what will you tell them?" Stephen asked. How would they explain his death?

Peggy looked over to Maria, who shrugged, then looked back to Stephen, "what would you have us say? Telling the people their Sorcerer Supreme corrupted himself and we allowed it wouldn't be a very good look on any of us."

Stephen sighed, "we need to be honest, though. The people trust us to be truthful to them. Yes, I corrupted myself, but that's no reason to corrupt how they look at the rest of you."

Maria spoke up, "so we tell them we killed our leader? Huh? Is that what you want us to say?"

"Not exactly like that, obviously," Stephen argued. "Just… I don't know. Tell them… tell them I died in the name of defeating Thanos. That's not lying, and it's all the information they need."

Charles hung his head, "I still don't believe we have to execute you, Stephen. There's goodness within you even now."

Stephen smiled bitterly, "agree to disagree. Even if you didn't kill me, I don't think I could find a way to live with myself after doing the things I have." He shook his head. "No, this is for the best… and Reed-"

"No," Reed denied immediately, "I want nothing to do with this."

"Not even one more favor?" Stephen asked falsely sweet.

Reed bowed his head and sighed heavily, "haven't I done enough of those for you?"

Stephen smirked, "I'm afraid I won't be around to repay them. You've been a good friend to me. The best I could probably ask for."

The other man laughed, "a good friend wouldn't execute you."

"You're not," Stephen unhooked the Cloak from his shoulders, "you're giving this to Christine and telling her what actually happened."

Reed stared at the blue fabric now in his arms, shook his head, and pulled Stephen into a tight embrace. After a moment, they separated. "See you soon," Reed said.

"We better not," Stephen chuckled. "Could you also tell Christine that I'm sorry? For everything." Reed nodded. Stephen sighed and his eyes stung, "right. Let's get this over with."

He knelt and looked at the ground for Maria to begin the sentence. Maria had never really liked him. She had no mercy as she recited, "Stephen Strange; Sorcerer Supreme and Master of the Mystic Arts. You've pleaded guilty to the malpractice of the Mystic Arts, using relics and books that weren't in your position or power to do so, endangering multiple universes, and being responsible for the death of countless lives. The majority, including yourself, have found your crimes unforgivable and unredeemable. For this," she hesitated just a moment, "we hereby sentence you to death."

He slowly looked up at that and found Charles watching him closely, "I shall miss you, my friend." His gaze wandered to Peggy and Reed, both keeping their faces skillfully devoid of emotion, yet Stephen still saw the grief etched there.

He suddenly found himself afraid. He knew his death would be painless, but that didn't stop the instinctual urge of wanting to run away. His brain was only just barely surprising the fight or flight response. He was more powerful than all of them combined thanks to his deeds. He could easily survive, and he wanted to. He gulped down the fear and shook away those thoughts. He wanted to live, but he needed to die. "I'm ready," he said.

Blackagar stepped forward, and Stephen saw tears in his eyes. He didn't even need to communicate with him telepathically like the two had grown so fond of doing to know the other man would forever resent himself for this. "I'm sorry"

Stephen got one last breath in before the words crashed over him. He got one last look at the orange planet, the world such a stark contrast to his home of green and blue. He realized somewhere in the back of his mind he would never be buried alongside his sister and mother.

A shockwave ripped across the multiverse as the 838 and 616 universes both saw their Stephen Strange turn to dust. Only one had a plan to return.

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish.

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views.

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that.

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in.

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss.

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid.

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you.

There it is.

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm.

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence.

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here.

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had.

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection.

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you.

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming.

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite.

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing.

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.”

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway.

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames.

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute.

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using.

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him.

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this.

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light.

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often.

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier.

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way.

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge.

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket.

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back.

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin.

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still.

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds.

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist.

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments.

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him.

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder.

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat.

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren.

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips.

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise.

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have.

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be.

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips.

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time.

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He��s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story.

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick.

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure.

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him.

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric.

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense.

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him.

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum.

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly.

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over.

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you.

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience.

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back.

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years.

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this.

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs.

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably.

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly.

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him.

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally.

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes.

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him.

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

4K notes · View notes

writing-in-a-chipotle · 3 years

Text

Unbearably Mortal (Part 2)

(Alcina Dimitrescu x gender neutral reader)

Part 1

Words: ~2.5 K

Summary: In which a lot of things happen and none of them are good.

A/N: Hey, y’all! Back at it again with another chapter! Hope you enjoy!

“Nope nope nope nope… no way in hell…” You shook your head violently, unable to process what Mary had said. “This is… this is all some sort of elaborate prank, right? You’re messing with me. Yeah.” You swallowed. Your saliva felt like acid.

Mary grimaced. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a game. This is very much reality.”

“So… what are they then?” You began pacing the floor, anxiety clinging to the pit of your stomach. “You expect me to believe that they’re some sort of weird, blood-sucking vampires?? You must be out of your mind… they don’t exist! They can’t be real!”

Mary stood up and walked over to you, gently placing her hands on your shoulders. With her blocking your path, you were forced to stop pacing and look at her.

“Listen,” She began, eyes gleaming with fear “I have no need to lie to you. Believe whatever you want to believe, for the only thing on the line right now is your head. Jane and I risked our lives to save you. If we were caught, all of us would have died. So, are you going to freak out and get yourself killed, or are you gonna listen to me?”

You were stunned into silence. Mary was being deathly serious. You nodded shakily.

“Good.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief. “If you had a mental breakdown and they heard…” She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to either; the implication was horrifying enough as it was.

“Thank you, by the way,” you sighed, sitting back down on the bed, “you really didn’t have to save me.”

“Honestly, I’m still scared out of my mind,” she admitted breathily, “but I’m glad you’re better now.”

“Thanks.”

She hummed, then pursed her lips. Her frown deepened even more. “Well… now what do we do? The Dimitrescu family is notorious for slaughtering any trespassers they find.”

Your eyes widened and your stomach dropped. “Oh no… oh no, no, no…”

You were stuck. You were stuck in a terrifying castle with horrifying, blood-sucking monsters who would gladly turn you into a mangled corpse on their living room floor. You had no way to call for help, and your parents probably didn’t even know what was happening…

Your phone.

You patted your pockets and fished through them. Let’s see: some dirt, a crumpled flight itinerary, your house keys… aha!

“...what’s in the box?” Mary asked, “I don't think I’ve seen anything like it before.”

You blinked. Box? “Oh, this? It’s my phone.” You rotated it slowly in your fingers so she could easily see all its sides. “It’s a bit larger and blockier than your average iPhone because it’s designed to connect directly to the satellite, making it easy to call anyone from anywhere in the world. It cost me a lot of money, but since I was planning on traveling the world after I graduated, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to have it a few years early.”

Mary gave you a completely confused stare. “What’s an… iPhone? Or a sad-del-light? Did you make those up?”

You frowned, your eyebrow twitching in confusion. “Uh… no? I wouldn’t make anything like this up. You… you truly don’t know what modern technology is like?”

She shook her head. “I’ve… never been outside the village. I have no idea what the rest of the world is like.”

“And you don’t have a phone? Internet? Anything??”

“I’m afraid not,” She fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, “the Lords don’t allow anyone to leave the village or write letters to the outside world.”

A chill shot up your spine. “That’s… terrifying…”

Mary nodded, then tilted her head, thinking. She pursed her lips and motioned with her finger for you to come closer. You lean your ear to her.

“What is it?” You whisper.

“There are rumors of a girl who escaped the Lord’s wrath,” she began, “apparently, she managed to leave the village unharmed. There was an old hag who used to moan about how her daughter left her for a new life. She sounded half mad, so no one bothered listening to her.”

Your grandmother. She was talking about your grandmother.

And your mom.

This meant that… your mom knew about these crazy monsters? That she let you come here, to a place where you would most likely die? Alone??

Nothing made sense anymore.

You realized you had zoned out of Mary’s story. You shook your head, bringing your attention back to the present.

“Is that a good idea?”

“Uh, sorry, what?” You blinked. Mary was staring at you like you were an idiot. (Which you were, but that’s not the point.)

“I said,” she repeated, “you need to blend in until we can figure out how to escape.”

“That’s… that’s a pretty good idea. And wait….” you repeated her words in your mind. “We? You want to come too?”

“Goddess, it’s like you’re dense or something.” Mary muttered under her breath. “Of course I want to leave! Are you out of your mi-“

“I get it, I get it,” you huffed, interrupting her, “What do we do now?”

“Now,” she folded her arms, “we need to get you a disguise.” She walked over to a tiny dresser in the far corner and pulled out a neatly-folded maid’s uniform. “I hope you’re my size.”

————————

Turns out you weren’t Mary’s size.

You couldn’t help it; your new friend was practically a walking stick. Your shoulders were too broad, your legs too long; but with Mary’s excellent sewing skills, you were able to make it work… sort of.

“Damn, this uniform is itchy,” you complained, scratching at the neckline.

“You’ll grow used to it after a while,” Mary replied. “Now we need to get to work or-“

“We’ll be made into wine. Got it.” You straightened out your sleeves.

She nodded. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you walked quickly and quietly out of the servant’s quarters. Your heart was racing. Every time you turned a corner, you half expected a bloodied monster to jump the both of you and tear out your arteries.

You rounded another bend and nearly walked into Mary. She had stopped suddenly and immediately fled to the side of the hallway, bowing deeply at the corridor. You quickly followed her lead.

The moment you bowed your head, a steady buzzing filled your ears.

Swarms of flies flitted through your vision as they flew down the hall, buzzing excitedly. Maliciously. You don’t know how they managed to convey such emotions, but they seemed…. off.

And then, they changed.

The insects spiraled and spun into a large, buzzing mass, sewing themselves into a completely different form; one with a deep black cloak, ghoulishly pale hands, wild blonde hair…

And blood-stained teeth.

Mary curtsied deeply and you were quick to follow suit. “Good evening, Lady Bela,” she said softly, refusing to look up, “how may we be of service?”

Bela gave a bored wave of her hand. “We’re a bit... short-staffed in the kitchens at the moment,” she drawled, “Mother doesn’t want dinner to be served a second too late. She-” Her eyes fell on you and she stopped dead in her tracks. “You smell familiar, human…” she growled.

Oh no, you were dead, you were dead, you were dead. Cold sweat fell from your neck, and your heart raced. Bela stepped closer to you, brows furrowed and hungry eyes glinting.

“They’re new, Lady Bela,” Maria said quickly.

She raised an immaculate brow. “New, you say?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“... I see.”

It was only a moment before she leaned away, but to you, it felt like hours. The Dimitrescu was a terrifyingly deadly whirlwind, one that seemed to stare directly into your soul… maybe even smell your fear. Bela’s lips twitched, giving you a glimpse of sharp fangs.

“Well then, newcomer,” she hissed, amusement dripping in her voice, “if you’re so eager to serve us, I want you to pour the wine.”

Your heart raced in panic, your hands shaking. Pouring the wine meant seeing these monsters at their most bloodthirsty. It meant you would get caught.

I won’t survive, you thought fearfully.

You quickly dropped into a clumsy curtsy before you forgot yourself. “A-as you wish, Lady Bela,” you choke out.

“Hm… we’ll see, won’t we.” She dissolved into a sea of flies and flew down the hallway and out of sight.

You breathed heavily. Your heart was still going a mile a minute. Before you could say anything, Mary grabbed your arm and tugged you along.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” she hissed. “Not yet.”

You followed her silently to the kitchen. This whole situation was too hard to process… you’d barely been in Romania for a day and you suddenly had to face the reality of your imminent death.

You felt lightheaded. Your vision swam.

“Where are you, draga mea?” A smooth, enchanting voice swirled in your mind. You felt your pulse hammering in your temples. The voice sounded so close, yet so far away. It was familiar and warm… but it was too hard to tell if it meant anything. You were too woozy, too lightheaded…

“It’s time to wake up, darling,” the voice continued dreamily, “Open your eyes for me?”

“...hey… hey!” A familiar voice hissed, “hello? Are you alright?”

Your eyes snapped open.

Mary stood in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. Once she saw you move, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you alright? You haven’t blinked for the past few minutes, nor have you responded to anything or anyone around you.”

“Yeah, I just…” you swallowed thickly. What was wrong with you? “... I just spaced out.” Mary frowned, giving you a suspicious glance, but didn’t push.

You were in the kitchen. Cooks and maids bustled around in an organized fashion, whispering instructions to each other while slicing, cooking, and plating bright red slabs of meat. You definitely didn’t want to know what kind the Dimitrescu’s were eating tonight.

Someone grabbed your arm and you flinched, turning around. It was one of the older cooks, a salt and pepper haired woman with soot-stained clothes and greasy calloused hands. She shoved a a bottle of wine into your hands so fast, you nearly dropped it. She glowered at you.

“As soon as the meal is served, you pop open the bottle and pour for everyone.” She hurriedly rattled off instructions. “When they finish their drink, pour them another. You do not look at them, you do not touch them or their glasses, you don’t even breathe around them. And for the love of the Goddess: Do. Not. Spill.”

You gulped and nodded. You just had to do your job, then leave. That’s all. You could do this.

