#2. that person who said he brings death upon people around him at his grandfathers funeral while he was there is going to hell.

[becomeundone]

So everyone you loved has left you?

#hometown cha cha cha #hcccedit #kdramaedit #kdramadaily #kim seon ho #mine #the lighting for this was a bit all over the place.. #realising after making like three gifs #anyway 1. ACTING #2. that person who said he brings death upon people around him at his grandfathers funeral while he was there is going to hell. #like he literally took that on board. he was a teenager and he was alone like what?? #3. it's really obvious why he doesn't want to start anything with hyejin. like i kinda guessed before from when he said he doesn't take in #anything alive (like the hedgehog) or whatever he said #idk it's just sad and ik people are gonna be frustrated when he probably doesn't say he likes hyejin back #but there's a lot he's keeping inside #did not mean to write an essay on this

[leakyrocktarot]

What are epidermis pedestrians? First time I'm coming across that word... And your blog so I'm kinda trying to navigate here

An epidermis pedestrian is a "Ski*n W*lker" We don't say the name because it can bring them to you. In the spirit world names are super important and when an entity has your name it can have power over you, and vice versa. Epidermis walkers are beings that can slip into the skin of literally anything to stalk and hunt its prey. An epidermis walker can even take the form of a "Not Deer" Though they are two different things, they can be of the same entity. They originate from Navajo culture, and are called The Yee Naldlooshii and are often times mistaken for wendigos. In Navajo culture, epidermis walkers are derived from ’ánt’įįhnii, which in our terms would be a witch. It is said that after initiation an ’ánt’įįhnii has the ability to become a Yee Naldlooshii. Not all witches are epidermis pedestrians, but all epidermis pedestrians are witches. It is important to note that not all witches are evil, not all of them practice baneful magic, they are a part of two different worlds. "In some stories, people who have attained the highest rank are called clizyati, which means pure evil. This can be achieved by killing a close blood relative, incest, necr0phili4, or other culturally taboo and evil acts. Upon completing one or more of these acts is said to destroy their humanity and allow them to become fully initiated in the way of witchery."

An epidermis pedestrian can take the form of a coyote, wolf, fox, eagle, owl, or crow, but they have the ability to change into whatever animal they need for whatever purpose they need it for. Again I will say Do Not Say The Name Out Loud, Ever. It calls them to you as if you have a target on your back, like being marked by a hunter. I made the mistake of doing it, and there was this bird that followed me for days and it was unlike any other bird. I shit you not, it flew in circles, upside down, and even backwards. I swear to you sometimes it looked like it was hovering in one place. Take note of how animals walk and act around you. If it is a predatory animal and it clearly doesn't think of you as prey, it is most likely a epidermis pedestrian. They often take the high ground, so if you see an animal following you especially from a high place, it most likely will be an epidermis walker. Pay attention to how the body moves, unless they are at the highest level it will always reveal itself by being clumsy. The most obvious example is the countless stories about the deer who turned around, but their legs stayed behind. Sometimes it may walk in a shamble, or jutt around, or even have distorted and crooked limbs. If you see one and you look it in the eye, their eyes will glow yellow whether it is day or night. They can only be found in the desert as that is the only place where they can strive. In the rare case of names, epidermis walkers are the only being that will fear your name. If you call out your given name, it will have to wait until the resonance dissipates. They don't have names, they all consider themselves to be a part of the "Shift".

Below the cut is a clip of a person talking about the things their grandfather has told them about epidermis walkers, how to spot them, and more about them.

Skinwalkers typically live in caves where man cannot reach, or on the tops of mesas. Skinwalkers, while being able to shift, must assume their human form during rest. They are still vulnerable to human patterns of existence. So they seek out places of rest that are seemingly unattainable to humans. The Utes would use this to their advantage, and climb nearby cliffs to catch or kill skin walkers when they least expected it. NOTE: Skinwalkers when sleeping are at their MOST powerful. In the state of rest, the strength to shift circulates through their body over and over again. If they are disturbed during rest, they are at their strongest and can kill at an instant. My grandfather told a story of a particularly Nasty group of two skin walkers who killed several children in a Ute village. A group of brave warriors tracked them to a set of cliffs, where there was a giant half dome cave about 200 feet up. The bravest warriors of the Ute tribe in the region snuck up the cliff, and when they reached the half dome cave, they opened fire on the two skin walkers. The skin walkers were not to be deterred, and instantly killed 3 warriors with their bare hands. The remaining Ute warriors kept firing, and finally the skin walkers lunged toward the edge of the cliff, telling the warriors that they would come back for them another day. The skin walkers ran to the end of the cliff and jumped...but The Utes were already two steps ahead. For weeks they had been bringing in dry brush to the valley below the cave, and by the time the skinwalkers jumped, nearly 3 acres of deadfall was piled strategically throughout the valley trees to look natural. The minute the skin walkers left the cliff, the Utes below lit the pitch-covered dead fall, and when the skin walkers landed, they were quickly trapped in a giant raging bonfire. The skin walkers howled so loudly, that it was said the wind whistled like wolves in that valley for another 50 years.

Skinwalkers sloppily shed fur and you can use it to summon them. When skin walkers turn back, it's just as ugly as when they turn. Instead of cleanly shifting back into human form, skin walkers often leave behind chunks of fur, sometimes up to 6 inches long and 2 inches wide, called "bent skin". If you find "bent skin", you can lure a skinwalker by blowing on the chunk of fur into a fire. The skinwalker will instantly follow the scent to your fire, without question, instinctively. The Ute's would use this method whenever they could, but it was very rare to find "bent skin" without actively knowing the footsteps of a skinwalker.

"The White Wind". That is the expression the Utes used to describe the effects of speaking into quartz rocks to a skinwalker. Skinwalkers are greatly weakened by the voice vibrations of a quartz rock. Medicine Men would carry with them giant quartz rocks, and set them upon a cliff to send out warnings to all nearby skin walkers never to come near their camp. This could only be done when the evidence of skin walkers in the immediate area of the camp could be found. It could not be used as a blanket method to ward off would be attacker skin walkers. The Utes thought that quartz resonated with souls, and that if spoken to with the proper countenance from a Medicine Man or Warrior, that the quartz rock could speak directly to the soul of a person or animal. There was one story about a particularly aggressive skinwalker who chose to stand outside the camp in Elk Form to intimidate the tribe. An elder Medicine Man walked to a nearby rock face, put a giant quartz stone on top, and sang the name of the most recent victims to skin walkers over and over again. Within a matter of hours, the elk began violently kicking, turning from human, to elk, and back again, until it finally started taking the shape of the victims who it killed. The Medicine Man then commanded the skinwalker to turn back to its evil elk form, and jump off a cliff to its final death. The next morning the tribe woke up and found the skinwalker in human form split in half over a pointed stump.

If you can find a skinwalker trail, usually characterized by animal footprints with unusual spacings and variations (example: Deer hoof prints that all of a sudden emerge into 10 feet gaps), you can weaken a skinwalker greatly by putting fish remains in its prints. Animals from the water are highly poisonous to skin walkers in the spiritual sense because they represent water, the killer of the desert. The scent of the fish or other water animal will approach the heel of the skinwalker, and cause him to weaken the more he walks. Warriors who found skin walker trails would alert the tribe, and they would spend days fishing our a local river and then preparing the remains to be used against the skin walkers. The Utes would then follow the footprints for miles, leaving fish rot in each skinwalker indentation, and pouring a mixture of water and fish oil near any pissing sites. Sometimes if they followed the skinwalker closely enough, they would find it wandering half dead in the desert and then kill it or capture it. It is important to note that the use of fish in weakening a skinwalker can ONLY be used when following it. It has to do with the skin walkers sense of smell. They smell for miles both forward and backward, and the fish stench, in order to exact harm, must come subtly from behind, otherwise it will be detected and avoided ASAP. So in summary, one cannot catch a fish, post it at their campsite, and expect to ward off a skinwalker for good. One has to use the fish scent carefully to eventually send the skinwalker into ruin.

Skinwalker Ritual Sites. Skinwalkers have religious sites all across the southwestern desert where they congregate from time to time, (no one knows how often), but they know it happens. These religious gatherings usually take place on the tops of mesas or in secret caves only accessible by skin walkers. At these gatherings the most diabolical happenings occur, innocent captives are eaten alive for sport, children are sacrificed, humans are forced to fight to the death, and abducted women are forced to bear every depraved sex act ever conceived - all for the skinwalkers' entertainment. The Utes told a story of the operator of a Spanish Mine who stumbled upon a viewing of such a ritual. The Spaniard had come to them to trade for supplies and had told them he knew of a skinwalker religious festival coming up that he wanted to sneak in to view it from afar. The Utes pleaded with him not to go, and to head back to his homeland for his own safety and the safety of his men. The Spaniard was far too stubborn to listen to a mere "Native" and snuck into a viewing of the ritual. Weeks later, they ran into the same Spaniard. He had aged at least 30 years. His hair was lightning white, and his skin had been charred by fire. The Utes gave him some water. He tried to speak, but each time he did his whole body trembled. Upon trying to speak for a third time, sweat poured out all over his body. But it was not the kind of sweat that would soak on a warrior's back after battle. It was blood coming out of his pores, because sweat had given up. The Spaniard died seconds later, unable to communicate what ungodly things he had seen at the skinwalker ritual. He didn't have to communicate -- the Utes knew.

Skinwalker Ritual Sites - The Ute Response. 3 Generations before the Spaniard died from sheer panic and fear over the Skinwalker ritual, the Utes had their own tragic experience with it. Four women, including two of the wives of the chief had disappeared within a month. Through dreams the two wives of the chief had reached out to the medicine man to let them know that they were being held captive in a giant room underneath a mesa. The Medicine man and the chief assembled all the warriors in the tribe approached the mesa, which was over 100 miles away. When they approached the mesa they saw a sea of bones, which became more pronounced with each step. What used to be dried and withered animal ribs soon became human hips, skulls, and spines. The plants were dead for nearly half a mile in every direction. The Medicine man and the warriors came up with a plan. The warriors would distract the skin walkers, while the medicine man and his team would build a giant lightning rod on top of the mesa. The warriors and the medicine men went their separate ways and carried out the plan. When the warriors found the cave beneath the Mesa, they formed a perimeter around it and waited in the bushes until its rightful king returned. When the skin walkers came out of the brush and into the cave, they opened fire, from all sides, everywhere, nearly painting the mesa with arrows. Before their arrow fire could finish, the Medicine man at the top of the mesa, grabbed a quartz stone and directed lightning to hit his 4 story tall quartz tower. The lightning hit the tower with such a force that the Mesa cracked in half, and covered half of the tribe in rubble. It is said that the skinwalkers came out roasting alive, with smoke pouring out of their eyes, ears and mouth, covered in charred black skin. The captured native women came out soon after, unscathed, with only a few cuts and bruises on them. The warriors yelled for the Medicine man to come down, that they had been victorious. The Medicine Man then yelled back: "No victory until dust...." The Medicine man proceeded to conduct 50 more strikes of lightning on the Mesa. With each strike it crumbled, until finally it was reduced to a small sand hill. The medicine man was barely able to walk, so succumbed with forcing the lightning strikes when a warrior approached him and said "Look." The Medicine Man looked and saw a beautiful white bird landing on the small sand hill that used to be the Mesa. The Medicine Man, then grabbed the bird and snapped its neck. The bird turned into a muscular human. The Medicine man said: "Let's find his sand hill." This medicine man who was named Fist of Lightning and Death, went on to destroy 4 mesas, and 3 giant caves, but in his words only "chased the wind" of the skin walkers.

#skin walkers #epidermis pedestrians #meat sack runners #skinwalker #The Yee Naldlooshii #’ánt’įįhnii #lore #mythology #crypitid #spiritual entities #entities #spiritual practices #spiritual journey #lower vibrational spirits

[fuwafuwamedb]

From Utu’s Temple Pt 2 (Gilgamesh, Siduri)

Thus far: 1

__

Eight Years Later

__

She’d escaped the temple again.

Weaving her way through the crowds of marketplace people, her cloak firmly wrapped around her body, Gula couldn’t help but to be excited about the adventure today. Her brother was so careful, guarding her like a lost treasure. Her mother was so concerned about them venturing out, keeping close to Grandpa Utu and Grandma Aya.

However, she knew nothing was better than the river breeze after a heavy rain. The large puddles were fun to splash in, muddying her skirts and cloak. The riverside was filled with fish who’d jumped out of the water in the heavy rains, thinking themselves amongst the currents. She’d dug a careful hole earlier in the day, before the others had awakened and while the earth was soft. Now she could see the fruits of her labor.

Her mother always said that meat was a delicacy. Today she would bring lots home.

Gula hurried up, scooting around a stray horse and beneath the large bridge that went from one side of the great Euphrates to the other. She could see the overflowing river. She could see some smelly dead fish, being pecked away at by the scavenger birds.

Her hole was filled though, a splashing showing signs of success.

“Yes!” Gula cheered, quickening her pace. She pulled the pouch from beneath her cloak, setting it down upon the soft earth and opening it.

Her brother’s knife from Grandpa Utu was in hand in a flash, slicing one after another of her catch.

She set each carefully into her pouch, pleased at the size and the colors of them all.

There were eight. They’d be dining like a king!

“YOU! THERE!”

Gula jumped, scrambling to pick up her pouch as a set of men appeared. Their grip was upon a figure, the man’s golden armor was coated in blood.

“GIRL!”

She ran for it, but the others were closing in. She could see the symbols on their armor. She knew those medallions from her grandmother’s teachings.

Nippur citizens!

If they were hurting someone, then it was an Uruk person.

Their hands grabbed at her cloak, yanking her back. She couldn’t think, not at the sight of a knife. She spun her twin’s blade in her hands, sending it into the face of the man holding her. The heel of her other hand slammed it home, yanking it out as another went to grab her.

Her hand rose, blasting energy into the faces of the other three.

She didn’t think, only felt. She felt scared. She felt lightning in her veins, spurring her like Iskur’s mightiest storms. She flew from one to the next, slamming blow after blow.

But then a shadow rose.

She could feel their presence as her blade went flying out of hand. She could see the man’s eyes, the whites of them reflecting her own face. Her mouth was open, a sound escaping-

Gold flashed before her.

A sharp squishing sound met her ears, blood pouring towards her as she saw the assailant falling. The man from before, the golden armored man who had been being carried, was now before her. There was a large slash and crack in his armor.

“…M-Mister!”

Gula felt a lump forming in her throat. Her vision was swimming as the man pulled away from the bad man. He was looking to her.

“Mister! You’re hurt!”

“Your eyes…”

The man looked so much like Grandpa Utu and her brother. Gula couldn’t help but to feel the water around her eyes falling forth. She had to rub at her face with her sleeves, pulling at the armor and looking at all the blood.

The wounds were bad, worse now that the sword of the bad man had been pulled out.

He wouldn’t live if she left him like this. She needed her brother, Ur-Nungal here. He would have been able to help this man. He always was teasing her at being bad at magic. He always warned her that she would need the magic at some point and she would be useless.

“…I-I’m sorry.” She couldn’t help it. Her voice cracked as she looked at the pretty man, feeling her heart tear in two. “I should have listened to my twin. I-I can’t do magic well. I can’t-“

“You can do magic?”

His voice was just like her brother’s. Gula nodded to him, feeling her chest shaking in soundless sobs.

“Do you have the energy? Right now?”

The man was pulling off his armor more, throwing it aside as he looked to her.

“Girl, do you have that power right now?”

“I’m not good at magic. My ummum and brother can. My ummum is the best. My twin and I were born from a half god and my ummum. My brother can do anything-“

“You can do this.”

She shook her head, her sobs beginning to escape.

“Shhhh,” the man murmured. “Shhh, there is no time for finding help. I feel my senses fading already. You merely need to hold onto my shoulders and imagine the wounds closed. Imagine me without the pain and torn up chest. Can you do that?”

“I have to do more though-“

“Listen. To. Me.”

He made her look into his eyes, his gaze dark and focused.

“Can. You. Imagine me without the pain and wounds?”

Gula nodded.

“We do this together,” he told her, keeping that gaze. His hands moved hers to his shoulders, holding them there. “What is your name?”

“Gula. I was named after my grandmother and patron goddess… OH! But don’t tell my ummum that I picked a goddess!”

“Gula, focus.” The man held her hands to his shoulders. “Close your eyes. Imagine giving me the energy to heal. Wish all the pain away.”

Right.

It wasn’t much, but she had to try. She had to do something.

Her eyes closed, her thoughts focusing only on seeing the man able to stand and run again. She wanted the man like her brother and grandfather to be able to laugh and feel better again. He didn’t need to die here, like the fish being eaten by the buzzards. He was too pretty. He was too kind in saving her.

“You’re doing well,” the man murmured. “You are doing very well. Just a little more, Gula. I will be fine from there.”

She pushed for more power, giving as much as she could.

Her eyes opened as she felt her body swaying.

“I’ve got you.” The man wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as she saw the wound was closed. “You did well. I am healed and you’ve saved the great king of Uruk. Let none tell you that you cannot use magic.”

“I did it?” Her eyes drifted up to his, earning a soft smile.

“I am able to breathe and function again because of you, little one. You’ve done your family proud. Your goddess would be pleased to hear that someone of her namesake saved her son’s life.”

