#I firmly believe that these three could be the best force of chaos if given the opportunity

[thebluestbluewords]

Moral Education

*chanting* OT3 OT3 OT3!

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Mal's teeth are sharp when she grins. “The beast king locked all the royal children up in his castle, just as he’d been locked up and abandoned by his own people. It’s to teach us all a lesson. So we can learn the power of isolation, or something. I don’t know what moral lessons your father is trying to impart. I’m not from here.” 

“Where did you hear that?” 

“School.” 

“Do you–” Ben starts, and then just stops for a moment, with his mouth open and his jaw working like he’s trying to digest the fact that the villains have more accurate information about his father than he’d reckoned for. “Did you have a source for that? One I could read, maybe?” 

Mal scoffs. “Like I’d ever steal a textbook. That’s school property. I’m a beacon of goodness and moral integrity for these trying times, and I’d never steal textbooks from a blessed institution of learning.” 

Ben levels an incredulous sort of look at her. “Really.” 

“Really. I didn’t steal anything–” anything of value, Mal adds to herself. “From Dragon Hall.” 

“Because there wasn’t anything to steal.” Evie adds unhelpfully. “And you didn’t attend very often.” 

“I had better things to do.” 

“Liar.” 

Mal rolls her eyes. She attended school enough of the time. Like, at least half of the days that they were allegedly supposed to attend. She showed up just often enough to keep all the little villains in line, and to get the free food that some particularly enterprising adult got for the cafeteria. “Whatever. The point is, we know that your father donated his old castle to keep the royal children all locked up in one place, and that’s why we’re not allowed to leave. The king wants us all contained so we can be just like him.” 

Ben’s face folds up into a frown. His eyebrows do this cute crinkly thing when he’s confused that makes Mal sort of want to kiss the point in the middle of them, right where his head goes all wrinkly. Like a weird, sexy old man. “That’s not true. We’re allowed to leave on the weekends.” 

“You’re allowed to leave,” Evie chimes in. “We’re not. Only the Auradon kids who have parental permission can go into town. I asked Fairy Godmother, and she said that we don’t have signed permission slips from our parents, so she can’t bend the rules and let us out, even though we could just send the permission slips over to the Isle of the Lost for them to sign.” 

“Like my mother would ever sign something to make our lives better.” 

“My mom would forge her signature for you,” Evie says sweetly. Ben’s eyebrows are reaching a new level of distress, but that’s not their problem. “She knows how. It’s something you learn, when you’re cohabitating with someone. Which our mothers are doing. Because they’re fu–” 

“OKAY, OKAY, OKAY.”

“Fucking,” Evie finishes, flashing an absolutely wicked grin. “They’re fucking. Because that’s just the headache we needed. Our mothers having a forbidden isle romance, after we already claimed that story.” 

“I’m going to end our romance if you don’t stop talking about my mom’s sex life,” Mal grumbles. She’s watched a lot of shitty, awful things happen on the Isle of the Lost, but her mother’s romance with the Evil Queen has been one of the most disgusting.  “They’re like watching a pair of goblins try to catch a fish.” 

“Disgusting and wrinkly,” Evie agrees. “And something that feels illegal. In the boring, gross way. Not the fun way.” 

“I’ll show you the fun way.” Mal shoots back. Her mouth just runs on autopilot sometimes, without any actual input from her brain. It’s sort of a problem. “In bed. You wanna get up to some indecent exposure together, princess?” 

Evie’s mouth is so red and sweet, and Mal is well aware that it’s lip gloss, but she still wants to lick the shine off of Evie’s perfect smile when she turns it on like this.  

“I think that should wait til later, M. We have a guest right now,” Evie says sweetly. “Ben?” 

Right. They have his royal highness over. 

“I’m–yeah,” Ben squeaks. He’s so cute when he’s flustered. “I mean, sorry. I didn’t know that Fairy Godmother wasn’t letting you four leave on the weekends. I mean, I knew that you weren’t going anywhere, but you’re always so busy, Evie, and I just figured that you were staying on campus to get everything done, because that’s what I have to do, and– uh, I can talk to her. About it. If that would help.” 

So sweet. 

“That would be great, babe,” Evie coos. “You’re the best.” 

Ben ducks his head into his smile. It doesn’t make sense for the crown prince to be shy, but Mal’s maybe, possibly been keeping track of when they can coax a real smile out of him, and nine times out of ten, when they get his real smile instead of his public one, he ducks his head to hide it. 

It’s cute, in a sad sort of way. It’s one thing for Mal to watch Evie, and Jay, and Carlos hide their real smiles, because they’ve grown up hiding their emotions from everyone but each other, but Ben’s supposed to be the well-adjusted one. He’s supposed to be Auradon’s perfect prince. The boy wonder who always has a kind word for everyone. Their future leader, equipped with a strong arm and a kind heart and a level head. It’s sort of distressing to think that he’s been taught to hide his emotions just the same as they have, so Mal buries the feelings for now, and keeps watching and waiting instead. 

“The best,” Mal echoes. “Best boyfriend ever.” 

Ben’s eyes flicker up to meet hers. Gods below, but she has got to stop falling for this boy every time he smiles at her. It’s not fair to the others. She’s got a limited number of butterflies that her stomach can produce, and they all seem connected to the way Ben’s smile makes his eyes crinkle up at the edges. It’s even worse when he’s all sunlight and golden like this. She’s going to have to have Evie make blackout curtains for their room, because it’s just not fair to keep bathing Ben in golden afternoon light. He’ll get some sort of complex. 

“Thanks,” Ben says, voice round and soft around the word. It fits naturally into his mouth just like it doesn’t in Mal’s own. “I’ll do what I can. There’s nothing I can do about official school policy, but I’m pretty sure there’s a loophole about students whose parents don’t have custody that we can exploit to get you four off campus. I’d wondered a bit why you never took us up on visiting the ice-cream place.” 

“Maybe we hate ice cream.”  

“I’d believe that.” Ben says seriously. “I would. That was a good delivery. But I know you, Mal, and I know that you’d never turn down an offer of mint chip.” 

Ugh. Unbearable. The butterflies aren’t going away. 

“ANYWAY,” Mal says, spinning away from her boyfriend and his stupid golden eyelashes. “As I was saying, I’d never steal from Dragon Hall, because I am a beacon of moral purity now, and stealing is wrong.” 

“And because you didn’t go to class,” Ben agrees, with just a hint of a laugh in his voice. “Or so Evie says.” 

“Evie’s a liar and a cheat.” 

“And she’s right here, Malfeasance Bertha, so if you want any help with your remedial goodness homework later, you’d better watch your mouth.” 

Her girlfriend is the worst. 

“Anyway,” Mal says again, turning so she can face both of her beautiful, perfect nerds at once. “We were taught that king beast locked up the royal kids in his former castle so he could keep control of them. And for moral lessons, or whatever it is you good folks tell your kids to keep them compliant. And then we got here, and we’ve been stuck on the castle grounds since then, soooo.” 

“So your logical conclusion was that your teachers were right, and my dad locks us up here,” Ben says, nodding. “Okay. I see it now. Do you want to know the real truth, or would you rather bring it up to Fairy Godmother when we ask her to let you off campus?” 

“I want the truth.” Evie breaks in. “Please. I spent enough time locked in a castle back on the isle, so if there’s another way of living, I want to know about it.”

#my fic #descendants #descendants fic #I firmly believe that these three could be the best force of chaos if given the opportunity #let them bend all the rules together!! Let them have Mal's evil motivation and disregard for rules combined with Ben's knowledge #of legal loopholes #and Evie's knowledge of how to look cute and confident in whatever they're up to #they could get SO MUCH done before the adults even realize that they should be stopping them

[lokiondisneyplus]

'Loki' takes over: Tom Hiddleston on his new TV series and a decade in the MCU

Ten years after Hiddleston first chose chaos in Thor, Marvel’s fan favorite God of Mischief is going even bigger with his time-bending Disney+ show.

Tom Hiddleston is Loki, and he is burdened with glorious purpose: After playing Thor's puckish brother for over a decade in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, no one understands the mercurial Asgardian God of Mischief as well as the actor. He can teach an entire seminar on Loki if given the opportunity — which he actually did during pre-production on his forthcoming Disney+ show. In conversation, Hiddleston quotes lines from his MCU debut, 2011's Thor, almost verbatim, and will playfully correct you if you mistakenly refer to Asgard's Rainbow Bridge as the Bifrost, which is the portal that connects Loki and Thor's homeworld to the Nine Realms, including Midgard, a.k.a. Earth. "Well, the Bifrost technically is the energy that runs through the bridge," he says with a smile. "But nine points to Gryffindor!" And when he shows up to the photo shoot for this very digital cover, he hops on a call with our photo editor to pitch ways the concept could be even more Loki, like incorporating the flourish the trickster does whenever magically conjuring something. The lasting impression is that playing Loki isn't just a paycheck.

"Rather than ownership, it's a sense of responsibility I feel to give my best every time and do the best I can because I feel so grateful to be a part of what Marvel Studios has created," the 40-year-old Brit tells EW over Zoom a few days after the shoot and a week out from Thor's 10th anniversary. "I just want to make sure I've honored that responsibility with the best that I can give and the most care and thought and energy."

After appearing in three Thor movies and three Avengers, Hiddleston is bringing that passion to his first solo Marvel project, Loki, the House of Ideas' third Disney+ series following the sitcom pastiche WandaVision and the topical The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Led by head writer Michael Waldron (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Heels), the six-episode drama sees Hiddleston's shapeshifting agent of chaos step out from behind his brother's shadow and into the spotlight for a timey-wimey, sci-fi adventure that aims to get to the bottom of who Loki really is. "I wanted to explore slightly more complex character questions," says Waldron. "It's not just good versus bad. Is anybody all good? Is anybody all bad? What makes a hero, a hero? A villain, a villain?"  

Even though Loki — who loves sowing mayhem with his illusion magic and shapeshifting, all with a major chip on his shoulder — has never been one for introspection, the idea of building an entire show around him was a no-brainer for Marvel. When asked why Loki was one of the studio's first Disney+ shows, Marvel president Kevin Feige replies matter-of-factly, "More Hiddleston, more Loki." First introduced as Thor's (Chris Hemsworth) envious brother in Kenneth Branagh's Thor, Loki went full Big Bad in 2012's The Avengers. That film cemented the impish rogue as one of the shared universe's fan favorites, thanks to Hiddleston's ability to make him deliciously villainous yet charismatic and, most importantly, empathetic. The character's popularity is one of the reasons he's managed to avoid death many times.

"He's been around for thousands of years. He had all sorts of adventures," says Feige. "Wanting to fill in the blanks and see much more of Loki's story [was] the initial desire [for the series]."

The Loki we meet on the show is not the one who fought the Avengers in 2012 and evolved into an antihero in Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok before meeting his demise at the hands of the mad titan Thanos (Josh Brolin) in 2018's Avengers: Infinity War. Instead, we'll be following a Loki from a branched timeline (a variant, if you will) after he stole the Tesseract following his thwarted New York invasion and escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. custody during the time heist featured in Avengers: Endgame. In other words, this Loki hasn't gone through any sort of redemption arc. He's still the charming yet petulant god who firmly believes he's destined to rule and has never gotten his due.

Premiering June 9, Loki begins with the Time Variance Authority — a bureaucratic organization tasked with safeguarding the proper flow of time — arresting the Loki Variant seen in Endgame because they want his help fixing all of the timeline problems he caused while on the run with the Tesseract. So there will be time travel, and a lot more of it than in Endgame. As Loki makes his way through his own procedural, he'll match wits with new characters including Owen Wilson's Agent Mobius, a brilliant TVA analyst, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw's Judge Renslayer. The question in early episodes is whether Loki will help them or take over.

"One of the things Kevin Feige led on was, 'I think we should find a way of exploring the parts of Loki that are independent of his relationship with Thor,' or see him in a duality or in relationship with others, which I thought was very exciting," says Hiddleston, who also serves as an executive producer on the show. "So the Odinson saga, that trilogy of films, still has its integrity, and we don't have to reopen it and retell it."

Yet, in order to understand where Loki is going, it's important to see where he came from.

Hiddleston can't believe how long he and Loki have been connected. "I've been playing this character for 11 years," he says. "Which is the first time I have said that sentence, I realize, and it [blows] my mind. I don't know what percentage that is exactly of my 40 years of being alive, but it's substantial."

His time as Loki actually goes a bit further back, to 2009 — a year after Robert Downey Jr. big banged the MCU into existence with Iron Man — when he auditioned for Thor. It's no secret that Hiddleston initially went in for the role of the titular God of Thunder, but Feige and director Kenneth Branagh thought his natural charm and flexibility as an actor made him better suited for the movie's damaged antagonist. "Tom gave you an impression that he could be ready for anything, performance-wise," says Branagh, who had previously worked with him on a West End revival of Checkov's Ivanov and the BBC series Wallander. "Tom has a wild imagination, so does Loki. He's got a mischievous sense of humor and he was ready to play. It felt like he had a star personality, but he was a team player."

Hiddleston fully immersed himself in the character. Outside of studying Loki's history in the Marvel Comics, he also researched how Loki and the Trickster God archetype appeared across mythology and different cultures. "He understood that he was already in something special [and] it was a special character in a special part of that early moment in the life of the Marvel universe where [he] also needed to step up in other ways," says Branagh, who was impressed by the emotional depth Hiddleston brought to the part, especially when it came to how isolated Loki felt in the Asgardian royal family.  

There was a lot riding on that first Thor feature. For one, no one knew if audiences would immediately latch onto a Shakespearean superhero movie partially set on an alien planet populated by the Norse Gods of legend. Second, it was integral to Feige's plans for the shared universe. Loki was supposed to be the main villain in The Avengers, which would not only mirror how Earth's mightiest heroes joined forces in 1963's Avengers #1 but also give Thor a believable reason for teaming up with Iron Man, Captain America (Chris Evans), and the rest of the capes. Feige first clued Hiddleston into those larger plans when the actor was in L.A. before Thor started shooting.

"I was like, 'Excuse me?' Because he was already three, four steps ahead," says Hiddleston. "That took me a few minutes to process, because I didn't quite realize how it just suddenly had a scope. And being cast as Loki, I realized, was a very significant moment for me in my life, and was going to remain. The creative journey was going to be so exciting."

Hiddleston relished the opportunity to go full villain in Avengers, like in the scene where Loki ordered a crowd to kneel before him outside a German opera house: "It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation," says the Machiavellian god. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

"I just knew that in the structure of that film, I had to lean into his role as a pure antagonist," Hiddleston recalls. "What I always found curious and complex about the way Loki is written in Avengers, is that his status as an antagonist comes from the same well of not belonging and being marginalized and isolated in the first Thor film. Loki now knows he has no place in Asgard."

Loki did find a place within the audience's hearts, though. Feige was "all in" on Hiddleston as his Loki from the beginning, but even he couldn't predict how much fans would love him. Feige recalls the reaction at the 2013 San Diego Comic-Con: "Did we know that after he was the villain in two movies, he would be bringing thousands of people to their feet in Hall H, in costume, chanting his name? No, that was above and beyond the plan that we were hoping for and dreaming of." It was a dream Feige first got an inkling of a year earlier during the Avengers press tour when a Russian fan slipped past security, snuck into Mark Ruffalo's car, and asked the Hulk actor to give Hiddleston a piece of fan art she created. "That was one of the early signs there was much more happening with this quote-unquote villain."  

Despite that popularity, the plan was to kill Loki off in 2013's Thor: The Dark World, but the studio reversed course after test audiences refused to believe he actually died fighting the Dark Elves. Alas, he couldn't out-illusion death forever. After returning in Taika Waititi's colorful and idiosyncratic Thor: Ragnarok, Hiddleston's character perished for real in the opening moments of Infinity War. In typical Loki fashion, before Thanos crushed his windpipe, he delivered a defiant speech that indicated he'd finally made peace with the anger he felt toward his family.  

"It felt very, very final, and I thought, 'Okay, that's it. This is Loki's final bow and a conclusive end to the Odinson saga,'" says Hiddleston, who shot that well-earned death scene in 2017.  

But, though he didn't know it yet, the actor's MCU story was far from over.

Credit: Charlie Gray for EW

When Hiddleston returned to film two scenes in Avengers: Endgame in 2017, he had no idea where Loki portaled off to after snatching the Tesseract. "Where'd he go? When does he go? How does he get there? These are all questions I remember asking on the day, and then not being given any answers," Hiddleston recalls. To be fair, it's likely the Powers That Be didn't necessarily have answers then. While Feige can't exactly recall when the writers' room for Endgame first devised Loki's escape sequence, he does know that setting up a future show wasn't the primary goal — because a Loki series wasn't on the horizon just yet.

"[That scene] was really more of a wrinkle so that one of the missions that the Avengers went on in Endgame could get screwed up and not go well, which is what required Cap and Tony to go further back in time to the '70s," says Feige. Soon after that, though, former Disney CEO Bob Iger approached Feige about producing content for the studio's forthcoming streaming service. "I think the notion that we had left this hanging loose end with Loki gave us the in for what a Loki series could be. So by the time [Endgame] came out, we did know where it was going."

As for Hiddleston, he didn't find out about the plans for a Loki show until spring 2018, a few weeks before Infinity War hit theaters. "I probably should not have been surprised, but I was," says the actor. "But only because Infinity War had felt so final."

Nevertheless, Hiddleston was excited about returning for his show. He was eager to explore Loki's powers, especially the shapeshifting, and what it meant that this disruptive figure still managed to find a seat beside the gods in mythology. "I love this idea [of] Loki's chaotic energy somehow being something we need. Even though, for all sorts of reasons, you don't know whether you can trust him. You don't know whether he's going to betray you. You don't why he's doing what he's doing," says Hiddleston. "If he's shapeshifting so often, does he even know who he is? And is he even interested in understanding who he is? Underneath all those masks, underneath the charm and the wit, which is kind of a defense anyway, does Loki have an authentic self? Is he introspective enough or brave enough to find out? I think all of those ideas are all in the series — ideas about identity, ideas about self-knowledge, self-acceptance, and the difficulty of it."

“The series will explore Loki's powers in a way they have not yet been explored, which is very, very exciting.”

The thing that truly sold Hiddleston on the show was Marvel's decision to include the Time Variance Authority, a move he describes as "the best idea that anybody had pertaining to the series." Feige and Loki executive producer Stephen Broussard had hoped to find a place for the TVA — an organization that debuted in 1986's Thor #372 and has appeared in She-Hulk and Fantastic Four stories — in the MCU for years, but the right opportunity never presented itself until Loki came along. "Putting Loki into his own procedural series became the eureka moment for the show," says Feige.  

The TVA's perspective on time and reality also tied into the themes that Waldron, Loki's head writer, was hoping to explore. "Loki is a character that's always reckoning with his own identity, and the TVA, by virtue of what they do, is uniquely suited to hold up a mirror to Loki and make him really confront who he is and who he was supposed to be," says Waldron. Hiddleston adds: "[That] was very exciting because in the other films, there was always something about Loki that was very controlled. He seemed to know exactly what the cards in his hand were and how he was going to play them…. And Loki versus the TVA is Loki out of control immediately, and in an environment in which he's completely behind the pace, out of his comfort zone, destabilized, and acting out."

To truly dig into who Loki is, the creative team had to learn from the man who knows him best: Hiddleston. "I got him to do a thing called Loki School when we first started," says director Kate Herron. "I asked him to basically talk through his 10 years of the MCU — from costumes to stunts, to emotionally how he felt in each movie. It was fantastic."

Hiddleston got something out of the Loki school, too. Owen Wilson both attended the class and interviewed Hiddleston afterward so that he could better understand Loki, as his character Mobius is supposed to be an expert on him. During their conversation, Wilson pointedly asked Hiddleston what he loved about playing the character.

"And I said, 'I think it's because he has so much range,'" says Hiddleston. "I remember saying this to him: 'On the 88 keys on the piano, he can play the twinkly light keys at the top. He can keep it witty and light, and he's the God of Mischief, but he can also go down to the other side and play the heavy keys. And he can play some really profound chords down there, which are about grief and betrayal and loss and heartbreak and jealousy and pride.'" Hiddleston recalls Wilson being moved by the description: "He said, 'I think I might say that in the show.' And it was such a brilliant insight for me into how open Owen is as an artist and a performer.'"

Owen Wilson as Mobius and Tom Hiddleston as Loki in 'Loki.'| Credit: Chuck Zlotnick/Marvel Studios

Everyone involved is particularly excited for audiences to see Hiddleston and Wilson's on-screen chemistry. "Mobius is not unlike Owen Wilson in that he's sort of nonplussed by the MCU," says Feige. "[Loki] is used to getting a reaction out of people, whether it's his brother or his father, or the other Avengers. He likes to be very flamboyant and theatrical. Mobius doesn't give him the reaction he's looking for. That leads to a very unique relationship that Loki's not used to."

As for the rest of the series, we know that Loki will be jumping around time and reality, but the creative team isn't keen on revealing when and where. "Every episode, we tried to take inspiration from different things," says Waldron, citing Blade Runner's noir aesthetic as one example.

"Part of the fun of the multiverse and playing with time is seeing other versions of characters, and other versions of the titular character in particular," says Feige, who also declined to confirm if Loki ties into Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and/or other upcoming projects.

Making Loki was especially meaningful to Hiddleston because they shot most of it during the pandemic, in late 2020. "It will remain one of the absolute most intense, most rewarding experiences of my life," he says. "It's a series about time, and the value of time, and what time is worth, and I suppose what the experience of being alive is worth. And I don't quite know yet, and maybe I don't have perspective on it, if all the thinking and the reflecting that we did during the lockdown ended up in the series. But in some way, it must have because everything we make is a snapshot of where we were in our lives at that time."

While it remains to be seen what the future holds for Loki beyond this initial season, Hiddleston isn't preparing to put the character to bed yet. "I'm open to everything," he says. "I have said goodbye to the character. I've said hello to the character. I said goodbye to the character [again]. I've learned not to make assumptions, I suppose. I'm just grateful that I'm still here, and there are still new roads to explore."

#Tom Hiddleston #Loki #Disney+ #interview

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

Alignment

Figuring out where on the spectrum of beliefs, morals, and neutrality your character falls can be a challenge. One individual’s Chaotic Good is another’s Lawful Evil. To help clarify things, most campaigns include alignment for significant NPCs, and one can often draw a line between that NPC and that alignment. This doesn’t apply to every NPC, but the more important someone is, the more they come to represent a specific section of the moral grid in a campaign.

Ravnica does this as well, with most of the alignment chart represented by a Guildmaster. This isn’t completely uniform, however, so there’s wiggle room for an NPC to lean one way or the other as fits the story. There are some pretty safe bets, however, who can be counted on to check certain boxes at all times.

Isperia of the Azorius Senate: Lawful Neutral

Isperia represents the goal of the Azorius; objective devotion to upholding the laws as they are written. She was elected to her position because of her ability to look passed right & wrong, instead focusing solely on interpreting Ravnica’s 10d6 of Psychic damage legal system for all disputes.

Lazav of House Dimir: Neutral Evil

Lazav is the Dimir at their most annoying but least murderous. Blatant disregard for everyone’s privacy, but preference for stealing, secrets, and information over assassination. Lazav infiltrates every Guild, including his own, always determined to stay several steps ahead of any potential threat. This is not to say he won’t kill people if necessary, but his is a cold, “bloodstained calculus” methodology. It’s never personal.

Rakdos of the Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic Evil

On this plane, Rakdos is the living embodiment of Chaotic Evil, a title he takes very seriously. It’s just about the only thing he takes seriously, as he prefers to live without rules and have everyone else do the same. Unrestrained hedonism and mayhem are his bread & butter. You do what you want, whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want, regardless of what anyone or anything else says. No restrictions, no inhibitions, no hesitation. Encouraging this kind of destructive chaos in the streets is the only thing keeping Rakdos from embracing more orthodox Chaotic Evil behavior of slaughtering millions, enslaving thousands, and bowing to no one.

The Obzedat of the Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful Evil

Hard to believe there can be something worse than an actual Demon given permission to encourage every sin imaginable, but that is what the Ghost Council are. The Obzedat exist to stretch, bend, and twist every law designed to maintain order, neutrality, or justice so as to benefit themselves. What’s worse is how the Orzhov play innocent when they do it. Unlike the Dimir or the Rakdos who accept and even embrace society’s interpretation of their actions, the Orzhov refuse to be seen as anything but humble, spiritual, gracious public servants. The very antithesis of what they actually are; arrogant, miserly, manipulative bastards. They will point out exactly which laws they are not breaking, which laws there is insufficient evidence to prove they are breaking, and which laws prevent you from punching them in the face right now.

Trostani of the Selesnya Conclave: Neutral Good

If there’s one thing to be said for Selesnya, it’s that they are rarely the problem. The Conclave is perfectly content to keep to their fields & forests most of the time and focus solely on building up their own Guild. In a city where every Guild has a problem with every other Guild, Selesnya is the only one who at least tries to get along with everyone else. They don’t tend to get involved in matters that don’t concern them, but theirs is always a safe haven for those who seek it. Trostani is made up of three dryads representing Harmony, Life, and Order. You don’t get much more Neutral Good than that. The only problem is that Trostani basically never leave their Guildhall, so their influence only spreads so far. The reason they can live so peacefully is because so little of the chaotic city life overlaps into theirs.

Besides them, everyone has wiggle room and gray area to move around in. Both Niv-Mizzet and Borborygmos are canonically Chaotic Neutral, but with their most prominent personality traits being vanity & anger, respectively, the “Neutral” part of that can go out the window quick. Still, almost every Guild has at least a semblance of a position somewhere on the chart to start from. You can basically count on a member of each Guild to be at least:

Azorius Senate: Lawful

This is the Guild that writes the laws of Ravnica, after all. They literally draw their power from this ancient legal code, so it makes sense that, whether an Azorius leans more towards Good, Evil, or Neutrality, they do so lawfully.