Or so you told yourself.

The old woman gave you a quick look, and for a moment it seemed she gave you a twinge of a sympathetic smile. But just like that it was gone, replaced by her signature scowl.

“Alright, we go in three…” she held up three fingers covered in burn scars. One second passed. Then another.

The kitchen maids smoothly entered the dining room in one sweeping motion; a flurry of skirts and iron serving trays. You followed them close behind. The maids placed the trays in front of each Dimitrescu before fleeing to the kitchen single file.

And then it hit you.

You were the only maid who was supposed to stay throughout the entire meal.

Without you even knowing it, Bela had assigned you one of the most dangerous jobs at the castle; one where you had to stay, alone, in the same room as four hungry, bloodthirsty vampires.

You quickly began pouring the wine.

You walked around the massive mahogany table, trying your best not to spill the blood-red drink. You poured for Bela first, and you tried your absolute best not to look her in the eye. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw her grinning.

You moved on to the next Dimitrescu: a redhead with glistening fangs. As you poured, she suddenly hissed. In your surprise, you fumbled the bottle. But you didn’t spill.

The last sister (you assumed all three of them were sisters based on their similar appearances) was a brunette with mischievous eyes. You didn’t mean to look at her… you really didn’t…

Based on her low, rumbling cackle, you knew you were doomed.

The last Dimitrescu, the Lady Dimitrescu, was much different than the other three. She was incredibly tall, with a flowing white dress that fell to her ankles, a wide-brimmed hat…

And pearly-white satin gloves.

Why did that seem so familiar?

You shook your head. You had to stop thinking and just pour the wine! You only had one more glass to fill, after all.

The brunette stuck out her foot, and you went down.

You landed on top of the bottle, and it shattered under you. Glass and wine flew everywhere, piercing your clothes, slicing your skin, staining the rug…

And completely drenching the front of Lady Dimitrescu’s immaculate dress.

The air cracked with electricity. “You...” she hissed, in a stranglely familiar voice.

Before you could even beg for forgiveness, the towering terror of a woman stood from the table and grasped you by the collar before you could even blink.

She growled, breath smelling of blood. “You will pay for your insole-“ her breath hitched. Her death grip on you loosened and faded, till you dropped to the floor like a rag doll.

Fearfully, you looked up at her.

Her demeanor had completely changed. Where once stood a cold-hearted monster was a shocked, crying… woman. Tears streaked down her face, dripping from her chin as she sunk to the floor. She didn’t look like a monster, she looked… human.

The lady reached out a gloved hand, then flinched as if burned. She looked lost and confused and sad; unable to process what she was looking at… or rather, who she was looking at.

A chill ran up your spine, fearful tendrils snaking through your system as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

And then, Lady Dimitrescu uttered a single word, barely a whisper at all, and your stomach dropped. Your world spun.

“Y/N?”

You couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Everything you had ever known was completely useless, and your life would end at any moment, you were sure. You felt like crying, you felt like throwing up.

She said your name.

Lady Dimitrescu, one of the most powerful supernatural beings in the world, who couldn’t possibly know who you were, had said your name.

It was too much. There were too many strong emotions, too many near-death experiences in one day. Your body was bloody and exhausted, your energy spent.

You collapsed on the dining room floor, and your vision faded to black.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitriscu x reader #my fic #my writing #gender neutral reader #reader insert #re8 #surprise y’all I love cliffhangers :)#suffer :))))

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years

Note

How do you think the Cullen's would have turned out if they lived their natural human lives and not forever frozen at an age / the state they were in? For example I think Carlisle would always be kind and tame but perhaps not as idealistic. Rose might grow bitter of the world since even if Royce didn't assault her I can't imagine he would be the loving husband she wanted. Edward, who watched his parents die and was dying himself, might not be as moody and miserable. Who knows about Jasper and Alice and Esme. Emmett would probably stay the same. Bella, if she never met the supernatural, probably would just be a quiet old soul but otherwise not mal adjusted. I can't even guess about Renesmee haha since she has no personality next to being ~inhumanly special.

I mean, sadly, we know the answer: they wouldn't be around very long and would have died miserably. There's no such thing as a natural human life, well, I suppose you can die of old age, but the fate of the Cullens didn't have that in store.

But let's get into it just the same.

Alice

Had James not come across Alice, she likely still would have been turned at some point by her maker, who seems to have been very fond of her. It was just a matter of time. The difference being that, instead of being a newborn completely on her own, her maker would have been there. This is an Alice very unlikely to see Jasper or the Cullens in her future, though who knows, Carlisle and her maker might very well cross paths someday due to the similarity of their work.

But I doubt Alice would ever end up on the diet.

For Alice to remain human, she can never have been sent to that asylum. In which case we have two options a) she's not sent to an asylum b) she's sent to a different asylum.

In the first case, Alice is more than likely murdered by her father. This is what got her sent off in the first place: she was running around town claiming that her father had murdered her mother and now planned to murder her. To shut the hysterical woman up, her father sent her to an insane asylum. Which effectively got her out of his life just as he wished.

If that didn't occur to him, then yes, Alice likely falls gravely ill or has some unfortunate accident that she cannot prevent.

Otherwise, Alice is sent to some other insane asylum, likely still loses all her memories due to electroshock therapy, and probably dies very young due to poor health conditions. The life she does live is utterly miserable.

Bella

Bella dies in a parking lot, she's hit by a truck out of control. Otherwise, Bella dies in Port Angeles, she's raped and her body abandoned in a dumpster. Otherwise, Bella is eaten by a vampire.

And if Bella miraculously survives all of that, I imagine her struggle with depression continues throughout high school and into college. In college, she may meet someone who catches her interest, in which case she becomes completely codependent on them for a sense of validation (as she did Edward and Jacob in canon).

The relationship is a toxic mess, ends in a very messy breakup, and Bella goes through her New Moon phase a bit later. She might finally get therapy and survive this very dangerous phase in her life, at which point, she finally starts the slow recovery from depression.

I imagine Bella will be struggling with depression though for all of her life and, if left untreated, it might very well kill her.

Carlisle

Had Carlisle not been turned this means the vampire likely drained him. Carlisle dies at the head of the mob, this sentences the other Cullens to death as well as now no one will turn them.

Let's say Carlisle wasn't as fast that day. He had a leg cramp, or something. Not being well in front of the others, he's not hit by the vampire first. This increases his chances of death, as the vampire seems to have killed the rest he took a bite of, but he could survive.

Carlisle lives with the haunting guilt that the one time he tracks down a true demon he brought death to his parish. Several died due to his actions, the demon got away, and now there's no sign of it. Carlisle completely and utterly failed.

This is probably the final straw for Carlisle. Demons exist, but they are beyond his capacity to hunt, this is a job for God and not mere mortal men. He stops the demon hunts, stops the witch hunts, and focuses himself strictly on helping the community and preaching.

He lives knowing his father would have continued to be sorely disappointed in everything he does.

Carlisle likely marries within a few years, now that his father is dead and he's the established head of the parish. He may or may not like his wife all that much, but he has a responsibility, and having a wife and children is one of those. I imagine that they either are somewhat fond of each other or quietly tolerate one another.

If Carlisle has a son, the son is trained as a priest, sent to seminary as he was, and set to inherit the parish. If he has only daughters, then it will be her husband who will inherit the parish.

When Carlisle dies he is likely remembered very fondly by the parish for the good he did for the community. No one talks about the demon hunting disaster. He's buried next to his father.

Edward

Edward dies of the Spanish Influenza in 1918.

Had he never caught it, and thus never come across Carlisle, I imagine he lives a somewhat ordinary life. He goes to university somewhere very well established, perhaps even one of the Ivy League schools, I can see him training to become a lawyer. He either joins his father's law firm or, if his father's not a lawyer, some law firm in Chicago where he does quite well for himself.

He probably courts then marries some affluent, well to do, woman who hits all the checkmarks he expects from society. They probably get on quite well.

The market then crashes in 1929, when Edward's only 29 years old, and Edward gets to live through the depression. Edward may be lucky enough to retain his wealthy, however, he very well could not have been. Edward is now unemployed, destitute, and miserable just like the rest of the country.

I imagine this is very hard on him, he becomes very bitter and resentful, and as he desperately tires to find work it just gets worse. Edward becomes mired in cynicism.

Then the war hits, Edward is now 41, and he's too old to enlist in the army. He feels a sense of nostalgic bitterness that, once again, he can't go fight the good fight and has to cheer from the sidelines. Nonetheless, the economy starts to recover thanks to the war, Edward recovers with it and things get better.

Edward lives his ordinary human life and, perhaps, lives to sometime in the 1990's.

Emmett

Emmett is eaten by bears.

Had he not happened to be in the mountains that day then, likely, some other unfortunate accident would have befallen him. He's a mountain man, that's a dangerous life.

He gets eaten by bears, eaten by mountain lions, injured somehow and then dies, hit by a tree that he cut down, there are so many possibilities.

If he does live to an older age then he becomes the gruff mountain man stereotype that we all know. I imagine he remains a very friendly, cheerful, man, probably marries some local girl and has a very large family.

Esme

Esme kills herself. With the death of her child, that was the path she chose, and had she not been turned she would have been successful.

However, had her child lived, I imagine her life would have continued on the path it was on. She would have been a single mother, working as a teacher, and raising her child.

They would have been poor, but Esme seemed determined to make this work, and was doing an excellent job at it.

Perhaps, in time, she would meet the right man and remarry. However, I think that would take a lot of time as the whole issue was that she was hung up on the ideal of Dr. Carlisle Cullen who she met when she was sixteen and never saw again.

Regardless, she's far more of a real person grounded in reality than Esme the vampire ever was.

Jasper

Had Jasper not come across Maria, he likely would have died in the war. Many, many, people died in the civil war, and Jasper would be far from alone in that.

If not, he would have returned to the ravaged south, and likely found himself facing unemployment and very difficult times for wherever he came from.

Jasper would likely pull through, we know he has lived through hell in canon and pulled through there, though changed for life by the horrors of the civil war that will now never quite leave him.

Renesmee

Renesmee is never born. Her father is a demon a hundred years older than her mother. There is no chance that Bella becomes pregnant with Edward's human child, let alone his vampire child.

If Bella does become pregnant with a vampire child, she's likely been raped by Joham. Bella dies in confusion and agony, Renesmee is born into this world utterly alone, is picked up by Serena, and becomes yet another sister of Nahuel's.

Renesmee lives the miserable life that all of Nahuel's siblings do.

Rosalie

Rosalie is gang raped to death by Royce and his friends and dies in agony in an alley. Had she not come across Royce that night then likely, after they marry, he at some point rapes her to death and murders her.

The likelihood of Rosalie, with her parent's ambitions and her looks, of not marrying Royce is very small.

Even then, Royce is in town in general, that means all she needed was one bad night. Which, in canon, she had.

However, let's say she lives and Royce wasn't interested in her hand, she marries option number two. As you note, her marriage still likely isn't fulfilling. Rosalie is there to be beautiful and poised, to have tea with the ladies in society, and watch as a governess raises her children.

This is the world she lives in, and she accepts that, but over time she becomes increasingly bitter and resentful of this thing we call life.

TL;DR Remember, there's no escape from the pit of despair we call Twilight

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #the cullens #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #bella swan #edward cullen #esme cullen #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #jasper whitlock #rensemee cullen #bittemoi

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

I was feeling angsty. Read at your own risk, there is very little comfort in this and a whole shit ton of hurt. Probably a bunch of emotional triggers, so seriously be careful guys.

—*—*—*—*—*

Liquid pain ran down her arm like poison, the slash in it burning hot and spreading it’s agony like an invisible waterfall inside her flesh. But she did not grip her bicep where the wound had been inflicted, her gaze blank as she forced herself to hide her turmoil behind glass eyes. Her brother’s snarling face was only inches in front of her own, his katana moving from her arm to her throat.

“Useless! To think we share any blood relation is humiliating!” He growled at her. She did not move, did not emote. Her blades fans, the weapon she was loved most, lay half-opened on the ground beside her. Abandoned. But she knew Damian’s sword would not kill her. Blood family was a bond that was not to be severed by murder unless ordered by Ra’s or justified by the murdered family member in question betraying the League. She had done nothing to betray the Shadows, and Ra’s would not waste time and energy, or the breath it would require, to order her death. Just as he would not waste the precious waters of the Pit to bring her back again. She would not die today, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it was only a few more insults in various languages before Damian Al-Ghul stepped back and scowled down at the blood on his blade. Her blood. “If you don’t even have the stomach for real combat, you do not belong here,” he spat.

“That is where we agree, Grandson,” Ra’s sharp voice echoed through the room, his beady eyes never once bothering to glance at his granddaughter. “Maria, you are hereby stripped of the name Al-Ghul. Banishment from the League is the only mercy you shall be granted for your dishonor on our blood. Be useful and use whatever is left of your mistake of a life to stay out of the League’s way. Shall I, Damian, or your mother ever see your face again, your burial will follow shortly after. Am I understood?”