“Ninsun is my abum’s ummum too.” She closed her eyes, humming happily. “I can’t wait to tell my brother that I saved someone with magic. He teases me too much.”

“…Your father is the child of Ninsun?”

“Mhmm.” Gula leaned against the man. “I left my fish beneath the bridge. I caught them for Ummum since she was feeling lonely and sad again. I think she misses my abum.”

The man nudged her gently. “What is her name?”

“Ummum is named Hakuno.”

“Hakuno… Hakuno…”

Gula glanced up, watching the man looked at her once more. His eyes were strange like hers, making her reach up and touch his cheek.

She frowned.

“Why do you have strange eyes like mine?”

“Child-“ he shook his head as he said that. “Gula, your eyes are exact copies of mine. As is this power of yours. It is little wonder you’ve done this… You said you had a twin brother?”

“Mhmm.” Gula closed her eyes again. “And Ummum and Grandpa Utu and Grandma Aya. Utu and Aya keep us in their temple. Grandma says it’s dangerous to let anyone see us outside the temple. Someone may tell the bad guards that hurt ummum.”

“Gula-“

“I’m sleepy.”

The man sighed, standing up with her in his arms. She could feel him adjusting her around, turning to head towards the kingdom.

“Please don’t leave my fishies and my brother’s knife. I took the knife without asking.”

“Thievery?”

“Ur doesn’t share his weapons. He has more knives and he’s just mean.”

She hummed at the soft kiss to her forehead. It felt like ummum’s own, except with rough little hairs from the man’s chin.

“Mister-“

“I’ll grab your meager knife and fish. Close your eyes and rest for now. We’ll return to Uruk and I will ensure that you are cleaned up before we inform the temple of Utu of your presence.”

She nodded, letting the fatigue take over.

The man was safe and alive. She’d been like the great magicians in their storybooks. She’d managed what many adults could never do.

One day, she’d protect her twin brother and they’d roam all over the kingdom of Uruk, free from cloaks and able to laugh like the other children.

Maybe they could wear nice clothes too.

“I will keep you with me, little treasure,” the golden haired man told her. “Let us return to my ziggurat.”

“Don’t forget my fish,” she mumbled in a slur of words.

His soft chuckle welcomed her to sleep.

~~

“My king!”

Siduri was the first to reach him at the palace doors, her face paling at his muddied and bloodied appearance. The guards had taken the heavy pouch of fish and the girl’s knife was in his gates, safe and sound from being taken.

Speaking of the girl...

“Siduri,” Gilgamesh held up the girl in his arms, frowning. “Call forth the guards, inform them to head into the audience chamber for me. And find me servants. This girl needs to be bathed and dressed properly.”

“Properly?”

“I have children.”

The woman stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. A natural reaction, all things considered. There had never been so much as a whisper of a child of his. His maidens whom he took pleasure in never bore him so much as a headache, opting to simply revel in further lust and senseless greed.

“She shares my eyes and my mother’s voice and power. Along with that, she has my mother’s own name for herself. Gula.”

“Gula?”

It was ironic, he knew. Then again, he recalled slightly the woman whose face this child shared. Hakuno. If he remembered right, she’d been a magician. She’d been a phenomenal bed companion. 

Her death, his close advisor and the guards had informed him about, had left him disappointed.

Something had been amiss then. He should have guessed then, considering that advisor had grouped up with Nippur recently and caused him such trouble. Him and his useless daughter whom he’d slaughtered a week ago.

“...Is she... Is she alive, my king?”

“Hmm?” The question pulled him from his thoughts, making him glance to Gula. “Yes, she’s alive. She’s a child though. innocent as they come. Have a bed for her set up in my chambers in case she does not wish to rest beside her father.”

“You intend to claim her?”

“Siduri, my daughter slaughtered a handful of men and assisted me when it was most appropriate.”

He could still hear her crying over being unable to help him, a stranger, to feel better. The girl was without influence, purer than the clearest jewels in his collections. Ah, but then-

“I’ll take her to bathe myself.”

Siduri pulled back as he passed her, heading for the bathing chambers. 

“Prepare her bed in my room and inform the guards to assemble in my audience chamber.” 

“May I know what for, my king?”

“Later, you will see.”

She would be finding him servants to clean up the bodies when he was through with them. 

#drabble #drabbles

[thatsaweirdwaytospellundead]

Winter Troupe’s 7th Play: Hotel Compass 3/ 4

In a certain region, in a certain town lies Hotel Compass.

Established over one hundred years ago, the hotel sits far from popular tourist destinations and even the nearest train station. Unfortunately with its poor location, competing hotels have quickly snatched up many potential guests and this once grand hotel has begun to fall into disrepair.

The hotel has also been short staffed for quite some time, forcing the owner, Owari, and manager, Tsuzuki, to perform the majority of the maintenance and upkeep of the hotel. They spend each day tending to the needs of their few, but always eccentric guests.

Characters

Note: The theme of this play is “compass” with all the characters have direction-based names. I have included the character’s names in Kanji along with the double-meaning.

Azuma as Owari (尾張, sounds like “終わり, End”)

Guy as Tsuzuki (津々木, sounds like “続き,Continuation”)

Homare as Higashikawa (東川, East river)

Tasuku as Minami (三波, sounds like “南, South”)

Hisoka as Nishi (西, west)

Tsumugi as Kitami (北見, north view)

Due to the length of this play, I will be posting it in 4 parts.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 ]

Owari

Hey, is Mr. Minami alright?

He’s been sitting in the same position at that table for a while now.

I think by now its time to lay down the pen for a bit.

Tsuzuki

Really now...

Owari

Mr. Minami.

Is everything alright?

Minami

That’s it...

Yessss....

It’s all coming to me now...

HUH?

What is it?

Owari

Oh, is there anything we can do for you?

Minami

Some coffee please.

Owari

Right away, sir.

Tsuzuki, if you please.

Tsuzuki

It will be ready right away, sir.

Minami

My brush is flying.

My zest for life is overflowing...

I can still write my novel!

Owari

I am glad to hear that.

Minami

Oh, hey Kuroda!

Owari

...?

Minami

I have finished my rough draft, wanna see?

Hello, hello, Kuroda?

I have finished my rough draft so aren’t you gonna come have a look? 

Huh, what? You’re at my house?

Wait, you’re not at the hotel!?

Huh, uh no it’s nothing.

Understood. I’ll email you right away.

Yes, I am alright.

There is no problem at all.

This is going to be my next masterpiece!

Owari

So Mr. Kitami had nothing to do with Mr. Minami after all...

After eavesdropping on Nishi’s story, Minami is suddenly filled with inspiration and begins writing again.

Whilst writing, Minami also feels his will to live flowing back into his body.

Kitami appears and Minami tells him he is finished with his rough draft, however Kitami seems perplexed and simply walks away.

After a phone call with his editor, Kuroda, Minami realises that he had mistaken Kitami for his editor after all.

Owari

Sigh...

Finally some time to catch my breath.

Tsuzuki

Today has sure been eventful.

Owari

I feel like we have had more troubles than we have guests.

Owari: Why does it feel like our hotel is filled with only the most eccentric of guests?

Tsuzuki

Well our hotel is a place for lost travelers to come and rest after all, right?

Owari

Lost travelers, huh?

I feel like I’m the one who’s lost my way.

I’ve been slaving away trying to take care of the hotel that’s been around since my grandfather’s time, but for what?

After my wife and children walked out, I feel as if I have been working my ass off for nothing.

This hotel has been so dead ever since they left.

Does that mean I’ll be the last owner of this hotel?

I should really just quit before it’s too late.

But I don’t think I could bring myself to really do it.

This is the worst.

Well, no use dwelling over it now I guess.

I suppose if things keep going downhill we’ll just have to file for bankruptcy.

Tsuzuki

There are a lot of people that depend on this hotel.

Tsuzuki: If Mr. Minami could get back on his feet, I don’t see a reason why we couldn’t do the same.

Owari

I suppose you’re right.

That evening, Owari takes a moment to catch his breath and take a much needed break. Owari complains that he feels like their hotel has been taken over by only the most eccentric of guests. Tsuzuki tells Owari that their hotel is a place for lost travelers to stay.

Owari confesses to Tsuzuki that he also feels lost. He reveals that his wife and children had all left him some years ago. Owari wonders if he can even continue to keep his grandfather’s hotel open or if he will become the hotel’s last owner. Tsuzuki tells Owari that there are many people that depend on the hotel.

Detective

....

Owari

Welcome.

Detective

We are with the police. Could we have a moment of your time?

Higashikawa

Huh!?

Detective

Have you seen a man who looks like this?

His name is Hashima Ryou.

He is wanted on account of murder.

A man who looked like the suspect was last seen at this hotel.

Owari

Suspected murderer...

I don’t think I have seen anyone that fits that description...

I think I would have remembered if I saw someone with hair like that.

Detective

Some features may look a little different to this image.

Well if you have any leads, please contact us right away.

Owari

Understood.

Higashikawa

By the way...

If they’re looking for someone suspicious maybe that Mr. Kitami has something to do with it.

Owari

Well we just haven’t seen his true face.

.... It does seem suspect.

AH!

Higashikawa

What is it?

Owari

It’s just Mr. Nishi said earlier that one person will disappear from this hotel.

Higashikawa

HUH!?

WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?

WAS HE ANNOUNCING HIS PLAN TO MURDER SOMEONE!?

Owari

Maybe...

Tsuzuki

What’s going on?

Higashikawa

Big SOS, Tsuzuki!

We have a murderer amongst us! ALLEGEDLY!

Tsuzuki

A murderer you say....

Higashikawa

And on top of that, someone in this hotel is going to die, probably!!!!

Owari

I think you’re overthinking it.

Higashikawa

We need to see Mr. Kitami’s real face!

I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight if we don’t!

Owari

However...

Higashikawa

The police did tell us to tell them if we had any information. We gotta try at least!

Owari

And what will we do if he is the murderer?

Higashikawa

Then I’ll let Tsuzuki take the wheel!

Kitami

....

Higashikawa

Mr. Kitami!

Kitami

-- 

Owari

Hey, Higashikawa.

Higashikawa

Sorry to bother you, but we just got a visit from the police. We were wondering if you could take off your mask and--

Kitami

-- AH!!!

Tsuzuki

STOP RIGHT THERE!

Higashikawa

But Tsuzuki!

If we don’t see his real face--

Tsuzuki

There is no need for that.

Because, I am the one the police are looking for.

Higashikawa

HUUUUHH!!!?

Tsuzuki

I apologise for causing trouble.

I will now go turn myself in to the police.

Owari

So you’re saying you really are....?

Kitami

....So we meet at last, Hashima.

Owari

HUH?

Tsuzuki

You are--

Kitami

I am the son of Shimoi, the man you killed.

Tsuzuki

That you are...

I can see it in your face.

Higashikawa

I-Is this some sort of plot to avenge his father!?

Owari

RUN, TSUZUKI!

Kitami

Not at all.

Actually I wanted to give my thanks to Hashima....

Owari

Thanks?

Kitami

My father, Shimoi, was truly the most despicable type of human being.

He was known for committing numerous frauds, blackmail, and extortion, he even was violent towards the rest of our family. He was the type of person who was really just asking to be killed.

I felt so relieved when I heard the news of my father’s death.

It felt as if I was finally released from hell.

Tsuzuki

No one deserves to die.

I am no better than him as I am a man who has also attempted to run from his sins.

Kitami

But you are the one who saved my life.

Tsuzuki

---

Kitami

I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am, Hashima.

Just in case anyone staying at this hotel knew who you were, I made sure to wear a mask so as not to draw any further suspicion. I am truly sorry for all the trouble I have caused.

Tsuzuki

No, the secret would have gotten out eventually.

It is not like I could run forever.

The time has come.

It is a good thing we had this chat.

That evening, the police came to look for a suspected criminal. Owari recalled Nishi’s words and wondered if the two are somehow connected and if Nishi really knew a murder would happen.

Naturally, Owari and company first suspect their masked guest, Kitami. However, when they went to try and apprehend him, Tsuzuki makes a startling confession that he is the murderer. Owari and company are left in shock.

Kitami then removes his mask and reveals that he is the son of the man that Tsuzuki had murdered.

Owari and company tell Tsuzuki to run for fear that Kitami had come to avenge his father. To everyone’s surprise, Kitami tells the group about his father’s awful behavior in life and in fact felt relieved upon hearing news of his father’s death.

Kitami continues to explain that he came to the hotel to thank Tsuzuki for his actions. However, to avoid raising suspicion from the police and others at the hotel, Kitami wore a mask.

To be continued.... Read part 4 here!

#a3 #エースリー #a3! translation #c:citron #play:hotel compass #a3:guy #a3:azuma

[aparecium-hq]

Welcome to Aparecium, Ira! You have been accepted for Justin Vane. Justin sounds like he has so much wonderful potential, and Kat and I can’t wait to see him interact with other characters, especially the other Quidditch players. Check out the new member checklist, and jump right in.

Character Basics

Birthday (Age): 25

Gender (Pronouns): He/Him

Sexuality: Straight

Blood Status: Halfblood

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Occupation: Quidditch Player: Chaser for the Montrose Magpies

Faceclaim: Tyler Posey

Biography:

The War had changed Romilda Vane. Once a bubbly air-head who thrived on gossip and the trivialities of teenage life, facing certain death and defending her school set her off on a journey to find her purpose. She backpacked across Europe - both magic and non-magic - with strangers who became friends. Though living like a muggle was extremely difficult at first, she was never one to give up on a challenge. Her true Gryffindor seemed to shine through. This is where she met and married a muggle, and had Justin soon after.

Justin was only 2 when his father abandoned the pair, and he never heard from the man in his life. Though it was just mother and son, Justin never felt like he was missing out on much. Quite the opposite, he was in fact the apple of his mother’s and grandparent’s eyes. His early days were spent reading about magical and muggle history (including his mother’s own works), playing wizard’s chess with his grandfather, being the center of their little village’s attention, and flying around on his Nimbus.

Going to Hogwarts was the most natural of transitions - Slytherin house was definitely a place where he would thrive. And thrive he did. With his cunning and charismatic words and resourcefulness, Justin was the favorite of many house-mates and teachers alike. But what really differentiated him was his singular, almost blinding focus on one thing: Quidditch. Though he had no known Quidditch players in his family, Justin became one of the youngest players to ever make the house team as Chaser. Even when other Slytherin players would sometimes find their way to the pack through bribes or influence, no captain dared bump “Vane, 09”’s spot for someone else. When his grandmother died in his 5th year, his focus on the game only became stronger.  He passed with the bare minimum in his academics and chased his ambition with even more conviction. Upon graduating from Hogwarts, Justin cut a deal with the best team in the League - The Montrose Magpies. The first few years out of school were him living his dream. Though his grandfather passed away, Justin was satisfied that he had gotten to see his grandson become a star. People were soon lining up to get his autograph and some rare “fans” would even track down his home address every four months or so.

Of course, being a star quidditch player so early in the game, Justin couldn’t help leverage the popularity. He garnered a repute for being a casanova, something he carried over from his days at Hogwarts. Though it never became anything serious with anyone. It was all mostly for a bit of fun and sometimes to satisfy his own ego. Girls found themselves in bed or on dates with him, but never once did he bring anyone back home to the Vane residence.

Justin loved every second of being a Quidditch player - being on the road, developing a bond with his team, the crazy fans. But most of all, he loved the sport. His dream life was, however, halted abruptly when Romilda became severely affected by illness.

To care for her, Justin has recently taken a hiatus from Quidditch. To their relief, a new hybrid technology apparatus at St. Mungo’s is showing positive results and his mother is getting better by the day. Given his history and values, he is quick to trust this new technology and welcome it into their life. Being one of the most successful Quidditch players on the scene and the son of a prominent writer on muggle subjects, Justin’s voice is quite influential. With the changing environment, he has been put in a unique position of power. Being a Slytherin, you can bet that he will play his cards exactly right.

Character Questionnaire

How does your character feel about their family? Justin’s personal ambitions and needs are second to one thing and one thing only - his family. His mother is the most important person in his life. Before their deaths, he shared a close relationship with his grandparents, with his grandfather often filling in the gaps of his father. They were the reason he didn’t completely fall off the rails at school. On the other hand, they are also the reason he became a little cocky and entitled, though they did their best to keep him grounded in his later years. He feels that he owes everything to his family, and considers himself kind of lucky that he did not have to take his father’s name so he can carry the Vane legacy forward.

How would your character describe their own work ethic? Is that an accurate measure of themself? Justin would describe himself as “keeping up” with the needs of being a Quidditch player. However, this is far from the truth. Justin has optimized almost every area in his life to become a better player - on and off the ground. He follows a strict diet and gave up alcohol almost as soon as he has started drinking it. He works out every single day and spends a minimum of an hour on a broom, a habit he has not missed for a day since his 6th year when he was made Slytherin Captain. Even socially Justin makes sure that he’s up to date with what’s going on with who so that a simple lunch date can turn into a stronger bond with his teammate, his coach, or whoever.  His work ethic is very much a good measure of himself. Of course, he is a gifted player. But Justin doesn’t take that for granted even for a second, fearing it could go away in the blink of an eye. This is what fuels him to work so hard every day.

How would a stranger who has just met your character describe them? A little conceited, definitely cocky, yet charming in a way that puts you off at first but makes you smile eventually.