Boros Legion: Good

If the Azorius follow the intellectual letter of the law, the Boros follow the passionate spirit for which said law was originally written. Justice, not legal-ese. Sometimes the law is good enough, but sometimes it fails its citizens. A Boros should be an inspiring force for Good, whether Lawful or Chaotic depends on the individual.

House Dimir: Neutral

The best a Dimir operative can hope to achieve, morally speaking, is neutrality. If you are working for this Guild, you are lying & stealing. Odds are you are infiltrating another Guild to find/steal information to report back to your superior(s). Not every Dimir agent does this willingly, however. Maybe a character only became a Dimir operative after finding out their mentor was. Maybe a character had nowhere else to turn and no one else to depend on. Maybe they just needed House Dimir’s connections to get them close enough to someone in another Guild who wronged them. Whatever the motivation, cling to that gray area of neutrality like your life depends on it. It’s all you’ve got.

Gruul Clans: Chaotic

Gruul are many things. “Lawful” is not one of them. If you’re a member of a Gruul Clan, you’ve definitely got a bit of a temper on you and a strong disregard for authority. Now, a Gruul can absolutely be a force for good, or, conversely, evil. Maybe you joined the Gruul after your ancestral home was bulldozed over for a smelly Izzet facility. Maybe you had a mental breakdown after decades of trying to uphold law in a city where the laws mean jack shit unless there’s a guy in blue sitting at his desk. Maybe you got tired of planting trees and getting stepped on. Maybe you don’t like the pretentiousness of so-called “artists”. Maybe you just like hitting things. Whatever your reason, the Gruul will welcome another anarchist.

Golgari Swarm: Chaotic/Evil/Neutral

The Golgari Swarm are the first Guild where you’re really going to find a lot of diversity in alignment. Some definitely fall into the chasm of Chaotic Evil Necromancers, others stand firmly in the fields of True Neutral Rot Farmer, and some idly wander between the two. Necromancy is pretty normal in Golgari society, and “Evil” can be considered a harsh word to describe it. It’s definitely more normalized in the Undercity than it is on the surface. A lot of typically Evil behavior is like that for the Golgari, lest we forget that this society of giant bugs, necromancers, zombies, medusa, etc also run the sewage system and food stamps program for the city. That said, there are definitely Golgari with sufficient ambition/motivation to become ready-made Big Bads. What is a Lich, after all, but a wizard who says, “No, I’m too important to die!”

Izzet League: Chaotic

If there’s one predictable aspect of the Izzet, it’s that they are unpredictable. For a Guild whose founding principle is “I wonder what would happen if....”, it’s best to accept that you’ll never be Lawful. Your job, as it is, is to look at laws (nature, physics, etc) and poke at them with electrodes to see what happens. Your focus will always be on things that haven’t been written down yet, as opposed to what already has. It’s almost literally impossible to be Lawful and Izzet for that reason alone. As far as Good, Evil, and Neutral go; that’s up to the individual. This experiment could replicate food so we never have to eat Golgari rations again! Or it could replicate essential personnel to prevent understaffing! Or, it could even replicate.... ME (cue maniacal laughter).

Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful

The Orzhov, like the Azorius, draw their power and influence from the laws of Ravnica. Evil is expected, though not mandatory, but Lawful is a requirement. An Orzhov who doesn’t know their way around Ravnica’s laws is a loose end, and the Orzhov don’t allow loose ends to jeopardize their schemes & ambitions. One can absolutely be a Lawful Neutral Orzhov, also known as an Accountant, but such individuals rarely find their way into a life of adventure. A Lawful Good Orzhov can exist, but your greatest adversary will be the large majority of your Guild who sees you as a potential threat to their illicit activities. In which case, you’ll want to know those laws even better than they do.

Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic

Chaos is mandatory, evil is encouraged. By “Evil”, we mean “things people tell you are Evil”. Anything you would do while drunk you should be able to do at all times! There’s really only three rules in the Cult of Rakdos:

Rule #1, Rakdos is #1

Rule #2, JUST DO IT

Rule #3, Don’t be boring

Being Neutral breaks Rule 3, being Good breaks Rule 2 and/or 3, and being Lawful breaks all 3 rules. Which reminds me of the fourth rule:

Rule #4, NEVER break Rule #1

Truthfully, being Chaotic Good or Chaotic Neutral is perfectly fine as long as you don’t impede on someone else’s hedonism without a reason, or lack thereof. As long as you’re being free & crazy, that’s what really matters.

Selesnya Conclave: Good

As stated with Trostani, Selesnya is a pretty consistent force of Good, if nothing else. They don’t really do hate, you know? Life in the Conclave is pretty uniformly Good, so why make trouble? Why can’t everyone just be Good? In short; ‘cause they don’t wanna, none of your business, go hug a tree, and/or because fire is FUN. Lawful fits some individuals but can just get in the way for others. Neutral is pretty solid but some things must call you to act. Chaotic is if you really want to embrace being a Nature Warrior in a planet-sized cityscape. Selesnya is the Guild for goodie two-shoes, as if that’s a bad thing.

Simic Combine: Any

The Simic Combine is the one Guild that can honestly fall anywhere on the alignment chart. The Guild started out as Doctors, Naturalists, and preservers of life. Now it also operates large-scale bioengineering. You can have a Lawful Good Simic Paladin committed to preserving life and health, a True Neutral Simic Forcemage (Druid) dedicated to living a simple life bolstering plant growth, or a Chaotic Evil Simic Wizard who has decided on everyone’s behalf that flippers and gills are now mandatory. Just like science can be used for great Good, great Evil, or mundane routine, the Simic Combine can turn its experiments to any purpose, depending on the individual. And whereas the Izzet are firmly Chaotic, the Simic have the foresight to think ahead before they try an experiment. You can be anything you want in the Simic Combine, just plan it out.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #goblins #d&d #dnd #5e #alignment #roleplaying #dungeons and dragons #dungeons & dragons #good #evil #lawful #neutral #guilds

[neverdoingmuch]

hello! I just wanted to ask, which do you think in the mdzs novel has the most questionable morality? like they have done more bad things but they still had kindness in them somehow (?)

oh!! this is a hard one for me anon! i’m always bad at ranking characters but i’ll do my best!  i’m not sure if you were hoping for like a quick answer or a long one but i’m gonna go with a long one bc that’s always fun and i’ll do a tldr if you don’t want to read through all that? yeah that seems like it’ll work because holy shit i didnt mean for it to get so long (and kind of away from the point of your ask too so sorry about that!)

okay! So, the three main contenders for morally dubious characters are, as far as I’ve seen, Xue Yang, Jin Guangyao, and Wei Wuxian. Not a big surprise, I’m sure. While they’re the more obvious options, they do have a lot of parallels and exhibit a lot of the themes and ideas that MXTX was getting at. I mean, I love looking at Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian as foils, and even other combinations of the three, so my answer will probably be heavy on the comparisons. I do think it’s worth touching on Jiang Cheng as well though. Also, I’ll try to stay as unbiased as I can because there’s a few characters on this list that I just don’t like … like at all.

Jiang Cheng tends to get brushed over a lot when it comes to some of the horrible things he’s done. From promising to protect Wei Wuxian from dogs only to immediately use them as a threat whenever he wants to to leading a siege on a group of people he knows are completely innocent of any crimes to torturing and killing people for thirteen years, he’s definitely not a good person. His concerns lie first and foremost with himself and his. That doesn’t seem like a horrible thing at first – he should owe his loyalty to himself, his family, and his sect – but it does mean that when the Xuanwu’s cave situation happened, his response was to get mad that Wei Wuxian helped Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji. (And that’s why Jiang Fengmian got mad at him!). Later on, when pressure comes from the sects regarding Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng chooses not to stand with him, which, while understandable, isn’t exactly a kind move to someone who called Jiang Cheng his family and was trying to repay the debt the two of them owed Wen Qing. There’s no denying that he does care about Wei Wuxian, but when forced to make hard choices, he picks what’s easiest for himself. In general, I’d say that his sense of morality is selfish and somewhat flighty, but not necessarily questionable, so I’ll move on!

For the usual suspects, I’ll start with Xue Yang because I’m just going to immediately eliminate him from the running. I’ve seen people interpret his character sympathetically or try to justify some of his actions or the way he turned out, but I honestly just can’t. While you could feel sympathetic towards him because of his childhood, we have Wei Wuxian as a direct contrast to Xue Yang, as well as, to a certain degree, Jin Guangyao. Both Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian were street kids who had a horrible time in their youth, but Wei Wuxian was able to leave that behind him. That’s a lot easier to do when you’ve been adopted into a major sect and afforded comforts above your station (and also have terrible coping mechanisms), but even Jin Guangyao’s revenge isn’t quite as wide-spread and malicious. I know it may seem a bit obvious, anon, but some people really do try and treat Xue Yang like he’s morally dubious which confuses me a lot because how?? Even if we do say that he has suitable cause, one of the messages of the novel is that your past experiences don’t justify your future actions, so even within the context of the novel – a novel which is concerned with highlighting the grey areas of morality – Xue Yang isn’t afforded any sympathy. So, there’s really no way to construe him in a positive light. His only moments of kindness come with his time spent in Yi City with Xiao Xingchen, where Xue Yang doesn’t change much – he may have cared for Xiao Xingchen, but Xue Yang still tortured him as he did so. I never quite read that arc as Xue Yang learning to care or being allowed to be kind again so I’d just say that he lacks both morals and kindness. On that basis we can boot him from this competition. 

Jin Guangyao may have been one of the antagonists of the novel, but he wasn't a completely bad person or like The Worst. His main crimes involved getting revenge for slights against him or his mother – being from Nie Mingjue, Jin Guangshan, or any number of other cultivators. I think that, to an extent, his actions are justifiable. While you can contrast this to the way Wei Wuxian gets called a servant's son, they do differ in the fact that Wei Wuxian is afforded a higher level of protection due to him being favoured by Jiang Fengmian. Additionally, when Wei Wuxian does have his birth used against him, he's usually the person who acted out first anyway. Jin Guangyao was insulted for doing little more than exist and was never the person to act out first, yet still faced a near constant onslaught of insults. I'm not saying his actions were justified by any means, but the reasoning behind his actions is sound. The one thing I will note is that he doesn't let go of his grudges – even when everything is all done and dusted and he has everything that he could possibly want from life, he still holds onto that hatred. I remember seeing a post where someone mentioned that characters who were able to move on and change for the better were able to get their happy ending in MDZS, which isn't relevant here but definitely applies to Jin Guangyao when thinking about why he got the ending he did. I don't agree with the degree to which he enacted his revenge against certain characters and I loathe the whole Qin Su situation. I don't care how much he cries about it, he could've at least told her, but I mainly just pretend that part didn't exist. So, he has suitable cause for at least some of his actions, and his other victims can just be classified as necessary collateral rather than being intentional innocent targets, if that makes sense, but he's definitely vindictive and spiteful.

On the other hand, he did a lot of good, too. He's a side character for the most part so Jin Guangyao didn't get the most screen-time, but we do hear of some of the good things he's done. The main example would probably be the watchtowers. One of the interesting things about Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian is that while both of them are capable of kindness, the breadth and scope of Jin Guangyao's is much broader – the watchtowers are an idea that not only showcase how Jin Guangyao's upbringing allows him to see flaws in the cultivation world that the other privileged cultivators can't, but also show how he does care about the people. I've seen a few people try and play it as a spying technique but I don’t really believe that in the slightest. I mean, the point of the towers is to cover the areas where the sects aren't, so I have no idea what Jin Guangyao's people would even be spying on. Anyway, setting up those watchtowers really didn't benefit him any specific way – unless you consider him endearing himself to Lan Xichen and garnering a good reputation with the common folk something that outweighs the absolute nightmare it would have been to make the sects participate in the project to begin with. In a more specific case, Jin Ling's dog was given to him by Jin Guangyao. It's interesting that, despite Jin Ling spending the novel being trailed by Jiang Cheng, the gift that he obviously cares for deeply is from Jin Guangyao. In the Guanyin Temple scene I definitely got the sense that Jin Ling had loved and trusted Jin Guangyao before the truth came out so I'm firmly convinced that he would've been a wonderful and conscientious uncle to him and just generally good to the people who worked for him and/or the commoners.

Okay, now Wei Wuxian!! As far as I've seen, people are relatively good at staying true to his questionable sense of morality. Like with Jin Guangyao, we know that he can be vindictive and pretty excessive when it comes to getting his revenge, but I'm not going to deny that I was definitely rooting for him when he went after Wen Chao and his little gang. The main issue with Wei Wuxian is probably the demonic cultivation – the stigma against it tends to get reduced to it being bad for the user and their temperament etc. etc., but there's more to it than that. I'm no expert on Daoism by any means, but from my understanding desecration of corpses and disturbing the dead is a significant cultural taboo. This isn't just Wei Wuxian doing something no one else can do (though it certainly is true), it's also him doing something no one else should do. I've seen the massacre at Nightless City being added as another tally to his list of crimes, but I honestly think that that isn’t a crime worth adding – he needed to defend himself so he did, simple as that. 

As I mentioned above, Wei Wuxian's kindness is a bit more specific – where Jin Guangyao cares for the people, Wei Wuxian cares for individuals. We see his kindness more clearly, be it because he's the main character or be it because actions are clearer and stronger when it's for a single person or a small group. It's a bit easier, in my opinion, to care about people when you don't have to live with them and face them every day, but Wei Wuxian does. Even though Wei Wuxian led a lot more comfortable life than Jin Guangyao, we never really see Jin Guangyao get his hands dirty in the same way Wei Wuxian does. When a sacrifice needs to be made, Wei Wuxian’s the one who makes it. He doesn't relegate, he does it himself. We know that he would do absolutely anything for those he cares about and that's why he's able to commit a lot of the atrocities he does.

When it comes to deciding between Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian for most questionable morality, I think we need to look at the reasons behind their actions. Wei Wuxian’s sense of morality is definitely nowhere near that of the Lans but he has always been driven by his sense of justice and his love for those around him. In that sense, I've always read him as having a flexible sense of morality rather than a questionable one. I'm not sure how much of it ties in with his sense of duty, but it's definitely a lot. Wei Wuxian is, and always will, fill the role that is required of him – be it the childish and sweet younger brother, the talented but flippant older brother, the monster that wins the war, or the fierce protector that gives his all, Wei Wuxian will twist himself into whatever position he's needed in at that moment. Obviously, he went after Wen Chao for his own benefit, and the corrupting influence of the resentful energy does need to be factored into this, but at his core, Wei Wuxian will always value his duty (to his sect, family, friends, and innocents) and doing what is right over anything else. He may have stumbled along the way, but he did manage to form his own path to uphold all the values that he wanted to. Jin Guangyao, on the other hand, is similar to Jiang Cheng in how he's driven by his own motivations for betterment and revenge, albeit with more grace and intelligence. Jin Guangyao may masquerade as being motivated by any number of causes but he will never do anything at his own risk, and he will always be his top priority. So, while it's a close call between Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao, I'm going to have to go with Jin Guangyao on this one!

tldr; the fandom favourites for questionable morality are xy, jgy, and wwx so i mainly looked at them. I included jc as well but neither xy or jc demonstrate the dichotomy needed so they got eliminated from the running. Jgy and wwx both commit and are willing to commit horrible crimes as well as being capable of caring for others and being kind. but, where wwx is driven by his sense of justice and love for others, jgy is driven by his own motivations for betterment and revenge, making for a more questionable morality (as compared to wwx's more flexible morality).

#mdzs #mdzs text #mdzs meta #dfgrgt i was like hm but what if this post isnt good enough to tag as meta #modao zushi #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #xue yang #jiang cheng #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #asks #legal talks #i figured that since i wasnt giving a very interesting answer i might as well throw in some discussion too #i hope this answers your question anon!! #thanks for asking me i had a lot of fun answering this #in case you couldnt tell from the uhh 2k i wrote #Anonymous #but if you want to send any more asks please do!! i love discussing things like this

[thesaltofcarthage]

Loki takes over: Tom Hiddleston on his new TV series and a decade in the MCU

from Entertainment Weekly

Ten years after Hiddleston first chose chaos in Thor, Marvel’s fan favorite God of Mischief is going even bigger with his time-bending Disney+ show.

By Chancellor Agard May 20, 2021 

Tom Hiddleston is Loki, and he is burdened with glorious purpose: After playing Thor's puckish brother for over a decade in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, no one understands the mercurial Asgardian God of Mischief as well as the actor. He can teach an entire seminar on Loki if given the opportunity — which he actually did during pre-production on his forthcoming Disney+ show. In conversation, Hiddleston quotes lines from his MCU debut, 2011's Thor, almost verbatim, and will playfully correct you if you mistakenly refer to Asgard's Rainbow Bridge as the Bifrost, which is the portal that connects Loki and Thor's homeworld to the Nine Realms, including Midgard, a.k.a. Earth. "Well, the Bifrost technically is the energy that runs through the bridge," he says with a smile. "But nine points to Gryffindor!" And when he shows up to the photo shoot for this very digital cover, he hops on a call with our photo editor to pitch ways the concept could be even more Loki, like incorporating the flourish the trickster does whenever magically conjuring something. The lasting impression is that playing Loki isn't just a paycheck.

"Rather than ownership, it's a sense of responsibility I feel to give my best every time and do the best I can because I feel so grateful to be a part of what Marvel Studios has created," the 40-year-old Brit tells EW over Zoom a few days after the shoot and a week out from Thor's 10th anniversary. "I just want to make sure I've honored that responsibility with the best that I can give and the most care and thought and energy."

After appearing in three Thor movies and three Avengers, Hiddleston is bringing that passion to his first solo Marvel project, Loki, the House of Ideas' third Disney+ series following the sitcom pastiche WandaVision and the topical The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Led by head writer Michael Waldron (Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Heels), the six-episode drama sees Hiddleston's shapeshifting agent of chaos step out from behind his brother's shadow and into the spotlight for a timey-wimey, sci-fi adventure that aims to get to the bottom of who Loki really is. "I wanted to explore slightly more complex character questions," says Waldron. "It's not just good versus bad. Is anybody all good? Is anybody all bad? What makes a hero, a hero? A villain, a villain?"  

Even though Loki — who loves sowing mayhem with his illusion magic and shapeshifting, all with a major chip on his shoulder — has never been one for introspection, the idea of building an entire show around him was a no-brainer for Marvel. When asked why Loki was one of the studio's first Disney+ shows, Marvel president Kevin Feige replies matter-of-factly, "More Hiddleston, more Loki." First introduced as Thor's (Chris Hemsworth) envious brother in Kenneth Branagh's Thor, Loki went full Big Bad in 2012's The Avengers. That film cemented the impish rogue as one of the shared universe's fan favorites, thanks to Hiddleston's ability to make him deliciously villainous yet charismatic and, most importantly, empathetic. The character's popularity is one of the reasons he's managed to avoid death many times.

"He's been around for thousands of years. He had all sorts of adventures," says Feige. "Wanting to fill in the blanks and see much more of Loki's story [was] the initial desire [for the series]."

The Loki we meet on the show is not the one who fought the Avengers in 2012 and evolved into an antihero in Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok before meeting his demise at the hands of the mad titan Thanos (Josh Brolin) in 2018's Avengers: Infinity War. Instead, we'll be following a Loki from a branched timeline (a variant, if you will) after he stole the Tesseract following his thwarted New York invasion and escaped S.H.I.E.L.D. custody during the time heist featured in Avengers: Endgame. In other words, this Loki hasn't gone through any sort of redemption arc. He's still the charming yet petulant god who firmly believes he's destined to rule and has never gotten his due.

Premiering June 9, Loki begins with the Time Variance Authority — a bureaucratic organization tasked with safeguarding the proper flow of time — arresting the Loki Variant seen in Endgame because they want his help fixing all of the timeline problems he caused while on the run with the Tesseract. So there will be time travel, and a lot more of it than in Endgame. As Loki makes his way through his own procedural, he'll match wits with new characters including Owen Wilson's Agent Mobius, a brilliant TVA analyst, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw's Judge Renslayer. The question in early episodes is whether Loki will help them or take over.

"One of the things Kevin Feige led on was, 'I think we should find a way of exploring the parts of Loki that are independent of his relationship with Thor,' or see him in a duality or in relationship with others, which I thought was very exciting," says Hiddleston, who also serves as an executive producer on the show. "So the Odinson saga, that trilogy of films, still has its integrity, and we don't have to reopen it and retell it."

Yet, in order to understand where Loki is going, it's important to see where he came from.

Hiddleston can't believe how long he and Loki have been connected. "I've been playing this character for 11 years," he says. "Which is the first time I have said that sentence, I realize, and it [blows] my mind. I don't know what percentage that is exactly of my 40 years of being alive, but it's substantial."

His time as Loki actually goes a bit further back, to 2009 — a year after Robert Downey Jr. big banged the MCU into existence with Iron Man — when he auditioned for Thor. It's no secret that Hiddleston initially went in for the role of the titular God of Thunder, but Feige and director Kenneth Branagh thought his natural charm and flexibility as an actor made him better suited for the movie's damaged antagonist. "Tom gave you an impression that he could be ready for anything, performance-wise," says Branagh, who had previously worked with him on a West End revival of Checkov's Ivanov and the BBC series Wallander. "Tom has a wild imagination, so does Loki. He's got a mischievous sense of humor and he was ready to play. It felt like he had a star personality, but he was a team player."

Hiddleston fully immersed himself in the character. Outside of studying Loki's history in the Marvel Comics, he also researched how Loki and the Trickster God archetype appeared across mythology and different cultures. "He understood that he was already in something special [and] it was a special character in a special part of that early moment in the life of the Marvel universe where [he] also needed to step up in other ways," says Branagh, who was impressed by the emotional depth Hiddleston brought to the part, especially when it came to how isolated Loki felt in the Asgardian royal family.  

There was a lot riding on that first Thor feature. For one, no one knew if audiences would immediately latch onto a Shakespearean superhero movie partially set on an alien planet populated by the Norse Gods of legend. Second, it was integral to Feige's plans for the shared universe. Loki was supposed to be the main villain in The Avengers, which would not only mirror how Earth's mightiest heroes joined forces in 1963's Avengers #1 but also give Thor a believable reason for teaming up with Iron Man, Captain America (Chris Evans), and the rest of the capes. Feige first clued Hiddleston into those larger plans when the actor was in L.A. before Thor started shooting.

"I was like, 'Excuse me?' Because he was already three, four steps ahead," says Hiddleston. "That took me a few minutes to process, because I didn't quite realize how it just suddenly had a scope. And being cast as Loki, I realized, was a very significant moment for me in my life, and was going to remain. The creative journey was going to be so exciting."

Hiddleston relished the opportunity to go full villain in Avengers, like in the scene where Loki ordered a crowd to kneel before him outside a German opera house: "It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation," says the Machiavellian god. "The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel."

"I just knew that in the structure of that film, I had to lean into his role as a pure antagonist," Hiddleston recalls. "What I always found curious and complex about the way Loki is written in Avengers, is that his status as an antagonist comes from the same well of not belonging and being marginalized and isolated in the first Thor film. Loki now knows he has no place in Asgard."

Loki did find a place within the audience's hearts, though. Feige was "all in" on Hiddleston as his Loki from the beginning, but even he couldn't predict how much fans would love him. Feige recalls the reaction at the 2013 San Diego Comic-Con: "Did we know that after he was the villain in two movies, he would be bringing thousands of people to their feet in Hall H, in costume, chanting his name? No, that was above and beyond the plan that we were hoping for and dreaming of." It was a dream Feige first got an inkling of a year earlier during the Avengers press tour when a Russian fan slipped past security, snuck into Mark Ruffalo's car, and asked the Hulk actor to give Hiddleston a piece of fan art she created. "That was one of the early signs there was much more happening with this quote-unquote villain."  

Despite that popularity, the plan was to kill Loki off in 2013's Thor: The Dark World, but the studio reversed course after test audiences refused to believe he actually died fighting the Dark Elves. Alas, he couldn't out-illusion death forever. After returning in Taika Waititi's colorful and idiosyncratic Thor: Ragnarok, Hiddleston's character perished for real in the opening moments of Infinity War. In typical Loki fashion, before Thanos crushed his windpipe, he delivered a defiant speech that indicated he'd finally made peace with the anger he felt toward his family.  

"It felt very, very final, and I thought, 'Okay, that's it. This is Loki's final bow and a conclusive end to the Odinson saga,'" says Hiddleston, who shot that well-earned death scene in 2017.  

But, though he didn't know it yet, the actor's MCU story was far from over.

When Hiddleston returned to film two scenes in Avengers: Endgame in 2017, he had no idea where Loki portaled off to after snatching the Tesseract. "Where'd he go? When does he go? How does he get there? These are all questions I remember asking on the day, and then not being given any answers," Hiddleston recalls. To be fair, it's likely the Powers That Be didn't necessarily have answers then. While Feige can't exactly recall when the writers' room for Endgame first devised Loki's escape sequence, he does know that setting up a future show wasn't the primary goal — because a Loki series wasn't on the horizon just yet.

"[That scene] was really more of a wrinkle so that one of the missions that the Avengers went on in Endgame could get screwed up and not go well, which is what required Cap and Tony to go further back in time to the '70s," says Feige. Soon after that, though, former Disney CEO Bob Iger approached Feige about producing content for the studio's forthcoming streaming service. "I think the notion that we had left this hanging loose end with Loki gave us the in for what a Loki series could be. So by the time [Endgame] came out, we did know where it was going."