“Yes Gr— yes, Ra’s Al-Ghul.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Maria Al-Ghul was seven years old when she was disowned and sent away from the League of Shadows without so much as a penny to her name. She was only allowed to take the change of clothes she carried, and one small backpack’s worth of items. Her mother— Talia— had watched vigilantly as she packed those items, assuring that Maria did not take anything of worth.

The girl traveled by foot, too small to get away with driving a vehicle. Unless she could manage to steal a motorbike— she knew how to adjust the seats and pedals on most models to accommodate her size. But she was far too far away from civilization for that.

She knew that most of the League expected her to die in the jungles that surrounded the temple. After all, there were ninjas scattered throughout it with strict orders to kill anyone who was not one of them. And Maria now fit that description.

But if there was one thing Maria knew better than anything else, it was how to hide. How to hide feelings, intentions, involuntary movements, or her whole body in almost any setting. She covered herself in mud, matted her hair with dirt and took off her shoes. Barefoot was always quieter, and her feet would be more sensitive to any change in terrain. She would have to move more slowly and be on the lookout for traps, ground litter that could harm her, or dangerous wildlife, but she would be much harder to track.

It took her a month, but she made it to her first Tibetan city alive and decently healthy. She begged for food for a day before snatching a child’s outfit off of some hanging laundry lines and stealing the first decent vehicle she found. It was an old moped, but it beat walking and was already built small. She made it work.

That was how she spent the majority of the next year. She traveled from town to town, stealing what she needed until she could earn money normally. She used that money to buy herself a fake identity, even if she had to use the skills she had hoped to never need again in order to afford it.

Marinette Shiwang was born when she was already eight years old.

It was only a year after her new identity was created when she bumped into a woman in a street market. That was nothing new, those places could get crowded. But when Marinette looked up and saw valuable bracelets and necklaces of gold and jade, she knew she needed at least one. The money she would get for it would have her living comfortably for a short while. So Marinette’s theft-experienced fingers darted out and unclasped one bracelet in a fluid movement. It took less than a second. She barely had the piece of jewelry in her hand before she started to take off, hoping to lose herself in the crowd.

But a small hand clamped around her shoulder, a sturdy thumb pressing against a very vulnerable spot right at the back of Marinette’s neck, at the base of her skull. A clear threat from somebody with experience.

The sweet voice that followed didn’t match the gesture at all.

“Oh, I need that back dear. It was a gift from my husband, you understand.”

Marinette did. She cared about survival more. The small girl twisted, knocking the hand away from her before it could do damage and darting down a side street. The woman followed. It took three hours, but Marinette decided she had finally lost her pursuer before slumping down in the tiny, closet-sized bedroom of her cheap apartment. Her eyes closed for only a second before the window opened, and the smell of newly-baked sesame buns filtered through.

It was the woman and a much taller, much more masculine man. He was practically a giant, reminding Marinette of a certain member of the League that she used to know. They were both smiling.

“My wife figured you would be more open to an exchange than just giving up the bracelet for free,” the man’s voice was deep and inviting. “You can eat as many buns as your stomach can handle, if you give it back.”

Marinette accepted. Mostly because of her fear for people who could track her to her home so easily, when she had been certain she had not been followed. The League has tuned her senses well, there was no way the couple had been close enough to see her when she made it to her apartment. Yet they were still there somehow. Then, it also had to do with the promise of food, and the heavenly smell of the food itself. And then, lastly, Marinette was tired. She didn’t like stealing, it was just a necessity. She would not hurt these people over a mere bracelet that she wished she didn’t have to take in the first place.

Useless, she thought. So much of a bleeding heart that she just gave up what could have paid for two months rent. Too soft to even protect herself. The Al-Ghuls has been right. She was a waste of space and time.

Marinette was ten years old when she became a Dupain-Cheng. Somehow, that strange, dangerous couple had become her new family. Not even she knew how. But she was grateful— they took her back to Paris with them and she didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or money anymore.

She vowed, that day that she received her spacious attic bedroom, that she would repay them. She would make herself useful, for the first time in her life. She would stay out of their way, be the perfect most unobtrusive daughter ever. She would help in the bakery, keep a smile on her face so that they never doubted that they were doing a good job. So that they never wasted time worrying about her. She smiled, and laughed, and became successful for them. Competent and reliable even though her memories would sink into her dreams every day and make it near impossible to drag herself out of bed in the mornings.

And then, when Marinette Dupain-Cheng was thirteen, she was given a pair of magical earrings and a tiny fairy-god. And Tikki was thorough, at least. Diligent in her explanation. Marinette listened to every word, dread seeping in as she doubted her ability to carry out such an important task. Save a city? Defeat someone much more experienced and magically powerful than her?

Useless little Maria could never. Slightly less useless Marinette could never.

She was only ever meant to play a support role. Stay on the background and make everyone else shine, without ever succeeding in anything worth noting. That was who she was.

But then Tikki gave her the Warning. The catch that came with the Ladybug abilities, and Marinette felt the long-rusted determination in her begin to fire up again. Maybe she could be Ladybug. Maybe she could be useful, at least this once. At least for just this one scenario. She could fight and win the war against Hawkmoth, and that achievement alone could make her happy. Let her die knowing she did something worthwhile.

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian Wayne was seventeen when he and his family found out about the Paris Situation, and immediately went over to offer help. Damian Wayne was seventeen when he watched Ladybug stumble at the sight of him, and immediately run away. But the two of them were twins, and though twin telepathy might be a myth they always did have a certain instinct when it came to one another.

Damian Wayne was Seventeen when he said, aloud on the top of a random Parisian building and surrounded by his family—

“My sister is Ladybug.”

Damian didn’t wait for their reactions, having entirely forgotten about the existence of his father and brothers, before taking off after his spotted sibling.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I knew you were alive.”

In hindsight, those probably weren’t the best words for him to say when Maria clearly thought he was still an assassin.

Damian watched as Marinette spun to face him, her face so much more expressive than he remembered. He could actually see the resignation in the slump in her shoulders, he could feel the fear in her bluebell eyes. The eyes she was lucky enough to get from their father while he was cursed with their mother’s green irises. He used to envy that about her, especially after joining the BatClan. But now he only felt comfort when he looked into her eyes. Comfort that she was different than him, and always had been. In the best of ways.

He watched as his sister was enveloped by a bright flash of pink light, detransforming right in front of him. And without the mask, it was impossible to ignore the relation between them. She had their father’s eyes and nose where he had their mother’s, but other than that they were almost carbon copies of one another. Her blue-black hair was pulled back into twin braids though, something he noted distantly as oddly fitting. They suited her, he thought.

But all those thoughts instantly turned to dust as she dropped to her knees in front of him, head bowed in complete submission.

“Tom and Sabine are innocent,” she told him. “They adopted me out of nothing but goodwill, and they have been nothing but good to me. I never told them a single word about my origin, I swear it on our blood. They think I am just an orphan that was abandoned in Hong Kong—“

“Maria—“

“—so please, don’t harm them. I’m begging you. And there is no need for you to waste energy killing me. You are welcome to stay in Paris as long as no harm comes to Tom and Sabine, but just wait and watch. I know who Hawkmoth is, and our final plan is almost ready. I’ll have him taken down by next week. Just— wait until then, please. My death will take care of itself afterwards, but Paris deserves to be free, and killing me now will set this entire war against Hawkmoth back by at least a year. And I also need that time to pick my successor—“

“Maria! I am not here to kill you!” Damian had to yell to get her to stop babbling and begging. She froze, but didn’t dare to sit up or even raise her head. So Damian took the initiative and sat down on the ground with her, though he kept his distance so that he didn’t scare her too badly. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction, it had been ten years since they had seen one another and their parting hadn’t exactly been pleasant.

But he had changed a lot since then, matured a lot.

“I am completely disconnected from the League,” he admitted. Of the blurry memories he had of her, he did remember that being blunt was the best way to handle information with her. Beating around the bush had always done nothing but make her exceptionally nervous and jittery. Sure enough, his admission was enough to make her look up at him with disbelieving eyes. He risked a small grin. “I didn’t come in my old uniform, did I?” He gestured to himself in the bright Robin colors. Sure enough, Marinette’s rapid blinking proved his theory that she hadn’t even registered his clothing at all to be true. She had run as soon as she recognized his face.

But Marinette did not speak. She sat up a little, still eyeing him cautiously. But her silence helped him finally realize where they were— where she had led him.

The sounds of traffic and other big city noises were all muted, as if muffled by several layers of cloth. Shadows fell over them abundantly, and they were surrounded by dilapidated concrete walls.

She had brought him to an abandoned area far from any activity, where a body would take ages to find. She had then disarmed herself of her only weapon, her magic suit, and had gotten on the ground in total submission.

She had purposely given him the perfect setting to kill her, where there would be no witnesses and plenty of time before her body would be found for him to escape. That realization hit Damian square the chest, leaving him breathless for a moment.

“I am not here to kill anybody,” he reiterated, his voice noticeably much gentler than before. “Not you, not you adoptive parents, nobody. I left the league when I was eleven. Mother—“ he took a breath, but Maria deserved to know. “— she cloned me. Her clone killed me. He no longer exists, but that is of no consequence. She killed me, she and Grandfather disowned me when I made it clear I was not returning. Father— our father,” he was insistent as he leaned forward, not continuing until she met his gaze. “You remember who our father is, right? Bruce Wayne? Mother had dropped me off to be raised with him when I was ten, but of course it was all just one of her plots. It was her miscalculation though, because I ended up growing close to them. To Father and his adopted children. You would get along with Gra— with Dick, the best I think. Although T— Jason would also be a prime contender as your favorite brother, I think. He shares your love of motor bikes, if that hasn’t changed?” She just stared at him, clearly confused and experiencing a lot of feelings at once. He stayed silent for a moment to allow her to sort through them a little.

“I’m Robin now,” he made his voice quieter, but still easy for her to hear. “I’m a member of the Bats. I’m sure they would all welcome you, if you chose to meet them. Though be warned, they can be quite in—“

“Why are you doing this?” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, Damian almost didn’t hear her. But he did, and fell silent. He watched as his sister licked her lips and tried to find the right words to say. “If what you say is true… you have a perfectly good family. Brothers, Father, a comfortable life. Why follow me then? Why offer me… any of that?”

Damian frowned. He didn’t remember Maria being so gloomy, but then again she had been raised to never show her emotions. Maybe, after years away from the temple like him, her true feelings were just easier for him to see now. Closer to the surface.

“I want to get to know you— to get to know my sister, again,” he told her. “Don’t tell them, but Father and the others have taught me to appreciate family. The way I treated you when we were children was not right, and though it was heavily influenced by Mother and Grandfather, I want to make up for it nonetheless. Maybe we can get to know the new us, together?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide with disbelief, but then she clenched her jaw and shook her head.

“We can’t.”

“... right, I understand if you do not forgive me. I didn’t even consider—“

“It isn’t that,” Marinette was quick to correct him. “When I said that my death will handle itself, I mean it, Damian. The Ladybug… the earrings that give me my powers, come with a price,” she absently ran her fingertips over the unassuming black studs in her ears. “If a Ladybug uses the miraculous for more than three years, the powers of Creation will demand to be balanced. Already, the Miraculous is powering itself on nothing but my life force now. Once I defeat Hawkmoth, there will be no need for Ladybug anymore. The moment I take the earrings off, they will cease keeping me alive.”

Damian’s face fell. No— no, that wasn’t right. He was finally able to find her, finally able to apologize and try to fix his past mistakes. This couldn’t be how the reunion went. This couldn’t—

“Not even the Lazarus Pits can bring me back from a Miraculous death,” Marinette went on. “So you and your family should go. You don’t need to be here when I—“ Marinette paused, gasping. “Damian, why are you crying?! Stop that!” Her voice became desperate, Marinette crawling over to him as quickly as she could and wiping away his tears as if they were something terrifying. Damian wasn’t sobbing or making any noise, it was just a silent stream of tears running down both cheeks as he stared at her wordlessly.

“I…” he finally managed to choke out. “I wanted to make up for everything. I wanted for us to be twins again, together.”

Marinette paused, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I know a magic user who can erase your memories of me,” she offered. “But you don’t have to feel guilty for anything. You never said anything that wasn’t true.”

Damian’s green eyes widened. He had said nothing but cruel things to her, that last year they spent together as children. Did she really believe all of that? Did he and their childhood really affect her self worth this severely and irreversibly?

“Maria—“

“My name is Marinette, actually,” she corrected him with a small smile. “I’m not Maria Al-Ghul anymore. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is actually useful, Damian. I can actually do things right— I’m doing something right right now. Beating Hawkmoth will be the first worthwhile thing I’ve ever done, don’t you see? Once it’s all over, I will have brought honor back to our blood. I’ll have proved to you that I really am your twin, that I wasn’t a mistake. That I was born for a reason,” Marinette’s eyes got dreamy even as Damian just felt like he was impaled again, this time by a spike of ice rather than a sword. “And I’ll be able to die before I ruin it. It’s a perfect scenario.”

“A perfect scenario implies that nothing important is going to be lost,” Damian breathed. Marinette just blinked.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the plan. Defeat Hawkmoth, save Paris, and nobody dies.”