Para Sample

“Mum, please. Stop trying to get up, will you?” Justin pleaded. Romilda’s frail figure couldn’t support itself as she reached out her hand to the brown box at the foot of her bed. “I told you, I’ll read you your beloved fan mail.” Sweat was dripping down his jersey as he sat on the other side, taking out a letter and reading the cover. He looked at his mother, confused.

“I’ve read plenty of my own fan mail.” A sly smile was at her lips. “Go on then, I’m listening.” Justin chuckled but began reading. “Dear Justin, I think I’m in love with you. I have watched every match you’ve ever played. I think about you all the time. I live in Little Haggleton, and nothing of importance ever happens in my town. All the boys are off working at the Ministry or managing shops. It’s so boring, I could die.” He paused and looked up, sporting a look which said ‘don’t make me read more.’ Romilda raised her brows, nodding. Her smile was growing wider with every word. “Attached to this letter is the address of a pub I go to every Friday evening for drinks and a picture of me.  If you like it, please consider coming to meet me.” Justin paused once more, raising a brow at Romilda. She nodded again. “I would love to marry you.”

No sooner had he finished his sentence, Romilda began to laugh. He couldn’t contain himself either, rolling his eyes. “Show me the picture, maybe she’s pretty.” “Absolutely not. Please stay in bed so I can reject all future marriage proposals at my own discretion.” “Well she’s got a point, Little Haggleton is very boring. Your wedding would be the most important event of the decade.” “Ma!” Laughter echoed through the room as Justin put the letter back in the box. “You ought to bring someone home sometime, JJ. Who knows how long I’m sticking around.” He flashed a disapproving look at her before speaking. “You moving on before I’ve found another woman to torture me for the rest of my life? Seems highly unlikely.” The two laughed again as he picked up the box. “But really, I’m taking this away before you promise my hand to some poor country maiden without my knowledge.” Justin kissed Romilda’s forehead before heading out of the room, a smile on his lips and a picture of a stranger in his hand.

Additional Information for Original Characters

Character Teaser

If he looked into the mirror of Erised, Justin would see himself holding the Quidditch cup, the captain’s badge shining on his chest, and a glorious smile on his lips. Or so he thinks. He’s spent most of his life chasing this dream to the world’s end. But every day he cares for his ailing mother, the vision wavers a bit in his mind. A golden childhood and a successful career seem to be enough for most people, but Justin’s still hungry for more. He knows sooner or later his Quidditch dreams will be fulfilled, and his career will be penned down for posterity. But what after that?

Feelings on Magical Integration

Justin is definitely an integrationist. Not only was his mother fascinated by muggle culture, married a muggle and learned to live in muggle society seamlessly - she also made a fortune by writing books on her experiences. Needless to say, she was one of the first people to support the movement. Now, personally reaping the benefits of Madley’s through his mother’s unique treatment, Justin is determined to support the movement in any way he can. As long as it doesn’t jeopardize his career, that is.

Connections

Fred Weasley: Justin and Fred formed the unlikeliest of friendships at Hogwarts. After a chance meeting and a brief conversation about muggles, they stayed in touch and became each other’s confidants. Justin supported Fred when he was in college, and even visited him occasionally.  

OPEN - (name) and Justin have had quite a few sexy escapades a couple of years ago, but the fire died down because of factors beyond their control.  

OPEN - Nothing like a friendly rivalry that can turn into cut throat competition to keep you on the top of your game, right? (name) and Justin trade tricks of the trade and push each other to the limit.

#apareciumacceptance #rp #rpg #hp rp #hp rpg #justin vane

[bluesunsdusk]

✏️ Any particular reason for the names you used for your ocs?

✏️ Any particular reason for the names you used for your ocs?

–// I have a lot of ocs, so I will pick some. It’s going to be long either way… ))

Overwatch

Najma (Najma Daher)

When Naj was first made, they had Prima as placeholder name and their kit was based around light, but I struggled to really place them in the universe. They were still based in Oasis, with sumerian aesthetic, and they were an AU for a fandomless oc. I was still trying to pick where the heck they were from. I added Najma as possible name because it means star and is Arabic. As they finally developed to suit the universe more and be an own character, the name stuck, because I like it and they are a warm person and the sun keeps us alive, and Naj was made to help keep someone alive. Dunia, their owner, was named to reflect her meaning in Naj’s life. Dunia was their whole reason for existing, their world, their life. 

Najma coincidentally also works for…other reasons.

Najma’s code name, Nazar, comes from that their abilities are most effective when looking into their lights and optics, which flare up when they use their ult as well. Their optics are also blue.The evil eye, which causes harm upon those who have been struck by it.

I think Daher meant clear. Najma does’t actually have a surname, as they are not a member of the family rather than just property of said family. However, I still wanted the surname to be something with a tiny bit of a fitting meaning. Rather than doing it by naming conventions used with Mamun, I went with them just having just a family name, much in Europe and the US. I also kept it to just two names this time.

Mamun Wasif Said

Mamun had a long list of names on his hero sheet. See, the given name is an aspiratory trait, the second the father’s name, and the third the grandfather’s name or family name. In Mamun’s case, Said is his grandfather’s name. So, that means Mamun’s dad is called Wasif. Gien names he could have been Majdi (commendable, praiseworthy), Marwan, Naseer, etc. His surname could have been Assaf, Kassar, Al-Mansur (the victorious), or Nasrallah (god’s victory). Now, I am not at all close to being an expert on arabic naming conventions, so I was like let’s keep it simple. 

Now, Mamun is supposed to be a tank hero and his character design was made to emphasise that he is a soft and huggable man who deserves the whole world. He needed to look sweet,warm, trustworthy, and dependable. Mamun is a name that feels like it has soft edges. It’s gentle. There’s no hard tones in it. Mamun means dependable, which is something he wants to be and his parents would have wanted him to be as well. A good son, brother, and eventually (if he so wished) husband. 

I forgot what Wasif meant… I think I just liked how it sounded with Mamun compared to the other names listed along with it. I matched several names that were listed on his hero sheet behind Mamun and they didn’t sound nearly as good with it as Wasif did. It means ‘one who praises’.

Said was just a good name to follow Mamun Wasif with. It just wraps it up nicely when I wanted three names in there. It means happy. 

Spigel

Spigel’s name is explained in his bio, I think. The name is given because he’s able to copy the appearance of a person and uses this after eliminating them to blend into a faction he’s trying to infiltrate or wipe out. It takes observation of mannerisms, appearance, speech patterns, etc. to do a convincing guise, and once that is done, it will be like looking into a mirror for the target.

He was always called Spigel because that’s Luxembourgish for mirror. Sure, it’s not smart for the assassin to take a nickname from his own personal origin, but…it’s fine if a guy from Luxembourg gave him that nickname rather than him giving himself said nickname.

Roland Marie Schroeder 

Roland is a pretty common name in Luxembourg, and Marie is a common middle name. I liked Roland as a name, because is seems warm and strong, and Roland is a quiet dude at times, but even though he’s pretty small as well, he can take up a lot of social space just by being a little… dramatic. He would have liked the name because it is, as Monty Python would say, woody. At least, I think it was Monty Python, I’m not sure anymore and can’t find it.

Michael Abatangelo 

Michael was the general of the archangels, and putting Michael together with Abatangelo makes it sound close to Michelangelo. Though, the latter was on accident and I was like yep that’s his name now. I went through several names I don’t really remember. Michael was a strong name that also sounded pleasant.

Fable

Aidan Fawkes

Aidan is an Irish name that means fire. I didn’t know quite what to call him. I didn’t want a name that was just big strong man large energy. It needed to sound not too thick, in a way, maybe a little light to suit his personality. He also had a lot of energy growing up and was a sweet guy. 

His father’s name is actually Mac Lochlainn. That’s a reference and not chosen for the meaning because it’s not used on Aidan. Also, it’s just really nice sounding surname. His grandma on his father’s side’s surname was Kelly. A very common surname where they were from. Anyway, Aidan’s dad didn’t want his kids to have the disadvantage of having a foreign surname. The given names, however, weren’t too odd, and both of his parents did want to give him a link with his father’s heritage in their names. Furthermore, he was born with red hair. 

As such, Aidan was given as his name, and he was bestowed with the surname of his mother, Fawkes. I picked Fawkes because 1) It sounds good with Aidan 2) it means falcon, making his name fire falcon 3) Guy Fawkes. 

Duncan Reynold 

I know the hero in Fable 2 is called Sparrow. However, that is a title/nickname, not a legit name. Surely, his parents, whom Sparrow canonically knew, gave him a real name. I wanted him to have a legit name. I wanted him to be of scottish-type origin. Now, Duncan has tanned skin from being out and stuff and dark hair. He’s also a brawny guy. He would have picked himself a pretty awesome name that feels strong, also… it has can in it, because he can do it. I jest. 

Duncan is a mix of two parts. Together, these parts form a name meaning dark-haired warrior or dark warrior. Of course, he doesn’t know that. He just thinks it’s an awesome name. 

Reynold is a carry over from trying to give king Logan a surname. It’s also a mix or two elements, advice and rule. English meaning is wise/powerful ruler (or something like that. It can also be advice from a ruler or king’s advisor, but let’s ignore that). While Duncan was that, Logan eventually proved not be.

Mass Effect

Medesa Adrestis

It’s actually from Medusa, because she’s a bit of a protector who gets spun into a villain because of the methods she uses to protect herself and others, which is often violent and rather fatal, since slave traders deserve no rights. I think there was something else, but I forgot… Oh, right! Her surname, Adrestis. I saved it in my drafts and idk if it’s still there…

I looked it up to jog my mind!

It’s from Adrestia and Adrasteia, and I didn’t want to name her exactly after that despite Asari names looking painfully ancient Greek inspired and very feminine. 

Adrestia is a figure from Greek mythology, she who cannot be escaped, venerated as a goddess of revolt and just retribution. Adrasteia, “inescapable”, was a nymph charged with taking care of a child Zeus. Medesa was charged with taking care of Toreg. 

Vicarius Hzzek and Lictor Kgrln

So, I won’t explain their names, because I assume Kett names are either just ID codes or can’t be easily changed into a more human tongue. I will go for their titles, though I believe I have explained it in a hc post before. Kett ranks seem based on Roman Empire influences, as is a part of their culture in general. They have Cardinals, Archons, Anointed, Ascendants. These seem religious. A Vicarius is a word that means substitute or deputy. It’s the root of the English word “vicar” as well and is used in things like vice-president. Anyway, Hzzek is a secondary to a Cardinal, making her vice-cardinal of an exaltation facility. 

As for Lictor, this comes from another Latin thing. A Lictor is a type of bodyguard to a magistrate. Kgrln is one of Hzzek’s Destined, who is also assigned with escorting and guarding her. He does this together with other Destined who would also be of the Lictor role/title. 

Dragon Age

Kata

Kata used to be an arvaarad and he considered himself the death of many a saarebas. That, and he is an assassin type, like a katari. He brings death to those who try to oppose him with violence, so basically he’s still death, just to other people now that he’s no longer in the qun. It’s sort of a method of intimidation. If a qunari is told they’re about to meet death, they might reconsider their current course. 

Kost

Kost had another name, aban, which probably means sea, when going by “Meraad astaarit, meraad itwasit, aban aqun.” Which means “The tide rises, the tide falls, the sea is unchanged.” He chose it, because the sea is unchanging and also clam. He was the same after leaving the qun as he was when he left. 

Eventually, however, he changed his name to Kost, after staying with a group of Tal-Vashoth who helped him become less stuck in his qun ways and more able to see himself as a person. He came to be at peace with himself and took on the task of assisting some other new Tal-Vashoth in the process. As such, he took on the name Kost, “peace”, to reflect this. 

#ooc #ask #long post #wow i look really long on this #Anonymous

[19mrs-barnes17]

Champagne & Secrets

Summary: You are a wealthy heiress attending a ball in which you meet an intriguing man.

Part: 1,2,3/3

Pairing: Clint x reader

Warnings: death of loved one, sad?

Word count: 2,004

A/N: I wrote this about 3 or 4 years ago, requested (on another site) b/c Clint is was and is underrated. So... Enjoy!

Part One

Champagne held in gloved hands and gowns that elegantly cascaded to the marble floors with a beauty you had seen before, time and time again. There was hushed chatter all around giving the ballroom a warm feeling, no one danced yet for the band had not finished their move from the dining room. You leaned ever so slightly against the wall, your navy blue gown a stark contrast to the colors that surround you. Pastels, creams, and reds paint the room like a garden of gentle flowers and a single blue flower that simply didn't blend with the rest. You stuck out like a sore thumb for not only were you in a dark dress but you came alone, every other woman stood with a man nearby. However, you noticed a man who stood by the door to your left looking rather dashing in his suit and tie you nearly swooned. His green eyes locked onto yours and you could feel yourself becoming entranced by his eyes and the mystery they held. Not planning on repeating the past, you tore your eyes away and began to shift through the crowd of couples waiting for music to begin. Traditionally a younger couple would dance the first waltz and when it was over everyone else could join, but you were the only younger person in sight. Suddenly light and dreamy waltz music began to play and no one moved, unsure who should be the first to dance.

"May I have this dance Miss?" Glancing over your shoulder you notice the stranger had followed and mentally cursed him for being so persistent. At these sort of events its almost unheard of to come alone but to do so and reject a first dance would ruin your reputation quite quick, and yours is rather important to your family.

"Of course." He pulled you out onto the dance floor almost immediately and you silently prayed he could dance at least somewhat decently. Not only could he dance "decently", the man was the most graceful dancer you'd ever had the pleasure of dancing with. The way he danced took your breath away, every step and turn seemed perfectly calculated you couldn't help but be impressed. He was good looking, a phenomenal dancer, and charming. What else did he have hidden up his sleeve? His mystery drew you in like a siren's song and you were completely aware yet couldn't seem to stop yourself.

"Who are you?" You could see a flicker of sadness in his eyes but he merely stated that his name was Charles Monroe. The family name was entirely unfamiliar so you knew he had to be new money, but how new?

"I've never seen you at one of these galas before Mr. Monroe." He looked unfazed by your comment almost shrugging it off with a gentle smile. "Where did you learn to dance, if I may ask? You are truly spectacular at it."

"Thank you. I've had a few different teachers over the years and I'm sure they would be glad to know that their hard work paid off after all...Miss....." His voice trailed off as he gazed into your eyes almost as if he were under the same trance.

"(Y/LN)." Just like that, the song ended and the two of you bowed tone another whilst smiling warmly. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss upon the back of your hand.

"It has been an absolute pleasure Miss (Y/LN). I hope to see you again." Your heart fluttered a bit at his last words as he left you standing in the middle of the ballroom whilst the crowd around you applauded.

****

"Darling who was that gentleman? He's quite the catch." Your grandmother, who had raised you into society, curiously questioned with a knowing grin.

"A Mister Charles Monroe, Grandmother." Intrigue was painted across her face as she swayed a bit to the music, but that grin was still plastered upon her lips.

"He seemed quite taken with you my dear. And you with him." Heat rushed into your cheeks, your focus set upon the couples now dancing beautifully. "We will look into him when this is done but, it seems to be a good match thus far."

"Grandmother!" You whisper shout causing her to chuckle out of amusement before being swept away by your grandfather out onto the floor. You secretly agreed with her however, it was a smart match indeed. One, that you hoped would continue past this whimsical night.

Part Two

Tony Stark greatly enjoyed throwing parties, like a modern Gatsby inviting all sorts of interesting people from different walks of life. They were different than the ones you would usually attend, but were all the more enjoyable and filled with laughter. You sat at the bar sipping on your drink, not knowing a soul in the room besides the host. No one approached you and so far it was one of the more lonely events you had been to. Eyes scanning the area around you, noticing some celebrities here and there but no familiar faces yet.

"Hello." A kind voice spoke up to your right and you nearly fell out of your chair when your eyes landed on the Captain America sitting there.

"Hello Captain." He smiled gently at the mention of his superhero name before asking the redhead behind the bar for a drink.

 "Call me Steve. You have me at a bit of a disadvantage here, you know me but I don't know you." He was exactly the gentleman you had imagined him to be.

"(Y/N) (Y/LN), it's a pleasure to meet you." Steve seemed slightly taken aback by your formality and it made you smile just a little. Someone just entering catches your eye and you can't stop yourself from staring at him with a look of utter shock. Charles Monroe. You haven't seen him in a few years and it made your heart ache once more. Grandmother had researched him and come up with very little results, but not enough to contact him again. Yet, here he stood in a flannel and leather jacket with blue jeans still taking your breath away.

"Hey Clint!" Steve called out to a man, and 'Charles' turned your way with a smile upon his face until his green eyes fell upon you in your navy blue, knee length dress. The smile faded away and was replaced by the same look that now was etched upon your face. 'Clint' slowly made his way over to the bar and Steve seemed intrigued by the interaction thus far, leaning your way.

"Miss (Y/LN). Would you mind coming with me?" You nod, curious what he must tell you with no prying ears around. Steve seems even more interested but turns to the redhead instead who is also intrigued. The two strike up conversation as you follow Clint to the elevator.

After riding down a couple floors the elevator doors revealed leisure rooms. However, Clint pulled you aside into a hallway.

"I want to explain." You gave him a nod to continue speaking. "I was an agent undercover, so I couldn't tell you my real name. No matter how much I wanted to."