As for Hiddleston, he didn't find out about the plans for a Loki show until spring 2018, a few weeks before Infinity War hit theaters. "I probably should not have been surprised, but I was," says the actor. "But only because Infinity War had felt so final."

Nevertheless, Hiddleston was excited about returning for his show. He was eager to explore Loki's powers, especially the shapeshifting, and what it meant that this disruptive figure still managed to find a seat beside the gods in mythology. "I love this idea [of] Loki's chaotic energy somehow being something we need. Even though, for all sorts of reasons, you don't know whether you can trust him. You don't know whether he's going to betray you. You don't why he's doing what he's doing," says Hiddleston. "If he's shapeshifting so often, does he even know who he is? And is he even interested in understanding who he is? Underneath all those masks, underneath the charm and the wit, which is kind of a defense anyway, does Loki have an authentic self? Is he introspective enough or brave enough to find out? I think all of those ideas are all in the series — ideas about identity, ideas about self-knowledge, self-acceptance, and the difficulty of it."

“The series will explore Loki's powers in a way they have not yet been explored, which is very, very exciting.”

The thing that truly sold Hiddleston on the show was Marvel's decision to include the Time Variance Authority, a move he describes as "the best idea that anybody had pertaining to the series." Feige and Loki executive producer Stephen Broussard had hoped to find a place for the TVA — an organization that debuted in 1986's Thor #372 and has appeared in She-Hulk and Fantastic Four stories — in the MCU for years, but the right opportunity never presented itself until Loki came along. "Putting Loki into his own procedural series became the eureka moment for the show," says Feige.  

The TVA's perspective on time and reality also tied into the themes that Waldron, Loki's head writer, was hoping to explore. "Loki is a character that's always reckoning with his own identity, and the TVA, by virtue of what they do, is uniquely suited to hold up a mirror to Loki and make him really confront who he is and who he was supposed to be," says Waldron. Hiddleston adds: "[That] was very exciting because in the other films, there was always something about Loki that was very controlled. He seemed to know exactly what the cards in his hand were and how he was going to play them…. And Loki versus the TVA is Loki out of control immediately, and in an environment in which he's completely behind the pace, out of his comfort zone, destabilized, and acting out."

To truly dig into who Loki is, the creative team had to learn from the man who knows him best: Hiddleston. "I got him to do a thing called Loki School when we first started," says director Kate Herron. "I asked him to basically talk through his 10 years of the MCU — from costumes to stunts, to emotionally how he felt in each movie. It was fantastic."

Hiddleston got something out of the Loki school, too. Owen Wilson both attended the class and interviewed Hiddleston afterward so that he could better understand Loki, as his character Mobius is supposed to be an expert on him. During their conversation, Wilson pointedly asked Hiddleston what he loved about playing the character.

"And I said, 'I think it's because he has so much range,'" says Hiddleston. "I remember saying this to him: 'On the 88 keys on the piano, he can play the twinkly light keys at the top. He can keep it witty and light, and he's the God of Mischief, but he can also go down to the other side and play the heavy keys. And he can play some really profound chords down there, which are about grief and betrayal and loss and heartbreak and jealousy and pride.'" Hiddleston recalls Wilson being moved by the description: "He said, 'I think I might say that in the show.' And it was such a brilliant insight for me into how open Owen is as an artist and a performer.'"

Everyone involved is particularly excited for audiences to see Hiddleston and Wilson's on-screen chemistry. "Mobius is not unlike Owen Wilson in that he's sort of nonplussed by the MCU," says Feige. "[Loki] is used to getting a reaction out of people, whether it's his brother or his father, or the other Avengers. He likes to be very flamboyant and theatrical. Mobius doesn't give him the reaction he's looking for. That leads to a very unique relationship that Loki's not used to."

As for the rest of the series, we know that Loki will be jumping around time and reality, but the creative team isn't keen on revealing when and where. "Every episode, we tried to take inspiration from different things," says Waldron, citing Blade Runner's noir aesthetic as one example.

"Part of the fun of the multiverse and playing with time is seeing other versions of characters, and other versions of the titular character in particular," says Feige, who also declined to confirm if Loki ties into Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness and/or other upcoming projects.

Making Loki was especially meaningful to Hiddleston because they shot most of it during the pandemic, in late 2020. "It will remain one of the absolute most intense, most rewarding experiences of my life," he says. "It's a series about time, and the value of time, and what time is worth, and I suppose what the experience of being alive is worth. And I don't quite know yet, and maybe I don't have perspective on it, if all the thinking and the reflecting that we did during the lockdown ended up in the series. But in some way, it must have because everything we make is a snapshot of where we were in our lives at that time."

While it remains to be seen what the future holds for Loki beyond this initial season, Hiddleston isn't preparing to put the character to bed yet. "I'm open to everything," he says. "I have said goodbye to the character. I've said hello to the character. I said goodbye to the character [again]. I've learned not to make assumptions, I suppose. I'm just grateful that I'm still here, and there are still new roads to explore."

Additional reporting by Jessica Derschowitz

#loki #loki series #tom hiddleston #entertainment weekly

[charlthotte]

Breaking Through the Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 16

It must have been approximately three hours before we arrived back at school, in the early noon, with almost everyone staying slumbering the entire time - their gentle - and not so gentle snores ringing through the air. While I saved the page I was reading, Coach Oiwake instructed me to wake the rest of the team up.

One by one, I went around the team, waking them - some much easier than others. That was, until I came to rouse Futakuchi, who had no desire to depart from his dreams, sleeping as still as a log. Several shakes of his shoulders later, he still hadn't arisen from his drowse, no matter how hard I shook. Until, Kamasaki, the idiosyncratic schemer with his water bottle in hand, unscrewing its lid, ready to ensue utter chaos. And with a squeeze of the container, the liquid had sprung itself into Futakuchi's face, its coldness stirring him immediately, but unlike the rest, he quickly entered an unbridled rage directed straight at the conniver, Kamasaki.

Subsequently, with a new burst of vigour - Futakuchi leapt from his seat, bounding after his attacker, spitting a slew of obscenities from between his lips. Waving his arms around in unadulterated fury, he relentlessly chased Kamasaki around the car park, screaming that he would get his revenge in due time - causing a whole bucket of catastrophe. Without wasting any time, Takanobu and Coach Oiwake swiftly bounded out from the coach, rearing to hinder the fight between the two feral children. 

It took nothing more than a slight interference from Takanobu, a stern glance - for the two opposing teens to immediately put a halt to their skirmish, sheepishly apologising to each other, even if that was only for show. 

With a defeated sigh, Coach Oiwake beckoned the rest of us out of the coach, gesturing for us to listen to what he had to say, "So, I know that you're all exhausted and you've all worked incredibly hard today - and there isn't much time left of the school day anyway, so it'd be pointless if you went back into lessons now. Therefore, I will be giving you all the permission to head home slightly earlier today. You're all dismissed, I'll see you tomorrow." Then, he bid us farewell, waving us away with an unenthusiastic gesture.

And with that, each one of us grabbed our bags and jackets, eagerly heading out of the school gates, but still being absolutely enervated. However, that meant that the usual train that Takanobu and I would catch wouldn't be coming for quite some time to come - so we would have to loiter around somewhere until that time came. 

After waving goodbye to the rest of the team, Takanobu and I began strolling slowly towards the train station, but since we had time to kill, we turned and passed down different streets, until we came across a dainty, sweet, little café - its outside adorned by trellises; bound by tresses of white wisteria. The entire aura of it was truly welcoming and mellow, practically ushering us inside its doors.

"Hey, Takanobu - do you want to get something to drink?" I asked him, feeling somehow uplifted from the scenery around me.

From the way he responded, I could feel the exhaustion exuding from him - his eyes drooping gracefully while he sedately nodded his head, apparently too tired to entertain a conversation.

As soon as I walked through the doors the delightful aroma of pastries and beautiful beverages floated towards me, swimming through the air. I took a deep breath, savouring the delicious fragrance, before I ordered drinks for both Takanobu and myself - but before I could get my wallet out to pay for what I was purchasing - beside me, Takanobu delved into his bag at the speed of light in an attempt to get to his wallet, too. I gave him a glance to cast my disapproval, firmly placing my own upon the counter to pay. "How about we call this a reward for playing super well?" I chuckled, tilting my head to the side.

Takanobu sighed, seemingly defeated, nodding before sinking into the collar of his jacket. It genuinely looked like he would fall to sleep at any given second.

In a small matter of minutes, our drinks were ready - but rather than stay inside, we both made the unconscious decision to sit on one of the tables outside. After all, the sun was shining radiantly, along with the wisteria adorned trellises compelled me there, as if its aura gave me a sense of belonging.

"(Y/N)?"

My eyes flicked away from my drink, landing upon his face, "Yes, what is it, Takanobu?"

He pointed to the abundances of wisteria around us, his eyes filled with adoration as he scanned the scene, "What do they mean?"

Giggling at him softly, I answered his question - but, before I did so - a warm pang palpitated inside me. Was it my stomach? My heart? I couldn't tell. "Like most things, wisteria can have more than one meaning. First, it can symbolise the longevity and figurative immortality of life, illustrious beauty and absolute infatuation." Suddenly I halted my explanation, hesitating when I spoke those last two words, for some reason unbeknownst to me.

'Absolute infatuation'

Sensing that I had zoned out, I quickly carried on with my diatribe, "But, every part of the wisteria is poisonous, toxic, deadly even. Especially since it is a rapidly growing plant. Now, I'm not completely sure about this, but I'm quite positive that that gives the wisteria its other meaning - warning profusely about how dangerous 'absolute infatuation' is - and how quickly it can grow, and eventually, take over everything you once were. After all, unfiltered, unbridled love... it's terrifying." I looked down at the floor, slightly embarrassed by the subject at hand. 

Faintly, I could hear a soft chuckle from Takanobu's side of the table. That was until, he said something, something so quiet that even I struggled to hear him. Two words that purely shook me to my core. It may have simply just been me overreacting, but alas - I believe it was called for.

"You're amazing."

In an instant, my eyes gaze shot straight up to meet his. My eyes widened and my mouth parted slightly, hanging agape in revelation. I wanted desperately to reply to him, but at the time, I was incapable of forming coherent dialogue. Wringing my hands together, I laughed awkwardly, trying desperately to form a reply.

After taking several shallow breaths of reassurance, I made my best attempt at speaking, despite my mind had gone into complete overdrive, "Thank you, Takanobu... You're rather amazing, too."

My heart thrummed at a pace so terrifyingly loud that I worried that everyone within a kilometre radius could hear it. I felt stupendously awkward after that, with my gaze darting from place to place, searching for something to distract my mind from the inner turmoil I was experiencing.

After shifting my line of sight many times, the only thing I was drawn to was Takanobu's face. It was like I was magnetised towards it. Unequivocally compelled towards him.

Our eyes met each other, and in that instant that they did, everything froze, everything fell silent, the world stopped turning. In those few seconds, no one existed but us.

And even though, every thought in my head told me to turn away - I was frozen too, our gazes seemed to be permanently latched to one another, neither one of us wanting to break away first. 

However, after a small eternity of making unrelenting eye contact, I was the first to break away, staring straight down at my beverage until I had finished every single last drop of it.

Neither of us spoke until we were walking back to the train station, following a road that I had never come across before. But, the complete opposite could be said for Takanobu - as he abruptly tensed up and stopped moving entirely when we passed one house in-particular. Its garden and exterior were completely barren, devoid of any wisp of joyousness - every inch of the walls covered in a dull, draining grey. There was no light or life exuding from the inside of the house at all. Its overall lack of spirit made it seem like someone had abandoned it, many eons ago.

Noticing how visually distressed Takanobu was, I finally broke the silence, "Hey, what's the matter?" I asked.

Before he replied, he swiftly moved further ahead until that house was out of his line of sight, "Nothing, it's just a place from my childhood." He whispered, careful to make as little noise as possible.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I questioned, growing increasingly concerned about the way Takanobu was acting.

"Yeah." He hesitated for a beat, "Could we please go to the train station now?" His eyes shining with an immense tone of pleading.

"Oh... Of course." I said, leading Takanobu away from the house that seemed to be haunting him.

It took significantly less time than usual to arrive at the station, as Takanobu was walking at a much speedier than what he normally did. Which, ending up being quite a fortunate thing, as we only got onto the train with as much time as a blink of an eye able to pass, before it would have set off without us. 

However, nearly straight after we sat down, Takanobu's head began to loll downwards - snapping it back up if it ever drooped too low. Eventually, he leant against the window beside him, his eyes fluttering open and closed - his entire face relaxing as he began to fight a losing battle between him and the valiant forces of slumber.

While he drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but admire the view in front of me. The way the Sun hit his face in the most perfect manner, the way his chest slowly rose and fell with each inhale and exhale. Something about it was just so ethereal, and even though my conscience told me to look away, I couldn't divert my line of sight. Once again, my eyes were frozen in place.

Just before the train arrived at my stop, I gingerly took Takanobu's shoulder in my hand, rousing him softly, waking him from his slumber - and as he rose from the depths of his dreams, his eyelashes fluttered delicately across his face, fanning perfectly over his cheeks. But, as I got up to leave the train, so did he - not realising that he wasn’t yet at his destination. He must have have been confused, nothing more. 

As soon as we departed from the carriage, Takanobu immediately began conversing with me, "(Y/N), would you mind if you came to see Shiro with me?" He gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down in some sort of trepidation. "I don't think I could do it alone."

I wasted no time with replying to him, "I wouldn't mind that at all, not one bit." I said, looking into his eyes, noticing something, some kind of aura shrouding him - one that I had never seen before - and much to my chagrin, I couldn't determine exactly what it was. Was it fear? Anxiety? Or perhaps something completely different?

Looking down at the pavement as I walked back to Takanobu's house, I could not hinder a peculiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, making it churn and flip around inside of me. And once again, I was questioning all that I knew. Putting all those queries to one side, I tried to coerce myself into believing that it was only a worrisome feeling for the sake of Shiro's health. But, deep down - I somehow knew that that wasn't true at all, I was only masking what thing was truly there - as a voice inside me, told me I wouldn't be able to handle the magnitude of the way I really felt.

Even by the time we had arrived at his house, I hadn't once let my vision deter from the path I was walking, it was almost as if I couldn't bare to look Takanobu straight in his eyes while he would look back into mine, in fear of something unknown.

While Takanobu opened the door to his house, the unease exuding from him was truly insurmountable, so much so, that anyone in the prefecture could feel it.

And that was completely understandable.

He didn't come running, nor did he walk over.

It was almost as if he didn't exist anymore.

Instead, he laid on the sofa, a morsel of what he was before - bones protruding under his skin, his fur thinned and brittle, his eyes no longer holding the spark of life that had been there before.

Shiro was merely a husk now.

Beside me, Takanobu's legs wobbled at the sight set before him - almost dropping to his knees in disbelief. 

Immediately, he ran to Shiro's side, seemingly forgetting his exhausted state - stroking the dog's back feebly, his hands quivering as he did so - careful not to disturb his friend before him. 

Ejiri must have noticed the sound of the door unlocking, quickly bounding down the stairs to greet us - wearing an expression showing both happiness and sorrow. Without wasting a second, she hurried towards the cowering form of her nephew, wrapping her arms around him with much vigour - truly ecstatic to see him again. Takanobu sunk into her arms, even though, he stood a whole head higher than her - resting his head upon her shoulder, beginning to silently sob into her, his breath hitching and releasing at an unkempt rhythm.

"Don't cry, honey... He's here now and that's all that matters in this moment." Ejiri spoke, patting her nephew's back in an effort to calm him down, "I'm here for you, darling... I always will be." She smiled serenely, "I travelled halfway across the world for you, I dropped everything I had for you - but, I'd do it again infinitely. I will never let you feel isolated again. So, know that I will always be there - no matter the time, no matter the place, no matter what." She reached up and ruffled Takanobu's hair, guiding him towards the sofa where Shiro laid. Then, she turned to me - her arms outstretched, carrying a grateful grin on her face, "And you, my dear - I can't express my gratitude for you enough. You have helped my boy greatly, especially in these not so nice times." After briskly patting my arm, she popped up from the sofa, heading towards the kitchen.

Looking over to the sofa, I saw a sight so beautiful, yet heart breaking - seeing the dreary eyes of Shiro droop in a daze, seeing the immense hurt burning behind Takanobu's eyes. I made way over to them, kneeling on the sofa next to the sick animal, stroking his back, careful not to cause him any pain.

As Ejiri came back into the room, a steaming mug in hand - Takanobu lifted his gaze away from Shiro, "How long?" He uttered, his eyes beginning to prick with a single tear.

She sighed, preparing herself for the news she was about to deliver, "Three days at best." She whispered, furrowing her brows, "I'm sorry."

Takanobu's arms dropped suddenly, in shock - bringing one of them up to cover his mouth, he whimpered, squinting his tears away. His body began trembling, shaking along with his lamentation, his breaths becoming laboured. In that moment, there was something in his eyes, a heart wrenching realisation that what was to come was absolutely inevitable. His face froze in place as tears continued to cascade down his cheeks.

Feeling his sorrow alongside him, I rushed over to his side by pure instinct - comfortingly caressing his back, while leaning my head on his shoulder. The sheer amount of pain he was feeling genuinely hurt me, too.

Takanobu took in an unsteady breath, "(Y/N), will you be there... When it happens?" He spluttered.

I twisted my head upon his shoulder, now facing his tortured expression, "Of course I will."

He smiled slightly, trying to hide the pain - wrapping one of his arms around my shoulder, rubbing into it gently with the pad of his thumb. We stayed like that for a while, enjoying each other's company while we could - Takanobu never letting Shiro leave his sight for a single second, as if he thought if he looked away - he'd disappear.

Eventually, enough time had passed, so that Takanobu's exhaustion had caught up with him. So, I shimmied from underneath his arm, slowly manoeuvring him so he leant upon the sofa, his head resting next to Shiro.

Not wanting to impose upon their household any longer, I grabbed my belongings, heading towards the door. But before I did, Ejiri came shuffling towards me, signalling for me not to depart just yet. "One minute, (Y/N)! I wanted to give you Takanobu and I's phone numbers before you go." She paused, handing me a slip of paper with two numbers on it, "For when the time comes." 

I took the note, thanking her for her hospitality - leaving the house in quite the sullen mood.

Upon arriving home, I was greeted by an overly enthusiastic embrace from my father and a lack of her presence from my mother. The usual.

My dad requested that I told him all about the trip to Tokyo - but of course, I left out some of the details - for the sake of my dignity. And in return, he began drabbling about his recent experiences at work, leaving me truly enthralled by his anecdotes. After a long while, he ended his side of the conversation - finally letting me head upstairs into my room. 

While I unpacked my bags, I took the hydrangea out from between the pages of my book, admiring it for a minute or two, before putting it back in the book - letting it rest there as a memory from the trip. I smiled at the thought of it, and how little of a thing that flower was - yet the amount of significance truly resonated with me.

For the rest of the week, everything flowed by rather smoothly, lessons being as average as they could be, Futakuchi being his usual self. Except for Takanobu, who seemed to become more and more solemn as each hour passed by. I didn't think that any person could ever appear that doleful. That was, until late Friday night, as I laid on my bed, trying desperately to fall asleep - my phone began to ring. On the other end was Takanobu's voice, tremulous from the fact he was crying. He didn't need to say much, I knew what was happening. His voice rang out...

"It's time..."

#aone #aone takanobu #aone x reader #aone takanobu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 39: The Knight Bus

BANG!

A sensation he was sadly familiar with but still not quite accustomed too, Regulus still wasn't expecting to be launched out of his seat the second he'd found himself stable again. There was a rushing sensation all around him, as if he were trying to find purchase at high speeds even if he felt no actual wind on him. Forcing one foot after the other back to his feet, he caught a glimpse out the window to a neighborhood he had no hope of identifying, because the second he realized it, there was another tremendous BANG! and he was right back on the floor having to start all over again.

The Knight Bus, his mind helpfully supplied as he began the arduous process again of stumbling back to his feet now in search of something with purpose. Though he'd never been on it himself, tales from others at school left him in no doubt, even as he spotted Evans at the far end of the bus in the same circumstances muttering obscenities with their current location mixed in. The two of them must be on the top floor, with only four available beds, two on each end clinking together like pendulums, and a staircase visible leading down.

It was the first time he'd found himself alone with her, but even given their circumstances, he found it a rather inconsequential thing. Maybe it was the fact that he still hadn't come to terms with everything he'd grown up with being shaded in a lie, maybe it was surviving multiple life threatening attempts in her presence, but whom he once would have considered a mortal enemy and someone to hold nothing more than contempt over, he instead found himself struggling to her side and offering a hand up.

She didn't accept, and he wasn't surprised. He couldn't even be angry, he wasn't even sure himself how he would have reacted letting her do something as casual as brush skin with him. Every part of him should have told him how repulsive that was, but really how was that any worse than the Dark Lord being a fraud? What was the truth anymore?

BANG!

Now the two were a tangle of limbs upon each other, and he more than happily disentangled himself and made his way past her to the staircase, she right behind him now without any discomfort of her own to the proximity. Whatever her problem with him was, a streak of pride or something of her own personal vendetta, he was well aware he had no room to judge her for it after he'd let himself be so easily swayed to judge everyone else the last fourteen years of his life.

On the next flight he found Smith and Longbottom supporting each other and trying the impossible feat themselves of navigating past rows of beds swishing this way and that on wheels, several colliding with them frequently, to the next set of stairs. Neither had the book, and with no echoing words around them they all assumed the Marauders hadn't yet managed to come across it in the chaos either, so down below they went.

With another obnoxious BANG! he finished his decent by crash landing below, and so viewing upside down Sirius at the wheel and trying with maddening inaccuracy to drive the bus in some semblance of a direction, Lupin beside him shouting something at the top of his lungs that were both profanities and unhelpful directions, while Potter and Pettigrew were trying desperately to stay stable long enough to draw their wands.

"This is insane," Longbottom spoke clearly beside him what they were all thinking.

"It's driving itself, I swear I'm not doing it!" Sirius snapped back, or at Lupin, or at the steering wheel itself for all he knew. It seemed true, as Regulus righted himself but stayed on all fours for now which seemed safest, that his brothers white knuckled grip had no sway in the maddening jerk that sent them all crashing into the same side of the bus.

"I found it!" Smith called in relief, having fallen hard into the last available bed on the row and pulling herself free with the book.

"Get on with it then," Potter pleaded as he was forced to magically repair his glasses from the last fall.

The chapter title was self explanatory, as if anyone needed clarification of where they were this time.

Harry's panic over his situation seemed laughable in comparison to theirs. Even as the delusional kid thought he was going to go to Azkaban for some underage magic of all things there was yet another BANG! and they were hurtling across an open valley, one lone house in the distance that still had to be moved from their path as Sirius kept trying in vain to do anything about the steering wheel unsuccessfully.

Alice shivered slightly as she kept on to Harry feeling threatened in that innocent Muggle neighborhood. Perhaps their circumstances, while far from pleasant, were to be hailed as much a good thing as the bus arriving for Harry in that moment as well. The kid had enough prior experience that she certainly believed something more was watching him than the stray dog he described. The Marauders were likely thinking the same, Black even let go of the wheel as he and his friends exchanged uneasy and confused looks.

A massive dog being mentioned in the exact same time frame as a Black was being mentioned in Harry's life? If James hadn't just had his head knocked into another window by this infernal bus, he would have done so himself just to make sure it was still attached. The four friends kept exchanging very worried looks as Smith kept going on, and then he swore his heart stuttered to a complete stop when an article from the Daily Prophet ruined their life.

Not Sirius. It was the only thought that mattered as there was yet another tremendous BANG! and this time he had to grasp onto Sirius to stay upright, and of course he caught him. The two were now grasping the steering wheel, his best mate looking dazed as if the words never quite sunk in.

Remus listened to Alice read the article with a detached horror. One part listened to every detail stuttered out, cataloging everything like he would any stupid rumor he heard in school. He couldn't look away from Sirius through it.

As Alice fumbled through the rest of the article and finished, the most silence this bus could contain managed to linger. The engine still revved in their ears, the beds all crashed together like cymbals, and the presence of magic in the air filling yet another BANG! could not be unheard, but none was louder than the stillness of the eight of them as this news sunk in.

Regulus burst out laughing. It was more empty noise really, his eyes were buggered practically out of his head and it was very clear he was now clinging to a bed-frame for more support than their mad journey required with that white-knuckled grip.

"Err, Alice, how about we ah, continue this back upstairs-" Frank began, already trying to make his way there.

Prongs immediately surged forward, anger blistering off of him with such intensity Peter wondered if the windows would implode. "What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"That we'd like to not have to spend anymore time around you lot than we have to," Alice snapped back at once, only half his size but crossing her arms and backing to where her boyfriend was now, though she'd hesitated to follow him a mere second ago.

Clearly sensing danger and always trying to diffuse it first, Remus stepped forward and tried to pull him back, "let it go Prongs, if they think-"

"That damned paper doesn't mean anything!" James was red in the face now, more angry than any of them had ever seen him. "And I don't appreciate the insinuation you think otherwise! Sirius has never, would never-"

"What?" Evans snapped, getting in between him and Alice with her own fiery glare that was much more familiar. "Tried to blow his way out of a problem? Attacked others to get what he wants?"

Peter's heart actually stuttered in his chest with fear as a muscle started ticking in Prongs jaw, he looked for a second like he'd quite like to hit something, and he'd certainly never looked that way at Evans.

BANG!

The new location outside only succeed in tossing them all about again, but of course the tension only grew worse the more chaos their surroundings offered. Remus grasped James' shoulder firmly now and actively tried to pull him away from the three.