“But you’re going to die!” He growled. Marinette leaned back, bewildered by his violent reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I actually matter. Nobody needs me. Tom and Sabine might be hurt for a while, but they will recover just fine. And it’s not like I have friends or any—“

“Stop worrying about other people, damnit!” Damian surged forward, grabbing her shoulders hard enough to bruise and shaking her a little. “Even back then! Even when we were seven, you threw down your blades because you were more worried about hurting me than you were about how Grandfather would react, even though you knew he would be tempted to kill you for what he thought was cowardice! You never put yourself first, and it’s finally starting to piss me off!”

“Damian—“

“No, listen to me!” He shook her again, his tear stained cheeks only making his glare all the more potent as he stared right into her eyes. “You are alive, and your life matters! You were never worthless or useless, you just didn’t fit what our abusive situation wanted of you. They wanted a cold hearted killer, a tool they could use, and you were always too warm hearted and clever to fit either of those goals. But I did, I was the killer they were looking for and the pawn they wanted. If anything, that makes you better than I ever was! I was too young and naive to see it back then, but I’m trying to make up for it now. You are my sister, whether you go by Maria or Marinette, Al-Ghul or Wayne or Dupain-Cheng, I don’t give a damn! And so help me, even if I have to surgically attach those earrings to your skin, I am not letting you die before you gain at least a modicum of respect for yourself. Do you understand me?”

A wet sniffle met his ears, and he pulled Marinette in for a hug. She returned it weakly, sniveling and sobbing into his cape.

“D-d-Damian?”

“Yes, Shaqiqa?”

Another sniffle.

“I-is it really o-okay for me to stay with you?”

“Of course.”

“I-is… is it really oka-ay for… for me to live?”

Damian’s arms tightened around her. “Always. Always, always.”

Marinette buried her face into his shoulder, taking a deep shuddering breath.

“Th-then… I wanna try.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Not sorry. Ha 😎

#mlb x dc #maribat #platonic daminette #bio!dad au #Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne #sibling Daminette #angst #heavy angst #hurt no comfort #or very little comfort anyway #ml x dc #platonic brucinette #twin AU

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heybeybey · 3 years

Text

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Summary: Forced to retire from the Scouts due to a major injury, Levi thinks he'll be spending the rest of his days in domestic solitude. Petra, however, has another idea.

Loosely based on The Way of the Househusband.

Or: Captain Petra x Househusband Levi canonverse AU

AO3 Link

A/N: Okay I've had this outlined for WEEKS (no ending in mind tho) but I never got around to actually drafting it. But....... I had some time this morning and the inspiration after seeing this post so yay.

Thanks to @sleeperswakewriting for introducing me to The Way of the Househusband. It's cute and funny and DEFINITELY RIVETRA in another universe.

This is going be a drabble series btw but no assurance on when I'll be updating each chapter (My Royalty AU draft is glaring at this fic rn tbh). Some chapters will be based on the Netflix show but Levi's condition is a bit different from Tatsu's so it'll probably be loosely based at best.

And yes, the title is from the song My Girl. But I like this version since I think it fits Petra the most :3

Also also, we all know deep down that Levi wants to be a househusband so here you go.

- - -

Chapter 1: The Ceremonies

There was a time when his mind wandered to how his career in the Scouts would end. Levi always thought he'd die on the battlefield, just as he witnessed among his comrades. He'd accepted that reality, sometimes even waiting for it despite his will to continue fighting on.

For some reason, retiring has never crossed his mind.

"Honorably discharged due to major leg injury, incomplete spinal cord injury, and loss of right eyesight."

He can still hear the pity and sadness from Erwin's voice from that day in the hospital when they talked over where he will go from there. The doctors mentioned that his spine will heal over time, but his leg is broken way beyond repair. It's worse enough that amputation was considered at one point. He'd be good as titan food should he retain his current position in the scouts.

At first, he wanted to scream. He wasn't the type to show some outwardly emotion (except for when he's beating down new recruits or the three males in his squad) but being a part of the Survey Corps is what gave this shit of a life some meaning after he was pulled out of the underground.

Frankly, he didn't know what's next.

"Hey, Captain." Petra's sweet voice snapped Levi out of his thoughts and he forces himself to get out of his bad mood. This was her day and he'd be damned if he ruins it for her.

Levi takes her in and the corner of his lip quirks up. He feels pride fill his chest as his eyes strays a bit on the insignia freshly pinned on her uniform.

"I think I should be the one calling you that, Ral." He replies. "Congratulations."

Wheelchair-bound for what may be the rest of his life, Levi and his squad had to sit down and talk over what's next for the Scout's elites. The obvious choice was Eld, but Levi and the rest of the team were surprised when the blonde man turned down the promotion. He says that while he had the leadership skills and the years of experience that makes him more than qualified, he knew that he didn't have the same burning dedication to the cause as much as he'd witnessed in others.

Eld said that he'd be glad to support the next team captain instead. Oluo, while skilled, had often been too focused on his kill count. Gunther has a strategic mind but didn't really have the charm to bring people together.

So they all turned their attention to Petra.

To be honest, Levi had always wanted to promote Petra as his second-in-command. However, Scout regulations demanded a certain number of years that she didn't have yet at the time he first chose his elite squad. He'd never had a problem with Eld, but his and Petra's ability to synchronise on the battlefield is the reason why he'd always turned to her when he needed a second hand.

It makes sense in his eyes and to the rest of the team, even when Erwin and the other soldiers were doubtful of his choice. They've seen how ferocious Petra is during expeditions, but still had the heart to cry alongside her dying comrades. She's kind and helpful, but knows when a hard decision is needed to be made. She'd pitched in her ideas and opinions every time she accidentally passed by the officers' meeting sessions (she always brought them tea so she sometimes hear the conversations). This was often met with a surprised look from her higher-ups but having worked with Petra for quite some time, Levi would just smirk at his fellow veterans.

She's still rough around the edges and she definitely still has more room to improve, but the potential is there. He wouldn't have chosen her as part of his team in the first place if he didn't see that fire.

He wasn't surprised that Eld, Gunther and Oluo supported her, even when Petra was terrified to accept such a responsibility. Levi was firm in his decision.

In the end, Erwin stamped on his approval.

Levi was the one who pinned the insignia on her signifying her new position during today's pinning-on ceremony.

- - -

"Hey, Captain!"

"I think you should stop calling me that, Petra."

"Sorry. Habit." The ginger blushes slightly as she steps closer inside the apartment, basket in hand. "I bought something for you."

She brings out a few fruits from the basket, laying it down on the dining table in his humble apartment. "The farmer's market was on sale today and I had the chance to pass by before they closed."

"You didn't have to buy me all these, Petra."

"I had to use my pay raise for something, Captain," she jests. He wheels himself towards her to assist her with unloading the basket and they both work in silent contentment.

"So, how's your first day?" Levi asks after washing the fruits. Petra's face lights up at his question and the whole room seems to come alive as she chatters on.

"Holy Maria, Captain. I didn't know the team can be this stupid. No wonder you had dark eyebags after training us for years!"

- - -

It's been three months since he resigned from the Scouts. The new captain never fails to come home to the apartment he's renting near the Scout HQ everyday.

Come home? Tch. How delusional can you get.

He'd welcome her back every expedition and every training day. A part of him feels a bit of guilt gnaw on him when he sees how tired Petra is whenever she comes home, thinking of the time when he was her direct commanding officer.

"Captain, can I sleep here tonight?"

Now, he sees the sorrow and fatigue in her eyes. "You're always welcome here, Petra."

He offers to give up his bed for the night but she declines, saying that she'll be fine on the couch. She's unnaturally quiet, but he knows that this is how she typically is after expeditions.

They're both on the couch right now and she snuggles closer to him. Levi motions for her to lay her head on his lap, their boundaries thinning with every single visit.

He's quiet when he sees the tears start to fall from her eyes. Soon, Petra's sobbing and she wraps her arms desperately around him. His hand starts to slowly run through her ginger locks, hoping it gives her some comfort.

"She was the last in my and Oluo's batch." She starts, voice shaking and he gives her space to talk and mourn her comrade. "I wanted to save her... but it was either her or compromise the mission. I had to give the order."

"I'm sorry." Because if someone understands her better, it's him.

- - -

"Levi?"

It's the scout's day off today and they're all allowed to leave the vicinity to visit friends and family, or simply just to fuck around if they wanted.

Petra, not surprisingly, decides to spend another weekend with him.

"Hmm?" He's currently preparing their lunch, wheeling himself around the kitchen area.

"Did you ever think about settling down when you were still in the scouts?"

He cocks an eyebrow at her question. "And leave a widow crying on my grave? I didn't even have the time to date, Petra."

And he didn't even want to date someone else. Not when he kept having wet dreams about his own subordinate at that time.

"Well, you have a chance now, right?" Petra starts to help with laying down the dishes on the table. He looks at her, eyes taking in her body language. She's doing that thing with her hands again where she tries to occupy it with things to do whenever she's nervous. She's too tense for this to be some absent chatter.

"Just spit it out, Petra."

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm always here. In this apartment. Whether I'm back from training or meetings or expeditions," she starts. Levi wheels himself forward to grab their food from the small kitchen but he attentively listens to each of her words. Seeing that he won't be replying, Petra decides to continue.

"I like coming home to you, Levi. And I'm still devoted to you." Petra nervously says, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. Levi feels his heart thump at her last sentence. He stops what he's doing and looks straight into her amber eyes, the same moment as she reaches out to delicately hold both of his hands. "I'd like to continue doing so... if you'll have me in another way."

Bold as ever is the first thing that fondly came to his mind. He feels emotion start to climb up his throat but he never wavers in staring back at her. The next thing that came to mind wasn't exactly a thought, and the answer leaves his mouth with a certainty he didn't know he had.

"Okay," he quietly replies. Not much of a talker, as usual. Still, his sure answer was quite a surprise to the both of them.

Was it loneliness? That fear that he'd most likely die alone because of his automatic ability to push people away? Maybe it's some deep hidden desire to live a domestic life with someone—something that he allowed himself to fleetingly dream of while he was still in that underground hellhole—that he has since accepted wouldn't be in his future.

Until now.

He and Petra decided to have a shotgun wedding that same afternoon.

#rivetra #rivetra fic #rivetra fanfic #levi ackerman #petra ral #rivapeto #levitra #shingeki no kyojin #aot levi #aot petra

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realcatalina · 2 years

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Her family Part 3-Juana I’s depictions

Juana was very interesting character, on one side this very smart highly educated woman, on other side woman who got labelled as crazy.

And also woman who is frequently depicted looking nothing like she trully was!

She is always thought about as brunette. Yet she is just another victim of darkening of portraits.Her hair, was golden like mum and youngest sister. Dark shade of golden strawberry blond.

Johanna "die Wahnsinnige" (1473-1555)/Juana the Mad by Juan de Flandes, c. 1500, Kunsthistorisches Museum in Wien, Austria:

(Museum also has matching portrait of her husband Philip.)

This one in particular shows the strawberry blond hair very well and she is adult(around 21). Her hair was highly unlikely to change anymore, and certainly wouldn’t turn into dark brown.

I am not exactly sure what is going on with the fashion, headwear is not spanish, dress looks like it could be lower gown, yet at same time there are differences in shape etc. Logically it should be Burgundian(actially Flemish /Neatherlandish) or German fashion, because that was fashion of court ofher husband and of her father in law, Emperor Maxmilian.

Enjoy the rest of Queen Juana’s depictions. :-)

This painting is thought by many fans to be Catherine, but sitter doesn’t have her tip of nose. It’s too much narrower. (Mary I as child visibly had her mum’s nose tip, hence her mum as child should have it too!)

Juan de Flandes arrived to Spain cca 1496. It has to be one of Catherine’s older sisters still in Spain around that time, and that leaves Juana(16) or Maria(14). We know Juana had this narrow nose, this shape of eyebrows, these ears, these lips, this shape of forehead, shape of face, so I am going with Juana.

Portrait of Infanta by Juan Flandes-cca 1496(she’d be 16th and rose bud could be symbol of her upcoming marriage)

before removal of yellow varnish:

After:

There are many way more reddish hair versions circulating only but this is the real deal and really hair into golden shades of strawberry blond.

(Don’t mind the changing colour of eyes between these two portraits. Very often painters used cheaper pigments to make eyes(because blue ultramarine was expensive and for just tiny detail they didn’t want to bother) and often they darkened(to brown) or faded to grey or greyish.)

There is actually third portrait where her hair is not darkened:

The Virgin of Mercy with the Family of the Catholic Monarchs(The National Gallery of Arts.Washington D.C., USA) by Diego de la Cruz and Workshop -supposedly cca 1486:(Juana in green dress on left)

(Sorry couldn’t find closeup on painting after conservation work was carried out.)

I strongly suspect this was painted before Maria was born in 1482(hence her being excluded). Juana would be less than 3 years old. (she looks way taller, if you realise where her dress ends, but in face it is little child. While yes, it is highly stylized, it is not bad likeness. Just not great one either.

In iluminations darkening of pigments occured less frequently:

Juana and her parents supposedly in 1482(i think 1500+ is more likely):

Juana is also probably one of girls next to her mother in this one:

(I think it might be mid to late 1480s, but supposedly 1482)

However in iluminations aside from hair colour and skintone and perhaps period fashion, don’t believe anything.