"You never contacted me...." He didn't have your number but he could have found information on you easily. Especially given his true career. "Traditionally you dance with women you want to date. So I..."

"I know.... I did." Your stomach did a somersault at the implications of his words. "In my line of work it isn't easy to be with someone."

"So where does that leave us?" You were terrified to ask but needed to know before the conversation ended.

"Well... together, I hope." His green eyes were full of an emotion you couldn't quite pin. You took a few steps closer and he did as well. Now the two of you stood inches apart. "Coffee tomorrow?" You simply nodded, lost in his gaze and leaning further in.

In an instant lips met for a short but sweetly gentle kiss that left your head spinning. Clint rested his forehead against yours and you couldn't help but believe it to be fate that you two wound up together at last.

Part Three

Blankets were strung out over pillows and cushions creating a 'pillow castle' (according to Clint). Most of the small room had been utilized in its construction. The TV was left uncovered and it now played movies on it (may or may not be a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon).

"Alrighty popcorn is ready, pretzels are poured, and sodas are fizzy." You almost snorted at his words.

"I should hope so." You giggled at his eye roll and he sat on the other end of the cushions. "Heeeeey. Don't be pouty. I'll let you teach me archery if you come cuddle me." Never before had you seen the man move so fast.

****

"Bring your elbow up a little higher." Clint stood with his chest against your back gently speaking into your left ear. "Now deep breath." His one hand now on your stomach whilst the other guides your left arm in aiming. "Release." The arrow landed on the 9 ring with a thud.

"Yes!" You turned and threw your arms around his neck and he lifted you in the air spinning in a circle. Giggling as you landed on your feet, you pulled Clint in for a kiss. His kisses were sweet yet passionate and always left you craving more.

"I told you that you could do it." Pride shined in his eyes as he gazed lovingly into your eyes.

Clapping snapped your attention away and you both turned to find Steve standing there with a wide grin upon his lips.

"You've made good progress (Y/N)." Steve looked like a proud brother and it made you smile.

"Only took 2 hours." A small smile danced across Clint's face as he stood holding you.

"Hey Spangles are the love birds with you?" Tony's voice rang out from overhead and once it was confirmed it seemed to take on a grave tone. "I've got some bad new they should hear in person."

Clint's grip around you tightened protectively as you both made your way to Tony. His eyes were cast downward and you somehow knew the news before he said. Tears slowly spill over the edge and your muscles tense.

"I'm sorry (Y/N). Your grandmother passed away last night in her sleep and your grandfather went early in the morning. If there's anything we can do, let us know." Tony looked into your heart eyes but couldn't bear it long before tearing his gaze away.

"C'mon darling. Let's go." Clint led you to the balcony that overlooked the city and held you tight as you cried your heart out. Nothing could have prepared you to lose the only family you knew. They had been so supportive of your relationship with Clint. They met and dined with him, later admitting they adored him and were glad to have a man who could teach you to protect yourself in your life. They had been so proud and now they were gone.

"I'm glad I got to meet them. They were the loveliest people I've had the pleasure of meeting." He offered a sad smile and you hugged him tighter.

"Thank you." You whispered softly not moving an inch.

"For what?" You chuckled softly wiping tears from your cheeks as you moved to look him in the eye.

"Everything." You tried to convey all the emotions you felt for him within a single look. Love. Admiration. Gratitude. And so much more. You were very lucky to have an incredibly kind and strong individual in your life and you appreciated everything he has done for you and the world. You know people will always underestimate him but you never would. He is a badass and such a critical part of his team.

The world is lucky to have Clint Barton defending it.

~

Tagging: @qtmeryr

Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tags!

#clint #clint barton #clint x reader #clint barton x reader #old story #marvel #hawkeye #avengers

[jmariko-blog1]

you live the life you settle with

1. emotional obstacle

During my time in high school, I have only dealt with two major emotional obstacles. The first occurred during my freshman year, when I got into a huge fight with my former best friend, [A], and she no longer wanted to be friends with me. Although I knew the transition from middle school to high school would be difficult, I never expected to lose my best friend in the process. We had been inseparable throughout middle school and I had always considered her my closest friend. However, upon entering high school, I joined cross country and became friends with [L] who she did not like. After growing closer to [L], [A] started cutting me off and stopped talking to me. Although I was hurt, I refused to apologize to her when I felt I had done nothing wrong. I missed talking to her, but I thought our friendship was stronger and we could move past this. However, she never came around. She began talking badly about me to my friends and blocked me on all social media. I was extremely hurt and decided to talk to her. I sent her a long message explaining my side of the story and admitting the things I did wrong. However, she ignored the text, which hurt a lot. I could not understand how we went from being best friends to this. Although we are still on bad terms, looking back, I am thankful she is no longer in my life. She was a very negative person and I have grown a lot from that experience. It helped me find my group of friends who I love and I know care deeply about me. 

Secondly, a couple years later, I experienced my second emotional obstacle. My grandfather had passed away. He was my only grandparent who was alive during my lifetime, and the most positive, easy-going person I have ever known. He was ninety-five years old and got sick the summer before my junior year. A couple days after feeling unwell, he was sent to the hospital and later passed away. It was the first death of a family member I experienced, and I had found out from looking at my mom’s phone. I was getting ready to go to my SAT class and I was pulling up the directions on my mom’s phone. I saw a notification from one of her close friends saying, “I’m so sorry. How are you going to tell Jenna?” and I instantly knew. I broke down and started to think of all of the fond memories I had of him and everything he would not be able to experience with me. However, with time I realized how lucky he was to have lived such a long, happy life. He had experienced so much during his time on Earth and he could finally reunite with his wife. In addition, I appreciate all he had done for my family and I. Although he hated traveling, he would always try to come down from San Jose to stay with us for a couple weeks over the summer. We would go on walks, watch Judge Judy and eat lots of Japanese food. He had a big impact on who I am today. From the things we like to our happy-go-lucky personality, we got along very well. 

2. past actions

Throughout my two years in cross country, I grew very close to four of my teammates: [L], [O], [E] and [M]. They quickly became my best friends and we did everything together. From waking up at four in the morning for races to dying on eight mile runs, we found ways to make the most miserable experiences fun. However, during our sophomore year, [M] started dating a boy who [L] was close to. After seeing the two together, [L] started getting jealous and ended up kissing [M]’s boyfriend. [M] felt betrayed by [L] and no longer wanted to associate with her at all. She avoided her at all costs and purposely left her out of the rest of the group. [O], [E] and I did not know what to do. We felt bad for [M] and knew what [L] did was wrong, but none of us wanted to abandon [L] when everyone else started turning on her. I did not know how to be there both of them, especially when we were all together during practices and meets. I continued to hang out with both of them separately, letting [M] rant when she needed to and offering [L] advice and support. Although it was rough and tense for a couple weeks, [M] eventually moved on and realized that their friendship was more important than a boy. Our group dynamic slowly began to return to the way it was and [M] ended up being thankful for [L] for helping her realize who he truly was. 

It was extremely difficult for me to figure out how to treat this situation at first because I wanted to be able to be there for both of them but did not know how. However, a couple years later, I now know I treated the situation appropriately and the importance of nurturing both friendships during a dispute. 

3. current inactions

Being a senior in high school, I feel pressed for time. In a matter of months, my childhood friends and I will be going our separate ways. From going to different colleges and moving to different states to exploring new interests and meeting new people, I do not know where we all will be in the upcoming year. I want to make the most of the time we have left, but with school, work and my horrible procrastination habits, I feel like I never have time. I want to go on spontaneous adventures with my friends and meet new people, but with homework and no car, it is hard to get out of the house. In addition, I feel dependent and trapped without a car. I do not want to have to rely on my parents and friends to drive me everywhere, which often leads to me spending my weekends at home on youtube and tiktok. However, I plan to be more spontaneous and social during second semester. Instead of focusing all of my energy on school, like I have been for the past three years, I understand that I need to balance my school and social life. One bad grade is not going to kill me and it is okay to have fun, even if it is on a weekday.

4. legacy (best friend)

My best friend is [E]. We met in fifth grade in Mrs. [K]’s class and instantly became friends. From middle school orchestra to high school cross country and track, we have spent countless hours together, and surprisingly, are not sick of each other yet. 

If I were to pass away tomorrow, [E] would probably remember me for my sense of humor, work ethic and our relationship. We had the ability to make light of any situation, and we could always make each other laugh - which wasn’t always ideal. From getting kicked out of eighth grade english class for laughing too much and too loud to doing the same in ninth grade history, we probably should have paid a little more attention to the class’ lesson. In addition, [E] would probably commend me on my work ethic. From persevering through difficult, steep cross country races to countless hours of studying and working on homework, I have always been very motivated to do well. Lastly, she would probably describe my legacy through our relationship. We have grown so close in the past seven years and our friendship is irreplaceable. We are so comfortable around each other and we are the only people we can completely open up to. 

5. legacy (family)

To be honest, I am not sure what my parents or brother would say about me if I were to pass away tomorrow. Growing up in an Asian household, praise was very rare. Excelling in academics and extracurriculars were expected and hardly acknowledged. However, I think my mom would commend me for my strong, independent nature, which she often complimented me on. Being a girl in our current society, she thought it was very important for me to be able to take care of myself and instilled these values in me growing up. In addition, my mom would probably mention my Gold Award as part of my legacy. She had always wanted me to complete it, and being the only girl in my troop to do so, she was extremely proud. 

Similarly, my dad would commend me on my work ethic and good grades. Although he was usually pushing me to enroll in harder classes and explore more activities at our school, he was proud of me for always excelling in school. He said he had never had to worry about me or my grades, which was a stressful burden with my brother. 

6. epitaph + reflection

“in” - Jack Lemmon

I like Lemmon’s epitaph because it is short, simple and comedical. After passing away, your family is mourning for you and remembering everything you accomplished, and I think it was kind of him to make his friends and family laugh during this difficult time. In addition, I think it is important and unique to be remembered solely by one’s words and sense of humor instead of the time when you were alive.

“Damn, it’s dark down here.” - Thatcher

Similarly, I like Thatcher’s epitaph because he chose a way to spread happiness and smiles even after his death. Instead of having a serious, standard epitaph, he chose to make light of the situation. He made a little, light joke to bring his loved ones some happiness while they mourned his death. 

7. epitaph creation 

“[J M]. [Month Day, Year]. Mother, Wife, Occupational Therapist. ‘She saw the world and worked to changed it too.’”Ever since I was young, I have always wanted the stereotypical happily ever after story I grew up watching. I want to find happiness through experiences, people, food and music. I want to get married to someone I love and can spend my life with. I want to have a family with a couple of kids and a dog. I enjoy taking care of children and cannot wait to have some of my own. I want a fulfilling job as a school-based occupational therapist, where I can help kids with special needs and learning disabilities. I want to travel the world and make a difference in it. Instead of wasting my potential like many of the characters we learned about, I want to help those around me, along with making sure I maintain my happiness. 

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (2/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary: You two have a small interaction. Steve’s back. You don’t want to stop helping Bucky, even if he doesn’t know a thing. How long will you be able to keep the control of the situation?

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, past break-up, unresolved feelings nightmares.

 A/N: Here’s chapter two. The idea came from this anon request which has been waiting on my ask box since forever: Do you still do requests? I really want a story where the reader has F.R.I.D.A.Y. wake her up whenever Bucky has nightmares so she can calm him down and Steve finds out. @lesqui Ily.

Please, let me know what you think.

Part 1/Part 2/ Part 3 

Masterlist.

 You hated parties. So much. Yet, there you were. The voice of your grandfather echoed in your mind, telling you that going to events, socializing, and making contacts were an essential part of the job. “Kicking some asses isn't all this is about, pumpkin,” he used to say.  You remember going with him at very early age, having to memorize the name of all the big players and how each of them could be beneficial to SHIELD.

The perks of being raised by one of the founders of the powerful organization. Even years after his death, you couldn’t help but following his lead, not missing one single event like the one you were at now.

Leaning on the balcony, you took a sip of your champagne, scanning the place, identifying at least a dozen of people you would have to socialize with before the end of the night.  

However, before you got into action, your gaze landed upon him. Bucky Barnes. The former Winter Soldier. Four spots away from you at the bar, asking for a drink of his own. You wondered what Steve had to do to drag him there. Since he got to the team, he had been keeping to himself, interacting with almost nobody, except Steve and occasionally Sam.

You knew the famous brainwashing wasn’t a problem anymore and he’d been doing well on the missions he had been assigned to, but your efforts on exchanging a bit more than the good mornings and hellos with him, it was to no avail.

The man intrigued you. Not to mention he was hot as fuck. Considering the two samples you worked with, the 40’s should have been a damn good decade to live in.

You were taking another sip of your glass when he inadvertently turned his face to you, catching you gawking. You quickly moved your gaze to your front. But your eyes were also quick on betraying you, seeking for him again.

And then you saw something you had never seen him doing before: he was smiling. Bucky Barnes was fully turned to your direction and sporting a small, yet gorgeous smile on his beautiful mouth. The man who hadn´t acknowledged your existence so far was aiming the sweetest of smiles at you.

You felt a broad grin of your own tugging at your lips and some weird fluttering feelings taking over your stomach.

Oh, shit... this can’t be good.

~~~

Why is the fucking kitchen so far fucking away? The thought pops into your mind while you drag your feet to said kitchen, aiming to fill your empty whining stomach, hoping to be lucky enough and find nobody there. You haven´t managed to sleep for a single minute since the night before. The moments with Bucky and the last words he said before you dashed out of his bedroom ended the possibilities of you having any kind of rest, as you kept reliving them in your mind.

I’m sorry…I’m sorry…

They weighed over you, over your heart especially, bringing out emotions and feelings you thought you had done a good job on burying inside the depths of you. It isn´t so, apparently, for those simple words were enough to erase two years of your life. Two years of running away, two years of forgetting. Or trying to.

You wonder if you really made the right call on coming back. Being away seems a very good and reasonable decision now, why did you have to go and change your stupid mind? You take a deep sigh, pushing the kitchen´s door open. You know damn well why you changed your mind-

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Of course luck wouldn´t be your friend that morning. “Morning, Nat…” you murmur, “Sam...Wanda…” you nod to the other only two occupants of the table, who wish you their mouthful “good mornings” as you walk to the coffee machine and help yourself with a cup of strong espresso, before joining the group.

“Okay,” Natasha drags the word after a moment of the three of them staring at you, while you fill your plate with some of the eggs and bacon from the pan on the table, “what exactly ran over you last night?”

You let out a bitter laugh, you surely look like shit after the hell of a night you had, “Like I´m the only one here with sleeping troubles every now and then.”

Wanda and Sam shrug and keep eating, finding no lies in what you said, while Natasha smirks, “I missed you. Thought two years away from us, simple avengers, would change you. I´m glad it didn´t.”

“I don´t think simple is the word you looking for, Tasha,” You don´t have to force the smile curling up your lips. You´ve missed everybody, but Wanda and Natasha would always hold a special place in your heart. Your little squad, having your back no matter what.

“All right, but the real question is: to what do we owe the honor of having the illustrious director of the infamous European branch of new SHIELD among us?” Sam says the words with mocked drama, wiggling his brows and imitating quotations marks over  new for the effect.  

You roll your eyes at the remark, “They hate you call them that, you know?” You swallow your coffee and sigh after he chuckled and kept looking at you, waiting for a response. Apart from Steve, Wanda and Natasha, It hasn´t been so hard to avoid explaining to the rest of team the circumstances of your presence since the beginning of the week, considering the come and go due to missions and personal matters, like the long delayed honeymoon of Tony and Pepper. You guess you can’t avoid it any longer, “Ahm, it´s former director, actually. I’ve resigned.” You smile tightly at him, “I’m back to stay.”  Your both hands firmly hold the cup in front of you.

His jaw drops and a sound, which you can’t distinguish between a scoff and a genuine laugh, comes out of his lips. You raise a brow at him, as Natasha keeps her classical unperturbed expression and Wanda takes a nonchalant sip of her milk. His gaze switches between you three, “Are you serious?” he asks, at last.

“Yup”, you shrug, gulping down some eggs and hoping for the miracle of not having to discuss the matter any further.

“What the hell happened? This was all you ever talked about ever since I met you.”

You’re taking a breath to face the questions, when the miracle you were hoping for happens in the form a sexy former assassin.

“Ok, Wilson, enough of bacon and chit-chat. You’ve been successfully dodging from that sparring session with me for too many times, now.” Natasha snaps out of her seat, dragging Sam with her by the collar.

As relieved as you are, you know Sam isn’t stupid to fall for that, but, lucky for you, he’s also the most comprehensive motherfucker you know. He swallows back whatever he really wants to say and goes along, “I’m glad you’re back anyway. We really missed you.” He pats your shoulder before being drifted out of the room.

You can’t help a small smile to cross your face at his consideration in leaving the subject behind. Or for later, if you really knew him. Shaking your head slightly, your gaze falls upon the up till now silent Avenger in the room, who is smirking at you, with her arms folded in front of her.

“What?” Your eyes narrow at Wanda.

“You know what? You were right.” Her smirk grows bigger at your quizzically shrug, “All of us have trouble to sleep.” She elaborates, grabbing her cup and plate and turns her back to you, walking to the sink, “By the way, one nocturnal troublemaker in special is strangely still asleep this morning.”

You choke on your coffee. While she dries her hands using a dish cloth, you can’t see her face but you’re mostly certain she’s sporting one of her radiant full grins. If you can expect scolding and advices against what you did last night, you know you wouldn’t receive them from Wanda. She has always been the most supportive of you and Bucky and she was heartbroken with the break-up.  She used to say she shipped you two, or something like that.

Wanda walks back to you, stopping behind your chair and leaning down to wrap her arms around your shoulders. “I think what you’re doing is great. He hasn’t slept that well in…well, two years.”

Before you can respond in any way, she props a kiss on your cheek and is out of the kitchen in a swift move, leaving behind her a slightly lighter heart than the one which has entered the kitchen this morning.