Sirius still hadn't moved.

"Come on Prongs, it's a bloody stupid article, probably some misunderstanding-"

"People don't get sent to Azkaban for misunderstandings!" Frank shot back, his hand twitching uncomfortably for his wand.

BANG!

"Can someone please finish the ruddy chapter and get us off this bus!" Regulus interrupted, a gray pallor to his skin as he watched the lot. He'd made no move to intervene in the fight, but it was as clear to him as anyone that's what was about to happen.

"Happily," Alice pacified by sitting down where she was for whatever stability that could give her.

Nobody really took in another word, not Harry's childish worry about whatever trouble he'd caused and certainly little care for whatever the Minister was doing arriving. Frank and Evans remained tense and right beside Alice as if fearing an attack any second. Moony alternated between keeping his hand on Prongs who never stopped glaring at the lot, and watching Sirius, who seemed to have locked down.

Peter and Regulus were left to stand across from each other, to watch and wonder not for the first time if they were going to get out of this alive.

HPHPHPHP

Ah chaos, the best friend a writer needs to advance the plot in awkward silence. I regret nothing! Hope you enjoyed!

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #Wolfstar #PoA #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #James Potter #Regulus Black #Peter Pettigrew #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith

[atxlxs]

Beyond The Veil: Chapter 6

A glance at the time told Eras that Muska was still stuck in the meeting. Unsurprisingly, but also disappointing. She had hoped the meeting would go faster so Muska would get home an hour ago. She really wanted to get food started so she could relax, the nerves of Musa going to a highschool had eaten at her all day.

Great, she was starting to sound like an actual mother.

*sigh*

Pulling out her phone, Eras opened the phone app and pressed call on Muska’s contact. Conveniently titled ‘parasite’. It rang for a total of 3 times before it clicked, suddenly two voices flooded through the phone. One, that was Muska, the other was definitely Nedzu. So the witch put her on speaker phone. Nedzu was probably trying to get her to answer more questions then they agreed to answer.

The chirpy “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your meal but if I may inquire, is your guardian real or not? I know you're older than most of us but as you said you are a minor for your kind. We would like to get you in a safe environment for the time you spend learning here and research revealed nothing but a name, Viridis Eras if I remember correctly.” was surprisingly soft and sounded genuinely sincere.

Maybe, Eras wouldn’t have to worry constantly about her friend.

“I am very much a real person, Nedzu.” She said simply, her voice coming across smooth and melodic. The other side of the line went dead quiet. It almost made her chuckle but she refrained. Intimidation was hard to maintain through giggles.

“Hey Eras, what's up?” Muska asked, a hint of relief in her voice. Ah, Nedzu definitely was trying to pry more details out of her.

“The person that actually needs to eat physical food is not in my house to eat it. Since school ended 2 hours ago and my parasite wasn’t here yet despite me stating it was a pasta night, I got worried.” Eras responded, ignoring the soft “actually need to eat?” from the background of the call.

She wasn’t lying. After school had ‘released’ she had been checking the clock every 10 minutes. Anxiety over what could be happening kept her from focusing so she had sat down on the couch and glared at the fireplace for the entire 2 hours.

So what if she was overly worried, and for nothing it seemed? She has had bad experiences and experience is always the best teacher.

“Awe, was my sugar mommy worried about me?” Muska said, her tone teasing and Eras could pick up the faint sounds of choking from the other side of the line. Of course she would throw that term around in front of others.

“You wish, gremlin child.”

“Old woman.”

“Bitch witch”

“What kind of pasta?”

“Spaghetti, homemade, and with a homemade roasted garlic seasoned meat sauce. As well as a salad but Who knows if you’ll have the appetite for it. It’ll be there though.” Eras had gotten up at this point and was shuffling around the kitchen. “Will you need a ride home?”

“Nah, Nedzu is practically vibrating in his place at the thought of another veil member, which he has correctly hypothesized you are, and would most definitely stalk the gate for you.” Muska returned, amusement bleeding into her tone as Eras caught snorts from around the room she was in.

Suddenly, a cough snapped her attention back to the conversation as said rat cleared his throat.

“As amusing as this is, Before you leave would I be able to ascertain who or what you are? Considering the age of the witch present, for her to address you as ‘old woman’ I assume you must be someone who has lived far longer.” Nedzu stated, interest coating his words.

Before she could respond someone in the back of the room, a gruff voice that was deep as fuck holy shit, spoke up with a warning present in his voice.

“Nedzu, I don’t believe interrogating them will get you any of your answers.” the voice said, agitation and resignation in his tone. He was probably well versed in Nedzu.

“Thanks Aizawa-sensei.” Muska said, a little choppy on the sensei but that was expected honestly. Well, nice to know the name of the voice. However, Eras wanted to make the rat suffer a bit. He spent a few hours interrogating so she might as well dangle an interesting opportunity in his face and not allow him to reach for it.

“Yes thank you Aizawa-san, I don't mind telling you what race I am , Nedzu. I am also much older than the teen witch in front of you at the moment. Yet, alas,” she said with faux disappointment and sorrow, “I seem to be needed somewhere else. The pot that hasn’t even begun to boil yet is very threatening to me so I simply must end the call here. See you at home bestie.”

With a response of “You got it bestie.” the line clicked and went dead. Snickering to herself as she finally started the stove.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aizawa Shouta has had several revelations as the day passed. First of all, the broken bone boy was very determined to keep his place in the heroics class. He’s going to be a problem child, he has a sixth sense for them at this point. Secondly, one of his students is an enigma. She looks to be a bit older than 16, maybe 17, yet is over 2 and a half fucking centuries old. When he had first come across the term ‘beyond the veil’ he knew there were probably things that far surpassed humans in different areas but that old? That counts as a teen?

With a heavy sigh, Shouta sat through one of the wildest faculty meetings he had the displeasure of being forced to attend. That was saying something considering his employer was Nedzu. Granted, he wouldn’t have skipped this one anyways when knowing answers to the veil would be given. Understandably, not all of the answers, but now they had a firm idea about what actually lived beyond it. Also understandably, the new information was perplexing. Shouta wouldn’t touch any more information with a ten foot pole until whatever he was just given was processed.

As Viridis left the room, thankfully less chaotic than when she had entered, Shouta let out a sigh of relief. He rubbed his hands down his face and contemplated what he just heard. Finally, they had an overall summary of the types of races present in the veil and a somewhat structured hierarchy that would have to be explained further at some point in case they stumbled into the veil now but that could wait.

Shouta shivered as he remembered how oppressing the air had gotten in the room during Viridis’s talk about the forgotten. He had met hardened villains that had less presence and conviction then she did during her rant. They would need to hear about the taboos as well, he really didn’t want to be branded thank you very much.

Luckily, the goblin of a teen did actually have a guardian that existed. (No ‘Zashi, his jaw was firmly in place and had not dropped when the person spoke, even if it did that was warranted because he's sure he saw even nemuri marvel at how smooth it was, and no he did not snicker when they obviously baited Nedzu.) They wouldn’t have to worry about finding a place for them to stay safely while attending their school. This brought up some new considerations though. Groaning he slammed his head onto the table dramatically, the other teachers swiveling their heads to snap their gaze to him.

“Nedzu, she’s probably already done with the general education curriculum. If we don’t find a way to occupy her, we’ll have to deal with whatever chaos she makes to entertain herself while bored in class.”

All the teachers nodded in agreement. Fear flashing through their eyes at the idea. The flashy pro’s were unusually subdued after that showing. Whether from the presence of something completely unknown to them that was downright terrifying, or just the way Viridis acted and spoke to Nedzu, Shouta wasn’t sure.

Honestly though? Rat-man was his new favorite nickname to call the chimera in his head, it was stuck and was hilarious.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of the second day of Muska's highschool life, Eras felt off, like something bad was going to happen kind of off.

When she had ‘woken’ from her vegetative state that morning everything just felt wrong. Then as she got up to start the day things just kept happening. None of them were good.

First, she found out that Tibbles had knocked over her higher end coffee grounds. (Accidentally of course, Tibbles may see them as servants but he was smarter than most and knew better than to ruin something a vampire enjoys. Eras could hold a grudge and it isn’t pretty) Next, she was informed that she had 4 business meetings, back to back, since there was a supply disruption and her pseudo-bosses that she pays to handle shit like this were out of their depth and had never experienced this before. Great.

Rushing, Eras made the coffees out of the cheaper brand and it hurt her soul to do it, coffee was sacred, and ran back to the observatory where her closet was to get dressed.

Grabbing out one of her many business related outfits, she threw on the first one she saw and paced over to her full length mirror to adjust it. A forest-pine green silk button down, the top three buttons were left open and a mesh underbust corset tied it together and tucked it into black dress pants. She tugged on black platform heels that came to a stop above her ankles. A charcoal black coat that stopped at ankle length hung off her shoulders. Since fall was starting to approach, the days have gotten cooler so it was there just in case.

Not that she actually felt the cold, she was technically undead, but the aesthetic was important.

A few extra accessories to tie it together, a silver chain necklace and several statement rings that were scattered on both hands along with earring sets, and after fixing her middle part she was done. Black circle sunglasses were grabbed absentmindedly through habit as she left the room. The sun was bright and Eras’s eyes were made for the night.

When she walked back into the kitchen to grab her thermos filled with a caramel macchiato she heard a wolf whistle from the dining table. Spinning around, she noticed Muska staring at her with surprise.

That was warranted, Eras dressed like a gym obsessed hobo most of the time.

“Holy shit, Lookin hot as fuck, Damn bestie. where are you heading to?” Muska said as she idly sipped her coffee while the phone she was scrolling through laid on the table, opened up to some kind of story based on the paragraphs of text she was seeing.

“Thanks, I have 4 business meetings that are emergencies because apparently a food supplier that I relied on had to recall everything, so I have to go down and explain what to do and listen to suggestions all day. I should be done by the time your school gets out so I’ll swing by and pick you up if time favors me.” Eras rambled a bit towards the end while fidgeting with her cup.

She was never able to gracefully accept a compliment outside of a text message, no matter how many years Muska’s been with her and hyping her up. Grabbing her keys, this time to her car and not the motorcycle (no matter how much she loves that bike she doesn’t want her hair ruined before she gets to the meeting, she's about to rip into some people.) She turned to Muska.

“Want a ride there?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

A total of 3 minutes passed as Muska’s sleep-addled brain caught up and she nodded, downing the rest of her coffee like a shot and slipping into her room to change into the uniform.

That was also a new weird thing, Eras was definitely not used to seeing Muska in anything but various black outfits with the occasional color. She missed seeing the edgy outfits and platform heels that were always an unneeded height since Muska was fucking taller than her. (she could change that but she was comfortable with 163cm)

Once Muska came back out, a quick pet to Tibbles given on the way which gave them a meow (Muska immediately glared at the cat. Sadly, Eras was at a loss as to what the cat was saying. Again.) and they both walked out of the door. Despite living on a mountain, they had a stone path that led to a fairly sleek building that blended in with the surrounding trees and mountain terrain. Once inside, parked along the furthest wall and facing the exit were three vehicles. The motorcycle that Eras had driven Muska with on the exam day, a military grade jeep that was blacked out and decked out, and finally, a 1970 volvo. It was a pastel mustard color and belonged to Muska.

Swinging open the door to the Jeep, Eras climbed in and started the car. Opening the garage door with the touch of a button and left the moment Muska was strapped in.

The ride to UA was easy and calm, except for the blaring of Muska’s playlist that Eras didn’t dare tell her to turn down because it was one of her favorite songs and she was loudly singing along. Pulling up a block away from the highschool, Nedzu precaution, Eras waved Muska out of her car and yelled another “KICK ASS WITCH BITCH!” before cackling as she drove away from a very aggressive middle finger from her friend.

Time to go deal with meetings that could have been a conference call.

“I AM-” A loud voice sounded from the hallway, startling Muska from her glare down with PomPom, “COMING THROUGH THE DOORWAY LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!”

That is, not how normal people enter a room what the fuck?

The newest blond in the class stood at around 200 fucking centimeters tall and wore spandex like a second skin. In american colors. Muska had never paid attention to the #1 Pro hero before but the more she looks at this walking american flag the more she’s grateful for not paying attention. Then something caught her attention.

The man had the same leaking weird energy as the twink from the faculty room.

How the hell did the solid brick wall of meat turn into the skeleton of a man she had seen literally yesterday????? Not only that but the leaking energy seemed to travel through the classroom, as if closer to the source of what's gathering it. As she followed the line of energy she noticed it stopped in front of her, going right into greenie….

What did she just stumble upon?

This feels like national secret type shit.

She tuned back in to hear the hero describe the battle trails they would be facing. 2 on 2 battles with full quirk use and indoors with a fucking bomb to locate. Paper mache but still, this was kinda advanced. She did, however, perk up when he mentioned costumes.

That, she was extra excited about.

Despite not really coming to UA for the hero aspect but more of the quirk training aspect, Muska still felt pretty excited about the costume. Also, she would legally be allowed to beat people up as a hero as long as they were classified as criminals or villains. That sounds like a good stress reliever within reason. She wasn’t going to just maul them. That’d be an abuse of power.

After being dismissed to change, Muska ran up to snatch her costume and bolted to the locker room. She had some say in the weapons but Eras had actually taken the time to design the costumes basics in order to cover everything that might be flung after her. It was also a way to help placate her. For some reason Eras had been extra fidgety ever since she started going to school. There were some things she didn’t know about Eras’s past, but she definitely knew that there was some kind of trauma there, and whatever caused it happened in a school setting.

Opening the case, the first thing Muska noticed were the knee high steel reinforced combat boots that had armor built into it to act as knee braces as well. Next to them was a pair of mirror sunglasses that were purple, placed on top of a letter.

[You’re probably wondering about the glasses. I sent them into a support company for a little upgrade to help you out on the field. They're not necessary so if you want to skip wearing them that's fine but at least check out the surprise I’ve added ok?

Kick ass witch bitch

-E.V ]

Placing the sunglasses on her face Muska almost jerked them off in surprise as a cat mascot character appeared on the right side and waved before jumping across the glasses and they powered up, showing an HUD layout. Something said ‘put on suit to connect’ but that was ignored in favor of the other abilities. The right side had facial recognition software and a tracker for things that are marked in view. There was also a marker that she could activate to aim weapons, like a video game. The left had the ‘connect to suit’ warning at the top but underneath that was a mini map of the surrounding area using a fucking satellite. How the fuck?

Taking them off for now, Muska went and picked up her suit to throw on. There were Two layers. First was a black body suit with colored accents that glowed when wanted, right now they were purple but they could change colors. It was Kevlar and another special type of alloy to make it shock resistant, fireproof, frost proof, and immune to knives and bullets. Next, was a cropped hoodie and shorts which stopped at the upper thigh. The cropped hoodie was purple and the hood part of it looked like a witch hat, the long point fashioned after the stereotypical black witch hat.

There was a tactical belt that wrapped around her waist and connected to two belts that wrapped around her thighs below the shorts. The belts that went vertically on the side of her thighs held pockets of medical supplies and smoke bombs. The previous on the left and latter on the right. The belts that were wrapped around her thighs carried the pockets that held her brass knuckles. The belt around her waist held the whip so it dangled while coiled up off her right hip. Slipping on the boots and lacing them up surprisingly quick, the full outfit was on.

Putting on the glasses once more Muska discovered why it said to put on the full suit. At the top left of the sunglasses was a full body scan that continuously displayed her vitals. It was green for now but if she retained injuries it would slowly move between green to yellow to red. Red being critically or fatally injured.

Holy SHIT Eras! This is some Tony Stark shit?!?

Tags:

@baguettehead

#bnha #mha #mha co #bnha fanfic #mha fanfiction #au

[atamascolily]

Shield of Lies, continued.

What would my mother think of me? he wondered, and it was the first time such a thought had ever confronted him.

Luke, you really suck at introspection, don’t you? Like... NEVER in TEN YEARS have you EVER wondered about your mother? Sigh.

Shortly after the reorganization of the government, Nanaod Engh had given Luke keys to most of the real treasures of the New Republic—the central data libraries maintained by various branches of the General Ministry. Thanks to Admiral Ackbar’s intervention, Luke also carried the highest-grade security clearance held by any civilian.

Between the two, Luke had—potentially—a great deal of information at his fingertips. But the access he had been granted was a courtesy, not a necessity. Luke’s most urgent curiosities were in areas of little interest to bureaucracies, and he had never found reason to make much use of the favors extended him.

But he found himself with reason now.

Speaking of lack of imagination.... SIGH.

Luke returned to the pilot’s couch and curled up sideways in it. “How do people become part of the circle?”

“Curiosity is not sufficient—which I hazard you know. Some are born to it. Some come to it. Is it any different in your discipline?”

“Born with the gift, do you mean, or born to someone who already belongs, to a trained adept?”

“Is the gift not in the blood?”

“Sometimes it seems that way. Sometimes it seems as if the talent goes wild, almost as if the Force chooses its own,” Luke said, turning on his back and propping one foot on the control panel.

“Why, what do you mean?”

“Look at the way the Jedi are coming back,” said Luke. “The Empire hunted us so relentlessly that most everyone who escaped thought they were the only Jedi left. But it isn’t just that a few solitaries who were hiding have resurfaced. I’ve found students with no family history whatsoever, in species that were never represented before in the Order.”

“Some of your number may have been adventurous travelers,” said Akanah. “On Carratos, I heard many jokes about how the Emperor spent his evenings. If a Jedi sleeps alone, surely it must be by choice, as it is with you.”

LOL, Akanah doesn’t know about Callista. Or Gaeriel. Or anything else about Luke’s messed-up love life.

“Are you saying that you expected me to warm a bed with you?” Luke said. “I didn’t think that was our bargain.”

“No,” she said. “I never expected that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That Luke Skywalker could have a hundred children by now. A thousand.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No—that’s the simple truth. There are different rules for heroes and royalty, and you’re seen as a little of both. You can’t be unaware of that.”

Luke frowned and looked away. “I don’t know how to be a father to one child, much less a thousand.”

“You wouldn’t need to know,” she said. “Their mothers wouldn’t expect it. They would be grateful enough for the gift.”

“I’d expect it of me,” he said, and firmly steered the conversation back on course. “We were talking about my being an honorary member of the circle—”

Again, I’m surprised by Luke’s lack of imagination--and offers--given how people at the spaceport viewed him. Did none of them really think, “I would totally bang this dude?” WHY IS HE SO SURPRISED?

Also Luke, just say “fuck,” it’s okay, I promise.

“We were talking about my being an honorary member of the circle—”

“Not honorary,” she corrected. “Novice.”

“Novice, then. But there’s an exception in your oath for people like me?”

“Every adept has the right to judge and the duty to teach,” she said. “I’ve made my judgment.”

“And the rest?” Luke asked. “We’ve had many hours together—why haven’t you started to teach me?”

“But I have,” she said. “I’ve asked you to think about what you know and believe. To go beyond that, the novice must ask for the door to be opened. But you aren’t ready to think of yourself as a student again—not yet. You run too well and easily to go back to crawling.”

#accurate. Luke spends most of this book so convinced he knows everything and yet he can’t figure out why he’s so stuck in a rut.

“No,” Luke said, shaking his head. “To be a Jedi is to be a seeker. A Jedi is always learning. It’s only on the dark side that one becomes obsessed with knowing, and impressed with doing.”

“There’s a touch of the dark side,” Akanah said slowly, “in the way you cling to the privilege of killing, and resist the teaching I’ve offered you. A hint of a mind that has settled on answers and resents being challenged with new questions.”

Luke toyed with the lacing on his longshirt as he considered her words. “You may be right,” he said finally. “I found the Force at a time when what I needed was power. I wanted a weapon to protect my friends, not enlightenment. I was thinking of war against the Empire, not peace with the universe. Perhaps something of that lingers in how I see myself. I’ll think on it.”

“Good,” she said. “Your words give me hope. And hope is the beginning of everything worthwhile.”

I have no idea how the chronology lines up with the other plots and honestly it’s hard to care. This is the most interesting part of the book to me, and I’m STILL reeling at how late in the game this is.

He then took advantage of the open space inside the bay to work his first complete set of Jedi training drills since leaving Coruscant. Working both with and without his lightsaber, he patiently went through the complex exercises which brought him to a profound state of restful clarity.

It was in this state that he felt most keenly the truth and the wisdom of the simple words: There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is the Force. The peace, the knowledge, and the serenity were gifts that came with his surrender to the Force and with his connection through the Force to all that was.

Sustaining that clarity was always the challenge. In the isolation of a Dagobah, the Jundland Wastes, or a hermitage on a frozen shore, an experienced Jedi could preserve that inner state indefinitely.

But the chaos of the real world was another matter. When ego returned, so did will. The surrender became tainted, the connection flawed. The clarity gradually slipped away under the continuous assault of elementary drives and passions. Even the greatest of the masters needed to perform the practice regularly lest they lose the discipline that made them what they were.

GAH. WHY IS IT ALWAYS DUALITY WITH YOU, KUBE-MCDOWELL? WHAT ABOUT  A MIDDLE WAY BETWEEN THE “TAINTED WORLD” AND “PURITY OF ISOLATION”. What about “entering the market-place with gift-bestowing hands”? And nothing ever stays the same “indefinitely”!!!!!

The drills were as much a test for the body as for the mind, and the docking bay’s newly sanitized shower brought a blissful peace to muscles that were telling Luke they had not been properly exercised in too long. He stood for a long time in the place where the six needle jets converged, letting the water flowing down his body become another meditation.

Yeah, maybe you should have thought of that in your hermitage-quarantine-sulk thing??

I’d forgotten about the bookstore full of Jedi forgeries!!! 

The offerings included Emperor Palpatine’s Principles of Power, a private publication for Imperial Moffs; the Sith book of offerings and rituals; the H’kig book of laws; and the secrets of forming Bilar-type claqa group-minds, among others—with a special discount if Luke took any three or more. Most of the documents were undoubtedly frauds, and none tempted Luke beyond idle curiosity over the skillfulness of the fraud.

And the Jabba’s palace re-creation OH MY GOODNESS:

But making his way to the outgate, Luke turned a corner and was taken aback by the brilliantly lit exterior of a club bar called Jabba’s Throne Room. Performing Nightly—The Original Max Rebo Band, said the scroll. Visit Jabba’s Guest Quarters with a Pleasure Slave. Face the Mighty Rancor in the Pit of Death—

Driven by an outraged curiosity, Luke joined the line and paid the membership charge without haggling. Inside, he descended a curving flight of stairs into a remarkably faithful copy of the throne room in Jabba’s desert palace on Tatooine. Some of the dimensions had been stretched to accommodate more tables in front of the bandstand and around the rancor pit, but the architecture and atmosphere were authentic.

“Why, it’s just like the Palace Museum,” [he] said to the tall and elegantly dressed Twi’lek barring the way at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m afraid my master Jabba is away on business,” said the Bib Fortuna look-alike, nodding toward the empty dais. “But I’m having a little party in his absence, and I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.” His head-tails stirred in signal, and one of the scantily clad dancing girls hurried to him.

“Yes, Lord Fortuna,” the server said.

“Oola, this is a friend of mine,” said the major-domo. “Treat him well. Find him a seat at my best table.”

The same fiction was carried through everywhere else—an Ortolan keyboardist leading a jizz-wailer trio on the bandstand, the roaring of the rancor underfoot, an annoying Kowakian monkey-lizard skittering around the room stealing food and cackling rudely, even a carbon-frozen Han Solo hanging in the display alcove. But a busy kitchen was concealed down the corridor to the servant’s quarters, and the price card “Oola” left for him included various services available upstairs in the guest quarters and downstairs in Jabba’s dungeon.

It was tasteless and exploitative, but the music was surprisingly agreeable, the roast nerf was tantalizing, and the clientele was markedly more subdued than their counterparts out on the walks. [He] ordered a drink and the executioner’s cut of nerf, refused all other offers with a polite smile, and settled in to discover the truth quotient of The Secrets of the Jedi.

Shortly after his meal arrived, Luke’s consciousness was pricked by hearing a familiar name spoken at a nearby table: Leia’s. He looked up, fearing that the evening’s entertainment at Jabba’s Throne Room would be a dance by a slave-girl-Leia look-alike. But the band was on a break and the transparisteel dance platform over the rancor pit deserted.

I’m honestly surprised this isn’t at Galaxy’s Edge, tbh.

Shortly after, a holographic Jabba made an appearance on the dais above the main floor. That signaled the start of an elaborately scripted show that promised to involve not only “Bib Fortuna” and the dancers, but additional actors and the audience as well.

Luke took that as his cue to leave. His decision was affirmed when, climbing up the curving stairs to the street, he encountered the bounty hunter Boushh coming down them with an unconvincing Chewbacca in tow.

“Aren’t you a little short for a Wookiee?” he muttered under his breath as they passed.

LOL. Anyway, here’s some stuff on archives searches in the GFFA:

From Carratos he requested any information available from newsgrid, political, or police records on Akanah Norand Pell, Andras Pell, and Talsava. He sent the same query to Coruscant’s criminal records office and citizen registry and to the home offices of both the Coruscant Global Newsgrid and the New Republic Prime Newsgrid.

From the New Republic Reference Service, he requested a quickreport on naming conventions on Lucazec and Carratos, thinking he might parse another lead from the names in hand.

A second request to the same source asked for five-hundred-word excerpts from all matches on the key words “Fallanassi” and “White Current.” After a short debate with himself, and despite the pathetic and sensational inaccuracies of Secrets of the Jedi, Luke also contacted an information broker on Atzerri and paid a hundred credits for a search on the same keys.