Juana and Philip, with 3 of their daughters

Their daughters didn’t arrive to Spain with their parents, and youngest was one. But nobody bothered to depict kids at correct age those days. Philip’s skin isn’t supposed to be as dark and his hair was between strawberry blond and red, not reddish brown(but I know from some English examples that even iluminations can sometimes darken and it happened in his case, compare his face and right hadn with one holding book, different shades of skin entirely).But this is another proof that Juana was golden haired, strawberry blond woman with fair skin and not at all brunette.

This ilumination is frequently stated to be Isabella and Ferdinand, but coat of arms behind the couple is Philip’s and you can even see the order of golden shroud underneat it:

Philip’s coat of arms as Archduke and Duke of Burgundy:

Then we have several portraits of Juana as brunette(all darkened):

There are eight different versions of one portrait, or rather there are many copies of it:

(in the closest to original the gown is lined with fur which is much more noticeable in the severely altered copies(made larger) and missing in slightly altered copies.)

And I can’t tell which one is original, if any! I just know original was probably done cca 1500, due to fashion we see.

Two of them are closest to original(in my opinion), but I suspect both are copies:

Joanna of Castile, likely by Jacob van Lathem, over 1500, Museo Nacional de Escultura, Valladolid(Spain):

What strikes me as odd is back of hood(back veil). Because I know! that it is not supposed to make that shape! It’s supposed to fall flat copying shape of head.

Like in this painting of Margaret of Austria, done around same time!

2nd portrait i couldn’t find how is called nor who painted it, nor where it is

And I can’t find version where the background isn’t pitch black

Tbh, the hood’s and partlet’s details are so similiar to tryptych bellow that I am not even sure there is an original, and that they aren’t copies of that one!

(and that weird jewelry forming flowers, if it isn’t supposed to mimic the bejewelled piece she has on.)

Wings from the Last Judgement Triptych of Zierikzee, by the Master of Afflighem, showing Philip von Habsburg and Juana of Castile c. 1500, held by the Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium

or Volet droit du triptyque de Zierikzee. Avers : Portrait de Jeanne la Folle 1482-1555 ; revers : Saint Martin (entre 1495 et 1506), Musées royaux des Beaux-Arts de Belgique, Bruxelles:

Museum dates it as 1495-1506, but I agree with rest of people who say it is c. 1500-1505.

Because there is coat of arms of Spain shown at their clothes, alongside to coat of arms of places represinting Philip or his family(austria for example). Juana is here already as Princess of Asturias, hence it is painted after her nephew Miguel died in 1500, but before she left for Sain in late 1505. Juana should be here 21-26 years old.

Philip the ‘Handsome’ is here shown with way nicer nose he actually owned, while Juana’s is in very unflattering angle. (Nose is biggest in this angle) and I am not so sure it is her actual nose:

I stumbled upon print of the same painting from 1894 where nose is different:

It is of course possible that black and white version shows painting with later altereations which were removed and revealed that unflattering nose(which might have been original). Problem is, you can better see how fabric of her hood fells on the print than in the painting. With dark shadows which aren’t consistent with fabric touching shoulders.

I suspect the front of hood was repainted, and might have originally been shorter. But even if wasn’t, the lower edge wasn’t the perfectly straight line we see in painting nowadays! Yes, these could be straight and stiffened to keep the shape, but even so it’d bend slightly.

The straight line is big red flag for. Makes me very suspicious.

Unfortunately the museum’s webpage didn’t help to solve the dilema, as they only show very tiny picture of the painting:

Tryptych despite it’s seemingly good quality, proved for me an unrealiable source. I think it is altered and I do not trust it and I think in the print, it looks like Juana’s nose by Juan de Flandes, but not in version found in museum. It’s hanging too low.

I wonder if there were two versions of thsi tryptych and surviving one isn’t the original. Given how many very well-made copies of Henry VIII’s portraits there are, I think it is possible. (Especially if the copy was done in early 16th century, museum would have no way of knowing their version wasn’t the original.)

The hood is essentially an insignificant detail. But nose isn’t. Because based upon such features you can exclude or include Juana in identification of other still unidentified potraits.

You might think, no undentified potraits exist, they must know them all by now.

But I found one potrait of woman wearing spanish fashion(and for while i thought it might be Isabella’s posthumous depiction), but then I realised it bears striking resemblence to fashion on Juana’s tomb.

Juana’s (and Philip’s) tomb by Bartolomé Ordóñez:

Her tomb was finished within her lifetime(work started 1519), but I can’t figure how without meeting her sculptor achieved such likeness(maybe based upon now lost potraitm but maybe it just seems as good likeness), take it with pinch of salt:

(For example her forehead seems as short as Isabella’s yet we know from portraits it wasn’t that short!)

From this angle you can see cofia on her head:

This angle is most interesting:

It shows Juana with rather long neck(because her head is tilted up and behind, hence it looks way longer than it was, not very natural sleeping pose), with scepter and crown(same as on her mother’s tomb), with probably emerald necklace of arrows(the front piece is missing so either it was altered in Juana’s time as Queen or after she got confined, or by the time sculptor got to see the necklace). The waistline is cca same height as on Isabella’s tomb, and there is some resemblance to praying sculpture of Isabella(because both wear lower gown but I think we need to discuss the sleeves here. It’s as if sleeves were part of upper gown. And Juana is only royal spanish woman depicted in such fashion.

Germaine of Foix in only potrait of her wears without doubt upper gown. But Juana’s is mixture of both lower and upper gown, with rather small slashes and bows or ribbons used over it.

I think this unidentified potrait is Juana:

Portrait of girl by Ambrosius Holbein, supposedly c. 1518 (not even close fashion-wise) was part of the Austrian imperial collection at Ambras Castle, near Innsbruck. But it is now part of Krannert Art Museum at University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign in USA.

In this case, there is no mixture of lower and upper gown, and it looks very similiar to what Isabella wore towards end of her life, except that cuts from previous style of upper gown are tied together by ribbons and cloth girdle is also tied around the waist(just as it is on the tomb). The headwear is between 1490s and 1520s, lenght of hair points to 1500s. (they got up as 16th century continued). The hair looks like it could be strawberry blond. It’s too yellow under certain light to be regular blond and in the 2nd version I could find, the reddish tint is stronger and it also goes towards either dark blond or light brown. Which is exactly what I’d expect to see from dark shade of golden strawberry blond which I know Isabela, Catalina and Juana had.

The rest of features matches too. (Of course in this angle it is hard to say lenght of neck.)Not so short forehead, rather full lips, small chin, overal face, narrow nose,profound philtrum the very light almost none-existent brows. It matches the 1st two paintings I’ve show you, way better tahn all of her marriage potraits comissioned by Philip combined. It also shows her with possibly blue-grey eyes and the background is same shade as one used by Juan de Flandes. It is not noticable on Juana’s painting(because it suffered some damage to backrgound) but on matching potrait of Philip it is.

Background shade/colour was thing of fashion, and this would tie the background to late 1490s and 1500s.

It is either misdated or the painting is rather realistic early copy of original done in 1500s based upon probably now lost original by Juan de Flandes(it has big similiarities in features to his painting, that is why I suspect him specifically.)

I am very surprised it hasn’t yet been suggested by professional art historians that it might be Juana! In my opinion, it is. And certainly the nose is not hawk-like in this one.

It’d be done after her return to Spain(because prior Philip wouldn’t allow her to wear spanish fashion, even after she became heir of Spain.) Hence it is 1506-09(in 1509 she was confined for good). I think 1506-1507 is most likely when that painting was made, while Juana was still free. (I couldn’t find matching for Philip, but that doesn’t prove there wasn’t/isn’t one. Maybe they are just apart.)

And you might have started to get feeling, that the painting seems similiar in some way:

Notice the colums, the shade of background? Sure this is much later copy(from 18th century) of portrait of Catherine of Aragon wearing fashion of cca 1525, colums were guilded and parts of it cut(and possibly changed a bit). But it looks like possibly part of same collection of portraits. Such collection would be full of copies, not originals, but sometimes that is all we have, as originals got destroyed.

It is also important to note than in religious paintings sometimes royals are hidden and this is my another candinate of unidentified portrait of Juana:

Hidden in painting of Marriage feast at Cana, by Gerard David and Jean Sedano, located in Louvre Museum is this lady dressed fully in spanish atire.

( Les noces de Cana, avec Jean de Sedano, son fils et son épouse).

Now Alonso Sedano is person who painted potrait which I think is unidentified religious painting Isabella. It is posisble Jean Sedano is a relative of his, employed by Isabella or her family. Yes, the painting is dated 1500-1503, but frills of french hood could be also late 1490s and if this is Juana, she looks extremely young. As young as in the first painting in this post. I recon it not even year apart. Hence most most likely this is 1496-1497. And it would make sense for this to be actually yes, religious painting, but celebrating Juana’s wedding to Philip, which occured in 1496.

There is 2nd version of this painting located Cathedral Vieja, Plasencia, Caceres(Spain) and it is said to be done by David Gerard also(that it was made by original painter), but most interesting is the name: Bodas de canna(wedding at Cana) con Los Reyes Catolicos (of Catholic Monarchs). Catholic monarchs is refering to Isabella and Ferdinand. Hence there is direct link between this painting and Juana’s parents. Yes they were pious, but also they could have wished to have painting with their daughter in it.

Unfortunately, as it is often the case with spanish museums and galleries, I couldn’t find its webpage nor any better version of this painting.

By the way, Philip is not at either painting, probably because there was originally 2nd painting where the feast would continue or because painting got cut. Painting doesn’t seem balanced at all. Proportions etc suggest more is supposed to be towards right. Many figures are actually looking or tilted toward lady in spanish dress. While they should be focused on Jesus and his mother Mary(with halo). Spanish lady is also sat just next to Jesus.

The lady between Jesus and St. Mary would then probably be Margaret of Austria,

who would in late 1496 travel to Spain to marry Juan, Prince of Asturias but she was not to be happy for long. But she got along nicely in her in laws.

Only the hair are darkened. Otherwise resemblance is there.

Speaking of Margaret, I was not sure if this was her portrait or if it was Juana, but finally I found portrait of younger Philip and it is clear these are the siblings.

(Nose of both got much wider as they grew up.)

There is some resemblance to Juana, but Margaret’s and Philip’s grandmother was Eleanor of Portugal and through her Margaret and Juana were related on Iberian side, and also they were both related through English blood.

BUT WHAT ABOUT JUANA’s nose? Which one is the real one?

From left it is Marriage at Cana by Gerard David. From front it is Juana as young woman by Juan de Flandes, from right it Potrait of girl is by Ambrosius Holbein.

It’s same very narrow nose, very squeezed nostrils, profound philtrum, etc. It has slightly shorter neck in Ambrosius’ and Flandes’ due to angle doesn’t show the nose isn’t perfectly straight, but these three in my opinion are true likenesses of Juana. There is 4th: stained glass window once adoring window of chapel in her husband’s palace, and you can see nose rather up, profound philtrum, her full lips, etc. It’s good likeness of her as adult.

Just not realiable for comparison with other portraits, but more as guide to what her base features were and what her hair colour was.

And I can only conclude that each depictection where her nosetip is hanging down like Hawk’s beak is altered. Sorry, the famous depictions of Juana, are not true Juana and that very narrow nose on her tomb, is actually hers!

#juana i of castile #joanna of castile #historical potraits

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lovelyirony · 3 years

Note

*waves* from the general part of the prompt list #7 “Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.” for buckytony pls.

Tony doesn’t like it when the team notices that he’s injured. It’s not something that needs to be prioritized, he can (probably) deal with it just fine so long as Pepper, Happy, or Rhodey don’t find out.

What he wasn’t expecting was Bucky to pay attention.

Don’t get him wrong. He and Bucky are on...well. It’s not the worst term to be on. Like it’s still pretty bad.

Really bad.

Who the hell else would be on the term of “oh hey this guy lives with the superhero team but he killed my parents and also his best bud didn’t tell me and now we just. Live together. Kind of. We share a breakfast shelf because we’re both fans of blackberries.”

Nobody.

Rhodey tells him he’s insane.

“If you wanted drama you could’ve just joined Happy and I watching The Bachelorette instead of just doing it yourself.”

“You know I hate how you two watch literally the worst shows in the world.”

“You watched a documentary on how spatulas were invented,” Rhodey deadpans. “Don’t even start with us. How is it, by the way? Is Bucky weird?”

“Of course he’s weird!” Tony exclaims. “He’s kind of a murderer? Can you classify him as that? Because it’s a weird clarification to make.”

“Should we ask him?”

“You are so dense,” Tony moans.

“I’m not dense!” Rhodey defends.

“You just asked if we should ask the guy who we’re wondering about is a murderer if he is one.”

“Don’t ask him that then, got it,” Rhodey mutters. “Even though technically he probably knows more about it than we do.”

“No shit!”

But back to Bucky.

He watches Tony.

Probably to make sure that Tony won’t kill him or Steve, which he shouldn’t be worried about.

(Tony would never. Imagine the PR nightmare.)