~~~

The rest of your day consists on being in the main office, trying to catch up with what you missed these last two years concerning missions, team rearrangements, new additions and work methods… You have a lot to study and analyze, which you’re kind of thankful for, since locked inside a room alone, you don’t have to play the avoidance game you and Bucky have been engaging to this last week. Also, it’s always been easy for you to use work as a way to take him and everything concerning you both out of your mind, at least for a bit. Mission accomplished. You’ve successfully driven your mind away from him and haven’t seen Bucky the whole day.

Except the day isn’t over yet.

Late in the afternoon, a throbbing pain lodges in your head, and you decide to hit the gym and exhaust your body instead of your mind for a change and, hopefully, relax. Everyone usually does their work outs in the morning, before their day’s responsibilities, so you are pretty confident you’ll have the place all to yourself.

Just like you expected, you find yourself running on one of the treadmills with no one around. Earphones drumming your favorites beats in your ear, you keep speeding up, the endorphin rushing through your body, easing your headache and running down to your limbs.

The slowly shift from numbness to aching in your joints brought by the heavy exertion doesn’t stop you from accelerating even more, breaking a personal record. You’re drenched and panting when something catches your peripheral vision, right by the door, making you trip on your toes and hit straight to the ground.

You groan at the pang you feel in your ankle and bring your hand to cover your eyes, pulling your earphones with the other, tossing them aside, cursing at your clumsiness, trying to recover your breath, even through clenched teeth.

“Are you ok?”  

Fuck.

You open your fingers to see between them, meeting a pair of blue eyes hovering over you. The very same blue which has knocked you down all those years ago, and keeps making you trip on your feet.

As he stares at you, worry etched on his face, you incline yourself up, supporting your weight with your hands on the floor, as he crouches in front of you. “My right ankle,” it´s all you mumble, having almost completely forgotten about the pain.

Bucky then focus his gaze on your feet, and you try not to wince when he gently wraps his hands around your aching ankle. The touch is clinical as he assesses possible damages, but is incredibly soft and, as it has always been, even with the metal, it’s warm, subduing the ache right away. Goosebumps trails up your skin and his heat rolls off on your body in burning sparkles. It´s the first time he´s touching you after two years and all you can do is stare at him, and control yourself not to scream, run away or throw yourself at him and kiss him breathless.

His attention is stuck on where he´s touching you, “There´s no sign of trauma,” His voice is dry and contained.

Even if he isn't looking at your face, you nod and expect him to let go of you then. But he doesn't. Your breath hitches in your throat as his thumbs draw lazy circles on your skin. The touch is barely a brush, light and soft and you could retract yourself from it if you wanted.

But you don’t.

You’re frozen in place while your gaze follows his flesh hand when it unhurriedly slides up the back of your leg. You stop breathing altogether and he seems hypnotized by his own hand when it stops right in the middle of your calf. Your eyes flutter shut. It’s overwhelming, bringing you to old memories and new sensations. A simple touch and you´re a puddle on the floor, willing to drown into him again.

“Bucky...” you finally breathe through your daze.

Your voice calling his name seems to snap him out of his own stupor, because too soon his hands are out of your body and as you open your eyes, you face the hardening of his features, still not looking at you when he stands up promptly.

He offers you a helping hand, and when you´re up, it’s only a moment before he takes a safe step back, avoiding the closeness. “Are you ok to walk?”

You’re the one who avoids his eyes, when he finally looks at you. You nod, feeling the pain in your ankle easing down.

“Good. Some ice and anti-inflammatory ointment and you should be ok.” Just like that he’s out of the gym, apparently forgetting whatever he was going to do there.

The phantom of his touch still lingers while you gather your stuff and drag yourself to your room. You sigh deeply when you realize the simple truth: he left a longing plastered in your skin. An aching longing for more.  

~~~

Late that night you find yourself again in his bed, running a timid yet soothing hand over his chest and whispering calming words on his ear, after Friday gave you the warning.

Your mind can’t help but travel to the afternoon events. The tiny interaction may seem insignificant on the surface, but you how much it’s meant to you. He’s spent a whole week ignoring you, not talking to you, running from your presence, and you, mimicking his behavior perfectly, both experts on staying away from each other.

But then he touches you… and all you want is more. Damn with the past, damn with the mistakes, the bad decisions. The heartache. You want him. You want him to want you, to kiss you, to touch you, to…

“Y/N?”

The whisper makes you promptly turn back around to find Steve, in tactical uniform, standing by the bedroom’s door with an almost comical expression of confusion on his face. Bucky stirs by your side and you’re quick to put a finger over your lips, signing for Steve to be quiet.

He sighs and nods toward the front door, before walking away.

You take one last look at Bucky’s peaceful form and cautiously leave the bed to follow the Captain.

“What am I seeing here?” he whispers almost in a harsh way, turning to you with folded arms in front of him when you close the door behind you.

You stare at your fidgeting fingers and use the same low tone to answer him, “I just couldn’t leave him on his own, Steve.”

Looking up at him, you catch the sternness leaving his posture as he takes a deep breath and regards door behind you for a second, “Does he know?” His gaze travels to yours and you shake your head in response.  

You stare at each other, conversing through your eyes, like only two people who know, understand and nurture a deep love for the same person could. He´s the one to cut the silence, “He never goes back to sleep so peacefully, you know? When I’m the one in there.”

It’s so fucked up to feel good about the information, considering you´ve been away for so long, but knowing you´re still the only one able to take him out of his torment brings you a shameful sense of pride. And hope. You almost can´t help a small smile to shape your lips, so you decide to speak to hide it, “Did you just got here?” You point to his battered uniform.  

“Yeah, came straight here to check on him. He seems to be just fine,” he smirks “I worry, though. About both of you.” His eyes bores into yours, “Are you ready to deal with it? With him?”

The meaning behind his words makes your chest smaller and you take a minute before speaking again, not really answering his question, “I think he was dreaming about me, the first night…”

“Wouldn´t be the first time.”

You mimic Steve’s tightened lips before they start trembling, “He said he was sorry…” You swallow back tears, casting your eyes away and staring at the door.

Steve places a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze and you look back at him.  

“I- I, wanna keep doing it. You said he usually doesn’t go back to sleep well. I wanna help him.” You grace your voice with resolve.

He removes his hand of your shoulder and contemplates you for a second, “You have to talk to him, though…Not just about this, but everything else.”

“I will, just… give me some time? Please?” You aim pleading eyes at him.

He nods and smiles softly when you let out the air stuck in your lungs. “Have I said I’m glad you’re back, already?”

You chuckle, pulling him for a hug. He hugs you back promptly and you’re so thankful for Steve Rogers. You know it’s been hard for him, too. Yet, there he is, supporting and offering his shoulder for you.  

“I´m starving, wanna go grab something with me in the kitchen?” He whispers softly, moving his hand in circles around your back.

You hear the silence inside the room before nodding and letting him pull you by the hand.

~~~

With Steve’s approval, having Friday waking you up becomes routine. It isn’t every night it happens, though, which is great for Bucky, but if you’re going to be honest, you long for the moment you can be close to him, talk to him, feel his body heat washing over your skin… He hasn´t spoken to you ever since that day in the gym, so you spent the days waiting for the nights.  

Steve´s been giving you the time you asked for, but you know the situation can´t be sustained for much longer. You need to talk to him, once and for all. You have to do it. Maybe tomorrow… or the day after tomorrow…

Tonight, Friday wakes you up later than usual and it takes longer for you to calm him down, due his agitated state. You hear him calling your name again, like it happened sometimes before, and you whisper you’re there, careful enough to get the message to his subconscious without waking him up.

You always leave when you’re certain he’s back to a peaceful state of mind, but maybe with the whole familiarity of the routine, you’re feeling dangerously comfortable and you´re not sure at what point you doze off tonight. All you know is the next thing you see is your hand laying upon an empty mattress.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your heart rate rises when you follow the rusky voice. He´s plastered against the wall next to the bed, bare chest heaving and glossy eyes staring at you. You don´t miss his hands clenching when you move to sit on the bed.