He also requested a Current Terms & Conditions brochure from the chief librarian’s office on Obroa-skai. The library computers there were the only resource offering both a greater variety and a greater volume of records than those held by Coruscant.

But Obroa-skai’s generosity with its planetary treasure was limited. To protect against theft of the library, and to provide the resources needed to maintain it, accessing the records meant either going to Obroa-skai or hiring one of the library’s own trained contract researchers.

In either case, Obroa-skai was not a resource one turned to for quick answers. The official language of New Republic recordkeeping was Basic, and everything held by Coruscant was kept in one of several readily searchable data specifications. But the Obroa-skai library was a collection of primary documents, in ten thousand storage formats and uncountable languages. The most complete general index covered only fifteen percent of the library’s holdings, and all the specialty indexes combined added only a few percent to that.

Those were the principal reasons why the brochure—which Luke received within minutes of requesting it, as the first response to any of his inquiries—reported that a normal single-part library search was averaging eight days. The waiting list for terminal time was holding at fifteen days, and the backlog for contract researchers had climbed to seventy.

LOL. I should definitely use that in a fic at some point.

#star wars #eu fuckery #the black fleet crisis

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt. 1

this is the first part of this fic, the only part with a happy ending :) 

The others were always underestimating Karl. From the day he washed up on the island, his memory so foggy he could hardly recall how to complete simple tasks, the other champions constantly found little reasons to poke fun at him. While Tom was generally the one doing the teasing, Jordan, the so-called champion of justice rarely intervened. Not that Karl minded, at first. He learned to laugh along quickly; after all, friends would be friends. Still, there were the moments of frustration he felt as he struggled to catch hold of a faint memory, the knowledge of how to craft or construct a simple item, while the other two quickly developed their islands. Even worse were the times he simply couldn’t control his limbs properly. While Tom and Jordan nimbly maneuvered their way through courses and tests of agility, Karl found himself cursing and struggling to make his legs bend the proper way, legs that felt disconnected from his body, as though he were a puppeteer with no clue how to control his puppet.

But the times that were far, far worse than anything else were the brief conversations when Jordan and Tom would bring up their gods. They spoke of them with such a sense of familiarity, of understanding, that Karl found himself eagerly hanging onto every word they said. Listening to them describe the gods so close to them, Karl couldn’t help but admit a shadow of doubt in his mind. Who am I? Why am I here? The others knew where they stood, they felt secure in their alignments. Yet he felt he didn’t quite fit with any of the three, Mianite was too much of a goody-two-shoes, Dianite was downright evil, and Ianite’s actions didn’t quite make sense to him. 

In many of their stories, their memories from other dimensions, a bloke named Tucker was brought up quite a bit. He was Mianite’s champion, the “good guy” hero. It was obvious that the other two missed him, and he could understand why. Almost all of their old jokes, pranks, and stories seemed to tie back to Tucker. Sometimes, listening to the captain and the zombie chat, Karl got the sense of being an outsider, of not belonging. The strange, sidelong looks the priest would give him whenever he brought up the gods didn’t exactly make him feel comfortable, either. It was like Declan was trying to figure out just who he was, a thought that always made Karl snort in amusement. Good luck with that, mate. I don’t even know that. But a feeling of unease would always follow, washing over him in a chilly wave that raised the hair on his arms. He’d hear unfamiliar whispers in the back of his mind, whispers that seemed louder whenever he felt isolated. You’ll never replace Tucker. You’re better than them. You aren’t one of them. You’ll never be as close to them as he was. You don’t belong. 

Of course, he pushed back against the thoughts, attributing them to having a few meads too many with Tom, or not getting enough sleep, or something like that. Something that wouldn’t make him seem mad. But when they came across the prophecy that foretold the coming of the three heroes, everything changed. He was given his role, to be the new champion of Mianite. A replacement, obviously. There couldn’t be another word for it, he was stuck with god with no consideration for who he actually was. He wasn’t, he couldn’t be a golden boy, not like Tucker at least. He liked to have some fun with pranks, cause a bit of chaos. If he should’ve been assigned to any god, it should have been Dianite. A sense of frustration planted itself, heavy and irritating, in the back of his mind as he set to building a temple for Mianite. No one seemed to care about who he was, what he wanted, everyone trusted the bloody prophecy. They just want Tucker back. You’re his replacement.  But he pushed the intrusive thoughts away, throwing himself fully into building the temple. He knew he couldn’t create anything nearly as awe-inspiring as what Jordan and Tom would come up with, given his frequent lapses in memory, but he was determined to do his best. He worked tirelessly over that week, only allowing himself moments to rest when he came close to collapsing. The work absorbed him, and he was glad, because it was a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. As odd as it was, the job of creating a temple for his god was a way of forgetting the gods existed, a way of forgetting the prophecy.

The day of the gods’ arrival came too soon for Karl. Despite being physically drained from it, the hours he spent working on his temple were some of the most peaceful he had known on the island. He barely paid attention as Ianite was summoned, hardly even noticing as she spoke to the priest and the captain. He felt faintly sick, a heavy feeling of anxiety in his stomach, as they approached his temple. Will Mianite approve of me? Or is he going to mock me just like the others? Is he just looking for a temporary replacement? Crossing his arms firmly over his chest in order to hide the faint tremors in his hands, he tried to listen to what Declan was saying. His eyes fixated expectantly on the carefully chiseled throne he had worked tirelessly to create, he felt his heart plummet as the god made no appearance. There was only the faintest echo of a confused, disembodied voice. The temple wasn’t good enough. I’ve completely messed this up. The only thing I had to do right, I botched entirely. I could’ve proved I’m good enough, that I don’t need to be someone else, that I don’t need to fill Tucker’s shoes. He couldn’t hear what Declan was saying anymore, couldn’t hear the feeble attempts at reassuring him, because his pulse was pounding in his head like a judge’s gavel. 

As the others hurried over to Dianite’s temple, Karl lingered at the base of the throne he had painstakingly made, his hand tracing the familiar austere lines of the quartz. He wasn’t as accustomed to praying as the others were, but he couldn’t help but mentally demand, What did I do wrong? Am I not good enough? Silence greeted his hopeless plea. Giving himself a small shake, he left the temple to soar to Tom’s island, doing his best to put up his usual, laid-back front. His jokes at Tom’s expense were half-hearted at best, but Tom was too occupied and Jordan too polite to say anything to him. All the better, really, considering they wouldn’t understand any of the bitterness welling up from the depths of his stomach. After sitting through what felt like an eternity of conversation with Dianite, Karl eagerly took the first opportunity he was given to fly back to his own island. His mind had been mostly occupied with ways he could improve his temple, and he was determined to get a good start on the new plans with what was left of the afternoon. He could show them that he was able to progress, become better. But as he approached his home, he nearly tumbled out of the air as he tried to stop short in the air, stunned by the sight in front of him. Doing his best to recover his spiraling flight with a few clumsy adjustments, he landed in a heap on the beach. Stumbling to his feet without pausing to shake the sand from his clothes, he broke into a run as he headed for his temple. The once pristine, carefully constructed building was reduced to devastated ruin, the walls and pillars barely supporting a crumbling roof. Heaps of smoldering rubble continued to clatter down from the ceiling onto the cracked and half obliterated floor. The throne, what he had worked the hardest on, was barely intact, broad cracks forming veins in the previously unblemished surface. Of all the days for this to happen, why did it have to be today? Why? Rubbing a hand across his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide the stinging tears forming, he let out a low string of curses. Why is it always me?

In the days before the trial, Karl found himself fighting harder and harder with each new hour to hold back the bitterness that seemed determined to hang heavy over him. He couldn’t bring himself to repair his temple, after watching hours of work get absolutely destroyed. He avoided that portion of his island entirely, focusing on his farms, his home - anything but the still smoldering ruins. He didn’t want a reminder of what Tom had done, had likely done without a moment of remorse. On the day of the trial, he tried his best to stay calm and keep his temper in check. Without being properly aware of what he was even saying, he got involved in some mindless debate with Jordan. Anything to keep his mind off what Tom had done. But as they filed into the courthouse, and each took their turn in the cell, he was overwhelmed by a sudden, strange disgust he felt for Tom and his god as the zombie stepped inside. All they do is blow stuff up, and they don’t care one fuckin’ bit. The intensity of the emotion startled him at first, but he allowed himself to wallow in it for the remainder of the trial. He had spent the past two days doing everything he could to be fair and compassionate - but Tom’s blatant disregard for truth destroyed every bit of sympathy he had. 

When Tom was declared guilty and handed his punishment, Karl was struck by a pang of dissatisfaction. After everything he did, all he had to face was some menial labour. Unable to speak up about it without sounding like some sort of sadist,, Karl kept to the side, unaware of the scowl that had stolen over his features. Destroys my temple, all he has to do is spend some time digging himself out of obsidian. They call this fairness? He forced himself to keep quiet, prepared to head back to his island, until Tom requested their attention, and quickly renounced his god in favor of Ianite. Absolute garbage, as if anyone’ll believe that. Renouncing his ways? That’s rich, after he trashed my temple. Barely giving Tom the time to finish what he was saying, Jordan immediately began voicing complaints. Karl lingered a moment longer, but seeing no sincerity in Tom’s assurances of faithfulness, he quickly took off in the direction of his island. The rising irritation made it impossible for him to stay any longer. Stretching his arms out, he took a moment to take in the soft breezes racing by him, the sun warm on his neck, the glinting water far below. While he wasn’t the best at landings, flying with the elytras over the islands never failed to calm him down. All he really had were these islands, no childhood memories or past friends to think of. Just the chain of islands in the vast ocean. The short flight gave some relief to the pent up emotions within him, but the bitterness continued to swirl inside him once he touched down, for hours after the trial had ended.

Luckily, within only a few days, there was a new event to distract him from the mess of emotions, a new chance for him to prove himself worthy of Mianite. A chance to prove yourself better than Tucker. The training grounds, if anything, would be a good distraction, and a way for him to work on regaining proper control of his limbs. As they went through the different challenges, Karl refused to let himself grow discouraged. He hadn’t expected to be the best at any of the tasks, and though they took all of his focus, he found himself starting to enjoy the competitive spirit. He felt closer to being equals with Tom and Jordan than he had in a long time, and needless to say, it was a nice change. By the time they finished messing around on the elytra course, he had almost forgotten the real reason for going through the challenges. A combination of fear and anticipation seemed to take hold of him as he waited anxiously alongside the others for Mianite to appear. With eager shouts, the others spotted him before Karl did, a figure standing just outside the door. Karl’s breath hitched in his throat as he quickly passed through the door to stand before his god. Illuminated by the late afternoon sun, Mianite stood proud and tall, his gaze confident as he surveyed the assembled heroes in front of him. 

“Good afternoon!” He exclaimed, his eyes settling onto Karl as a warm smile formed on his face. An explicable feeling of joy filled Karl’s chest as he met the clear blue eyes of the god, his god. 

“Hello sir,” he replied, adding on as a panicked afterthought, “lookin’ fresh.” He wanted to deck himself after saying that, it just seemed wrong to address a god with such informality. 

But Mianite didn’t seem to care, as he went on to say, “You’ve done so, so well. You really are amazing!” Though he knew it was said to all of them, a warm glow filled Karl as Mianite met his eyes yet again, as though directing the praise all to him. The feeling of satisfaction he got just from hearing his god’s voice, from seeing him and speaking to him, that suddenly made it clear to Karl why Jordan was so devoted to his goddess. After spending several minutes speaking to his god with the familiarity of an old friend, and shoving Tom aside whenever he tried to interrupt, Mianite’s expression grew grave. “I’m afraid I do come carrying a warning.” Snapping his fingers in the air twice, a slim book appeared in his hands, the leather binding worn and faded. “To my favourite, read this.” He held the book out to Karl, who accepted it immediately. His favourite, I’m his favourite. I’ve done something right here, for once. I’m his hero, properly. Mentally shaking off his distracting thoughts, Karl opened the book. It was relatively short, but he chose to read it aloud rather than pass it around immediately.

“Dear Friends,

Thank you for birthing me to this land within this human body. I have heard my Brother, Dianite and Sister, Ianite have come to this world already… I worry they may be sick… Something was not right in Asgard. I built this training ground to both test and build you. You are now the Chosen heroes. Work in unity and leave no-one behind.

The Darkness we all believed to be myth may be amongst you.

The true form has yet to be seen, but the stories have been told that the Darkness is not one being, but many. It inhabits bodies, uses them, then discards them when they are weakened. It is near impossible to tell when the Darkness has claimed a host. Rumours state that it chases power and seeks one who is on the cusp of greatness, hoping to claim it for their own.

Beware my friends, for this could bring us all down. I must now learn how to harness the magic of this land.

Mianite.”

“Spooky, dude,” Jordan commented in the stunned silence. Pocketing the text, Karl shrugged in response, as Tom attempted to take off using his elytras and promptly crashed, Joining the captain’s laughter, Karl brushed off the slight twinge he felt in his temples. Must be a bit of a headache forming, no wonder given all this racket. But I’ve got my god now, and I’ve done something right. I’m just as good as Tucker. The delightfully warm feeling returned to him, practically eliminating the slight ache in his head. Things were getting better for him, finally.

#i haven't written in ages be kind please #inspired by the cool bros of nerf house #mianite #mianitian isles #lrakinidas #captainsparklez #synhd #mianite fanfic #writing #amethyst writing time

[lailannajacobs]

Straight, No Chaser

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Request: Hello There! May I Please Request A Fluff Where Loki Just Loves When Reader Plays With His Hair??

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: nothing but fluff! 

A/N: Thank you for this request my lovely anon! I know it may not be exactly what you had hoped, I kinda ran with it in a very different direction than I had initially thought (I blame the episode of b99 I watched at the time that kind of inspired it) but I really hope you enjoy, I’d love to know what you think regardless!! <3 

“Explain to me again,” You demanded, your hands planted firmly on your hips, “how I got paired with you for this mission?”

Loki looked down at you, a roguish grin on his lips. He had skirted your question the first time you had asked before leaving and it looked like he wasn’t going to tell you now, outside of the restaurant either. It didn’t really matter. You were pretty sure you knew the answer. He had probably done it just to piss you off. Even if he hadn’t, you knew he’d end up annoying the hell out of you tonight, regardless. It was inevitable. It had been that way from your first day as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent and hadn’t changed in the last three years.

“You’d better not mess this up,” You warned, double checking your makeup in a parked car’s passenger window.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he drawled, “I can blend in quite well with mortals.”

You scoffed and turned back to face him, “Yeah, because calling us mortals is exactly what a regular human being would do.”

“Who says I have to be regular? Can’t I be an above average human being?” He raised his brow, looking as far from innocent as possible.

You smacked his arm, your irritation growing, “I do. We’re supposed to blend in, not attract attention.”

“If that’s what you wish,” He sighed dramatically, “I’ll be as mind-numbingly boring as possible. I can remind you of every other goody-two-shoes agent in the compound.”

“I was supposed to do this with Scott.” You grumbled, glancing at your watch.

Although you didn’t see Scott all that often at the compound, whenever you interacted with him you always found yourself having a good time. He was easy going and nonthreatening, which was exactly the partner you needed for this mission. Not the god of mischief.

“I can make that happen if you’d like” He crooned.

Loki began to shimmer, but you stopped him with a hand to his arm, “No. You know how much I hate it when you do that. It creeps me out.”  

He chuckled, “I knew you preferred to do this with me.”

You rolled your eyes, “Think what you will, as long as we get this to work. God knows how that’s actually going to happen now that you’re here.”

“I’m a capable agent,” he paused, his lips twisting into a smirk, “I’m sure we’ll think of a way to pretend we’re madly in love.”

You glared at him, “It’ll definitely be a test of my skills, that’s for sure.”

“When is this terrifying mobster supposed to arrive, anyhow?” Loki’s cunning eyes scanned the busy street.

“Soon.” You snapped, hoping he would stop talking.

For the past three months you had been working an undercover job, trying to determine if Hydra was running a black-market arms deals through the Genovese crime family. Although it was beginning to look more and more like Hydra wasn’t actually involved, you had finally worked your way up to a private dinner with the head of the family, Liborio Bellamo, and you weren’t about to skip on an opportunity for intel. The whole bringing a date thing was only a ploy to make your clandestine meeting look less suspicious to any street cops that were currently investigating Bellamo. When Loki had shown up to meet you instead of Scott, you had begun to wonder if there was any way you could do this alone instead. Scott would have been a great, oblivious civilian and the perfect con-man to bring along.

Loki, leaning up against a street post, had the look of a predator seconds away from pouncing, which looked nothing like the date she had promised to bring. He radiated power and mischief. He was a wild card that could turn a game the moment he flipped, and you would never have brought him along if you had been given any sort of warning.

Your eyes met his for an instant and he flashed you a smug grin as if reminding you that no, you couldn’t do this alone. You were stuck with him.

“Do you live to make everyone’s life miserable?” You sighed, wondering where the hell Bellamo and his wife were.

He furrowed his brows, pretending to be disappointed by your question, “I only live to create a little chaos. It isn’t my fault it makes you miserable.”

“Well that’s a load of - Bellamo.” You nodded respectfully at the approaching mob boss, hoping he had been too far away to hear your conversation with Loki.

“(y/n), I see you’re early, as usual.” Although there wasn’t much emotion in his face, you could tell he was pleased.

“I wouldn’t be late to a dinner in the best restaurant New York.”

He laughed, “Nobody wants t’be late to cousin Benny’s cookin. Have you met my beautiful wife, Isabella?”

You extended your hand, “No, I don’t believe we’ve met. It’s a pleasure.”

She smiled and shook your hand, her permed hair not moving an inch. “Pleasure’s all mine darlin. Libby here has been talkin all about his newest protege.”

“You must be Tom.” Bellamo’s voice had the same hard edge you noticed he used with threats, as he turned his attention to Loki.

Loki, who had been watching the whole interaction silently with his hands stuffed into his dark dress pants, barely managed to take one hand out. You wanted to shake him. His bored and jaded attitude was only going to piss Bellamo off, and as they clasped hands, locking into an intense staring contest, you felt yourself begin to bubble up with anger. He was going to ruin everything before you even entered the restaurant, getting you killed in the process. Who the hell had signed off on Loki going on this mission with you?

“Nice to meet you, Bellamo.” He crooned, his voice taunting. You hoped that only you could recognize the sass because of your years of knowing the god.

Bellamo didn’t respond, holding on a second too long before taking his hand back. Instead of putting his hand back in his pocket though, Loki wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in closer. Bellamo glanced between the two of you and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a way that you had learned to fear. You might have been a capable agent, but when you saw that look in the boss’s eye, it made you feel like he had the upper hand. That wasn’t something you wanted to let happen.

“Shall we?” He asked, offering his arm for his wife to take.

You nodded, “Absolutely, my stomach is growling in anticipation.”

Bellamo and his wife led the way and you followed, Loki’s arm still tight around your waist.

“What the hell was that?” You whispered angrily, “You can take your hand off now.”

His dipped his head, his breath tickling your ear, “If I take my hand off now, it won’t be convincing, and that’s what I was doing, darling, being convincing.”

You put a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks, “No, that’s not what you were doing. It looked like you were about to pick a fight with him.”

“I was simply letting him know that you don’t spend time with someone who can’t hold their own,” his hand slipped from his pocket and clasped yours, bringing it up to his lips for a fluttering second, “You’re going to need to trust me. I am on this date for a reason.”

“A reason you still won’t tell me.” You tried to keep the annoyance out of your voice, but around Loki, you had never been successful at it. It was like he could get your blood pumping without even trying.

He was right though. You were supposed to be on a double date, which meant not stopping randomly on your way to the table to argue with him. You forced a smile through gritted teeth and hoped that this evening wouldn’t result in your cover being blown or worse, your death. At least Loki’s grip had loosened, and his arm was draped around you instead of keeping you tucked in tightly at his side.

Before you started walking again, you looked up - annoyed that you were standing so close that you had to crane your neck if you wanted to look into his eyes - and warned, “This is important. He should be meeting with an important buyer tonight and I need to get a good look to be able to ID whether or not he’s Hydra. Mess this up and-”

“And what, darling? What is it that you think you can do to me?” He asked, brow raised.

“You don’t want to find out,” you snarled, dragging him along with you, “Now lets go pretend like we don’t drive each other crazy.”

His voice was barely audible when he whispered, “I don’t think that’ll be possible.”

Glancing up at him, you barely managed to catch a glimpse of a strange look on his face before he shot you a roguish grin. You rolled your eyes in response.

“I took the liberty of orderin’ a bottle of the house wine,” Bellamo said when you sat down at the table, “better than anythin’ you’s ever tasted in any of those fancy, fake Italian restaurants downtown.”

You smiled, “That, I don’t doubt.”

After the waiter poured everyone a glass, Isabella smiled at you, “So how long have you two been together?”

“I don’t know, what is it now?” You glanced up Loki, “It feels like it’s been forever.”

He smirked, “You know, even forever wouldn’t be enough time with you. But I believe it’s three years now.”

You almost rolled your eyes at his cheesy line, but instead pretended to be taken in by his words. You just hoped that you were faking it well.

Isabella smiled, “Ain’t that sweet. And how did you meet?”

“We actually met when I was still small time,” You grinned, “I had stolen his watch right off of him and he didn’t even notice.”

“I did get it back.” Loki interrupted, lifting his wrist to show a watch that probably hadn’t been there mere seconds ago.

“It took you long enough.”

“Three blocks, I believe?”

You stopped knowing he wasn’t going to back down. As much as you wanted to make him look less skilled than he actually was, he wasn’t going to let you even if it cost you the mission. He was playing a game of chicken that he knew he was going to win. He didn’t care about the job. He didn’t care about anything or anyone here. You knew that and he knew that you knew that, which meant that if the two of you were going to keep adding details to the story like a Jenga tower, the whole thing was bound to fall over sooner than later.

“How’d you know it was her?” Bellamo asked, his eyes darting between the two of you with interest.

You were about to answer for him, knowing that the calculating look in Bellamo’s eyes was more dangerous than Loki could ever realize, but he beat you to it.

“When someone this beautiful runs into you, it’s incredibly difficult to forget their face.”

Bellamo leaned back in his chair, “Seems unlikely that you’d suspect her then.”

Your heart began to hammer in your chest. He was asking too many questions. Either you weren’t doing a good enough job at pretending you were really a couple, or he had gotten word that you weren’t who you said you were. There wasn’t much you could do about the latter if it came down to it except hope that Loki would have your back. But you also knew there wouldn’t be any harm in strengthening the act.

Loki was part way through his explanation when you wove your hand around the back of his chair, rested your arm on his shoulder and began mindlessly playing with his hair at the base of his neck. The movement seemed to startle him for a moment, but he recovered quickly, the pause in his words barely noticeable.

Isabella, noticing your contact, snuggled in a little closer to Bellamo in the booth. You shot her a smile that she returned, but you could tell she was distracted. You hadn’t thought she was involved in Bellamo’s operations, but the way she scanned the restaurant suggested otherwise. A thought took seed. Maybe that was why you had never found any connection between Bellamo and Hydra…maybe it had nothing to do with his operation at all.

You tugged gently on a dark strand of hair before raking your nails from the nap of his neck up and he shivered. You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but you were pretty sure his head was becoming heavier in your hand the longer you played in his hair.

The waiter came back with a refill for your wine, and to take your orders. You were about to stop and reach for your glass of wine, but his hand looped back behind his head and his long fingers wrapped around yours.

“I think you can reach your glass with your other hand.” His voice was low and throaty.

You looked into his emerald eyes, darkened by the size of his pupils, “Why?”

He blinked slowly and for a second you were pretty sure he wasn’t going to answer but then his gaze slid toward your guests and you had your answer. His grip lessened but you left your fingers where they were, choosing to weave your fingers further through his hair instead. It was true that Isabella has seemed more convinced by your act because of the physical affection, and you were glad that Loki had picked up on it. You still wished it had been Scott with you instead, but at least Loki was doing his job.

You reached for your glass and brought it to your lips when Loki’s fingers began to play along your thigh. Instinctively, you wanted to glare at him and shove his hand off, but there was no way to do that without drawing suspicion to yourself. Instead, you let his fingers create a trail of goosebumps in their wake until you shivered involuntarily. You were so annoyed with Loki and distracted by the sensation of his rough fingertips on your thigh, you couldn’t even tell what the conversation was about anymore. At least no one seemed to notice. The only reason you realized Isabella was talking to you was because she had said your name before asking if you were interested in joining her at the hair salon tomorrow.

You answered enthusiastically, knowing that would be the perfect opportunity to see if your new theory had any sort of credibility.

The meal continued seamlessly until dessert, when Isabella excused herself to go to the bathroom. You almost suggested you go with her, but you didn’t want her suspecting anything yet. You were starting to get antsy. Nothing had happened tonight despite the fact that you knew there was supposed to be a arms deal going down. If Bellamo had been in charge of it, you would have seen something suspicious happen already, right?

Suddenly, shouting pierced the low drone of the bland music that had been playing all night. All eyes turned to one of the front tables where a man stood, shouting at his wife about her getting close to their therapist. Bellamo stood instantly, striding over to the couple with dangerous purpose. The man, as if sensing the wrath coming his way, cowed instantly at Bellamo’s approach. They talked in hushed tones, which only captured the crowd’s attention more than the shouting had. The man pulled out a wad of bills, slammed them on the table and strode over to the exit, leaving the woman there. Bellamo called over a waiter and they discussed for a moment, probably offering the woman a free dessert.

A hand on your bicep startled you, and you turned your attention back to Loki, but, he wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were scanning the rest of the room, looking for someone. His relaxed posture might have fooled most people, but you recognized the intelligence and focus in his eyes.  