But Tony wasn’t exactly expecting it because none of the team ever had, for a variety of reasons:

1.) They didn’t want to give Tony a big head by focusing on him at all as he already had about ten thousand other people giving him attention.

2.) They all had their own shit to do.

These reasons were both fine by Tony. Whatever. They allowed him a certain degree of unknowability and he could do things like sneak off when he’s injured.

Except he can’t do that with Bucky.

They had a particularly bad mission. It involved alien delegations, one betrayal, and the Iron Man suit being taken for a few rides with no charge.

Tony got knocked around a few times, and so he has a couple of injuries.

Spread out.

So he avoids the debrief by citing business reasons, which is actually true, but goes to the garage to patch up the wounds before Pepper sees him and is concerned and gets sad and guilt-ridden, and then he in turn gets guilt-ridden and she gets him to sign paperwork for a nation-wide company pizza party.

(She’s devilish that way.)

What he wasn’t expecting was Bucky to follow him.

He doesn’t know what the hell kind of answer he gave to Maria that sounded decent, but he’s staring at Tony.

“Is that...is that blood?” Bucky asks.

“I mean yeah, but that’s not important right now, what’s important is-”

“You’re bleeding,” he interrupts. “You’re literally bleeding in three different places and it doesn’t matter to you?”

“Well...it’s fixable?”

“Why didn’t you go to the medbay?”

“I don’t need to?” Tony asks.

“Oh, so you just what, sew this up yourself?”

“Well I did take home ec in high school,” Tony muses.

“Bullshit,” Bucky said. “Bet you had maids to do all that shit, there’s no way you took home ec.”

“And why not?” Tony says. “Are you seriously going to doubt my own choices?”

“You’re trying to change the subject.”

“Let’s keep this thing going, I’m liking where this was headed,” Tony says.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” Bucky asks. “Changing the subject and making sure people never pay attention to what’s really going on? Sure you didn’t take magician classes instead of the home ec shit?”

“Barnes, babe, if I wanted to die a virgin I would’ve done literally anything else besides that. Does magic turn you on?” Tony asks, eyebrows knitting together. “Pulling your card out of a deck get you hot under the collar? I could work with that.”

“You’re not gonna be working with anything but medical supplies,” Bucky says, moving closer as he hands him gauze. “Here.”

“Uh-uh, you’re gonna have to get closer than that,” Tony says.

“...do you even want me to?”

“Do you think I can reach the center in between my shoulder blades?”

“...fair point.”

Tony’s skin isn’t smooth. Bucky supposes he should’ve expected that. Working with metal almost all his life, he’d have scars and reminders of that.

It’s odd.

Terrifying.

“I know you’re not gonna kill me,” Tony says. “And I’d rather not bleed out on the garage floor. It’s kind of depressing.”

“Then I’ll bring something to lighten the mood next time,” Bucky says sarcastically. “Maybe a pillow? A candle?”

“Oh fuck off and finish the gauze,” Tony snaps back.

It’s...odd. The dynamics of it. They’re both absolute assholes who would rather die than admit they need help, except in the case of each other.

This eventually navigates itself into other aspects of their lives. Tony lectures Bucky on his “only snack food” habit while cooking him dinner and finishing off the last of the carrots and hummus, while Bucky argues about how he never cares for himself while shoving at least four water bottles towards him.

“This is the most aggressive dating ritual I’ve ever seen,” Nat whispers to Thor.

“We are not dating!” Tony says. “We are...” His eyes widen as he turns to Bucky.

“Are we...?”

“Um, yeah? I guess?”

Bruce groans from across the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, why would you have any doubts about who protects this world?”

Bucky hauls Tony out of the room, ranting about something having to do with “boyfriend duties and the proper hydration obligation.”

#lovelyirony writes #winteriron #buckytony #bucky barnes #winter soldier #tony stark #iron man #they're cute okay and also gigantic assholes

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hazza-bear-care · 3 years

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First Time

Summary: Every girl fantasizes how to make her first time amazing, but Y/N never got it. That is until Steve Rogers comes to her rescue.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Virgin!Reader

Warnings: description of panic attack, SMUT, loss of virginity, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), some minor swearing. IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING. YOU DO NOT NEED TO READ THIS!!!

THIS IS A LONG ONE BOYS! BUCKLE UP!

~~~~~~~~

When she was 16, it seemed like everyone in her school was losing their virginities. It had gotten to the point where Y/N thought she was the only girl in her friend group who hadn’t had sex yet. Her two best friends had managed to lose theirs AND keep their boyfriends, so she thought the same would happen to her. But after graduating high school and college (twice), Y/N was still wondering when she was going to get her perfect first time.

Her job didn’t help to keep her distracted, though. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D regularly worked with the Avengers, so Y/N interacted with the most attractive people she had ever seen on an almost every day basis.

“Earth to Y/N! What’s got you so distracted today?” Maria Hill asked as the two walked towards the conference room, data pad tucked beneath her arm as Y/N carried paper files for Steve and Bucky.

“Huh? Oh, nothing really. I was just... thinking.” Y/N replied, hoping that would be enough to make Maria back off just a little bit.

“Thinking about what?” Well, that worked.

“Um, can I ask you a personal question?” Y/N asked, stopping in the hallway.

“Sure, what is it?” The look of concern on Maria’s face almost made Y/N reconsider asking.

“How old were you when you lo... lost your virginity?” Y/N looked at her heels and shook her knees, trying to distract herself even more.

“I was 17. I lost it on prom night and if I could take it back, I would. Why?” Y/N was silent, her eyes still not meeting Maria’s as she gnawed on her bottom lip. “You’re still a virgin? Y/N how is that possible?!”

“How is what possible?” A deep voice asked from behind them causing Maria and Y/N to jump. Steve stood in his place, a quizzical look on his face as the two girls in front of him tried to gather themselves.

“Oh, Captain Rogers! Agent Hill and I were just discussing the mission you’re going on in a few days.” Y/N fumbled, handing Steve the mission highlights in his folder as the three continued to make their way to the conference room.

“Is that one for Bucky?” Steve asked, gesturing to the other folder in Y/N’s grasp.

“Yes, it is. I know the two of you aren’t comfortable with technology, so I printed the briefings for you.”

“Well, that’s very sweet of you, Doll. Thank you.” The pair shared a smile as Steve excused himself into the conference room. Maria glanced at Y/N, a very big smile on her face.

“What?” Y/N asked as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, anxious for Bucky to arrive so the meeting can start. She tucked her hair behind her ears as she tried to avoid Maria’s staring.

“You like him! You like Steve!”

“Will you be quiet?! You don’t even know if that’s true or not, Maria!” The harsh whispering echoed in the almost silent hallway and Y/N feared that Steve had heard Maria’s accusation through the doors that lead to the conference room.

“You don’t need to try and hide it, Y/N. Steve is a good choice and from what I’ve heard, he’s GREAT in bed.” Maria argued, giddy at the possibility of her best friend shacking up with Captain America. Maria couldn’t hide her grin further as Bucky’s thundering footsteps were heard echoing down the hallway.

“Afternoon, ladies,” Bucky greeted as Y/N handed him his file. He took it with a smile and held the door open for the girls as they all entered the conference room.

~~~~~~

The meeting was so long. Y/N usually loved mission briefings, but she couldn’t stay focused. Every time she looked up from her notepad, Steve’s profile just happened to catch her attention: the sharpness of his jawline accentuating the angles of his nose. Maria cleared her throat which caused Steve to turn his head, catching the most recent glance from Y/N as she blushed and looked down at her notepad. Steve smiled a little at her reaction to being caught staring.

Steve had quite a crush on the newest S.H.I.E.L.D agent: her eyes told a story he’d love to listen to, her hair was always ridiculously shiny and looked like it smelled fantastic, and her curvy figure did nothing to stifle his feelings for her. Y/N was always so innocent, keeping to herself and opting to bury her nose in her work rather than going out and partying. She always took his needs as well as Bucky’s into consideration, especially when it came to teaching them how to adjust to the technology that they couldn’t avoid. She recommended books ranging anywhere from Great Gatsby to the Harry Potter series. The three of them (Steve, Bucky, and Y/N) regularly had movie nights and heated arguments about whether the book was better than the movie.

Y/N showed the two super soldiers everything she could. They were always together, yet it didn’t seem weird. The only thing that she couldn’t stop were her blossoming feelings for Steve. She was bad at hiding her feelings, but she also knew she couldn’t tell Steve how she felt and risk embarrassing herself forever.

“Alright, dismissed.” Y/N felt her blood rush cold as Fury dismissed the group. She knew Maria was going to escort Bucky out of the room the first chance she got, but Y/N wasn’t sure if she could handle being alone with Steve.

Maria and Bucky dismissed themselves to discuss the briefing, leaving Y/N and Steve alone together. Trying to keep her focus on cleaning up papers and coffee mugs that were scattered around the table, Y/N attempted to keep her breathing even.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You seem kind of flustered today.” She froze.

“I’m good, Steve. Just.. personal things. Lots of stuff on my mind.”

“Like what?” Y/N didn’t want to have this conversation, especially since Steve and Bucky have a mission to go on in less than three days time, but he asked.

“Um nothing important, I promise.” Steve wasn’t having it. She was usually so open and honest especially about if there was anything going on in her life. Now she wasn’t talking and all Steve wanted to do was help.

“Y/N if you tell me, I can probably help.” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the suggestion. “I don’t understand. Why was that funny?”

“Oh, Steve, I’m sorry. I just don’t think this is something you can help with.”

“Oh yeah? Try me, Y/N.” The stern look on Steve’s face was enough to make Y/N’s smile drop to the floor. He was serious, and she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. He wasn’t going to help her with this.

“I... I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” And with that, Y/N walked out of the conference room and back to her apartment.

~~~~~

Y/N had tried to avoid both Steve and Bucky for the next few days, the awkwardness eating her from the inside out. She avoided their phone calls and invites to movie night at the compound. Tony had even sent Happy over to make sure Y/N was still alive when she didn’t show up to work for the third day in a row.

“Y/N, you can’t keep avoiding them! What happened between you guys?” Natasha asked after showing up to Y/N’s apartment unannounced with three bottles of wine, Wanda and Maria following close behind.

“I just... ugh I’m so stupid! Nothing would have happened if I hadn’t asked Maria a stupid question!” Y/N wanted to scream; bury her face into a pillow and go until her throat was raw. At least then she’d have a reason not to talk to Steve again.

“It was a reasonable question to ask, Y/N. And trust me, no one will think differently of you just because you’re a virgin.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Maria knew she was in trouble. She had just spilled her best friend’s greatest secret and there was no taking it back. If looks could kill, Maria would be dead ten times over with the glare that Y/N was giving her.

“You’re a virgin?” Wanda asked softly, testing to see if it was safe to talk again.

“God! Why not just yell it from the rooftop next time, Maria!” Y/N had barely touched her first glass of wine, but she downed it in about three sips out of frustration. “I never should have said anything. I’d rather die a virgin than keep being made fun of it by my so-called friends.”

“Y/N, shut it. We are your friends and we are NOT making fun of you. We just can’t seem to wrap our minds around how you’re 26 years old and still a virgin. You’re gorgeous. You have an amazing body and you are a complete badass with a weapon. How have you managed to stay a virgin for that long and with the history you have?” Natasha clarified their confusion in a more understandable way, which obviously caught Y/N’s attention.

“I honestly don’t know. My mom scared me out of doing it when I was in school, but that was mostly due to her fears about me growing up. Then I went to college and just opted to focus on school so I could get the job I loved. I guess I just forgot about it. But now I’m here with an extremely obvious crush on America’s Golden Boy and no way to talk to him about this.” Y/N rested her hands on her face and did everything she could to hold back her tears of stress and embarrassment. Someone put their hand on Y/N’s back in hopes of comforting her, but she wasn’t one to seek comfort through anyone’s touch. She nudged the hand off of her shoulder and left her small kitchen to pout in her bedroom, the other three women left confused in their places.

~~~

After a quick phone call to Steve from Natasha, the super soldier was standing outside of Y/N’s apartment. The details of the call were fuzzy, seeing as Natasha only said something along the lines of “Y/N is upset and she needs to see you”. Thinking she was in danger, Steve tried asking for more details, the suitcase for his mission left abandoned on his bed. But Natasha could only request that Steve go to Y/N’s apartment to fix this, which confused the super soldier further.

With a knock on the door, Steve held his breath as he waited for the girl of his dreams to invite him inside. His heart started racing faster as his enhanced hearing pinpointed the quick footfalls of Y/N as she scurried to the door. The locks clicked and the barrier was pulled open, the slight smile on her face falling immediately.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” Y/N asked, voice coming out no louder than a whisper.

“Nat called me and said you were upset. I thought something happened, so I came here as fast as I could. Are you okay?” Steve was masking his panic poorly, the words coming out rushed.

“I’m fine! How many times do I have to tell you people?” Y/N walked away from the door and threw her hands in the air with exasperation. Steve followed, closing the door behind him and turning the deadbolt. He didn’t even feel safe in this neighborhood.

“What do you mean?”