Taking in a deep breath, you see no way out, before forcing a steady voice, “We need to talk.”

 ~~~

Part 3 

Perm. Tag List: 

@mytasterpeculiar

@mar-gega

@alohabucky

@melconnor2007

@iamwarrenspeace

@kaaatniss

@kissmyjasdaddy

@adaliamalfoy

@roselock20

@curlycals

@capbuckthor

@lilasiannerd

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked

@ria132love

@alwayshave-faith

@camillechan

@strange-intricate-dysfunction

@cassandras-musings 

@random-fluffy-pink-unicorn

@captain-chimichanga 

@tilltheendwilliwrite

@super-complicated

@50shadesofyes

@cokamarie24

@jayzayy

@honey-bee-holly

@httpmcrvel

@milkywaybarnes

@learisa

@vintagepigeon

@supernatural508

@missmeganrachel

@its-daydreamer23

@nerdyandproud9

@geeksareunique

@feelmyroarrrr

@santheweird

@the-real-kellymonster

@buckyandivarlover

@wolflhards

@the-ragnarssons-tickle-spot

@elaacreditava

@saraniz

@game-of-spidey-imagines

@bitsandbobsandstuff

@kandiidreams

@wemettonight

@lilmissperfectlyimperfect

@bexboo616

@rebekahsalvator

@lostinthoughtsandfeelings

@fireflyloki28

@crazy-little-thing-called-buck

@creideamhgradochas

@suz-123

@coal000

@affleck40

@fuckthatfeeling

@bornfortherainydays

@cuddlysteven

@superappyjuice

@romanian-god 

Looking for a heartbeat: 

@nairobi13 

@rainbowkisses31

@goddess-of-silvers

@trenchcoatdevilsworld

@critterlady

@lost-and-wandering-alone

@stringgeek13

@anamcg317

@sprinkleofpoop

@capisicles

@dancer3205

@pao-prazz

@susmita121

@drunkinthemiddleoftheday

@commissioner23

@nomadicpixel

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky angst #bucky series #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel angst #looking for a heartbeat part 2

[miss-eucatastrophe]

Chapter 17: Threat

Pairing: Bucky x PlusSize!OFC/Serum!OFC (Can also be read as a Bucky X Reader fic. Your name is Cassandra. You’re welcome you beautiful bitch).

Summary:Trying to integrate into “normal” life, Bucky slowly falls into a routine. Wake up, run, gaze at the woman who works in the toy store as he passes by, eat, mission, sleep, repeat. But when he goes toe to toe with a thief who threaten’s to trash his routine by becoming an obsession, will he be able to put his bizarre life back in order, or will this woman turn his 21st century world on it’s head?Yep, the Bucky/Serum!Reader story you didn’t know you wanted.

Rated: Explicit

A/N: Back like I never left. I didn't give up on the story. A lot of things happened in my life that pulled me away from fanfiction. My previous semester was very intensive and I lost a beloved family member to cancer. My Grandfather passed, we were very close and it put me in a bit of a spin. I'm doing much better and this is my final semester of school. I mapped out all my school semesters so that this last one would be easy. I'm only taking two classes and they are both on the same day. In addition I am back at the job I previously had which allowed me to write when things were slow. So you can expect this story to be completed this year between my senor synthesis project.I apologize to everyone who were waiting for this and I thank everyone for their kudos and continued support of this story. I hope you're still interested in reading it.To make up for my absense, this chapter is the length of 2-3.Enjoy~!

Chapter 17 :Threat

In a year’s time since losing Cassandra, the Avengers had all gone through their own set of changes and challenges. The Avengers, and some space morons, had gathered together to fight against a big purple asshole who literally snapped half the universe into nonexistence. Prior to that, Bucky had spent time in Wakanda and met a sassy princess named Shuri who was eager to try out her tech on what she lovingly called a “broken white boy”. As a result, she had managed to rewire Bucky’s brain in order to expel the existence of those nasty trigger words that remained tightly locked within his subconscious. After losing Cassandra, the idea that the book that held his trigger words was destroyed was no longer a comfort. He had to get rewired—get Hydra out of his head for good.

If he was going to go after Cassandra and face more Hydra operatives, he couldn’t give them any opening to get to him. The risk was far to great. In addition to Shuri rooting around in his brain, she saw fit to redesign his metal arm. One that quote “didn’t suck”, not like the rebuilt Hydra tech Tony had stitched together as an apology to Barnes after their Civil War that was less than civil.

However, the appearance of the previously mentioned purple asshole, Thanos, had put Bucky’s quest to find Cassandra on hold. Especially after he too was snapped into nonexistence.

During his time in the emptiness, what he could remember of it, he had hoped he’d see Cassandra there. That if he had indeed died, perhaps she had too—and he could finally rest. Rest with the woman he’d grown to love.

He was both relieved and heartbroken by the fact that he never saw her. He never saw anyone. Hell, he couldn’t remember if he had seen anything at all. Nonexistence had been funny like that. Both seeing and not seeing at the same time. Both existing and not at the same time. Both alive and not at the same time.

It was a lot like cryo.

But just as quickly as he’d died, he was back in the world which was very much the same as he’d left it, but with the added bonus of those who had survived the “snap” defeating Thanos.

Little things had changed since then. The Avengers had grown in size with the addition of that Spider Kid and occasional assistance from King T’Challa and his people, Banner and Thor had returned to the family of misfits—considering that Thor had nowhere else to go after the destruction of his home, and the odd family as a whole had moved from the Avengers Tower they had called home into the Avengers Compound. Which, if Bucky was honest, he liked better. He liked the seclusion the compound had, the fact that it was out of the city—the fact that he wouldn’t pass the toy store anymore.

It wasn’t as though Bucky had forgotten about Cassandra, or wanted to. Quite the opposite—he devoted all his downtime to following leads centered around finding her.

He wasn’t going to stop. He hadn’t stopped since they completed their move into the Avengers Compound. As a result, the last two months of Bucky’s life, since the move, had been harder than the year without her. At least during that year Bucky had unwavering distractions from his own anger, depression, and restlessness. But these past two months made him wish he was on ice again. He was impossible to be around—he knew it, but he wasn’t about to fake a smile. He wasn’t the type. He’d never been the type.

As a result, the team treaded carefully around him. They had been since week one of their move in which Bucky was insisting that the man in the chopper had “his Doll” under a triggered mind control similar to his own. In passing, Tony had said he wasn’t sure about that—that perhaps Cassandra was in fact a double agent. Even Natasha, the double agent queen, didn’t believe that. The idea had earned Tony a punch to his laboratory wall where his head had been. He hadn’t bothered to have the indent caused by the Sargent’s fist fixed—and hadn’t dared to bring up his theory again. He liked his playboy head attached to his shoulders.

The only person that could approached Bucky was Steve, and even he wasn’t immune to the male’s frustrations.

Bucky and Steve walked down the ramp descending from the Quinjet. The moment Bucky’s boots touched down on cement of the hanger he let out a frustrated growl that bordered on a roar and threw one of his guns across the room. It skittered across the floor. Upon catching up with the gun in smooth strides, Bucky kicked it like a petulant child, letting it hit the wall to the left and watched it crumble into several unrecognizable pieces.

Steve put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder and squeezed firmly, yanking him back and forcibly turning his friend to face him. “Enough.” Steve growled, as if scolding a toddler. A toddler that could break his damn neck if it really wanted to.

Bucky shrugged his friend off. “Seven tips—all seven leading to nothing!” He wanted to punch something. Bucky had followed every tiny glimmer of hope that might lead to Cassandra. No matter how insignificant it seemed. “We can’t keep doing this.” Steve murmured. Steve could have told him that five of the seven leads would bring them nothing, but Bucky always insisted. He was tired, he had bags under his eyes—but so did Bucky. Steve found himself wondering when the last time Bucky slept was.

“We can’t look into everything, Bucky.” He reiterated, gripping both of Bucky’s shoulders in an attempt to hold his focus. “We can’t.”

Bucky set his jaw, his muscles wound tight, but he didn’t pull back, or punch him in the jaw like Steve expected.

“You did it for me.” Bucky murmured through clenched teeth.

The Captain’s eyes softened, a moment of silence passing between them before Steve pulled Bucky into a firm hug by his grip on his shoulders. “We’ll find her Buck.” He murmured before his friend returned the embrace. “We’ll find her.” He repeated.

Their tender moment was interrupted by Sam sticking his head in. “Yo, old guys.”

Bucky let go of his friend and peered over his shoulder at Sam, giving him a death glare. That hug from Steve was the first positive physical contact he’d had since Cassandra was taken from him, he wasn’t pleased with having it cut short.

“Sorry secret lovers,” Sam murmured, stepping out of the doorway and into the hanger. “But we have a lead on The Cassinator.” He murmured with a grin, as if he were proud of himself for the new nickname.

Bucky wasn’t impressed.

Cassandra would have laughed.

Cassandra wasn’t here.

The super solider with the metal arm arched a brow as if he was not convinced, but Sam continued. “A real lead. With real evidence.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Pictures.” Sam emphasized, tilting his head in the direction behind him to get the Captain and the Sargent to follow him.

Steve looked to his best friend and clapped him on the back as he broke into a steady jog after Sam. It took Bucky a moment longer to follow after them. Bucky wasn’t so sure he could take anymore bad news. The whole year had been nothing but a plethora of bad news.

Tony slammed his hand on the table in the conference room, drawing it back to rest it on his hip. “She’s been spotted in Germany.” He announced, beaming like a child who just completed a jigsaw puzzle.

Steve, who had been seated next to where Tony had slapped his hand on the table, arched a brow. “We went to Germany.” He said blandly. It wasn’t that he was trying to be cynical, he just didn’t want to get Bucky excited for nothing. He remembered what that felt like. To be so sure he was going to find Bucky only to return empty handed. Bucky had already done it enough.

Steve was going to make sure they didn’t go on another mission to find Cassandra until they were absolutely sure it was a genuine lead. Bucky’s heart couldn’t take it. Steve’s couldn’t either. Partially because he too loved Cassandra as a valued member of the team, but more so because his heart broke for his pal.

Bucky tapped his metal finger on the surface of the desk, not looking up at Tony’s over-excited face. “What makes you think she’s there?” he murmured, monotone and seemingly uninterested. He couldn’t bare to give his hopes up again. Not when seven leads had brought them nothing.

Sensing Bucky’s skepticism, Tony tapped on the surface of the table at the head, little hidden panels lighting up under his fingertips until a projection appeared at his eye level. The picture was a birds eye view of an old HYDRA base, one that Bucky recognized from his days on The Howling Commandos in the 40’s. It was one of the original seven bases the team took down when Steve officially became Captain America.

Tony raised his hand to the hologram and flicked his wrist to change the angle of the view until two people could be clearly seen. One was a girl with long brown hair tied up into a high pony but had no other distinguishable features showing besides that. The bottom half of her face was masked, and across her eyes were goggles. Even with the shitty resolution caused by zooming in Bucky knew it was his doll. The other figure was obviously the man Bucky saw in the chopper the day Cassandra got away. His memory may not have been great regarding everything pre-HYDRA, but he remembered the man who took his best girl.

“When do we leave?” Bucky said plainly, having already made up his mind the moment Tony zoomed in on the two figures. It wasn’t definite, with her face covered like that, but it was the best lead they had in weeks.

“We don’t,” Said Steve firmly, causing Bucky to set his jaw and raise a death like stare in Steve’s direction—one reminiscent of The Winter Solider. “Not without a plan.” Steve finished quickly, watching his friend’s gaze slightly soften.

Tony pipped up at that moment to back up his Captain, “I’ve got schematics of the building,” he murmured, flicking the hovering hologram to raise a new one. “Scanned it this morning.”

The building was roughly mapped out, as best as it could be through steel doors and solid concrete- but Stark’s tech was nothing to scoff at, and money said it was probably as accurate as anything. Bucky looked over the plans, his chin resting in his human hand and his leg shaking as he tapped his foot restlessly on the floor.

“There’s two stories plus one underground floor,” Tony, lifted two hands and flipped the flat image parallel to the table where it became a 3D model of the building. “Our best access points are here, here, and—”

Bucky cut Tony off as he was gesturing to the roof. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a peculiar shape at the underground floor of the building. Tony arched a brow and made a face, clearly dissatisfied with being cut off. “I’m not sure.” He said flatly, trying to pick up from what he had been saying just a moment ago.

Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Zoom in.” He persisted, his tone a command and not a request in the slightest. Tony let out a sigh of exasperation but poked his finger through the hologram to this odd shape at the base of the building. The hologram reset itself and zoomed in on the indicated section. He put his hands on the table and leaned in close, one hand coming up to rub at his sharply shaped beard. “Uh, a big chair.” He said, not even pretending to be interested.

Bucky’s face paled about four shades. “We gotta move.” He said firmly, standing from his chair so quickly that it rolled back and hit the wall behind him. Steve reached out and gripped his friend’s right arm, which would have sent him rolling with him had his feet not been firmly planted on the short carpet.

“Buck! A plan!” He repeated. This was rich coming from the man who ran head first into the big purple menace months prior and took on an army of chitauri without so much as a thought in his head.

“We’ll make one on the way.” He muttered, pulling his arm from Steve’s grip. “You, me, Tony, and Spider Punk. Let’s go.” Bucky was already out the door before he could see Sam and Natasha give each other a look that said, ‘And what the fuck are we? Chopped liver?’

Steve smiled weakly at the two. “We’re gonna need some level heads here to take care of the place while we’re gone.”

“Nice save.” Muttered Sam.

Tony, clearly pouting as the hologram sunk back into the table let out a grumble of discontent, “And here I thought I was in charge.” Steve smiled and raised his brows, “I let you think that.” Tony’s brow crinkled, and he scoffed.

Running. So much running. They never stayed in one place for too long, but she didn’t question it. She couldn’t. It was like there was someone else at the wheel. Everything the man in front of her said just made sense. Not because she thought about it and came to that conclusion herself—because it did.

Because that’s the way it was. She couldn’t think anything—not really. It was easier to do what you were told than think. Still… There was something in the back of her head, like a voice that would become just loud enough for her to hear. It was often followed by a brief snippet of time she couldn’t account for.

A distant memory like something out of a story she read but didn’t quite remember. Flashes of memories that couldn’t be hers.

Soft sheets. A warm embrace. Long hair. Blue eyes like ice on a frozen pond, haunting and enchanting. A bright smile…a real one.

And a voice. A rough voice expressing sweet nothings she couldn’t quite hear.

The lips… The lips that framed that smile… It formed words. In the flashes of this fantasy she could almost read them. ‘Ca….Ca…--’

“Kukol’nyy.”

Her head shot up, eyes empty, as if looking through her handler rather than at him.

“Your mind is wondering.” The man said whose name she couldn’t remember. A whisper in her mind said he was a doctor. Vasiliev—commander… doctor… handler—these words all blended together. The meant the same thing, and they were all words she couldn’t utter. No questions. Just comply.

The voice in the back of her head got quiet again.

The man in front of her stood knee deep in the snow, his arms crossed, looking upon this super soldier. Dirty, hair tangled, covered by the hood of her jacket, the snow hugging at her thighs. During his inspection, his eyes caught something perplexing. Little movements the Puppet was making.

Shivering. She was shivering. His brow crinkled in confusion. Super soldiers didn’t feel the effects of chill. Not like the average human—at the least they weren’t affected by it in the same way. A super solider could be sent out into a blizzard in civilian clothes for hours without showing signs of hypothermia. So why was she shivering?

He looked to her blank face before he turned once again, approaching the building they’d set out for. Passing through the clearing and reaching the front door should have been more difficult in knee deep snow—but the super soldier walked through the icy blockade as if taking a stroll through a field of daisies, creating a path for her handler to follow.

Upon reaching the iron door, the doctor stepped aside, gesturing to it with his head as he looked at the girl. “Open it.”

Kukol’nyy, who once had another name but had forgotten it, stepped forward and put her ungloved palm on the handle, rusted from years of snow and ice. The metal cracked under the force of her grip and she gave the handle a pull, tugging the obstacle out of their way as the door came off its’ hinges. She tossed the useless hunk of iron into the snow and stepped aside so her handler could ender the building ahead of her.

The doctor paused and again, tilted his head, gesturing to the opening. “You first, Kukol’nyy.”

Of course, how could she forget? She always entered first. Any doorway they entered, Kukol’nyy was to step in before her handler, insuring that any attack would be laid upon her first. Protection of her handler was her number one initiative.

She walked in, a hand at her thigh where she kept her gun, ready to draw it at the first sign of a threat.

None came. The girl relaxed her stance and turned partially to look at her handler, nodding that it was safe for him to enter. She rarely spoke. She wasn’t expected to speak. Speaking required thought.

She didn’t have thoughts.

Not her own.

Her handler stepped forward, walking past the soldier as he unzipped his heavy coat, snow from his shoulders dusting the floor as the fabric shifted.

“Come, Kukol’nyy. You’re filthy.”

“So, uh, why did the Russian dude kidnap your friend, Mr. Stark.” The Spider kid is not one that Bucky would usually depend on. Hell, he would have rather taken Bird Brain. However, he saw what that web of his could do first hand. If he could pin him to the floor the first time they met, he could easily tangle Cassandra. This was a search and rescue mission—and in his opinion other members of the team were a little too keen on shooting first and asking questions later.

Bucky knew no one mentioned it, they wouldn’t dare, but some suspected—in the very back of their minds—that maybe Cassandra had been conning them and was a double agent like Toni said. He wouldn’t have brought Tony, considering he’d been the one that planted the idea of Cassandra betraying them into other members of the team—but he knew he wouldn’t be able to take Spider kid with them without the watchful eye of his pseudo dad.

That—and deep down, in spite of what Bucky had said in the past, he knew Tony really cared for the woman and wouldn’t allow harm to come to her. Even if he had his doubts about her motives.

Instead of reiterating said doubts about Cassanda’s credibility, Tony just replied, “Dunno kid.”

Steve spoke from his position in the cockpit of the Quinjet. “Rebuilding HYDRA would be a lot easier if they had a new super soldier acting as their ‘fist’.”

Steve looked over his shoulder in time to see his friend’s look of disgust. Bucky still wasn’t over the part he had played in history.

He didn’t want Cassandra to have any of the same guilt he had.

Steve changed the subject, “But I don’t know why he would take her out here. They’ve done a pretty good job of hiding up until this point.” It was true, the pair had avoided any known HYDRA bases during their time on the run, fully aware they were likely being monitored. Yet, after months of being so careful they suddenly pushed their luck?

“He doesn’t have time to construct his own chair.” Bucky mumbled, his body swaying with a sudden jolt as the jet hit an unexpected air pocket. Bucky stood his ground, easily balancing in the bumpy craft, while Peter, usually the poster child of quick reflexes, fell back onto his ass.

“Can’t he just like… Buy one?” Peter asked, pulling himself back onto his feet before thinking better of it and having a seat on one of the benches that lined both sides of the jet. “Ikea furniture comes with a lot of instructions yeah, but it doesn’t take all that long to build right?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. Steve looked back again. Bucky hadn’t opened up about a lot of the things that HYDRA did, but Steve did know about the chair. He’d spent a lot more time in it when he met Steve again on the bridge. It’d triggered so many memories that HYDRA had fought to shred.

“Why would he take her there, Buck?” Steve asked, his tone suggesting that he was aware he was walking on eggshells. Steve didn’t push Bucky to tell him more than he was comfortable with, they took it a day at a time, so prying was something he attempted to do delicately when necessary.

“She’s remembering.”

The girl hit the floor, not because she couldn’t catch herself—but as a sign of submission. When your handler shoved you, it was best you fall. The floor was cold. Even colder on bare skin. The shivers started again, making their way up her body like fingers walking up her spine, the hard surface of the concrete floor pressing uncomfortably to her kneecaps while one of her shins pressed to a metal grate on the floor, her skin imbedded with the pattern under the pressure.

“Up Kukol’nyy.”

At his command she stumbled to her feet, her arms at her side and her head hung to look at the floor but raised just enough so her handler could see it properly. Her hands stayed limply at her bare sides, never once moving to cover her stripped flesh. Any shame that existed in the mind she once had was not present in this one. Her long brown hair offered her only form of protection from the nip of the frosty air, hanging from her shoulders and covering a portion of her breasts. But the rest of her was on display and her face betrayed no interest one way or the other in her own exposure.

It should have been humiliating to stand there naked in front of a man she didn’t know. But like this she felt nothing. She thought nothing. She was nothing.

Just the orders she got.

“You really don’t look like a soldier, do you?” Her handler scoffed, lifting a fire hose that hung on the wall of the room. Any other person would have assumed it was an emergency hose, in case a fire broke out in the building. No—the room was built for this. With nothing in it but a drain in the floor and the hose on the wall, this room was made specifically for this.