“I don’t believe misdirection is only a magician’s trick.” He murmured, seconds before Bellamo returned.

“Some people.” Bellamo muttered, taking a seat and signalling for another drink.

“Not everyone who comes to eat at classy restaurants are classy.” You said, trying to gauge his reaction to the event.

He nodded, “Unfortunately, there’s nothin’ we can do ‘bout it.”

A few minutes later, Isabella returned, a fresh coat of lipstick on her lips, “I heard shouting while I was in the bathroom. Is everything alright?”

Her eyes were wide, but you weren’t sure you believed the look on her face. She seemed sincere, but the kitchen was so close to the bathroom, that the noise should have drowned out anything happened out here. You stared, hoping to find some chink in her expression. Loki’s arm around your shoulder snapped you out of your intense observing before Isabella could realize you were analyzing her. You snuggled in a little closer, glancing up at Loki. He smirked, the focused and attentive look vanished from his face. Instead, he wore a flirtatious look that almost convinced you if you hadn’t known it was all part of your act.

“You’re welcome.” He whispered.

“You’re an ass.” You whispered just as softly so that only he could hear.

The rest of the night passed by uneventfully and when you were standing outside, Loki’s arm wrapped around your side to keep you close, you were thankful you had made it through the night.

“We should do this again next week!” Isabella suggested, seeming excited by the prospect.

As much as you wanted to be done with this mission, you nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely. You know how to reach me.”

Bellamo extended his hand, “It was nice to meet you, Tom. (y/n), I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

You gave him a curt nod and watched as they walked off. When they were out of sight, you let out a long, relieved sigh and stepped away from Loki. Cold air hit you instantly, making you realize how much Loki had been shielding you from the cold.

He flagged down a cab and glanced back at you, noticing that you were rubbing your arms to keep warm.

He raised a brow, “Cold?”

“What do you think?” You spat, knowing you no longer had to be nice to him.

He grinned, readjusting his folded suit jacket in his arms, “Maybe you should have brought a jacket.”

You rolled your eyes.

He opened the cab door, stepped aside and motioned for you to get in. You glared and were answered with a small, irritating chuckle.

After giving the driver the address, you rode in silence, keeping your attention everywhere but on Loki. You noticed the shimmer of magic surrounding the back of the cab and you looked instinctively to your own body but didn’t see anything different. You couldn’t be sure what the driver was seeing or hearing, but you knew it wasn’t anything Loki didn’t want him to.

“I suspect the wife.”

You looked over at him, surprised by the seriousness in his face, “I was thinking the same thing. Do you think Bellamo knows?”

Loki shook his head, “If he suspects anything, he is a master at playing the idiot.”

“Playing dumb.” You corrected.

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll learn more tomorrow, hopefully.”

“If you don’t,” He murmured, eyes alight with mischief, “There’s always our next double date for you to corner her in the bathroom and figure out her dark and dirty secrets.”

“Don’t remind me.” You sighed, turning away to look out the window.

The sound of his chuckle filled the cab and the shimmering magic vanished as you neared the rendezvous point that would eventually get you back to the comfort of the compound.

#loki fanfic #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfiction #MCU fic #MCU fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #loki x reader #reader insert

[teriwrites]

NaNoWriMo Week 1

This has possibly been the most chaotic first week of nanowrimo I’ve ever experienced. Somehow, it both feels like the month just started and that we’ve been perpetually held in the first week of November for at least three months. Personally, I’m pretty convinced the night of the 5th/morning of the 6th was one of those liminal spaces where time doesn’t hold any power.

Probably due to my dedicated avoidance of dealing with all of that chaos, trying to force myself to stop checking my phone, I actually got a good chunk of writing done this week! And while not every moment has been the best, it’s still at a place where it’s fun to write, which is especially important for our 2020 nanowrimo. 

And with that, here’s some stats and a couple excerpts from this week:

Week 1 Goal: 11,667

Week 1 Total: 18,014

Excerpt 1:

“Miss Pewitt?” 

Winnie whipped around on her heel. The muddy ground began to give way, and only by latching an iron grip onto a nearby branch was she able to keep from hurtling into the creek. 

Her initial startle was not eased when she saw the source. What on earth was Leslie Hughes, of all people, doing in the glade? 

He was standing several paces back, half-hidden by a wide tree trunk, but there was no disguising the wide-set eyes, staring at her incredulously. His dark hair - which usually hung shaggily down to his chin - had been slicked back to look almost presentable, and it was this stark contrast from the young man’s usual careless appearance that reminded Winnie of her precarious situation. 

Something spilled out of Winnie’s mouth, but she wasn’t exactly sure what she’d said until Leslie responded. 

“I was driving into town early to return a shawl that the minister’s wife left when they were over for tea, and I saw you stepping into the glade. Well, I was sure that only something of urgency could’ve sent you here this morning, so I stopped the buggy and figured I’d lend a hand, if I could.”

Excerpt 2:

Mrs. Pewitt was rarely angry. She had a will of her own, certainly, and a stubborn streak that could rival her daughter’s. But the annoyance and frustration that Winnie had often met with was nothing to her mother’s wrath. 

“You know better than this,” she snapped in a hushed tone. Without facing Winnie, she began to serve the stew into bowls. “Must you be at odds every time your father’s aunt is here?”

“She brings out the worst in me,” Winnie admitted. “But she has no right to insult me.”

A moment passed as Mrs. Pewitt prepped for the meal, and Winnie stood, firmly rooted in her place. 

“Winnie,” her mother continued with the suspiciously gentle tone that meant she was going to say something disappointing. “I know you have strong ambitions. But your father and I hardly make the kind of money to send you away, and even if we did, I’m not sure I totally disagree with Auntie Ida. If you’re going to settle down and marry, you’ll have no time for a career. And then all that money will have been wasted.”

“An education is not a waste.” 

Winnie had hoped her mother might take her words as profound and meaningful, but she merely shot her daughter a dry look and scooted past her to serve the dishes in the dining room. 

With a groan, Winnie fetched a bowl in each hand and followed after her mother.

Excerpt 3:

If there was one thing Winnie had learned from growing up in Bildenbey, it was to never trust the fae. There had been several other messages interspersed within this - protect your true name, never accept gifts, don’t give thanks, and avoid any food - but they all reached the same conclusion, which was that seeking out the fair folk was a death wish, or worse. 

But even more prominently, Winnie knew that, if she were to turn back, Bran would be trapped, and nobody else would take the risk to find him. 

“Your people took one of mine,” Winnie told him, careful not to seem too eager. Given she had sought the man out, she wasn’t sure it would matter either way.

The golden man sneered, his beguiling façade withdrawing at the first sign of agitation. “It was not one of mine who snatched the boy. I do not associate with the likes of thieves.”

Winnie took a step forwards, unable to hide her piqued interest. “But you do know who abducted him?”

The smile flashed again, this time with no attempts to hide the venom beneath. It was unnerving to watch him move, something so uncannily human-like yet starkly distinct. Winnie had not seen many statues - the only few in Bildenbey were the stone angels in the cemetery - but she imagined that instilled with life, they would move much in the same way, motions slightly blunted and unyielding.

“You have no chance of rescuing the boy,” the golden man said, and quickly added, “by yourself.”

A part of Winnie’s mind was telling her that this fairy was laying a trap, and that she’d be an idiot to try dealing with him. But the overwhelming majority kept returning to the clock on Bran’s bureau. 

Not that she’d tell that to him. “I believe I could get by.”

The golden man continued to speak as though he hadn’t heard her. “Luckily for you, I know exactly who is responsible. And as it so happens, I have my own qualms against them. The two of us could be doing each other a favor, it seems.”

Winnie could practically hear her mother’s warnings.

“What do you suggest?” she asked.

Excerpt 4:

“What is your plan, then?” Winnie asked when she’d caught up. “Wait until dark and ambush this figure?”

The expression that passed across the golden man’s face was one Winnie could only describe as condescending confusion. “The sun does not set here. These lands are cast in its eternal golden rays.”

“How do you know when to rise and sleep?”

It took a moment for Winnie to realize that the huffed shaking the golden man’s shoulders was actually a low chuckle. A prickle of self-consciousness prompted a flash of her temper. “What is it?”

The golden man stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. Winnie realized that they were standing eye-to-eye, and this small shock was enough to extinguish any irritation. He, unfazed, smirked and shook his head. 

“You aren’t very familiar with the fair folk.” It wasn’t a question, or even an accusation, but merely a comment. Winnie couldn’t deny it, so he continued. “We have no need for sleep.” 

“What about the stories of those who rest and only rise once every generation?” 

The golden man shrugged. “Some of us have a love of dramatics.”

A smile broke out on Winnie’s face despite her best efforts to restrain it.

Tag List:

@booksnotbookies 

Feel free to ask to be added/removed from the tag list!

#writeblr #nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2020 #my writing #teri writes #my wip #writing #wip #beneath alder creek #just making it in under the wire #holy lot of excerpts batman #I couldn't even fit in some of my favorites because they were so long #maybe i'll post those separately at some point

[takadasaiko]

The Longest One Hundred and Sixty-Eight Hours (a Veronica Mars one shot)

Part of my Spanning Years. Continents. series. 

FFN II AO3

Summary: While out on deployment Logan's squad is attacked and Veronica gets a call: he's missing. So starts the clock on the longest week of her life.

The Longest One Hundred and Sixty-Eight Hours

The call came in on the landline at the office and Veronica barely registered the concerned tone as Mac let her know that there was a Commander Eduardo Ruiz who had asked specifically for her. They were close enough to San Diego that it wasn't abnormal to have clients from the base. She just had to make sure that she toed the confidentiality line with her Naval Aviator boyfriend at home. Depending on the situation the lines could cut too close, but sometimes it worked in their favour. There'd been a time or two that Mars Investigation had gained a client because of Logan. Once by direct referral and a second one that had heard about them through the grapevine, as it were. Deployment left their Skype sessions short and sacred, so it was easy to believe that it had simply slipped his mind to tell her that he was sending someone her way.

Except he hadn't.

This wasn't wasn't a call for her services.

Veronica felt her world shift dangerously as Commander Eduardo Ruiz informed her that Lieutenant Logan Echolls' F/A-18 Hornet had been struck by enemy fire while over an undisclosed location. Both he and his Weapons System Officer Dave Riley had successfully ejected. The rescue team had found the remains of the Hornet, but there were signs of a possible struggle on the ground and neither Lieutenant Echolls nor Riley had been found as of yet. She was listed as his next-of-kin and they would let her know as soon as they had an update.

Commander Ruiz's voice was terrifyingly calm and stiff as he spoke, the words rehearsed, possibly even scripted. If he knew Logan or had any attachment to him at all, Veronica had no idea, and he couldn't answer any questions that she rattled off at him. There had certainly been a few. For each one he gave the same answer: the United States Navy was doing everything in their power to recover their two missing officers. He might as well have been saying that he was looking for a needle dropped into some Iraqi desert.

Veronica supposed that Commander Ruiz indicated that he was going to end the call before he actually did, but she found herself sitting at her desk with the phone still pressed to her ear and gaze fixed on nothing in particular in front of her, terror ripping through every vein.

Logan was missing.

He'd been shot down by enemy fire and he was missing in some foreign land that Veronica had no contacts in and no reach to. She could feel that realization - that helplessness - press down so firmly against her that someone might as well have punched her in the gut. She couldn't breathe, and while her mind was going a million miles a second, nothing of any use was making it through.

"Veronica?" Mac asked tentatively and the blonde woman blinked, finally registering that the line was dead in her ear and one of her two best friends was standing at the door to her office, her tone hesitant and her expression worried. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's -" She stopped mid-sentence. She could lie to Mac, tell her everything was fine, but unless they found him in the next five seconds before she visibly cracked it'd be really hard to explain. The thing was she wasn't sure she had it in her to actually tell her the truth either. It was anything but okay, but even though she had heard it, even though the terrible understanding was spinning around in her mind like a record skipping, saying it out loud made it real. Forcing her mind to sort the words from the chaos, formulate sounds that would bubble up to her tongue and escape through her lips made it real. So Veronica found herself stammering with her mouth open, nothing escaping her but a couple of dry, half-attempts at words that she couldn't even decide on, and suddenly her vision blurred.

Somewhere in the distance, almost like down a tunnel, Veronica heard Mac call her name. "Is he….?"

"I don't know," she gasped, feeling strange and hot tears slide down her cheeks without having anything remotely close to permission to be there. "They don't know."

"They don't…. I'm sorry. I'm confused," Mac managed and Veronica heard her circle the desk more than saw it. She blinked hard and it helped a little. "How do they not know?"

"He's missing. He and Riley are missing," she managed, hating how raw and terrified she sounded. "There was a fight and a crash and…."

Veronica looked up and she must have looked like hell from the way that Mac's confusion crumbled into worry. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. Logan's crazy stubborn. They'll find him."

If she believed it in that moment or not was anybody's best guess, but Veronica's usual BS meter was cracked and broken on the floor beneath the weight of the unknown.

"I need answers," Veronica breathed, even as the dial tone sang out from the phone still clutched in her hand laid out on her desk. She couldn't seem to find the will to move to return it to the cradle.

"I don't think we can get those," Mac answered, her voice equally as quiet. "You're the first person they'll call, right?"

Veronica's tear-filled gaze snapped over to her friend and she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty as Mac flinched back at it. "I need answers."

"Okay," Mac whispered, nodding as she spoke. "Okay. Then tell me everything you know and I'll find you everything I can."

--------

Veronica swore that when - not if, when- Logan got home, she'd never let something pesky like national security get in the way of her drilling him for information again. As it stood now, he had told her as much as he said he could. They were in the Middle East - sure, small area. Only a few hot spots. Super easy to find a downed jet in all of that desert. What was the Navy thinking? - and halfway through deployment. Maybe she should start with his squadron. They had been together before Logan had tumbled back into her life - before she'd tumbled back into his? - but he usually talked about them by their call signs.

There was Coma from East Texas with his painfully slow drawl that Logan and the rest of the guys gave him so much shit over, Kasper that made snow look tan, Siesta that could fall asleep anywhere, and ALF - annoying little fuck - that just wouldn't shut up. There were more, but she only knew Riley by his given name, and even that was turning up with nothing except a couple that Mac thought were probably his parents out in the Midwest. Not that they'd have any more information than Veronica had been given. Hence being updated as Logan's next-of-kin.

Mac was a saint for the effort she was putting into the search, given what little Veronica could provide. They were well into the zone, treating it like any other case when Keith had come back into the office. He must have called out to one or both of them at least a couple of times because Veronica didn't look up - jumped might be a more accurate description, but she'd never admit to it - until he knocked on her desk as if he were knocking on a door. "Something come in while I was out?"

It was a blessing in disguise, that focus, and she rattled it off with only a twinge of pain on the outskirts of the words until she realized her father was dead silent. She didn't acknowledge it until he circled her desk and he stooped down to wrap his arms around her. His was a normal reaction, she knew. It was terrible news. Riley's family was probably in tears and utterly unable to do anything other than wait by the phone for any update that the Navy could possibly give them, and while she'd finally managed to put the phone back on the hook at some point so that a call could come through, there she was trying to track down the non-existent trails that would never actually lead to Logan. Still, it was better than sitting idly by. That would drive her insane.

What was it Logan had said back in college? I'm not built to stand on the sidelines. Well, neither was she. She had to do something. Thankfully Keith didn't try to talk her down from the frenzy.

It was late before Veronica finally relented to the truth that they weren't finding anything new on their end that night. Her father tried to convince her to come back to his place so that she wouldn't have to be alone while waiting for the news. She had Pony home, she reminded him, and while she and Logan had paid their pet deposit that they'd never get back, her dad hadn't. No need to bring an oversized puppy that still thought pieces of furniture were his chew toys to his place. Instead, Mac had managed to convince her to let her sleep on the couch. At least Veronica hoped she slept, because she sure didn't. No, that first night she'd gone into the dresser, pulled out one of his favourite t-shirts, and slipped it on to lay with her cheek pressed into his pillow. He'd already been gone for three months. It wasn't like there was any real trace of him there, but if she tried hard enough she could imagine it. And if she turned her back to his side of the bed she could almost pretend that he was laid curled up on his side, breathing softly and steadily. Alive and safe and home.

The next night, after a day of equally useless information that was really none at all, Wallace had pushed his way into the situation and had taken up Mac's exhausted place on her couch.

It was the earliest hours of the morning when Veronica's cell phone started singing next to her bed, dragging her out of the restless sleep filled with worst-case-scenarios playing out in her mind's eye. She didn't even look at the caller ID as she slammed her thumb against the accept button. "Hello?"

Commander Ruiz was on the line again in that same rehearsed tone, but somehow, even with no real reflection in his voice to speak of, the words felt lighter. They'd been found. Both Logan and Riley. They had been transferred to a Naval hospital there in the Middle East. Next steps would depend on the extent of their injuries, but if all went well they would be transferred back stateside rather than moving to a medical ship or a hospital on a European base. While Veronica would have preferred the news to have been closer to Logan's in San Diego right this second, she would take alive and on foreign soil versus the unspeakable alternative without hesitation.

She had assumed it would be Ruiz with another update when the number lit her phone up the next day and Veronica had to stop and check herself at the familiar voice filtered over the bad connection. "Logan?" she breathed, pretty sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Hey." He sounded tired, his voice a little hoarse.

She gripped the phone tighter in her hand. "Are you okay?" They still hadn't given her any details other than that he'd been found and was alive. If he was hurt or how badly, she had no idea.

"More or less. Listen, I can't talk long, but I just…. needed to hear your voice."

Veronica swallowed hard, willing her voice to work. To tell him she needed to hear his too and that she needed him home right then. He didn't give her a chance as he cleared his throat.

"And to ask you not to be pissed."

Okay, that wasn't what she'd expected. "Why would I -?"

"I'm coming home," he said firmly, which only made his statement a moment earlier more confusing. "They were talking about sending me today."

"That's good news, right?"

She heard a sound from the other end of the line. "Yeah. One sec," he called back to someone on his end of the line before speaking directly onto the phone. "Veronica…."

"Still here."

"They wanna send me home, but Riles is gonna take a few more days. We had to eject. He… snapped his leg on the landing. He always hated those jumps."

"Bet he really does now," Veronica breathed, her mind calling up the image of the man that literally had Logan's back in the air. She liked Riley. He was sharp, with a wit that could match Logan's and a quirky and sometimes twisted sense of humour that was apparently born from a need to stand out among ten siblings. From what she could see, he'd also become one of the most loyal people to enter Logan's life after she had left for Stanford. They were close. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I hope so. He's in surgery now and they said it's going to be a long one. I don't wanna be gone when he wakes up, you know?"

"I know." She hated the words as they slipped out, but she knew how selfish it would have been to say anything else. Right then, she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to tell him to get his ass home so that she could hold onto him like she'd never let go.

"Veronica?"

"Yeah?"

"I gotta go."

"Call me when you can?"

"Yeah. Love you."

And then the line was dead, leaving Veronica sitting alone on the couch in their apartment. She squeezed her eyes shut, the last forty-eight hours' roller coaster of emotions washing over her as she tried to steady herself. "Love you too," she whispered into the empty living room.

--------

She spoke to him at least for a couple of minutes a day until he came home, but even hearing his voice on the other end of the line wasn't enough to keep the darker parts of her mind from playing tricks on her. She remembered how it had twisted her around during his first deployment after they had gotten back together, but at least then the dangers had all been theoretical. Sure, he was fighting a war and sure enemy aircraft or ships or what-have-you could take a shot at him and send him spiraling towards the unrelenting ground below. She knew that, and on some days it felt more real than others, but even after hearing his voice and that he'd made it out of this close call mostly intact Veronica needed to see him with her own eyes.

The first time he had come back from deployment it had been on the ship he'd left out on, but this time he and Riley were sent home on a transport plane that was due in late in the afternoon. Veronica had spent the entire day jittery and had driven down to San Diego with hours to spare. Wallace, Mac, and her dad had all offered to help with anything she needed from puppy duty to going with her so that she wouldn't have to wait alone. She'd declined the latter, instead opting to become well acquainted with the accelerator in Logan's BMW. Thankfully the PCH wasn't being heavily patrolled or she would have had to pay a mint for the ticket dealt out.

It felt like forever before Logan arrived safely and securely on the ground. He was on his feet when she saw him, left arm in a sling and bruises darkened under his eye and down along his jawline on the right side of his face. He looked exhausted, but still better than Riley who was stuck in a wheelchair with a cast nearly all the way up his leg. That was gonna suck. Probably already did, if he was due for pain meds anytime soon.

Logan spotted her and Veronica felt a rush of relief at that smile. She took off towards him, having to force herself to stop rather than latch her arms around his neck to hold on tight. He'd finally given her a list of his injuries - the worst being a torn muscle in his shoulder and a concussion - and she didn't want to risk hurting him.

He didn't seem to have the same hold up. Logan covered the last few steps and wrapped his uninjured arm around her, pulling her in more than up and leaned in for a kiss. Veronica's arms slid around his middle, fingers digging into the fabric of his uniform as she pulled him deeper into it. They stayed there in that moment, neither willing to let go of the other even as she heard Riley shout a joke about waiting till they had a room from off to the side. Logan loosed his grip on her and Veronica was pretty sure he shot Riley the bird, only confirmed by the other man's chuckle.

Veronica finally - reluctantly - broke the kiss. "You okay?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. Let's talk when we get home."

She nodded and turned towards Riley. "How ya doin', Riley?"

"I gave as good as I got," the Weapons System Officer promised with a shit-eating grin.

"Oh yes. The ground never saw him coming," Logan answered, a smirk tugging at his lips and one eyebrow quirked up at his friend. "You sure we can't give you a ride?"

"Nah. My folks flew in. Apparently going MIA warrants a flight in from the homeland."

Veronica snorted. "Aren't you from Nebraska?"

He gave a casual shrug and a noncommittal mehbefore he started wheeling himself towards a small group of people that Veronica could only assume were his family if the collection of redheads were anything to go by. He offered a quick wave as he rolled forward. "See you in a couple days."

"Yeah," Logan huffed the response, his voice low enough that Riley probably hadn't even heard it.

Veronica turned back to him, watching the smile leave his eyes first, exhaustion taking its place, and then his thin lips evened out into a straight line. She touched his arm. "Let's go home."

Thankfully it didn't take much to get back to the car and off the base. Logan asked her to keep the top down on the BMW, even if he wasn't the one driving. She glanced over every handful of minutes as they started up the PCH, watching as he slowly relaxed into the seat. His eyes drifted closed, the lines in his face softened a little, and it was everything she could do not to reach out to him. Finally, she lost her battle and her hand slid over of its own volition to his knee. He startled in his place, but only for a moment, and settled back in as he moved his right arm across his body so that it could rest on her hand. Apparently she wasn't the only one craving touch at that moment.

The sun was setting by the time they got home and Veronica and Logan took the stairs up to their apartment slowly. She frowned as she fit the keys into the lock and turned only to find it already unlocked. She pushed the door open and loosed a relieved breath at the sight of her father refilling Pony's food bowl, the leash laid out on the counter. Keith looked as startled as she felt, straightening with a grimace, and turned fully towards them. "Hey. I didn't know what time you two would be here." His gaze drifted past Veronica. "Logan. Good to see you home."

"Good to be home," he answered, his voice quiet and more than a little tired.

"I won't keep you. I brought some Thai over. It's in the fridge if you get hungry."

"You didn't need to do that, Dad," Veronica tried and her father gave a small smile.

"I wanted to. Mac and I'll hold down the fort for the next few days. Take your time. And if you need anything -"

"Pretty sure I know your number," she promised, the corners of her lips tugging up and she wrapped a hug around her dad's neck before letting him slip out their front door, the cane he still leaned on after the car wreck sounding softly as he eased his way down the stairs. Three flights weren't easy for him to climb to drop off food and feed a puppy. He'd wanted to check on them. Not just her, but both of them, and there was something comforting in that knowledge.

Logan loosed a long breath, drawing her attention around as he moved slowly into the apartment. He dropped to a knee to greet Pony with a scratch behind the ears and a few soft words before straightening again. "Thai sounds amazing right about now."

"Don't have that on your ship, do ya?"

"Definitely not."

Or in the desert when you're missing for nearly thirty-six hours.Yeah, that probably wasn't the best way to lead into reminding him that he'd told her they'd talk when they got home. She wanted to. More than anything she wanted to hear every inch of what had happened, but while Logan was a fan of talking about nearly anything, when it came to his own personal traumas he tended to toss out a flippant remark and keep his feelings to himself. He knew her. He knew she was dying to ask, but she knew him too, and he probably hadn't given himself time to even start processing until they were back on US soil. Hence the reason he looked so damn tired.

They ate in silence, Veronica not trusting herself to hold back the questions. She wasn't sure how long had passed as she shoveled mouthful after mouthful of food, glancing over to see that Logan had stopped altogether. His brows were drawn tightly, his lips pulled down at the corners, and his grip on the chopsticks was firm. "I'm sorry," he breathed after a long moment.

"What for?"

"Scaring you. I'm guessing I probably scared you." He finally turned to look at her, those soft brown eyes making it hard to breathe.

"Understatement," she answered softly, "but it wasn't your fault."

"We, uh… We were so focused on the aerial fight that we missed what was happening on the ground. He was on Doc and ALF's tail, Riles and I took the guy out, but there was fire from below. They didn't have to eject, we did." Logan swallowed hard, clearly having trouble trying to get through the story he knew she wanted and Veronica did her best to keep her expression even. She reached out, her hand against his, and he set his chopsticks down to thread his fingers through her own and continue. "We got lucky. I mean, Riles might call bullshit. He's the one with a broken leg, but there weren't too many on the ground where we landed. We got out alive, laid low, and they found us."