“I made the mistake of telling Maria one of my biggest secrets and now the entire team is worried about me! They keep asking me if I’m okay or if I’ll BE okay. Then she brought over Wanda and Natasha as if she KNEW I didn’t want anyone else to hear, but they had already known! I just don’t know what to do anymore!” Y/N’s breath had quickened as she began hyperventilating, her fingers anchoring themselves in her hair. Tears began streaming down her face as her breathing strains and Steve knew what he needed to do. He surged forward and grabbed Y/N by her shoulders, spinning her until her back was against his chest. He slid down the wall until they were sitting, and his next step was to unravel her hands from her hair. While humming a soft unknown tune, he worked on massaging her wrists until her hands fell away from her head and landed on his forearms. Steve wrapped his arms around her as she finished crying, her fat tears falling against his fingers.

“Better?” Steve questioned after Y/N’s breathing had evened out. She shrugged. “Gimme a color?”

“Yellow.” Confused and wants to talk about it, just not yet. Steve nodded, and adjusted his grip, smiling slightly when he felt her dig her nails into his skin.

“Alright, hon. I’ll be here when you want to talk. Let’s get you some water?” He helped her get off the floor as he found his way to the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of water out from the fridge and twisted the top off before walking back to Y/N. He handed the her the bottle as she made her way to the couch while he chose something to watch.

“You really wanna know what’s wrong?” Her voice made Steve jump, but he nodded once he was situated in his spot.

“Of course I want to know. I still think I can help.”

“I’m a virgin. That’s what Maria and I were talking about before the mission briefing. And then she found out I had a crush on you and just.... took it and ran. Granted I wasn’t trying to hide how I felt, but it still wasn’t her business. I didn’t want to know if you or Bucky had found out and I didn’t want to know what you had to say. I don’t want to lose what we have just because I want to sleep with you....” More tears fell from Y/N’s eyes as she confessed her feelings to Steve. Steve sat speechless at the other end of the couch, eyes glued to her shoulder.

Steve exhaled, his shocked breath coming out like a groan. When he actually looked back to Y/N, he could see how scared she was. His freezing clearly didn’t do anything to make the moment less terrifying.

“I knew. A-about the crush at least. Tony kind of clued me into it at my birthday party. I must admit, he kind of made me realize MY crush in the moment as well. But, Y/N, are you absolutely positive that you’d want me to take your virginity?”

“You’re the only one I’d want to. It’s the right choice.” And with that, Steve lunged forward and crushed her lips with his, emotions flooding them both. Adoration, devotion, passion, love overwhelmed their senses as their lips continued to move together, their mouths fitting together perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Steve commented once they pulled away breathless. Y/N smiled at Steve’s comment, a slight blush on her cheeks. Steve leaned in again, but this kiss was calmer and less rushed. He wanted to savor the moment, etch the feeling of her lips into his mind for all eternity. Wanting to escalate the kiss a little further, Steve licked at Y/N’s bottom lip. She froze, the feeling unnatural and foreign; nonetheless she opened her mouth just enough for Steve’s tongue to slip past her teeth. A small moan travelled from her throat to his mouth which prompted the super soldier to smile into the kiss.

Out of breath, Y/N broke away from the kiss and stood from her seat, a quizzical look on Steve’s face.

“Can we... gotomyroom?” She mumbled quickly.

“One more time? I didn’t quite hear you, hon.” Steve mocked, a slight smirk on his face.

Exhaling, Y/N prepared herself to speak again. “Can we go to my room?”

Steve stood and walked over to Y/N, kissing her deeply as his hands cupped her cheeks. “Lead the way, baby.”

Y/N’s room was small and scarcely decorated, almost as if she didn’t have enough time to finish it before something happened. There weren’t many knickknacks or tchotchkes, but there were three shelves completely overflowing with books. Steve loved how smart she was, but still couldn’t wrap his mind around how scared she seemed to be in the moment. Y/N had sat down on the bed as if waiting for the man in front of her to make a move, but this time it was Steve who was frozen in his place.

“Steve?”

“Are you sure about this? I need to hear you say it, Y/N.” The commanding tone in his voice wasn’t one she was unfamiliar with, yet it still sent a delicious tingle between her legs.

“I’m sure. I want this. Come fuck me, Steve.” The confidence in her voice shocked them both, but Steve didn’t need anymore persuasion. Stepping forward, he all but tackled her to the bed, her small frame trapped and mushed underneath the broad expanse of his chest as their lips met once again. Steve’s fingers travelled under her shirt before fiddling with the plain cups of her bra. Y/N’s breathing stuttered slightly, but she made no effort to remove the warm hand from her breast. A surge of tenacity sizzled through Y/N’s veins as she pulled away from Steve and ripped her shirt over her head. When Steve paused to admire her body, practically drooling at the sight, she dipped her head and began wrapping her arms around her torso.

“No. You don’t have to hide from me, Y/N. You’re beautiful, okay?” Y/N nodded, but still made no effort to remove her arms from her chest. With a sigh and another kiss, Steve worked his fingers under her arms and pinned her wrists above her head. “No hiding.”

Y/N whimpered softly at Steve’s domination, but she didn’t want him to stop. Steve began trailing kisses down her neck as his other hand snuck behind her to pop her bra open, releasing her wrists for a few seconds to rid her body of the undergarment before pinning her to the bed again. Y/N gasped at the nippy air in her room, mentally damning herself for how cold she liked to keep her room. All previous thoughts evacuated as Steve wrapped his soft lips around one of her nipples, the bud pebbling instantly in his mouth. Y/N whined as Steve sucked and flicked his tongue around her nipple, hissing slightly when his teeth brushed against it. He moved to her other breast, smiling slightly at her panting. Once he chose to stop the torment on her chest, Steve slithered down to her waist. Pausing for a moment, he savored the image of the girl beneath him, the fear in her eyes still very prominent.

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve asked, his attention glued to Y/N’s eyes as if she were still fully clothed.

“No. Please don’t stop, Steve.” With that, he continued. He let go of her wrists as he worked the button on her pants open, pulling them off inch by inch and throwing them over his shoulder once they were off completely. He smiled softly at the sight of her blue panties seeing as there was absolutely nothing sexy about them at all. Stuff like that never mattered to Steve, of course, but he found her lack of lace amusing. He left her panties alone, though, opting instead to disrobe himself instead. It was only fair that he match her nakedness before continuing. Once he was left in just his boxers, Y/N felt her cheeks flush at the sight of how big his bulge was. She wasn’t completely inexperienced, but he would be the biggest she had ever seen.

“Hey. Eyes up here, princess.” Steve gestured to his eyes as he slunk back between her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. He placed a few chaste kisses on her left leg, starting at her knee and trailing up her thigh. He skipped her apex entirely as he repeated his movements on her right leg. Smirking at her whine when he went to kiss her thigh again, he gently tugged her panties to the side, moaning at the sight of her bare pussy. Flicking his eyes up to gauge her reaction, Steve leaned forward and kissed her lower lips twice before sliding his tongue through her folds. Y/N flinched and gasped at the foreign feeling, yet brought one hand down to tangle her fingers in Steve’s blonde hair. Captain America smirked at her reaction and repeated his previous motion with more pressure each time. He isolated her clit between his lips and swirled his tongue around the sensitive nub, causing Y/N to throw her head back in pleasure. He chuckled, the vibrations sending a shiver up her spine as she felt a tightness in her stomach. Steve took advantage of her distraction and slipped a finger inside her tight entrance, his tongue still working furiously on her clit. Once he decided that she could handle it, he pushed another finger into her entrance, a slight sting radiating around her pussy. He pumped his fingers in time to his movements on her clit, curling his fingers upwards twice before Y/N came with a yelp. Steve stayed put, riding her through her high before pulling himself away.

He stood once more and discarded her panties along with his boxers and crawled back over her body, his face hovering over hers. Y/N could feel his stiff member poking into her thigh as she tried to focus her attention on the man above her and not on the thoughts running through her mind.

“Y/N, you’ll be okay. Do you trust me?”

Making eye contact with Steve, Y/N could see that worry was more prominent than lust, his baby blue eyes swimming with conflict.

“We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you, Steve.” She lifted her head off the mattress and pressed her lips to his, mostly to ease her own nerves rather than his. While they were kissing, Steve’s hand dipped between them to position himself at her entrance, sliding the tip into her tight heat. He resisted the urge to moan at the feeling, opting to focus his attention on her comfort. Y/N had hissed slightly at the feeling, but didn’t break away from the kiss seeing as it was the only thing that was truly distracting her from the pain. Steve’s thumb began circling around her clit as he continued to thrust inch by inch, sheathing himself inside her wet heat entirely. He let her adjust to the foreign feeling before pulling away from the kiss and moving his hips slightly, watching her face the entire time.

Her eyes were pinched shut and her eyebrows furrowed. Her nostrils flared as she regulated her breathing, slowly but surely relaxing at the feeling of Steve inside her.

“More.” She whispered as Steve slid out of her pussy almost entirely. He snapped his hips forward and watched as her eyes fluttered and her jaw dropped into a perfect ‘O’. He kept a slow but steady pace, allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of just how tight she was while keeping an ear open for any sounds of discomfort. His strokes hit that spot deep inside her pussy, causing her legs to shake and wrap around Steve’s waist, a loud moan falling from her lips.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Steve groaned as he picked up his pace slightly, not wanting to break Y/N her first night. Y/N was too blissed out to scold Steve for his language, but it truly seemed as if neither of them cared in the moment. Her fingers wrapped around his biceps, nails digging sharply into his skin which Steve took as a sign to speed up once more. The headboard to Y/N’s bed started knocking against the wall as Steve’s brutal pace took her breath away.

“Fuck, Steve, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Y/N yelled, her head thrown back in pleasure and bliss. The super soldier took advantage of how open her neck was and splayed his warm lips across the column of her throat, kissing and sucking until a very dark mark was left behind. He trailed hickeys and love bites down to her chest, scattering the marks wherever his lips could reach. His fingers dug into her hips as his pace seemed to get ever faster.

Before she had a moment to process how good she was feeling, Y/N was flipped onto her stomach and one of Steve’s hands wrapped in her hair, pulling slightly. She moaned at the new sensation as Steve growled in his throat. The hand that wasn’t in her hair wrapped around her waist, allowing his fingers to toy with her clit. Another moan filled the air, along with the sinful sounds her pussy was making. Steve was dizzy; the feeling of being inside her, the wonderful sounds she was making, the smell of sex in the air all contributed to his rising orgasm.

“Fuck, Steve! I-I’m close!” Y/N whined from underneath him, her face buried in her pillow and her fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

“Me too. Let go, Y/N. I’ve got you, baby.” Steve muttered close to her ear, his hips stuttering slightly. With Steve’s permission, Y/N’s body started to shake as her climax washed over her. Steve’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as she clenched around his dick, the super soldier not being able to hold back his own climax as he pumped her full of his cum. They both collapsed onto the bed, panting.

Y/N seemed to come to her senses faster than Steve did as she ran to the bathroom to clean herself up. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and the girl she saw was almost unrecognizable: dark purple bruises covered her pale skin, her hair was a tangled mess, and there were noticeable marks from where Steve’s hand had been on her hip. A strange quietness took over her mind and it was almost like her body was running on autopilot. She grabbed her bathrobe off the hook by the door and secured it around her body tightly, hiding the marks that she knew she should cherish. Once she entered her room, Steve was completely dressed again and sitting on the edge of her bed.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, worry very prominent in his voice. With a nod, Y/N sat next to him, but opted to keep some space between them. She didn’t regret what happened, she just needed time to process it. “Can I have a color?”

“Yellow, but it’ll be red if you ask again, Steve.” He smiled sadly and stood, leaving his place on the bed to kneel in front of Y/N. Her eyes seemed dull, but bright at the same time. Her gaze was everywhere except Steve, and once again she was chewing on her bottom lip. Steve reached up to tuck some hair behind her ear, kissing her forehead when he stood up again.

“We can talk about this later, if you want to. Just know that you’re not going to lose me because of this, okay?” Y/N nodded. Steve lifted her chin and gave her a brief kiss on the lips. It was soft and timid, almost as if he believed he was overstepping his boundaries. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be back in a week; two at the latest. We can talk then.” With one more soft kiss to her lips, Steve left.

She wasn’t a virgin anymore, and she owed that to her friends. She just couldn’t understand why she felt so guilty about it.

Steve had just gotten back to his apartment by the time he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. His heart almost broke at the text message in front of him:

“Come back. I need you.”

#avengers imagine #steve rogers imagine #captain america #bucky barnes imagine #tony stark #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #marvel imagine

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oksana-moods · 3 years

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Ghost of you - Part 9

Summary: Ghost realizes that, no matter how hard she tries, she can't run away from her past. When Carol's presence do more harm than good, the only way to come clean is to take a dive. A/N: Thank you again for all the support, and to let you know that we reached the point where things start to change. Starting for the song theme. Now we’ll go with ‘Writings on the wall’ from Sam Smith. We’re halfway through, lovelies. Trigger Warnings: Violence, language (a bit too much, I believe), mentions of death… if you find others, let me know. Oh, sort of WandaVision spoiler. Angst. “I've spent a lifetime running, and I always get away”

With my hands involuntarily clutching the tag, I’m sitting at the roof watching the sun slowly but inexorably going down in the horizon. Once, I heard that this is what life feels like. We born just like the sun raises, we reach our greatest point then we start to set till night embraces us. Death, just like the sunset, is inevitable. I find myself agreeing with this metaphor.