Hosing down the asset after a mission.

Weapons didn’t get the luxury of showers.

Weapons weren’t human.

The asset wasn’t human.

The puppet wasn’t human either.

Her eyes followed the male’s hands blankly as they turned on the water, steam quickly radiated off the pipe and the uncoiled hose started to fill until a violent stream of water shot from the end of it and made contact with the puppet’s skin.

It hurt. The stream held such intensity it felt as if the water was trying to cut skin from bone, to wash her skin by ripping it away. She coiled instinctively, caving in on herself into a fetal position to try and protect her body from the pain, though she didn’t run from it. She wouldn’t dare run. You didn’t run from your handler. She felt the intense spray pelt her back as if being hit with hundreds of tiny needles.

Warm… At least it was warm… No… It was too warm… Too warm. It hurt… Like a burn from the sun, shining down on exposed pale skin. No—it was worse than that. It burned.

It burned like fire.

Burned like fire.

Like fire.

Fire.

Her eyes snapped open, pupils dilating and filling with a newfound focus, as if someone had turned the lights on in a dark room and she could finally see what before were only blurry shapes. She lifted her head, her body shaking under the force of the hose and made eye contact with the man who sprayed her.

Her handler held her gaze for a long while and then broke eye contact to turn off the water. The hose went limp and he carelessly dropped it on the floor, unwilling to roll it. “Put your close on.” He commanded as the quivering girl’s expression bounced between moments of clarity, and empty gazes while she struggled to get onto her feet. She was like a newborn deer, experimenting with her limbs for the first time. “We’re going downstairs.”

Bucky’s leg shook, he bounced it up and down upon the floor of the Quinjet with his arms crossed. Though they wouldn’t be landing in their location for several more minutes, he had his gun strapped to his back and his blades in their holders. He was wound tight like a spring that would launch at any moment. He was riddled with anxiety and impatience.

That anxiety spread.

“Quit it.” Steve murmured, his eyes darting to Bucky’s leg.

“Make me.” Bucky muttered back almost childishly.

Steve wisely didn’t take the bait, settling for crossing his arms over his chest. He’d been warned before not to poke a bear. The same premise applied to the former Winter Soldier.

“Children. Don’t make me turn this jet around.” Tony’s voice came from the front of the Jet, standing behind Natasha’s seat. He didn’t bother to turn his head. Obviously, he wasn’t going to turn the jet around, but his attempt at humor fell on deaf ears. Nothing could dwindle Bucky’s impatience.

“We’re above our target.” Natasha murmured, more to Tony than anyone.

But of course, Bucky heard it. No sooner had Natasha reached the period in her sentence than Bucky was on his feet and punching the button on the control panel which opened the exit ramp. The cabin filled with the chill outside air, tousling the hero’s inside.

“Bucky, wait!” Steve called, but Bucky had already thrown a parachute onto his back and jumped without looking back.

There was a long pause in the Quinjet before Steve moved to put on a chute for himself.

“So, jumping out of planes must be a super soldier trait.” Tony mumbled.

Tony had already hit the button to close the exit, giving Steve a look. “Just wait until we land. He’s not stupid enough to charge into battle alone.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Natasha called from the front of the jet, finally turning his head. “That’s another super soldier trait.”

Bucky wasn’t crazy enough to fall without a parachute, that height was too much even for him. However, the parachute wouldn’t last long. As he fell, he refrained from pulling the chute until he was half way to the ground, allowing the chute to slow his descent before ditching it. He unbuckled himself from the safety device and free fell the rest of the way, landing on the concrete roof of the building with a loud ‘thud’.

Bucky wasn’t stupid enough to go into the building alone.

But he was angry enough.

In four confident strides he was at the door of the roof. He gripped the handle, the metal forming to his metal hand like clay, before he ripped the door from its’ hinges.

Immediately there was a commotion, the sound of men barking at each other in Russian. He narrowed his eyes, they hadn’t observed any other HYDRA operatives enter the building during their surveillance, brief as it was.

The soldier didn’t take the time to wait, to analyze how many people he heard. It didn’t matter. They were all dead the minute Vasiliev took Cassandra. He descended the stairs just as four men tracked up. Four men, four bullets, each between the eyes. The Winter Soldier was back with a new mission and there would be no mercy shown—not like his avenger comrades.

Stepping over the bodies that had rolled down the stairs, Bucky’s stride continued. On his path several doors opened with new enemies, few took a step out into the hall before a bullet was embedded into them. That is, until he rounded a corner.

Three men approached Bucky, guns drawn. Bucky lifted his palm to the barrel of the gun closest to him, it went off and the bullet was crushed against his hand. Expressionless, he ripped the gun from the man’s hand and kneed him in the stomach as he fell forward.

The unnamed man slumped against him and Bucky took the opportunity to use him as a human shield as he reached over, firing his gun at the other two assailants.

As their bodies hit the ground, Bucky pushed the man who stood limp against him to the wall, his metal hand at his throat. “Where is she?” He asked, his Russian as clear as when he was a brainwashed tool.

The man swallowed, or at least attempted to as the male lifted a shaking hand and pointed downward. Bucky nodded and squeezed down harder, snapping the male’s neck before dropping him in a pile with his friends.

The puppet’s eyes stayed up to the ceiling, focused but submissive. She wasn’t looking at anything, and her thoughts drifted between moments of nothingness and snippets of a memory that wasn’t hers. Not as far as she could tell anyway.

Her breathing was even, but hollow—an action devoid of any real life or desire to live, but rather a reflex.

The chair she sat in whirred to life and a pair of shackles built into the chair snapped shut around her wrists as the many attachments and panels on the chair shifted, slowly drifting to her head with occasional sputtering in the flow of its’ movements. It’d clearly not been used in a while.

As she shut her eyes in preparation for the mechanics coming down upon her skull, a mangled sound came over the radio her handler held at his station.

“Vasiliev—!” The words, whatever it was that would have followed such a panicked tone, were cut off by a scream of pain and a gargling sound over the radio the handler kept on his person. A moment later, the doors to the room she sat in where kicked open, one smacking against the wall, the other sliding across the floor as it was dislodged from its’ hinges.

“Kukol’nyy!” Her handler barked at her, orders didn’t need to be spoken, she knew instinctively—defend.

However, as she tried to stand, the chair’s shackles kept her in place. She yanked at the metal, but it wouldn’t budge. It was made for someone much stronger than she was.

The intruder, who’s name she didn’t know, trained his cold gaze upon her handler as his hand reached for the lever that would free her from the chair. He lifted his hand and fired his gun, shooting through her handler, though she couldn’t make out where he had been struck.

She growled and pulled at the shackles, doing an excellent impersonation of a trapped animal.

“Cassandra…” The long-haired male murmured in a voice just above a whisper as he approached the woman in the chair. His hands gripped the shackles around her wrists and pulled, grunting with the effort until the metal bindings snapped open.

The woman paused, looking down at the male’s hands as he shifted to open the other shackle, the second one quickly relived the same fate as the first and the man looked at her with eyes that finally held some sort of emotion.

“Doll…” He murmured, his hands coming up to gently hold her shoulders. She looked up at him with a confused expression. He looked familiar.

Right. She ran into him once before… A long time ago.

Did she know him?

“It’s okay doll… I’m gonna take you home… We’re going home…”

The girl blinked a few times, as if trying to clear dust from her eyes, her lips parting to speak. “H—”

“Kukol’nyy, ugroza*!”

Her jaw set tightly, and her head came forward, hitting the male in the face and making him stumble backwards with the force as she lunged towards him. The male covered his face with his forearm, blood trickling from his nose under the force of the headbutt. Meanwhile the girl dropped down and hooked her leg at her threat’s ankles, sending him on his back.

The puppet quickly got on top of him, straddling his waist and latching her hand around his throat.

He lifted his metal hand and latched it to the crook of her arm, forcing it to bend and disconnect from his neck as he flipped them over, pinning her hand down with his metal arm, his human hand squeezing her neck.

She struggled, growling as she tried to pry his hand from her neck and lift her arm from under the metal palm.

“Easy there, Doll.”

She froze, looking up at him without anger, or malice—but realization and confusion. Her lips slightly parted as she panted. Memories, blurry like a dream she couldn’t remember, danced over her vision. Smiles, skin on skin, gentle kisses, a moon lit room, looking up at bright blue eyes. Her head hurt. So many visions she couldn’t properly interpret—yet they were so familiar.

“Bucky…” The word tasted familiar on her tongue. Though she didn’t know how she knew it.

The man on top of her, with eyes from her dreams, widened and his grip on her neck retracted. “Doll?”

She looked up at him in confusion but propped herself up on her shoulders. God why did her head hurt so much? “Who…?” There were so many thoughts in her head that didn’t make sense—like puzzle pieces that didn’t fit—out of order and the wrong sizes.

Suddenly her back arched and she screamed in pain, a little disk at her neck sending a painful current through her body.

“Cassandra!” Bucky, gripped her shoulder, like if he could hold her in place long enough she may stop convulsing. He turned his head to see Vasiliev, holding a little remote. He took his thumb off the button and Cassandra went limp on the floor, weak and panting, charred marks on her body. That current might have killed a normal person.

“Not quite as good as the chair,” Vasiliev murmured, tossing the remote up and catching it back in his hand. “But it will do in a pinch.”

Bucky stood up. He didn’t draw his gun. He wanted the pleasure of ripping this guy’s spine out with his bare hands. He took a step forward, but the girl on the floor had curled her knees in and pushed herself back on her feet before jumping up onto the males back, trying to knock him off balance. Bucky didn’t have a choice. He reached behind himself and pulled her forward as he bent, tossing her into the opposing concrete wall. She hit it with a loud crash, and an indentation formed where she hit. When she fell to the floor, it was hard to tell if the sickening crack was from the girl or the concrete.

After a long moment of motionlessness, she tried to push herself up onto her hands and knees but let out an agonized cry and fell back onto the floor, unable to support herself. “Stay down, doll.” Bucky growled.

As he approached Vasiliev again, the doors behind the doctor opened and a team of HYDRA agents flooded in, firing in Bucky’s direction. He quickly ducked behind a pillar, taking cover from the fire as he looked over at Cassandra, who hadn’t moved from the floor.

From the other side of the room, came Captain America and Ironman. The bullets bounced off of Cap’s shield before he threw it, taking out two of the men for at least a moment. It bounced against the wall and flew back in Cap’s direction. He snatched the flying disk from their air as Ironman charged his blasters and shot in the opposing team’s direction.

Another HYDRA member had made their way to Cassandra, but quickly found himself attached to the wall by a sticky web that came from above. Peter jumped down and landed beside Bucky. “Uh Mr. Winter Soldier, Bucky—uhh Sir… You should get your girlfriend.” He said awkwardly before stringing himself to the other side of the room to kick another agent to the floor. As the team covered him, Bucky made is move to Cassandra.

“Kukol’nyy! Get. Up!” Came Vasiliev’s voice. Cassandra moved to push herself up again and let out a howl of pain, forcing her to lean against the wall as she stumbled to her feet. As Bucky approached, the girl threw a weak punch which he easily deflected. He caught the fist and pulled her forward, about to fling her over his shoulder when she howled in pain again as the disk gave a low toned buzz at her neck, making her blood boil and her skin burn. She dropped to her knees, falling out of Bucky’s grip.

“Doll!” Bucky moved to pick her up again, only to be kicked in the side, sending him back. Another HYDRA operative forced Bucky back in hand to hand combat.

“Get the girl!” Vasiliev barked, shoving the male beside him in her direction. He quickly ran to her forcing her to her feet and pulling her from the room, out the door.

“No!” Bucky growled, but he couldn’t get around the male in front of him. A blast finally knocked the male from his path and Bucky looked to Tony who gestured with his head for Bucky to go in the direction of Cassandra as the HYDRA operatives quickly filed out of the room, shooting behind them to hold the heroes back.

Steve ran to Bucky’s side, the two of them running down the hall with Steve’s shield up to keep the bullets from striking them. The hallway lead outside, were several HYDRA agents were mounting bikes and ATVs. Steve’s shield lowered in time to see Cassandra and the operative who’d retrieved her mounting a motorcycle and disappearing into the woods.

Bucky moved to follow them but was held off by the operatives that had not yet made their getaway. The other avengers came on the scene to fend off the remaining operatives, but when the metaphoric dust had cleared, Cassandra and Vasiliev were gone again—Leaving a particular super soldier shaking with rage.

A/N: Forgive any mistakes. I was in a hurry to post this (finally) and I'm sure I didn't read as carefully as I normally do for mistakes!

Like how I explained away Infinity War? Yeah I had to do that. #ignoringiw

*Ugroza = Threat

Your kudos and your comments made me come back so thank you guys!

Kudos make my heart sing an comments give me life.

Let me know if you're happy this story is back. I've mapped out the final chapters so this story will be a total of 25 chapters long so we still have somethings to come!

Follow me on tumblr if you want, I'm open for fanfic requests and stuff!

#fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #MCU fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #reader fanfiction #plus size character #bucky x plus size!reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader #plus size reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #serum!reader #plussize!reader #bucky x Female Reader #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x you #can be read as bucky x reader #bucky barnes x plus size ofc #bucky barnes x plus sized ofc #plus sized reader #james bucky barnes #as you can see I am not dead

[theprodigypenguin]

TCC Headcanons (part two)

More headcanons, this time featuring a bunch of Teddy because I love him so much and he deserves all the attention! Of course there’s mostly Scorbus because I’m a trashbag for them. I’ll probably add on a third part of headcanons soon, because I’m starting to get very attached to the Jeddy ship as well.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Albus isn't remarkably skilled with spells or potions, but he CAN conjure a patronus charm by fifth or sixth year.

It's more powerful than even Harry's.

His patronus takes the shape of a dragon, which embodies his personality (hot blooded, impulsive, bites a lot, but powerful in his own way and deserving of respect, etc), and references his future as a Magizoologist.

Of course he thinks of Scorpius and recalls memories of Scorpius to conjure the charm, and it gets stronger and more powerful as he gets older and gains more memories.

Scorpius' patronus takes the shape of a phoenix, which embodies his loyalty, wisdom, inner strength, and longing to heal people from injuries and curses.

Though aviary creatures are his favorite, Albus refuses to work with Augery's.

He and Scorpius are pretty much the same height, accept maybe a centimeter difference of Albus being taller.

Delphini is an unregistered animagus (she can fly without a broom, she's clearly powerful enough to have perfected the transformation into an animagus, and I'm willing to bet she doesn't need a wand to cast spells either).

Her animagus is an Augery, of course.

Neville is? The best God damn professor? In the fucking school??????

Albus absolutely adores him and just chills in his office sometimes cuz that's his godfather and I'll be DAMNED if they don't have a great relationship you can fight me on that.

Lily is super good at Transfiguration and will 100% eventually work towards becoming a registered animagus.

Both Lysander and Lorcan work with their parents as Magizoologists and editors/photographers for the Quibbler.

They're notable for photographing magical beasts and writing more modern pieces about them.

They've also been known to tag along with Albus on some of his later adventures as a dragon keeper/Magizoologist to document his work.

Teddy Lupin eventually becomes an Auror like his mother.

His specialty is in potion making but he can do just about everything.

He's super involved in the equal rights movement for lycanthrope afflicted wizards and witches.

In honor of his father and what he went through, he works towards making Wolfsbane Potion more affordable for the afflicted.

Teddy himself is an expert at preparing and brewing the advanced potion, and keeps a few bottles on him at all times, just in case.

He keeps his hair wild colors most of the time, because without the camouflage he looks too much like Remus and it makes him incredibly depressed.

Whenever Harry or Andromeda see him as he is, they give weak and broken smiles, ones of pity and longing, and it tears him up inside.

He carries around a silver locket engraved with a wolf on the outside.

Inside is a picture of his parents, and a small music box fit into the other side that plays a lullaby tune his mother used to sing with to get him to sleep.

He swears sometimes he can still hear her, and Remus, singing to him.

His patronus is a wolf.

He's actually pretty protective of Scorpius.

This is likely due to the fact Teddy doesn't have many blood relatives left, and treasures the ones that he does have.

He loves Harry and considers the extended Potter-Weasley-Granger-Etc family to be his, but there's just something to be said about blood.

Plus Scorpius is precious and deserves to be adored and loved and treasured anyway.

He spent a few years (between the ages of twelve and fifteen) simply hating his parents, in complete denial of their deaths and "abandonment", but slowly grows out of it and is very proud of them and their sacrifice.

One of his most prized possessions is the gold medal of the Order of Merlin that Kingsley Shacklebolt awarded Remus after the Battle of Hogwarts, which he keeps close to his bedside and holds when he's feeling particularly lonely or at a loss of what he's doing with his life.

Despite the age difference, James is basically his best friend.

He was one of the first people to hold him when he was born and has adored him ever since.

During his first year at school, James had trouble getting used to things, so Teddy gave him one of his house scarves.

James would wear it and cling to it when he was anxious like he was holding Teddy's hand.

He luckily grew out of his anxiety after a few months, but kept the scarf.

Teddy calls him Jamie most the time, Jim if he wants to make him mad or piss him off, and only calls him James if he's upset/angry and needs to get his attention or wants to scold him.

In TCC when he sees James with pink hair, he changes his hair color to pink to match and make him feel better.

Albus always runs off after one of his unfortunately common arguments with their father, but always goes to the same place to cool down, and James always, always goes after him to talk.

It takes a lot of bad jokes and puns to get Albus to follow him back home, James doesn't quite know how to give him brotherly advice aside from trying to make him laugh, but being there for Albus, always following him when he runs away from home, is enough.

James was generally inconsolable when Albus went missing from the train, because for the first time he didn't know where his brother was and couldn't follow him to bring him back.

Teddy is an expert at wandless magic and silent spells (just like Remus), and can cast some of the most advanced spells and charms, or make some of the most advanced potions, without much difficulty.

I kind of??? See him??? Becoming Minister of Magic after Hermione?????? ((After him I see Scorpius MAYBE becoming Minister, but I haven't decided how I feel about that idea yet)).

Listen to "If You Could See Me Now" by The Script and cry over Teddy never meeting Remus so I'm not the only one suffering plz.

Teddy did not inherit Remus' Lycanthropy, but I headcanon he did inherit something I'm calling a Moon Sickness.

He is not a werewolf, but around every full moon he gets incredibly tired and fatigued, and has terrible nightmares.

Teddy is unexpectedly talented in astronomy, divination, and runes.

As if his father's blood connection to the moon, sky, and stars, gave him the gift of what Trelawney calls "the sight".

He isn't a Seer like she is, but his dreams are too convenient to ignore.

He tells himself dreams are all they are and has only expressed his suspicions about them to James (and maybe to Victoire idk).

Seemingly skilled at everything he attempts, but Teddy has a remarkably difficult time conjuring a patronus the first time.

Every time he tried he would just think of his parents and end up completely unable to make so much as a blue spark.

When he does manage to make a corporeal Patronus for the first time, it takes the form of a wolf, just like his mother and fathers, and he cries.

After the first time, he starts to conjure the wolf just to look at it, and pretends it's the spirit of his parents there to protect him.

Scorpius' boggart is Delphini.

Albus' boggart is Scorpius dead from the killing curse (his boggart is accompanied by the bright green light).

Teddy's boggart is himself, or some form of himself that he's scared of becoming.

As he is the only known child of a werewolf and a human, a hybrid that hasn't existed before, some people have taken a particular interest in Teddy.

Some of Fenrir's supporters from the second war managed to get away from execution and prison and went under ground, but they too have taken an interest in Teddy.

Some people think his blood, his DNA, could hold the secret to a cure for Lycanthropy.

It's a false, pointless belief and hope, not based on fact, entirely impossible, but that doesn't stop the werewolves from looking into it, wanting to experiment just to test their theory.

James' patronus is a dog (I honestly see him tilting towards being similar to Sirius in terms of loyalty rather than being similar to his grandfather idk why).

After the Delphini incident, the ministry kept her existence tightly under wraps to keep the wizarding community from falling into an all out panic.