There weren't too many on the ground. Right. Okay. Maybe she didn't want to know how he'd busted his shoulder and gotten a concussion. The little he'd told her was a lot to digest, and he'd been doing it by himself for the last week. Well, him and Riley.

"I didn't know about Doc and ALF. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Those were fun calls."

Right. He was their squad leader. While someone above his head probably made the calls while he was MIA, Logan would have followed up with the families. For all of the responsibilities he skirted as a teenager, he took on even more while serving in the Navy. She'd never gotten the full story on exactly where the change had happened, and maybe it was because real change never happens at a single point in a person's life. She knew that somewhere in his sophomore year at Hearst he had bottomed out and he'd landed in ROTC. He'd met Riley there and Riley had been the one to steer him towards aviation. Logan had said once or twice that Riley had saved his life, and Veronica had always wondered if that wasn't just up in the clouds.

"Part of the job," Logan murmured and squeezed her hand. "Funerals'll be the hardest. That's in a couple of days."

Ah. So that's what Riley has meant. Veronica hadn't thought that they'd demand him back at work quite that quickly. Not while he was on medical leave. At least she'd hoped that they wouldn't. The idea of only having a day or two with him after all of this tied her stomach up in knots.

She pursed her lips together. "I'm selfish," she admitted softly, catching his confused gaze at the seemingly abrupt statement. "I hate that they're gone. I know they meant a lot to you, but…." She closed her eyes, struggling to find the words. She felt like such an asshole voicing them. These were people that he cared about, people that other people cared about. They weren't just names or call signs. They were good guys. Logan respected them, and even prefacing that she felt selfish for saying this didn't make it any better.

"Hey." She opened her eyes to find him looking directly at her. "You're good. You just listened to me. It's your turn."

She reached her free hand up to the side of his face, her fingers curling around bruised skin carefully. "These have been the longest hundred and sixty-eight hours of my life. I thought I'd lost you. Before, every time something split us apart, we could come back from it. Nine years and we came back from it, but…"

The words she'd meant to say got stuck in her throat, a sob choking them down, and Logan leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm here," he promised. "When our plane got hit, when we ejected…. all I could think about was you. About how I couldn't die not having seen you again. Veronica." He waited until she looked at him. "I love you. No matter what happens, it's you. You're the one I'm coming home to, and I'm always going to come home."

She felt the dam break and the tears started to blur her vision. There were so few people she could show anything akin to weakness to, but she saw the same glassy look in Logan's eyes and she leaned forward, her lips pressed against his. She could taste the salt from the tears - hers or his, she couldn't be sure - as he scooted himself off the bar stool. His movements were slow and a little awkward with one arm still firmly secured in the sling, but she followed him back to the bedroom.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Seven days. One week.

But tonight she laid curled up against him, her cheek pressed against his chest as his fingers worked their way through her hair. They would face the next challenges when the sun came up. Right then, in that moment, she felt herself finally drifting towards sleep with the steady beat of his heart a reminder that their epic story wasn't over. He was home, he was safe, and he would always come back to her.

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VMfanfiction #VeronicaMarsFanfic

[things-we-used-tc-share]

Game of Survival

Warnings: Violence, discrimination (minor), minor references to sex

Ship: Pre-romantic LAMP and  romantic Remile (mentioned)

Plot: A Demon, an Angel, a Witch, and a Fairy walk into a bar. Chaos ensues. 

This is like a supernatural comedy

--

Patton had gone 190 long years of his life with no one knowing what he is. 190 years living two lives, one among mortals and another among Witches. He likes to work among them, making drinks, baking cakes. They’re funny little creatures, humans, always worried about the end and living life as if any moment could be their last; things Patton doesn’t have to worry about, he’ll see centuries of their descendants before his time is up.

He leans against the bar and sighs. “I’m on clean-up duty then?” He takes a sip of the wine in his hand as Remy, his boss, and best friend, waves a hand. “Finally caved to Emile’s puppy dog eyes and called it an early night?” Remy snorts in response as he presses a kiss to the top of the Witches’ head. 

“It’s less about his eyes if you catch my drift,” The bartender waves his hand, but it’s more like a sassy flutter of his fingers, really. Patton shakes his head and watches him leave. Humans and their short-lived love. Well, he can’t fault them really...their lives are just that short. 

The witch sips from the bottle of wine and leans against the bar in time for the doors to open. His nose twitches and he grimaces a little. Demons? In Suffolk? Now he’s seen and heard everything. “You’re not welcome here,” He mutters lowly. “I have a very strict no-demons policy,” He gets a closer look and his jaw clenches “I definitely have a no-you policy,”

“Not a drink for an old friend?”

“Barely acquaintances,” He mutters, but he grabs the Whiskey anyway, pouring it into a glass as the Demon seats himself at the bar, a smile all too wicked and all too familiar on his lips. 

“Acquaintances? if I’m familiar with human terms I think friends with benefits more accurately summed up or encounters,” Patton rests the bottle a little bit too firmly on the table, a glint in his eyes. “Yes, well, believe or not I’m not actually here on my own terms, you see...I’ve gotten myself into a spot of bother,” The bar door opens again, and Patton recoils physically as he identifies two newcomers. 

“Alright, closing time guys,” Patton calls. “Everyone out,” There’s grumbles as the mortals file out of the door, some still clutching beer glasses. The TV turns to static and the Witch folds his arms firmly across his chest “What are you dragging me into this time?” 

“Prince Roman, well that’s what you can call me, my name is far too long it would take minutes to tell you it, honestly I often think my father hated me,” Patton presses a hand to his forehead in stress, he grabs Elderberry wine and places the bottle on the top. A peace offering, even though it’s technically his own territory.

You just don’t fuck around with a Fae prince.

“Azrael, but I really prefer Virgil,” Everyone holy and unholy loves to change their God, or Satan-given names, after so many decades you just get bored of one. The wings unfurl, white and feathery but the tips tinted the same lilac as the hair on the man’s head. Patton sighs and grabs the wine he’d stolen from a Church one night when he’d been drunk and angry at God. He’d kept it under the bar just in case someone decided a Witch probably shouldn’t have hold of blessed sacraments. He hands it over to the Angel, followed by a wine glass. 

“So a Demon, The Prince of Night and the Angel of Death walk into a bar, why do I feel like it’s judgment day and when did you start dating above your station,” He grabs a bottle of cider and leans against the bar, taking a swig at the drink. 

“Please, I would never,” Roman waves a suspiciously sharp hand before leaning against the bar “Even for me he’s too acidic,” The Demon rolls his eyes. “We’re told you’re a good witch to come too when one is in danger and in desperate need of some...Occultist help,”

“I’m retired,” The witch scowls, flinching as his glamour fades, cracking his neck as the two horns he’d grown to hate so much curled through his frizzy mess of blonde curls. “I work in a bar, I serve old people drinks until they die of a heart attack or overconsumption-of-alcohol-related deaths, I don’t do...this anymore,” He sighs in exaggeration, gesturing wildly.

“Weren’t you the Witch that performed sixteen simultaneous exorcisms on parasitic Demons? What was your name then? Arcadia was it?” 

“It was more of a stern telling off, I’m not a minister, I can simply summon Demons and then tell them to go home, and my name is Patton, don’t call me anything else, especially not here,” His eyes slide suspiciously around, just in case there’s someone else. No, just four misfits in a bar.

The Fae Prince, the Prince of Night, or Roman as he prefers to be called. Heir to a very powerful throne and the lead operator behind the forces of everything in which the mortal world entailed. Dressed all in white, bar the blood red eyes, the crown of ivy entangled in his fiery red hair and the wings knitted by nature themselves. Flowers sprout in the wings of fairies as they and Mother Nature are one and the same. But don’t let the daisies fool you, look too long at a Fae and you will see the sharp nails, the pointed teeth and how the glint in their eyes are almost always murderous.

Except for the fact that Roman specifically, does not have a taste for Human flesh, he’s a humanitarian, he only eats livestock. And berries, lots of berries.

The Angel of Death, Azrael and also now apparently called Virgil. Angels tend to pick and chose mortal names, but this one spends so much time with humans that he’s grown quite attached to his human name. Soft-faced with freckled cheeks and yet, much like the Fae if you look too long you can see all the tortured souls he has carted to Hell, and the lines of his face seem to melt away to a more skull-like form. Patton blinks, he prefers baby faced Virgil.

And then, that bastard. Logan Malachite, or previously just Malachite but he does quite like Logan. “It’s boring, like humanity, so I fit in,” Patton had tried ever so hard to explain the contradictions but the Demon had sidetracked him to more extra-curricular activities, ones that weren’t perhaps part of the job. Dressed neatly in a suit and tie, cat-like eyes staring back at the Witch intently. 

Patton hates that he knows he’s going to end up saying yes. 

“We have an issue with a particular Demon,” Logan starts

“A thief,” Virgil adds

“And he’s not even attractive,” Roman sighs. 

“Yes, a thief, who has stolen the one instrument needed to guide souls of the dead into their path to the afterlife,” Logan tries to get back, with a side-eye to Roman “Roman’s sort of along for the ride, we picked him up somewhere between Scotland and Surrey it’s all a bit of a blur, I really do not know why he’s here,”

“I was bored,”

“He was bored,” He sighs. Yeah that sounds like a Fae prince “The issue is this instrument can also be used to bring the dead back to Earth,” Patton grimaces at this and finishes his bottle of cider “Doesn’t quite sound good, does it? Anyway, I need your help because you’re good with Demons, I don’t know what magic you use but you pacify them so well,”

“I’m nice to them! That’s not magic!”

“He’s like the father of all Demons,” Roman swoons a little “At least this one is handsome,” Patton pauses a moment, his mouth opening and closing as he goes to say something but doesn’t quite have a response to that. “Oh, yes, sorry, if you don’t help us then the entirety of the Underworld is going to rise up after hundreds of years of torment and reenact the same punishments they’ve faced on the whole of humanity,” Roman is way too cheery for this scenario. 

But at least Patton understands now why Logan came to him. He loves Humanity, very dearly, enough to integrate with them which most Witches and Warlocks would not do. Which means he’s the only one left that would care. He curses under his breath. “So you need my help to avert the apocalypse...again?” 

“Again?” Roman asks, suddenly very interested “Is this some sort of love story, ooh can I be the narrator?”

“No!” Three other voices chime at once. There’s a long pause before Virgil says softly “Maybe?” Patton sighs and grabs his bag. 

“My flat, I need the name of the Demon and the name of the tool, otherwise, leave the rest to me,”

Oh, Patton really is a sucker for handsome supernatural men in distress, and he hates it.

--

“God, he is ugly,”

“There’s a lot wrong with that sentence,” Virgil comments in response to Roman’s offhand inability to have a filter; directed at the very, extremely ugly man in front of them. And Patton uses the term “Man,” lightly here, it was more of a shape of a man with very bumpy skin, and not bumpy like acne but....more like boils. Green, awful boils. He’s dealt with demons that look like maggots and had an easier time than the state of this one...and the stench.

“So...hi,” Patton pulls up a chair and crosses one leg over another “This entire pentagram is sealed, so is the house, and so is your exit, so you aren’t leaving until I get what I want, would you like a cup of tea?” The Demon blinks and then shakes his head. Logan sits down and watches with a fond smile. Maybe this is quite the love story after all. Or not. Maybe. 

He doesn’t want to think about it like he hasn’t wanted to think about it for the last 170 years. 

“So, you have something that doesn’t quite belong to you and my friend here would really like it back,” The Demon scowls and shakes his head, a soft grunt of disapproval escaping him. “You have nowhere to flee, but I am happy to read the entirety of Moby Dick whilst Mozart plays in the background until you give me what I want, now I understand your job is treachery and torment but I can’t quite have the end of the world occurring under my watch,” A hiss in response.

Demons seem to all collectively hate Mozart.

And Moby Dick.

The Demon manages two chapters before he’s handing over the weapon, a very finely crafted ethereal blade. Patton grins and hands it over to Virgil, who inspects it before nodding. “Glad to do business with you, you are hereby banished to the fourth circle of Hell, you know the drill, see you in another century or so when you finally manage to get back,”

“You’re quite enigmatic aren’t you?” Virgil sighs when all is said and done “I’ve never seen someone bore a Demon into submission before,” Patton shrugs and offers the copy of Moby Dick to the Angel “Oh no, not even we want that I’m afraid,” Roman takes liberties on hanging off the other’s shoulder, a glittering look in his eyes. 

“Did you steal some of my honey?”

“Just a tad,” The drunk Fae replied, lying down on the couch. Patton knows, somehow, that his honey is going to be missing for another week. But you can’t be stolen from when the object was never yours, honey comes from the Bees and the Bees live for the Fae; that’s why they produce the one thing that can get a fairy drunk. 

Patton sighs and grabs another bottle out of his fridge “I get the feeling the three of you won’t be keen to travel so late at night,”

“I’m almost certain I owe you some form of repayment,” But the Witch only sighs and shakes his head. “Not tonight?”

“Not tonight Logan, I really just need to sleep,”

“What repayment does he usually get?” The Fae asks curiously, spooning honey into his mouth, Logan only grins in response, opening his mouth to speak but Patton waves a quiet hand. 

“I will exorcise you Logan don’t even think about it,” But Roman seems to understand as he coos at them. Virgil’s lips quirk into some sort of smile as he flicks through one of the books on Patton’s shelves, lying on his stomach with his wings folded against his back. “Sleep, I need it,”

Somewhere during the night, when Virgil finally set aside the book and fall asleep, one wing hanging off the edge of the bed and another curled around three other bodies protectively, and Roman had finished the honey and lay at the edge of the bed with his wings folded neatly, and Logan had realized although he didn’t need to sleep he really wanted too, the four of them all lay together. Patton’s head eventually rested on Logan’s chest, sleeping soundly. 

Logan, ever more soft-hearted than he lets on whether he’s a Demon or not, looks down at the friend he only sees once a decade and thinks.

‘Maybe I should stay this time?’

--

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#sanders sides #logicality #LAMP #thomas sanders

[spartanguard]

savage garden, 6/7

Summary: Killian Jones was, by far, the worst, weakest, most ineffectual Dark One ever. (According to the Darkness, at least.) And he was fine with that. He was just a slave, a deckhand—what use did he have of dark magic? And even less want. But the Darkness has vowed to firmly get him under its grasp, one of these days. He finds respite in a beautiful secluded garden—and the amazing woman he eventually meets there. The question remains, though: is it—is she—enough to keep him out of the dark completely? One can only hope…

5.7k | rated T | AO3 | part 1 | part 2 (art) | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

A/N: Another update, and one more to go! One of my favorite scenes in the story is in the chapter; I literally swooned writing it. But, a note about a later scene: SLIGHT TRIGGER WARNING—very very vague mentions of attempted assault in the past. It doesn't go into any detail, but I figured I should put this warning up to be safe. 

title comes from “Crash and Burn” by Savage Garden, which fits this story way too well and is basically how the story got its name.

chapter 6:  let me be the one you call / when darkness is upon your door

The first winter storm arrived three days after Killian’s battle with the Darkness—after he last saw Emma.

Three achingly long days during which he had to expend more effort than he would have liked to keep the dark magic back, though its appearance never faded from his veins. Three days where he had to force himself from going back to the garden, but the memory of the frightened way Emma had stared at him kept him home.

But the snow forced Killian to repair the window. He tried to do it by hand, but just kept cutting himself on the broken glass and couldn’t seem to fit the pieces together properly—he just ended up smearing his blackish blood on them. He fixed it with magic before he even realized what he was doing.

Now wasn’t that so much easier?

“Bugger off.”

You’ve been telling me that for decades and it hasn’t happened; when will it sink in?

“Never.”

And just how do you plan on stopping me now? it sneered. Emma won’t go near you.

“Don’t you dare say her name to me!” he snapped.

Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma…

Her name was echoing off the wooden walls of the cottage and reverberating in his skull as the Darkness sing-songed and cackled. Placing his hands over his ears did nothing, nor did curling in on himself where he stood in his great room—not that he suspected such instinctive human reactions would do much against an unnatural onslaught like this.

It felt like his brain was being rent in two, until he couldn’t handle the attack anymore. “Silence!” he shouted, so loud (or so amplified by magic) that the mirror above the hearth shattered and a set of bookshelves collapsed .

To his shock, the Darkness complied, but he swore he could almost hear its smugness as he magically repaired the mirror; he had to stop himself from doing the same with the bookcase.

He’d just started stacking the books and assessing the damage when he heard an even stranger noise: a knock on the door. That had never happened before—he’d made sure that the path to his home was as hidden and hard to traverse as possible. So, either this person was terribly lost, or...a chill went up his spine at the thought of what malevolence might cause a person to try to find him.

He left the books to their chaos on the floor and cautiously went to answer the door, suddenly wishing he’d thought to install windows on this side of the house, or at least a peephole.

Ask and ye shall receive. Without effort, a tiny, glass-filled hole appeared on the door. He sighed that it had happened unconsciously, but was too concerned to care much and peered through it.

Then his heart truly stopped: it was Emma.

“Killian? Are you there?” she called, and he could tell she was about to knock again; knowing her, she wouldn’t leave until she talked to him one way or the other. He wouldn’t put it past her to somehow get onto the balcony and sneak in that way. No, he needed to face her head-on—though why she was even here after what happened, he had no idea.

As loudly as he could, he unlatched the deadbolt on the door and pulled the rusty hinges open.

To his shock, she grinned when she saw him. “Hi!” she greeted cheerily, her face alight—although he did notice her eyes dart briefly to the space behind him as she pulled off the hood of her thick brown winter cloak.

“H-hello,” he replied, unsure, and feeling very much like cornered prey. “Emma, what are you doing here? Why; how?”

“You dropped this,” she explained and nodded at the object he just noticed floating in front of her: his glove. “It was a pretty easy tracking spell to find you, even if the hike wasn’t.”

The glove floated towards him, and he took it out of the air. There was a tiny spark as her magic faded out once it came in contact with him.

She didn’t wait for him to answer before continuing. “I figured you’d take some time to cool off before coming back, but then when you didn’t, I realized I was going to have to come to you.”

“You…” He blinked as he tried to process it, but all he could say was, “...Why?” There was no understanding it. “Emma, I very nearly killed you; I had little to no control of that situation. How...how can you stand to be near me?”

Her shoulders slumped a bit. “Not gonna lie—I was pretty scared in the moment,” she told him, glancing down—almost looking ashamed. “But you seemed just as upset, if not more, once you came back to yourself. Whatever the Darkness does, I know that’s not you.”

A pit formed in his stomach. “I wish I was as certain of that as you are,” he admitted.

“Hey,” she said, somewhat sharply, commanding his attention back from his self-loathing. “You’re a good man, Killian,” she affirmed, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “And there’s something I want to do.” She swallowed, then barreled on. “I’m here to ask you out; to dinner, or something.”

His jaw dropped. He certainly wouldn’t complain that she still wished to spend time with him, but the fact that she wanted to boggled him. And yet, all he could reply with was, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you out?” (Had social mores changed that much in the time since he’d been removed from society?)

“Should have known you’d be old-fashioned, given your age,” she teased with a smirk. (Apparently, they had.) “Come on; I know the perfect place. It’s not too crowded, but just enough that no one will bother us. What do you say?”

As with anything she asked him, he knew he couldn’t deny her. “Alright,” he said. “Let me grab my cloak.”

“Not your jacket?”

Her reaction surprised him a bit. “No; should I wear that instead?”

“It’s up to you. I just think it’s a pretty fantastic jacket.”

What do you know? She does have good taste, despite her interest in you.

“Jacket it is, then. Just give me a moment.” His sense of chivalry was telling him to invite her in while he fetched the garment from the bedroom, but the sailor didn’t want her to see the mess. So he settled on leaving the door open and moving with haste.

As he slipped the leather on in the privacy of his little-used quarters, he realized that it was probably for the best to have his armor on if he was going to be around people.

Not that it did much good the last time.

“Behave. Please.”

We’ll see.

He rejoined her quickly, locked the door behind them, and turned back to her. “Lead the way, love.”

She smiled, took him by the arm, and headed off. It was slow going at first—even he struggled sometimes to get through the rocky outcrops that naturally hid his home, but that was why he’d chosen this spot in the first place. Eventually, though, they were on more even terrain, and Emma struck up conversation.

“The books have been incredibly helpful—thank you again, so much.”

“I’m glad to hear that. There haven’t been any further, uh, issues?”

“No,” she confirmed, a bit solemnly. “I...I had one of the fairies help me make sure nothing like that would happen again.”

“Good. Was it Tink?”

She looked at him almost incredulously. “Yeah; how’d you know?”

“She...may have sought me out during my journey to and from the castle.”

“Oh my god; so much of our conversation makes sense now. I can’t believe she’d meddle like that.”

“She’s just looking out for you, love. It’s understandable, really, given...what I am.”

“Well, you definitely won her over. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

“Aye, she hinted at as much,” he said, blushing.

She gave him a sideways glance-smirk combination that suggested there was something he was missing from the story.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just...has anyone ever told you you’re adorable?”

He was sure he was now as pink as the sky above the presently setting sun. It had fallen completely by the time they got to the nearest town, and the lamplighters were at their task, illuminating the streets. Killian had watched this town grow and change over the years, and he had to admit that the streetlamps were by far the best invention he’d seen.

The tavern Emma was headed to was one with which he was fairly well-acquainted. More than once, he’d gone into town and found a dark, quiet corner of a tavern to perch for the night. It made him feel less disconnected from the world as he sipped on weak ale and dined on hearty stew. He tipped well, he stayed out of trouble, and he didn’t leave an impression, though some perhaps thought it odd that he kept his hood so low over his face. But his gold was worth more than anyone’s curiosity, he supposed.

Emma had the same approach; once they were inside, she slipped off her cloak and led him to a secluded table that he’d sat at many times. Near the bar, some Navy men on shore leave were clearly enjoying their first satisfying meal in months; on the other side of the main room, pirates were deep into their bottles and either gambling or whoring—or both.

A waitress wandered over from that side of the room, hair and skirts askew. “What’ll it be?”

“Ale and stew, please, ma’am,” he said politely. Thankfully, this part of the tavern was too dark for her to really see him.

Emma asked, “Stew for me, too, and a bottle of rum, two glasses.”

The waitress nodded and scurried off.

“You drink rum?” Killian wondered aloud.

“Yeah; don’t you, Mister Pirate?”

“No. I’m allergic; never touched the stuff.”

“Never?”

“Well, once,” he admitted. “I was young and some of the crew gave it to me; said it’d ‘help me be a man’ or something. I’d only had a few shots before it came right back up.”

Emma chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think you’re allergic—I think you just had too much. How old were you?”

“Twelve, maybe.”

“Yeah. You’re having some of this.”

She poured out two portions when the waitress returned with their order and handed him one before holding her own aloft.

“To breaking curses.”

“I can drink to that.” He lightly tipped his small cup against hers, then watched with no small amount of awe as she tossed it back, then licked her lips after. Already, he was feeling a bit flushed, and he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol.

She set her glass down and gave him a daring smile. “Your turn.”

He exhaled in preparation. He was well-acquainted with the smell of the stuff, but all he could recall of the taste was nothing pleasant. Still—this was for Emma. As quick as he could, he brought it to his lips and drained the cup.

Incredibly, it wasn’t half bad. The burn of the alcohol was there, but it was so much better than whatever swill the crew had been drinking—this was sweet and warm and spicy.

“Good, huh?”

“Aye.”

“And you’re not breaking out in hives or anything, right?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Perfect.”

Part of him was exercising restraint from indulging in another; the other part wondered if he could even get drunk.

Nothing stopping you from finding out!

Like most things, he decided to follow her lead, taking a shot whenever it was offered as they dug into their meals and continued to chat. It was casual—well, as casual as it could be, given the weight of what had already passed between them—but he couldn’t recall a more enjoyable night in ages.

“So, I want to know: how you got the hook,” she asked, toying with the appendage where it sat on the table. There was a flush in her cheeks and playful smile on her face; he had to assume the rum had something to do with that, but he liked to imagine otherwise.

“Afraid it’s a rather dull tale,” he shrugged. “We were attacked by pirates when I was on a merchant vessel. I wasn’t fighting, but somehow got caught in the middle of things and one sword or another took it off; I was never clear whose, but wouldn’t put it past one of my crew mates.”

“Seriously? That’s terrible.”

“It happens,” he offered nonchalantly; he’d certainly seen worse. “The ship doctor helped me heal and fitted me with the hook, so I’d still be useful. Once the fever from the infection finally broke, that’s when I discovered there was a new captain and crew—the very pirates who’d attacked—and they let me stay as long as I kept a low profile and contributed. So I’m sure that answers another question of yours.”

“Yeah, it does,” she affirmed. “It didn’t seem like something you’d sign up for.”

“You’d be surprised, actually. It’s…it’s better than being a slave.”

She squeezed both his hand as his hook at that, and offered a sympathetic smile. “What happened to the crew? After...everything. Did you, you know...do anything to them?”

He knew it was just morbid curiosity on her part, but hated that she knew it was a possibility. “No; I never saw them again. Didn’t want to; didn’t trust myself. I ran into Smee, the bo’sun, some years later, but he was an old man and retired at that point.”

“That must have been a shock for him.”

“Aye; he thought he’d seen a ghost,” Killian chuckled. “We had a pint—up at that very bar, actually. Didn’t talk much, given that there wasn’t much to say—he never actively antagonized me, but we weren’t exactly close friends.” He swallowed as the rest of the memory played out. “He’s the only person who ever asked me to use the magic. He wanted to be young again.”

“Did you do it?”