It’s been a few months since our futile attempt to overturn Thanos’s snap. And now, each one of us went different ways to try to cope with this catastrophe.

Steve, Natasha and I were still living at the compound we had nowhere else to go so we’re pretending that we were taking care of things, that we’re moving on.

Tony and Pepper are about to get married and, honestly, I hope they find happiness. While Bruce went missing again, Thor went to New Asgard, he lost everything but still had a Realm to rule; Rhodey was working for the Government in a high position, or so I heard. Wakanda lost all the royal family but Okoye was holding on, as best as she could. Rocket and Nebula stayed a bit but returned to space with promises of visiting whenever they could.

Oddly, the logo ‘Avengers’ was scattered all over the universe. We were broken, but we would still protect whom needed protection.

And there is The Avenger, the original one. Carol barely touched the ground coming back from Garden and took-off claiming she needed to check on Skrulls. Not even three weeks later she was back, and that caught me off guard. I’ve never expected for her to return, not that quickly, at least.

She’s been trying to talk to me, but I dodged all of her attempts.

Until now.

“Hey, Mav.” I close my eyes when her voice reaches my ears. “The view from here is amazing.”

I was sitting at the edge of the roof and Carol was leaning with her elbows at the rampart.

“Yes. It is.” I answer. “What do you want, Carol?” We both know she’s not here for the view.

“To talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I got up from my seat, I’m standing in the roof starting to make my way to the door. I flinch away when her hand touches my metal arm. I shoot an outrageous look at her.

“Please.” Her eyes are so soft against my gaze that something inside me stirs. “You’ve been avoiding me. Natasha told me that you lost most part of your memories.” Her brows are so furrowed that is clear she’s upset. Why is she? I turn away from her, I’m looking at the horizon once more. Her gaze was too overwhelming, right now.

“What do you want to know?” I shove my hands inside my pockets. Damn, why am I so nervous? “Most of my memories are gone. The last four years is all I have without gaps. Wanda…” I close my eyes, still hurts to think about her. I think it always will. “She helped me to unbury whatever she could.” I saw Carol leaning at the rampart. She was trying to get closer, but I needed distance.

“I crashed after your crash.” She nodded, of course she knew this. “Whatever happened to you with the tesseract, spattered in me too. That’s why I haven’t changed, just like you.” I could feel my hands shaking inside my pockets, I was uneasy. Something about her was pulling me to the edge.

“But, what about…” She hesitated “What about your arm?” Why is she pretending to be concerned? She’s getting under my skin and I’m feeling cornered. So, I do what every cornered animal do. They attack.

“Will you fucking stop beating the bush? Ask me what you fucking want to ask.” Oh and so she did, she was exasperated with me acting like an idiot. What was she expecting?

“I came to earth around 2007. I went to Maria’s and she told me you were at war but never make it back. I… I saw your stone. I… I…” She ran a hand through her hair. “I thought you were dead.” Her voice was a whisper but that made something burst inside me. I grieved her, even when I knew she was alive. She chose to go away and wanna play the broken-hearted role?

“You and me both!” My voice was harsh and loud, but I wasn’t yelling yet. Yet. “What do you expect me to say, huh? That I am sorry someone lied to you? That I am sorry you were sad?” The setting sun illuminating her face, making her look gorgeous than ever, made me hate her even more. “Well, news flash for you, hon. YOU’RE NOT THE ONLY ONE! I still see you die every time I fucking close my eyes.” I yelled. I couldn’t take this anymore. “I SAW YOU DIE OVER AND OVER AND OVER.” Her eyes were glossy, there was something shining inside them that I couldn’t decipher. And, Fuck. It hurt so bad. They hurt me so bad. She hurt me.

“I… Lara, I am so, so sorry they did this to you” She whispered again. She didn’t want to fight, but all I know is fight. And I only stop when I see blood.

“When I was taken by Hydra, they made me watch you die, they made me watch you leaving." My voice was low and hard, this time. "So no, I can’t stand this. Hydra took everything from me. They beat me and oh, they hit me hard. They cut off every single piece of me, and they put me through hell. But you Carol, you broke me first.”

I turned in my heels and left the roof. Each step my feet tried to betray me, make me to look back, but I kept going til reach the door. I knew I was far too harsh, my words probably cut her, but if she was bleeding so was I.

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Days went by and I didn’t see Carol since that day in the roof. Steve told me she took a room for her at the compound, she’d be staying a bit longer. Of course she is. Like I didn’t have a lot to deal with already. Since there weren’t any assignments going on, all the workout in the world couldn’t help to ease my mind. Or heart.

I park my motorcycle at the parking lot and pick up the flowers from inside my jacket. I check it to see if they still look good. I shrug, they’re good enough.

I walked inside the Hospital and expertly made my way to my friend’s room. It pained me to know she was sick, but she was too strong to give in that easy to cancer. She was a fighter. She inspired me. If she could go on even with her decease and losing her child, so could I.

“Buying flowers became a struggle nowadays.” I said with a smile.

Her smile lit up the whole room. “Good thing you’re not going out on dates, then.” My laugh filed the room.

“Please Maria, you’re too old to be that sassy.”

“You’re just as old as I am. The difference is just that you still look good.”

“You still look good, Ma. I’d take you out on a date.” And it was true, she was around her sixties but still look beautiful. Few lines near the eyes, but only complimented her.

“Awn, you flatter me” She put a hand on her chest, faking innocence. “I don’t go out with women, hon. But I’d definitely accept the invitation, I’m craving real food, not whatever this hospital calls food.” Instantly, this blows the air out of my lungs and I’m forced to face reality. My friends are gone and soon, Maria will be gone too. Carol told me once that her biggest fear was to bury all her friends. Fuck. I understand what she meant now.

“Geez, Mav. It was only a joke. Next time, don’t bring me flowers unless you’re bringing fries too.”

I forced a smile at her.

After the whole ordeal with the ‘Accords’ I was arrested alongside Clint, Scott and Sam. Cap came and rescued us, but I went on the road since I was an outlaw too, so my visits to Maria and Monica stopped despite keeping in touch. I wouldn’t forgive myself for the time I lost.

“Carol came to visit me yesterday.” That’s the Maria I came to know, never holding back her words. “Apparently, you’ve been giving her a hard time.”

“Oh. Did she come to cry on your shoulder?” Every time Carol’s name was brought up, I felt my brain short-circuiting. I don’t know why, but I hated it.

“Naa. I was just gossiping around, I’m an old lady, after all.” She laughed lighting up the mood. “Does it feel better to yell, to be a bitch with her?”

“What?”

“C’mon, Mav. You changed a lot, but I can still see through you. You need to vent whatever is stuck in your chest; you need to put it out.” I was frowning at the floor. “That’s the only way both of you will move on.”

“I hate her, Maria. Seeing her makes me feel like my wounds are cutting open once again. I don’t see how we can move past this, how I can forgive her.”

“If that’s true,” She pointed at my chest, and I knew what she was going to say. “Why do you still wear her tag and yours together?” All of a sudden, the Tag was heavy in my chest. Tons and tons of unspoken words, feelings, and pain weighting too much.

“I… I don’t know. It kinda feels right.” God, I’m so confused. Is it possible to be friends with Carol Danvers again? Will I, one day, forget everything Hydra made me feel with those memories? I wonder if that hopeless feeling will ever go away. Because right now, all I can think of is that, at any moment, she’ll turn her back on me or she’ll die. It’s hard to look at someone expecting, waiting for the pain that usually comes with their face.

“I know it does.” And she changed her tone to her bossy one. “So, stop acting like you have a stick shoved inside your ass and talk to her. Promise me you will.”

“All right. I promise.” I answered, it was no use try to avoid this. Maria wouldn’t drop this.

“That’s better.” She had that look like she knew that I’d comply with her request.

“Doesn’t upset you? That she left and forgot about us?” I was looking out of the window, looking at the cars outside, people were, slowly, trying to find their bearings. Trying to figure out what should be normal now. They were trying. Should I try, too?

Maria’s voice made me look at her when she replied. “It used to hurt, yes. But I’m dying, Mav, I don’t have time or patience to fight anymore.”

After Maria scolded me enough for not talking to Carol, our conversation was lighter. She complained about the overprotective nurse, she complained that tv never had good things to watch, gossiped about other patients, and when I said my goodbyes, she made me promise to sneak some food for my next visit.

However, all the way home I kept overthinking these things I’ve been building up inside me. Something about Carol made me uneasy, like I’m exposed in a field filled with enemies, with nowhere to hide. And I don’t like it on bit. There’s something about her eyes, and I hate the intensity in them when she looks at me, it’s like they can pierce your soul, see what’s underneath… And I’m way too afraid of all the terrors that she might discover. I’m not Lara anymore, I’m not who she thinks I am, no. I’m someone else.

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“You stole my spot.” I said as I reached the roof. The woman who I was addressing to, turned her head to look at me.

She was wearing a simple jeans with a blue t-shirt and her hair was framing her flawless face, how this woman could be so beautiful even with so common clothes was beyond me.

She gave me a tide smile that never reached her eyes, they were somewhat tired.

“Oh. It wasn’t my intention; I’ll leave you to be.” Yes please, leave me alone. I thought to me myself, but then my conversation with Maria from last week came to my mind. Fuck. I hate making promises. She was preparing to leave when I spoke.

“There’s room enough for both of us, though.” I said with a shrug, pretending that I was okay with her company, pretending that I wasn’t uncomfortable with this proximity. Her head snapped at me, she looked at me like I had grown two heads.

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft that immediately put me on edge. I felt exposed again. What was happening with me?

We stayed there for a while with a heavy silence between us. The tension was so thick that I’m sure we couldn’t move, that’s probably why none of us left the roof yet. There was a sea of unspoken words and as much as I hated it, we couldn’t ignore this anymore. If she’s going to stay, we’ll have to dive into this. We’ll have to work together at some point, this wouldn’t be healthy during even the simplest mission.

“You know, I’ve been in a lot of places, but none of them had such a beautiful sunset.” Her voice startled me; I wasn’t expecting at all.

“Well, it does have something peaceful, doesn’t it?” She seemed to ponder what I just said.

“One may say that this might be a spell. That there are a lot of beautiful places out there, but nothing compares to home.”

“Is it?”

“What?” She looked at me, confusion written all over her face.

“Is Earth you home?” At this, she frowned.

“Look, I know what you’re implying. I… I don’t know how much you remember from… before.” She seemed nervous. “What do you recall?”

And that’s it. There’s no turning back now, I needed to dive into this sea and hopefully I’ll reach the other side alive.

I looked forward; eyes set at the setting sun. I couldn’t deal with this and look at her at the same time. My hands started to shake so I wriggle them together to stop them, somehow.

“I remember us.” I felt a pang in my chest. Shit. What is this? “I remember you were always going back and forth to Earth. I remember when you went for good, ‘we’re too good at goodbyes’, yeah?!”

She signed heavily. “While helping Talos, I realized that a lot of people needed help. I wanted to stay, but I just couldn’t ignore innocent people dying.”

“People were dying here too.” She was frustrated, she threw her arms around impatient, but I continued before she could speak. “I know, I know you wanted to bring peace to whoever you could. And Earth already had its saviors.”

“It’s not just like that, I…” She turned to fully look at me. “After I found out about your… death,” She struggled with the word, it fell heavily from her tongue. “I felt so helpless, so stupid for wasting away the time I could’ve had with you, I…” She was staring at me, eyes locked, and I felt myself being dragged inside. “I couldn’t forgive myself for loosing you for good.” She half whispered as if afraid of this becoming true. Like I could turn into a mirage, out of blue.

She was diving in the sea of what was left unsaid too, there’s no going back. “And when you died, part of me died too. Then Earth wasn’t home without you on it anymore, that’s why I never came back after. But then I received Fury’s emergency call, only to learn about Thanos… only to find out that you were alive this whole time.” Her eyes were glowing with such intensity, that my feet were glued to the ground. I felt a hand wrapping around mine. “I wanted to come back, back then. After I went through your door, I regretted at the very same instant, Lara.” Her voice was so soft when she spoke my name, it was like her tongue was made of velvet and it took the air out of my lungs. “After all, I wanted… I wanted so damn hard to be happy… with you. But I couldn’t find my way back, it didn’t seem right. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’d only do more damage than I already had. And I’m so, so sorry for hurting you.”

I was so entranced in her eyes while she was speaking that up until now, I hadn’t realized how close she was, or even that her hand was gripping my flesh hand. She’s so close that I could see the fading sunlight brightening her freckles. She was so, so close that my brain was at loss.

I didn’t know if the sun was illuminating her face or if it was the other way around, but such perfection made something inside me stir, I felt strange. I felt an urge to reached out and touch her face, like I needed to feel her skin under my touch just as much as I needed oxygen. “Why are you here now, Carol?” My voice was so soft that felt foreign, almost like a whisper. “My heart is at Earth.” She whispered back, like she was afraid of breaking this spell, this trance that was keeping both of us from moving away.

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