“No. The Darkness insisted it could, but I wasn’t confident enough to let it have any free reign like that. Thankfully, he understood when I turned him down; said he’d had a good life.” He took a pull from his ale, then continued a bit quieter, “I went to his funeral a few years later. I think he was the last person who knew me as a mortal man.”

“Wow. And I’m guessing that was a while ago?”

“Yeah; probably 80 years ago, at least.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. “You say that so casually, like it’s nothing, when it’s longer than most people even live. What have you been doing all these years?”

“Is it the rum making you chatty or are you genuinely curious?” he teased. Perhaps the booze was having an effect on him, too—he’d never been so flirty. (Was this flirting? He honestly hardly knew.)

“Can it be both?” She winked.

He smiled back, but then averted his gaze, picking at the remnants of his stew with his spoon. Perhaps another effect of the alcohol was a delay in his usual reactions; even if it was Emma, who he’d already revealed so much to, he still hadn’t gotten accustomed to anyone being interested in his life or what he had to say. “I can’t say I’ve been up to anything particularly interesting,” he said, trying to be gentle in what was sure to be a let-down of a tale. He summarized his years: building his home and library, keeping himself entertained with the Darkness and its constant companionship, and his regular visits to the garden. “It was the only place I could truly find solitude, even after I...when it was…less than attractive.”

“You did that, didn’t you.” She wasn’t asking, but she wasn’t accusatory, either.

“I did. Or the Darkness did; it’s still a bit fuzzy.”

Emma gave a sad sort of smirk. “I’m just realizing—that’s why your magic felt familiar: because I’d already felt it, the first time I walked in there. It wasn’t as strong, but...it was definitely yours.”

Shame rushed through him, faster than he’d ever felt it before (and he was well-acquainted with the emotion). He swallowed and let his gaze drift down again, inspecting each striation in the grain of the wooden bowl. “So my reputation did precede me, then.”

“Hey—don’t go there,” Emma told him, squeezing his hand again. “It’s in the past, and it’s moot now. Finding the garden like that...it kind of gave me a purpose again.”

He looked up, surprised. Of all the things they had in common, he never thought a lack of direction would be one.

She explained, seeming to understand his silent question. “I was just...so angry, after everything with my parents and Maleficent and not being able to do anything about it. The fairies were being kind of scarce so I didn’t have anyone to help me, and I couldn’t go to anyone I knew near the palace because they’d see what a failure I am. We don’t even have to talk about that dumb prophecy that’s still hanging over my head.” She paused her rant to take a breath and a drink. “And then I stumbled across the garden and...it was something I could fix. So I did. And...here we are.”

Some part of Killian wondered at the cosmic improbability of the way their paths crossed and intertwined so perfectly—if it was coincidence or more than that; maybe something do with her being the Savior, even if he still didn’t know what that meant (though it must have something to do with the prophecy). But the rest of him was back to being a bit bleary, happily so, from the rum. He gave her a gentle squeeze this time. “I’m glad you found it.”

“Me too,” she smiled.

“And now that you know all of my sordid tale, and I know the rest of yours, how about you tell me something far more exciting and that no one has probably ever asked you before: what’s it like to be a princess?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Okay, Captain Sarcasm. There’s no way you want to hear that. It’s so boring.”

“Not to me, it’s not.”

She gave him a sideways glance, but he could see some level of submission in her gaze. “Okay, but I warned you: it really isn’t all that exciting.”

Emma was a terrible liar—he found everything exceedingly fascinating, from life in the castle to her lessons to the way she described her parents (having a close family like that at all, really; his heart ached in a way it hadn’t in so long at the thought of Liam).

“Ugh, and the balls,” she complained. “It felt like we had one every other month.”

He perked up even more at that, if it was even possible for him to be more engrossed in her stories. “I thought those were supposed to be fun?” he commented; everything he’d ever read seemed to suggest they were the height of romance and diversion.

“I mean, the first twenty or so were, I guess. But after a while, they all look the same: same dresses, same dances, same people. My mother gave up on finding a suitor ages ago, after everything with that bastard,” she spat, referring to the arse that broke her heart. “I think she just likes throwing parties. Seems a bit of a waste of money to me but they somehow always seemed to come up even on them.” She sniffed a bit, though. “But I can’t wait for the next one, whenever it is.”

“It’ll happen,” he assured her.

“I know; I have to have hope that it will.”

He gave her another hopeful squeeze and they went back to their drinks for a bit, until music filled the tavern. One of the pirates had brought a fiddle and was playing a jig of some sort, and the waitresses were joining some of the men in dancing a reel. It was fairly typical of something Killian had seen on ships a lifetime ago, but given their conversation and the gentle glow of the tavern’s lanterns, there was something a bit more dreamy about it.

They watched and clapped along for the rest of the song, and then the tune changed and the dancers changed their steps to match. He was practically lost in a daze as he stared at the couples as they twirled and pranced almost in sync with one another, happy smiles on their faces and laughter bubbling from their throats.

“Do you want to dance?”

Killian’s head whipped towards Emma, both in shock and wonder. “Pardon?”

“Have you never been asked to dance before?”

A hazy memory of one special night with Milah filtered through his memory, but no words had been spoken then—it just happened. “No, I haven’t.”

“Well, come on. I’m not used to being turned down, especially when I actually want to dance with someone,” she commanded with a wink, then stood and held an inviting hand to him.

He didn’t let himself think too long about taking it, the warmth of her palm reaching his even through his glove, and followed as she led him to the makeshift dance floor just as the music changed. This tune was more...he didn’t want to say refined, but it was definitely more befitting a ball than a tavern.

She pulled him to an open spot and then stood in front of him. Carefully, she took his hand and placed it on her waist, right above where the curve of her hips gently flared out.

“What...what are you doing?” he stammered; for some reason, he felt like a virginal young boy again, even though he was neither (but might as well be, in some ways).

Emma set her hand on his shoulder and with the other, held his hook, before pointedly explaining, “It’s called a waltz, and there’s only one rule.” She took a step into him, close enough that he could feel heat radiating off her body onto his, and murmured, “Pick a partner who knows what she’s doing.”

Any words died on his lips; no coherent thoughts formed in his brain. Nothing registered but the slight shift of weight as Emma took the first step, and he scrambled to follow. Then another. And another. Emma expertly directed their movements with the the press of her hand against him and the press of her hips into his grip; he was torn between focusing on the steps and staring at the soft expression on her face, green eyes twinkling even in the dim light.

Eventually, he figured it out and they fell into a pattern, swaying and turning to the rhythm of the music that seemed to play in time with the beat of his heart—which, quite honestly, was racing. He thought these things were supposed to be filled with romance and drama—not the intensity and intimacy that was currently present, or the heaviness of the air between them.

Too soon, the song was over and another, much livelier dance took its place. But Killian was loathe to let go of Emma and, impossibly, she seemed to feel the same, because instead of moving away, she came even closer, wrapping her free arm around his waist and setting her head on his shoulder. It was a good thing he didn’t need air, because his breath had been completely stolen.

He was almost scared to move—scared that he might frighten her away, that she wasn’t aware of what she was doing due to the rum or something—but then she started to sway on every other beat of the music, and his body was moving with hers before he had a chance to think about it.

His hook settled on the other side of her waist and he wrapped his hand around her back just a bit, keenly aware of everything about her: her scent, her warmth, how she felt pressed against him, even the subtle vibrations of her heartbeat. It was like she was the only other person in the world, the only thing that mattered—none of his other constant troubles or worries plagued him; he was completely at peace. He closed his eyes and gave into the bliss that was threatening to drown him, and he couldn’t imagine a sweeter death.

Typically, it all came crashing down a moment later. A sharp jostle pulled them both from their shared serenity, and it took a second to notice the pirate at their side, dressed in a dirty tunic and frayed pants held up with a belt that strained against his gut. He was trying to get in between Killian and Emma. “Might I ‘ave a turn with the lady?” he asked, polite in word but not in tone, or the way he was leering at Emma’s top.

“No, you may not,” was Emma’s sharp reply.

“Aw, that’s no fair; just want a quick turn is all.” He was still trying to get his dirty hands on Emma, pawing at her arm.

“I believe the lady said no,” Killian hissed. He was livid with this man; how dare he interrupt them?

Make him pay! the Darkness crowed; it wasn’t until that outburst that Killian realized it had been silent all night.

The pirate turned his attention to Killian, giving him a once over with his eyes. “Oh, you’re a pretty one, too, aren’t you? Jealous, then? I’d love a romp with you, too.”

Long-buried memories rose to the surface, spiraling out in a rage Killian hadn’t felt in ages. He grabbed the man by the shoulder and pressed him against the opposite wall, covering the distance in a matter of strides.

He pressed his forearm across the scoundrel’s chest and the tip of his hook to the neck. “You won’t lay a finger on her hair nor mine, d’you hear me?” he spat, and the man started to cower and whimper. He heard his name called from somewhere outside, but all he could focus on was this miserable excuse for a man and the fear coursing through his body. “Otherwise, I’ll see to it that you have none at all, nor your head—savvy?” The tip of his hook started to draw blood.

Ooh, decapitation—we haven’t done that in ages!

“Killian, stop.” A hand was squeezing his bicep and he turned to look at whoever dared interrupt him. It was Emma, of course.

“I can’t—he wanted to hurt you!” he insisted; didn’t she see how dangerous this man was?

“Please—I can take him,” she scoffed. “Just stop; you don’t need to do this.”

Yes, you do! Imagine what he could have done—to her; to you. Killian squinted his eyes shut at the images playing in his head.

“Killian, please.” The soft tone of her voice quickly brought him back to the ground, though he wasn’t sure if he’d been above it or under it a moment prior. Either way, it was a shock to his senses—he was ready to kill this man, without even blinking an eye.

And Emma had witnessed the whole thing.

He jumped away from the pirate as if he’d been jolted, and the man promptly slumped against the wall as he sputtered and got his breath back. The rest of the bar was eerily silent and all eyes were on him, most with a look of fear in them as he glanced around.

If Emma wore that look, too, he didn’t want—couldn’t bear—to see it. “I...I’m sorry,” he blurted out, keeping his eyes down, and then ran for the door and into the night.

You were so close—so close! He deserved it!

“No, he didn’t.” Killan’s path was aimless, but he could hear the ocean and knew his feet were propelling towards it.

He’s probably done worse.

“Then he’ll get what he deserves someday; not from me.” He crashed through thick brush as he plowed on, not caring about the burrs and thorns that scratched at him.

Think about it—think of all the wrongs you could right, if you’d just let yourself—let us—

“No!” he screamed, finally coming into a clearing. The shore lay just ahead and the sound of the waves crashing on the sand was an instant balm, though nowhere near as much as it usually was. “I’m tired of your bloody games and torture! When will it be enough? When will you just give up on me?”

“Not any time soon.” He jumped and turned to see Emma breaking through the shrubbery he’d just ran through.

He stumbled back, trying to stay away from her, for her sake. “You...you followed me? Why?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she moved closer to him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“After what I just did…”

To his shock, she rolled her eyes. “Didn’t we literally just have this conversation? I’m not scared of you; I know that’s not you.”

Her faith in him was so much stronger than his own, and it nearly broke his heart. “Aye, but the line between me and the Darkness gets weaker every day. What just happened there—it’s happened before, and it’ll happen again, and it’s just been getting more frequent. I don’t…” He hung his head and nearly sobbed. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Give in, give in, give in, the Darkness started to chant, its chorus echoing in his head. He collapsed against the wet sand as their taunts got louder, whimpering at the splitting headache it was causing until—

Until it stopped suddenly. “Killian, are you alright?” He opened his eyes to see Emma in front of him, kneeling too and gripping his shoulders. There was fear in her expression, but not of him—for him.

He didn’t have it in him to lie. “No, I’m not.”

“What happened?”

He snorted. “When? That’s a bit of a loaded question, love.”

“Okay then,” she said quietly, then brushed a hand through his hair. “How about back at the tavern.”

“I…” he started, not quite sure how to explain. “My appearance has always garnered attention, even when I was mortal—especially then. People...wanted me.”

“I...I see. Did they…?” She clearly didn’t want to put it into words.

“No, nothing like that—but there were some close calls. And it often started like that—minding my own business, and then I was being propositioned. And the Darkness...it knows what’ll set me off; it dug up those memories and that was all it took. Sometimes, I can resist, but others…”

“I get it,” she cut in. “Is...that what was happening before I knocked on your door?”

He gulped. “How...how much of that did you hear?”

“It sounded like you were yelling, and I heard something breaking, but I didn’t see anyone else there. And then it seemed like it happened when I walked up here—you were yelling, but there’s no one else around.”

He sighed and hung his head.

“Does it have something to do with your curse?”

“It has everything to do with that,” he confirmed. “It...talks to me,” he explained. “I know that sounds insane, but it taunts me, in my head. That’s how it tries to get me to do its bidding; admonishes my failures—things like that. I used to be good at ignoring it, but it...pushes, and it’s been doing that more as of late.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “Is that what happened last time in the garden?”

“No.” He still shuddered at the memory. “I’m still not sure what caused that; something in the book, I think. The Darkness somehow manifested and then...took over. It usually just takes advantage of my emotions—it’s always prompted. That was...a first.”

“Your eyes looked different; kind of like that one time we fought. That’s how I could tell you weren’t all there. They did that tonight, too.”

He scoffed. “That’s the thing, though—I was still there. I could see it all happening. Whatever that was in the garden was harder to break out of, but tonight...that wasn’t as blurry.”

“But Killian—”

“No; no ‘buts’, Emma.” He stood up quickly and put some distance between them, moving closer to the edge of the water. “There’s only two ways for this to end: I give in and let the Darkness run free, doing gods know what to anyone in my path; or I somehow keep this up and manage to hold it at bay for eternity. So either way...I’m not good for you.”

Emma followed him, angrily storming to his side. “Excuse you—I think I’ll decide who or what is ‘good’ for me, okay? And screw me—what about you? What do you need, Killian?”

The fire in her eyes matched her elevated pulse, thundering in his ears. You’re so close, the Darkness whispered. Listen to her heart—you could take it so easily…

“No!” he shouted and took a step back, yelling at both of them. “You know what I want? All I’ve wanted for decades?”

“What?”

“I just want to go in the bloody ocean. Not food, not my family, not even a friend—all I wanted to make this curse bearable was to be in the water and let it soothe me. And look.”

He turned at ran at the sea, but never did he hit the water. He should have sent salt spray up all around him and likely splashed Emma, but—to her surprise, if the way her jaw dropped was anything to go by—the water stayed away, parting around him and leaving him on dry land.

“Not even the sea can stand me, love. How can you? How can anyone?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but then firmly shut her lips.

“See?” he cried. She took a step toward him, but he held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t, love, please—just...just stay away. It’s for your own good.”

He waved his hand and translocated home, collapsing on his wood floor as soon as he did. Sobs wracked his body as he was hit with the realization that he’d just pushed away the one person who had seen him—the real him—in so, so long, but in the end, he knew it was for the best.

There, there, dearie, the Darkness crooned. We’ve got you.

as always, thanks for reading! tagging some people: @kat2609 @thesschesthair @optomisticgirl @cocohook38 @fergus80 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @selfie-wench @mryddinwilt @annytecture @wingedlioness @word-bug @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @queen-mabs-revenge @killianmesmalls @distant-rose @sherlockianwhovian @effulgentcolors @laschatzi @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @nfbagelperson @the-captains-ayebrows @stubble-sandwich​ @killian-whump​ @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @wyntereyez @lfh1962 @bmbbcs4evr @therooksshiningknight

#cs ff #dark killian #deckhand hook #cs march madness #fic: savage garden #my ff

[stallingdemons]

Forbidden

Who: Tony Stark/Iron-man, Bruce Banner/The Hulk, Stephen Strange/Doctor Strange, Wong, Steve Rogers/Captain America What: Thanos is coming and Tony needs to make that call but being the stubborn person he is, kind of sort of refuses and then gets distracted. [Y/N] makes the call. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three 

 *A/N: made some minor revisions*

[Y/N] snorted to herself as she listened to Tony tell Pepper about the dream he had the night before. It was quite entertaining to imagine Tony holding an infant, let alone being a father. [Y/N] wouldn’t admit it out loud but Tony had some potential. He had a good paternal instinct thing going on underneath all of that ego. She felt it every time she got scolded for something she had done wrong or done something she wasn’t supposed to. It was also obvious with Peter. She witness the dad in Tony on several occasions with the high-schooler. 

Sipping on water, she stretched out her aching muscles from the run the three of them had just done. It was going to be a long day and she dreaded it. [Y/N] had been incorporated into Tony’s life more recently for a few different reasons. The lame excuse reasons were to give Pepper some girl company and to work out the evolving kinks in [Y/N]’s strange genetic makeup. She was also given the task to train the spiderling into the “friendly neighborhood Spider-Man” that Tony wanted. But the main reason was to keep an on eye on her so she didn’t try to run off and find a certain patriotic ex-friend of theirs. 

Tony refused to admit it but that was why her life was the way it was. Throughout the years of being the “prodigy” of Tony Stark and fighting alongside the Avengers, she found comfort in a certain soldier. [Y/N] loved the time the Captain was from. He’d tell her stories of his life prior to the serum and after. He understood what it was like to be at the hands of HYDRA and how different the world was to a person that had been experimented on. In time, the two developed a bond that Tony was more than apprehensive about. 

When the Sokovia Accords happened, it tore [Y/N] apart. She firmly believed in what the solider spoke but the little girl that was rescued by the man in iron raged inside. The little girl reminded her that she was indebted to the person who gave her a better life. [Y/N] struggled with the battle of doing what was right and doing what was asked of her. [Y/N] had been forced to fight against the man she deeply loved and when she was given the opportunity to take them done, she couldn’t. Instead, she fought against The Black Panther to allow Bucky and Steve to avoid capture. 

[Y/N] missed him. She missed his laugh, the way he used to look her, the deep intellectual conversations they shared, and even the moments where they fought side by side. It was a difficult two years. She was constantly fighting the urge to hack into FRIDAY’s system to cloak herself and find them. Vision had shared that they were doing the best they could by being fugitives and that just like [Y/N], the Captain struggled with not being able to see her 

She envied Vision, she knew where he would go when he turned off his transponder. She knew he was going to see Wanda but she would never tell Tony, despite how loyal she was to him. Vision was allowed to make his own decisions and if [Y/N] could get away with it, she’d do the same. 

[Y/N] was yanked from her thoughts by an unfamiliar voice uttering a familiar name. 

“Tony Stark,” A man dressed in odd clothing stepped forward out of a spiraling hole that held a different scenery than the park they were currently in. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me.” 

[Y/N] stepped forward, feeling very defensive. Her eyes narrowed as she moved in front of Tony and Pepper, “Why do you need him? What is your purpose?”

Strange kept his serious expression, “We need your help. It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake.”

Tony’s jaw locked as he felt the same defensive mood, “And who’s ‘we’?”

“Hey, Tony.”

[Y/N]’s eyes lit up and then confusion swept over her, it couldn’t be, could it? Glancing over at Tony and Pepper, they too, wore the same expression. “Dr. Banner?” She stepped forward again, baffled. It had been a few years since she had last seen him. The two of them had grown close during the trails and errors of her examinations. He had been one of the few that could relate to the whole body wanting to take over the mind dilemma. It gave [Y/N] someone to lean on when she felt like she was losing the war on her mind. 

Bruce did a double take, “Kid? Oh my god, you’re, you’re grown!” He staggered towards [Y/N] and gave her a hug. It had only been a few years but she looked so different. Taking a step back and looking over her again, he shook his head. How could someone change this much? A part of him was happy that he was back on Earth but the fear was close behind. Giving Tony a hug, he frowned “You need to go with him,” looking at [Y/N], “you too. We need all the help we can get.” 

[Y/N] and Tony reluctantly agreed and walked through the spiraling worm hole. They were being caught up something she had never heard of. The Infinity Stones? Wong’s story intrigued and instilled fear in her all at the same time. Every fight they fought made her realize just how terrifying their world was getting. How could the universe create such powerful gems? And then the unity of those gems could create such chaos?

She had gotten so lost in her thoughts that she had hadn’t paid much attention to the men bickering until Tony said, “Probably Steve Rogers.” Grabbing her attention, she stood up, quickly. 

Bruce looked at Tony, “Call him.”

[Y/N] scoffed, “It’s not that easy, Dr. Banner.” All of sudden, she was propelled back to the moment where Tony had forbidden her to ever go searching for the Captain. “You’ve missed out on a lot of stuff.” Her tone was thick with bitterness, “The Avengers broke up, Cap and Tony had a falling out. Bad.” 

Tony frowned looking towards Bruce, “We’re not on speaking terms.”

Bruce was having a hard time processing everything. How could that have happened? Shaking his head, he looked at his friend, “Tony, listen to me. Thor’s gone, Thanos is coming. It doesn’t matter who you’re taking to or not.”

Tony clenched his jaw, contemplating his friend’s words. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a flip phone. Scoffing as he turned it over. Such low tech but that was the Captain for you. 

[Y/N]’s eyes widened, “What is that?”

“Something I kept hidden from you.” He said flatly.

“You’re kidding me, you could have had contact with him this entire time?”

“[Y/N],” Tony warned, not really wanting to get into it. He had his reasons and he did not want to justify them in this moment.

[Y/N]’s eyes narrowed as her jaw locked, her hands balling at her sides. “This entire time of wondering if he was okay, all i had to do was sift through your pockets for an easy answer?” Bruce and Strange exchanged glances as [Y/N] continued to rant. “I laid awake for hours at night wondering if he was okay. I couldn’t sleep for days. I couldn’t eat because I felt so sick to my stomach. I cried. I cried when you said I couldn’t go find him. All I wanted was to make sure he was okay. But you wouldn’t let me. He was your friend, Tony. Someone who would have laid down his life for yours in a heartbeat with no hesitation if it meant you would be saved.” 

Bruce interjected, putting the pieces to her anger together. “Wait, wait. You and Steve?” He laced his fingers together in question.

Tony ignored Banner, his eyes boring into [Y/N]. “I did what I had to do, okay?! I’m responsible for your life. I protect you. If I had let you go after Rogers, you would have become a fugitive too. Ross would have had a bounty on your head.” Gritting his teeth, “And if he put a bounty on your head, that’s my head too.” 

[Y/N] had tears in her eyes, shaking her head. “No, I could have done just fine with him. I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“No, [Y/N]. That’s where you’re wrong. I do protect you. I’m responsible for you. That was the only way you were ever able to live your life freely after I found you in those HYDRA labs. Your readings were off the chart. They wanted to lock you up for the rest of your life.” Tony’s expression softened slightly, You were just sixteen, [Y/N]. They wanted to treat you like some death row inmate. I couldn’t in my hard to find conscience let them do that to you. You were just a scared little girl who had been tortured beyond belief.” His expression hardened again, “So pardon me for forbidding you to search for Rogers and the rest of them. I was only saving your life.” 

[Y/N] felt the emotions bubbling with anger. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to concentrate on her breathing. The molecules inside of her were constantly evolving and after the last mishap, she wasn’t cleared to use her powers. But her anger was making them unstable. Gritting her teeth, she turned on her heel.

“Where you going?” Bruce asked, not wanting her to leave.

“Away from him.” She growled, ripping the door open from the Sanctuary, she froze. People were starting to scream and run. Her brows knitted together as she headed in the direction everyone was going away from. She rounded the corner and gasped. [Y/N] had never seen anything like it before.

It didn’t take long for Tony, Strange, Wong, and Bruce to catch up to her. All of them wearing the same expression as her. She looked at Tony, “Take it off.” She motioned towards her wrist that held a slim bracelet like device Tony had created to stabilize her powers.

Tony shook his head, “No. Absolutely not. I am not doing that.”

“You’re kidding me, right? Do you not see that big flying doughnut?”

Bruce became confused as he stared down at her wrist, “What is that?”

“It’s keeping her powerless, she’s too unstable. She keeps evolving, becoming more dangerous.”

“Dangerous is something we’re going to need right about now.” [Y/N] growled.

“Yeah and with your anger, you accidentally kill me.” Tony retorted.

“It wouldn’t be an accident.” She muttered before she dodged debris flying towards her. The enemies were making their statement and she was defenseless. Without her powers, she could opt to use her combative skills she had learned over the years but something told her that hand to hand combat was not the wise choice. These things were huge and could control things with their hands.

Glancing towards Tony’s jacket pocket, she saw the outline of the flip phone that held Captain’s number. Contemplating her options, she went for it. Strange watched her carefully as she held a finger to her lips and slowly reached into his Tony’s pocket. Successfully getting the phone, she stepped back and shoved it in her own jacket pocket.

“Since you aren’t going to deactivate the stabilizer, I’ll go find cover.” Glancing over at Bruce, she rose a brow. “Are you coming with, Dr. Banner? Or is the big guy going to come out and play?

Bruce looked unsure, “I should stay, the big guy might be helpful in this situation. Sorry, kid.”

She shrugged and turned on her heal back towards the sanctum. Once she reached the sanctum’s doors, she opened the phone and dialed the number. Her heart was beating fast as the ring went on for a few seconds.

“Stark.”

Hearing his voice was a mix of happiness and longing. “Steve?”

The tone in his voice changed, “[Y/N]?”

“Yeah, hey Cap.” Her voice shook as she smiled at the sudden shift in his voice. “ We’re gonna, we’re going to need your help.”

Part One | Part Two | Part Three 

#captain america #steve rogers #captain america gif #steve rogers gif #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine #infinity war #infinity war imagine #avengers #avenger #the first avenger #tony stark #doctor strange #wong #bruce banner #ironman #the hulk #chris evans #chris evans gif #tony stark imagine #doctor strange imagine #bruce banner imagine #tony stark x reader #not my gif #creds to the owner