And to keep Voldermort supporters and dark wizards from gaining confidence against the ministry and the Aurors.

Her arrest was never publicized in the Daily Prophet.

However, this also means the rumor of Scorpius being the Dark Lord's son continued to plague him at school.

Reporters claim a silly "harmless" rumor is less damaging than actually telling people their suspicions are correct and that one of the most dangerous dark wizards of all time had a CHILD.

Draco was furious upon learning the ministry's decision to withhold the truth about her, but Scorpius decided he agreed and claimed it was fine.

That he'd rather suffer through school for a few more years than watch panic ensue because of Delphini.

Because that was exactly what she wanted, and Scorpius would be damned if he allowed her the satisfaction of knowing people feared her.

Because of this, when his boggart changed into her, only Albus (and maybe the teacher), knew who she was.

The class laughed at him because why would his greatest fear be some pretty older woman?

Albus cast the Riddikulus charm before the boggart could finish changing, because he knew what it would be, and didn't want Scorpius to see himself lying dead on the ground.

The teacher scolds him for prematurely casting the spell, but he doesn't care, so long as he doesn't have to do it again.

The professor tries to make him but he refuses, so he’s given detention, but he honestly does not care.

He just doesn’t want to see Scorpius dead, even if it’s just a Boggart. 

He has enough nightmares about losing Scorpius without a Boggart fucking him up.

Albus tops in the relationship.

#scorbus #jeddy #tames #albus severus potter #scorpius hyperion malfoy #james serius potter #or is it sirius man i can't remember #teddy lupin #headcanon #tcc headcanons #scorbus headcanons #boggart #patronus #gaey #the potter triune

[no-confidence-to-write]

Killing Me Softly Ch 2: What Have I Done to Deserve This

Harald Finehair/ Original Female Character, Ivar the Boneless/ Original Female Character

Words: 2,644 

Trigger Warning for mentions of rape

Previous Chapter: Someone Must Get Hurt and It Won’t be Me

Archive of Our Own: 15stepping 

Aethelswith

The heavy wooden doors opened, showing the defilement of the holy church. Dried blood spatter showered the stone floor while the glass windows were in shards. These heathens were like a swarm of locusts that destroyed everything in their path.

The two men loudly entered the room, showing off Aethelswith like some pretty trinket.

“Look what we found wandering the halls” the brunette announced joyfully to the room like it was of a joke. “A little princess!”

Soon all eyes were her, with a mixture of stares ranging from mild curiosity to hatred, to lust, and even boredom.  Notably, the brunette grip tightened around her arm, as he was afraid of her running away from him into another's arms. Growing rather annoyed by his touch, she turned to the man holding her,  

“You may release me now, you’ve fulfilled the deal” she replied coldly to the brunette, tearing her arm from his grip. “ I can walk the rest of the way without your assistance.”

Giving him a last cold stare with icy courtesy showing him the hatred of him and his kind in her voice

“Enjoy the earings,” she said smiling enjoying the rather dumbstruck look on his face.

Ignoring the stares and crude words of the heathens, she made long strides towards the Sons of Ragnar. Only three of the five were longing about at the altar. “With any luck the other two are dead,” she thought to herself.

A giant of a man with a long blonde ponytail was noticeably older than the other two. With little doubt in her mind, she thought it was Ragnar’s eldest son Bjorn Ironside. Next to him, was a brunette man with long hair that openly showed sympathy for her situation. Finally, sitting on the altar table with his legs bound was Ivar.

Only giving a glimpse towards Ivar, she could see that he had drastically changed. It was not his looks, even though his hair had changed, but rather his countenance. He seemed darker, filled with wrath, and crueler giving no sympathy towards her situation. Now that he held the power instead of her family, why would she expect anything but cruelty from him? She thought to herself, “What did you ever see in him? He’s a Liar, a heathen. It was never going to work out. He was supposed to fall in love with you, not the other way around. Then again, it’s not like you truly trusted him anyway.”

“Princess Aethelswith, it’s been a while hasn’t it?” He purred cruelly, most likely enjoying seeing her come so low.  He was beautiful in catastrophic kind of way.  Like an inferno of flame, burning everything in his path and filling the world with a destroying light.  

“I have come to speak to the leader of your army. If it is not you, then I have nothing to say to you,” she responded coolly.  Some of the other men snickered in the background but with a swift look from Ivar, it became deathly quiet.

“That would be me, Princess. I am Bjorn Rangarson.” he paused taking a look over to the men that had presented her. “Did they harm you?” he asked with some concern in his voice.

“No, they actually showed a surprising amount of restraint” She replied

“Then, why are you here if you were not forcibly taken from your hiding place?” Bjorn questioned as if he didn’t believe she would willingly face them.

“ I have come to give myself over as a hostage to the leaders of your army in the hopes of stopping the carnage here.”

She knelt before him in a sign of submission, of acceptance in her situation though it dealt a blow to her pride. It was best to make them think that she was a scared, weak Christian trying to save herself from torture, rape, and death.

In one swift movement, she tore off the white veil covering her hair. A golden circlet was woven through her thick, curly brown locks that reached to mid back. Unweaving the golden trinket she offered it to him in a sign of peace. Through the men seemed dumbstruck by the act. Her hair had never been seen by male other than her family and those of the court. The church always said a woman's hair was a great temptation to men. Perhaps, she thought to herself, it would tempt these men as well.

As the room silenced around her, she finally understood. It might have been her crowning beauty, besides her full lips and pale skin. Sure, she didn’t have beautiful blonde hair nor a tall forehead, but her grandfather said to use her beauty as a weapon. “Use your beauty as an advantage over the power of men. It is one of your most dangerous weapons. Coupled with your intelligence, I’m sure you can bend any man to your will,” her grandfather had said to her after her betrothal to Magnus ended and the men of the court started surrounding her like wolves circling a wounded doe.

She played the naive innocent, unaware of men’s attention, knowing that if she returned any of them they would expect more than just a friendly word. That’s why she thought the best place in this earthly world was Streoneshalh. She was free to be herself, and not have to worry about the attention of men. Well, that was until the Heathens came made it a living Hell.

Kneeling before Bjorn Ironside she began her speech hoping to appease him,

“I only ask for mercy. Mercy for myself and the women your men have taken as prisoners.  I know that this war is against my grandfather and that you will not stop until you get revenge for your father, but surely I will be of more use to you alive than dead.”

“ How so, if not to make an example of you to your family?” Ivar sneered gaining a dark look from his brothers. She fought the urge to look at him.  To show him the hatred that she now held for him in her heart. He promised that he would never hurt her or anyone she cared about.  “They were lies. Everything he’s ever said to you is a lie. For every bone he’s broken, he probably breaks a promise.”

“ I’m sure that ransom will make you all very wealthy.” she paused gauging their reactions showing only mild interest. She quickly thought of something that might whet their appetites more. She needed time to find a way to help the people they had taken.

“ If it is not wealth that you desire, surely with the fair treatment of myself and Princess Heluna, could gain you land. In addition to this, your men could gain wealth as well.  I will personally use my own funds to ransom the women they took. ”

This had garnered some interest from the men around her. She could see the gleam of curiosity from the Bjorn and his brothers.

“My grandfather is king of Wessex, Mercia, and East Anglia, it is well within his power to grant you that land. Was that not King Ragnar’s ambition, to have farming land here? As for Northumbria, it is in a weakened state from your overwhelming victory. Surely the barter of Princess Heluna, the youngest child of the Queen Ealhswith, will also grant you either land or wealth as long she is treated fairly and with the respect of a free woman of royalty.” She proposed waiting for their reply.

It was a strange kind of agony waiting for Bjorn’s reply. What was he thinking? Was he just as cruel as any other heathen? Was he calling her bluff” She wondered. She didn’t know much about him other than his prowess as a warrior and that he was only the half brother of Ivar, but he did not give off the vibe of cruelty.

“Whether or not land or wealth is given to us, we will make sure you and Princess Heluna are not harmed. Our vengeance is not with you or Princess Heluna. Should your father come to ransom you we will not stand in his way, but I have met him, he is not the type to avoid a fight.”  

He was right of course, her father had a temper, but it was never raised towards her. He would rather kill every heathen that he set eyes upon than negotiate a end to unnecessary bloodshed that the heathens would bring.  But she needed to seal the deal between them, hopefully, Bjorn kept his word better than his brother.

“Do you swear on your god Odin? I have been made promises before and have found that they are rarely kept if they are not sworn on by one’s beliefs. Even less so from people of opposing beliefs.” she ushered out not breaking eye contact with Bjorn. Before could utter any words the man that brought her to the sons of Ragnar stepped through the crowd.

“I’m afraid Bjorn you have no right to take the Princess since I found her first she is my prisoner” the brunette man from before strode forward advancing like a lion on the prowl. What could he possibly want from me? Please let in be the gold.” she thought to herself as she removed her body from the kneeling position. There was no way in God’s good earth that she would be seen submitting to some upstart heathen who thought he was bartering for a farm animal.

“Princess Aethelswith is a vital prisoner King Harald. That needs to be, in the meantime, unharmed and given your and your brother's reputation with Christians I can hardly expect you to restrain yourself” Ivar spoke with thinly veiled anger, that sounded to her more like a child not getting the toy he wanted.

“I meant no disrespect nor question of your or your brothers leadership, but if you take my prisoner then you will have to take of these men’s women, of course, I have no problem as long you treat each of allies the same as myself.”

Taking in the looks of the various men around she saw none of them wanted to part with the people and riches they perceived they had the right to own.  Would the sons of Ragnar give her over to some cocky king despite saying that no harm would come to her, that their vengeance was not towards her?  Rallying his fellow soldiers, this King Harald began

“Isn’t the victory of battle what we relish? Shouldn't we crush King Egbert's army on the field of battle with Odin beside in VIctory? ” this King Harald spoke launching their army into a frenzy, “They are but weak Christians! We are the masters here not them.”

His charisma infected the others. With the hall erupting in like calls to “kill the Christians”, “to fight with Odin”, and “revegne for Ragnar”. Bjorn looked at her with real pity in his eyes, and she knew what he going to do.  For a moment her masked fell, and the fear showed on her face and the sons of Ragnar saw it.

“She is yours King Harald”, Bjorn said getting up from his chair fully showing his massive height and intimidating figure, “but she is still an important hostage. The wealth would hardly be yours if she is damaged in any way”.

“Of course, I mean no harm towards her” King Harald spoke confidently, not intimidated by Bjorn close proximity towards him.  She quickly got in between the two men. “I can’t save myself, but I can try and save Heleuna,” she thought as she pressed her gold circlet to Bjorn.

“Please keep these trinket as a sign of good will between us. If that cannot happen please let it buy good treatment for Princess Heleuna. She knows little of your language or customs and is now in the hands of the men who blood eagled her father.” she said pleading with him, couldn’t her pretty face do some good for once?

“I will make sure she isn’t harmed. Sigurd’s not the type to hurt women” He reassured her gently pushes her towards new captor. Taking a deep breath, she calmed her nerves and put on her stony facade.

She really looked at her captor now. His eyes like a frozen arctic wasteland, his tattoos like venomous snakes Slithering across his face, black leather armor like charred bones woven together with the lives he had taken. “He must be some sort of demon just like the rest of them” she cursed her luck

That idiotic smug face looked at her with the satisfaction of getting his ‘prisoner’ back. If she was a different person, a warrior, she would have punched that idiotic smirk off his handsome face, but she learned long ago to repress her true emotions.

“Hey God, it's me, Aethelswith. Are angry with me? Have I done something to upset you? It this some sort of test?” her mind questioned angrily. Had God abandoned her and his people? What was his plan for her or had he decided to wipe his hand of his sinful people?  She needed to focus on anything that would subdue her anger and stop her from showing her fear of this new uncertainty as she took tiny steps towards him.

With Ivar, she knew somewhat with what she would be dealing with. He was an intelligent yet cocky individual with an eagerness to prove himself. This ‘King Harald” was a new player on the board. A wild card that she had not thought would enter the playing field.  Shouldn’t the Sons of Ragnar have more sway over their army? Or was the Great Heathen Army only simply connected by the memory of Rangar and the glory of fighting for vengeance?

She started winding her hair back together behind the veil to keep her from tearing off her nails or blindly punching the next person who touched her or said some comment.

“Why are you putting your hair away?” he said while trying to reach out to her hair.  He was too close. Bile threaten to come up from her throat, she knew what he really wanted to do to her and it didn’t involve her with the veil on.

“If you like it so much, I sure you can cut some off when you ransom me to my father,” she said back to him, fed up with faking that everything was fine. In the back of her mind, she knew it would be better to play nice and to get her captor on her side, but she had enough of it. How was this fair? How was this right? Was this part of God’s plan for her.

His arm shot out and gripped her wrist dragging her from the crowded church. Her heart sank, she wanted to run, go back and hide, find her father and he would tell her everything would be fine. It was going to happen, just like it happened to every other woman here. He wasn’t going to listen to sons of Ragnars and he wasn’t going to listen to her cries of mercy.

Taking a look back at the alter that once held the mysteries of faith, she stared at the youngest son of Rangar. His heartbreakingly beautiful eyes stared back at her not hiding his rage. Her blue eyes bore into his saying “this is all your fault. I should of let them kill you. The whole world would’ve been better off”.

Several of King Harald men joined the two of them as they left the church hall, leaving the dead bodies and the rejoicing Heathens behind. As her gaze return to large hand clamped to her wrist asking one final question “What Have I Done to Deserve This?”.

#vikings #vikings fanfic #King Harald Finehair #Harald Finehair x Original Character #ivar x oc #harald finehair x oc

[pennywaltzy]

Rectifying Past Mistakes (1 - 6/?)

So @melamungous just commissioned me to finish this fic and I actually had forgotten that there was a partially started chapter 6 in my files, so I went ahead and finished it and posted it up there today. It may have taken a year to finish the chapter, but I reread the story and forgot how much I loved the idea of Marylock and no Warstan. But anyway, here’s chapter 1 with a link to 6 at the top if you don’t need to refresh yourself beforehand and just want to see the new stuff. Enjoy, all!

Rectifying Past Mistakes - When Mycroft gets Sherlock out of Serbia, he drops a bombshell on him he isn't quite prepared for: after years of being gone out of his life, Sherlock's ex-wife Elizabeth has reappeared, under the name Mary Morstan. While he was off taking care of Moriarty's mess she was protecting those he cared about and helping his brother, for reasons, he finds, that she is keeping close to the vest. But when they're forced to stay in close quarters at Baker Street both secrets and old wounds come to light and, perhaps, things might turn out for the best after all.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 6 | Help Me Survive? | Commission Me?

He was not in the mood for surprises, but he could tell his dear older brother had one.

Wonderful.

They had made it to a safe house in Hungary, driving nearly all night to get to Mongolia from Lake Baikal and then flying nearly immediately upon their arrival to Budapest, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Mycroft had stayed nearly silent the entire trip, and he had tried to sleep, but he knew his brother was simply waiting and that had made him wary of succumbing to his exhaustion. Mycroft was probably quite miffed about the fact he had to leave the comfort of his home in London to come rescue him. Not that he’d had to, to be quite honest; he’d had it all handled quite well.

So maybe Mycroft hadn’t come to rescue him. Perhaps he had another motive. And if it was something he hadn’t bothered to mention during their five thousand kilometer trip it was probably something he wanted to drop on him like a bombshell, just for the sheer pleasure of watching whatever emotions crossed his face at the news.

Well, he wasn’t going to give his brother the satisfaction.

Someone had prepared food for them, he realized as they stepped inside. He could smell goulash, for a start. Potato and egg casserole as well. Perhaps stuffed cabbage rolls? And fresh bread as well. He felt his stomach grumble at the assault of delicious smells. It had been a long time since he had eaten well; having been running around the wastelands of Serbia having to scrounge for what he could to supplement what few supplies he’d managed to bring with him when he’d left Khazakhstan at that time of year had meant lean meals. He would have to try very hard not to stuff his face.

He saw Mycroft’s PA standing near the stove, checking a pot. “Just in time,” she said. “The goulash is ready, and the rest can come out of the oven shortly. But I think a bowl each should be a good starter.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said with a nod. He had rid himself of the garish hat long before they left Serbia but kept the coat. With as much as it cost he had expected nothing less. At least he had gotten him out of the rags he had been in. Not in clothing remotely close to the quality he had been used to but it was a step up from what he had been wearing. She gestured to the table near the stove and the two of them sat down, and after a moment she brought them each a bowl of the stew and a spoon. Sherlock gripped the spoon tightly and then slowly spooned himself a spoonful of the goulash before taking a bite. It was quite excellent.

“Do you want bread?” Anthea asked him. He nodded, and she went to the counter and used a knife to cut him a thick slice, then another. She took the bread and put the slices on a plate, then took that and a small plate of butter with a knife on it to the table and set it in front of Sherlock. He picked up the knife and put some butter on the bread before dipping it into the goulash and taking a bite.

Mycroft waited until he was about to swallow before he spoke to him. “Your ex-wife is in London.”

Sherlock nearly choked on his food. Of all the things he had expected his brother to say, that had certainly not been among them. He had tried to find her for years, but she had hidden herself well. It was as though she was more ghost than person, to be quite honest. And just like a ghost she haunted his mind, usually never being far from his thoughts. To the world at large he had no prior relationships to speak of, and certainly no ex-wife. When asked about why he wore a wedding band, he said it was his grandfather’s, a lie that slipped out easily. Only one man, only John, knew the truth. But Elizabeth Christine Fisher had been…enthralling, for lack of a better term. She had been everything he ever could have wanted, everything he ever could have needed.

And he had let her slip away.

No.

He had let the man sitting in front of him rip her away from him. He needed to remember that.

He did his best to recover and keep a neutural expression. “The CIA let her off their tight leash?” he asked, tearing off more bread to dip into his goulash.

“Quite a few years ago, apparently,” he said.

“Did you know?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“No, I did not,” he said. “She’s been back on British soil since roughly 2009, when a certain consulting criminal put word out that he needed the best of the best for a project.” He had another bite of his goulash. “She was more than willing to throw her lot with him until a certain night at a certain pool, when she stared down the sight of a gun and who did she see but her ex-husband? That was when she realized that James Moriarty had plans to go after you and she wanted nothing to do with them, and so she began to play her own game.”

Sherlock scoffed silently. “And just what was that?”

“She kept her ears open and fed information to the right people when she could to keep you safe,” he said quietly. “Passed it on to my handlers anonymously. After your apparent death, she began to speak to me directly. She’s been quite…useful.”

Sherlock looked down at his bowl and said nothing. He didn’t believe that Elizabeth cared. Not after the way things ended. Not after what he had done when she had been driven off. Not after what she had done. She had to hate him, hate the very sight of him. “And I suppose you’re telling me she played personal bodyguard to the people I left behind in London?” he asked.

“She goes by Mary Morstan now, she works at John’s surgery as a nurse, and she’s insinuated herself in his life and the lives of the others in your circle of…goldfish,” he said.

Sherlock scowled slightly at Mycroft’s term for his friends. “Don’t tell me she’s made a pass at John. Or that he’s made a pass at her.”

“I’ve informed her it’s quite unnecessary,” he said. “She has, however, been the sole reason he’s chosen to stay at Baker Street. She convinced him to with her as his flat mate. He does not know the truth yet, but I imagine he will shortly after your return. I doubt this is a secret you can, or should, keep for long.”

“No, I don’t imagine we should,” he murmured. He waited for his brother to say more, but Mycroft began to concentrate on his food and he bit back a sigh. He knew he would get no more from his brother on any topic relating to why he was pulled out of his mission or what Elizabeth was up to until he was ready. But either way, he was now looking at his return to London with a slight sense of dread. He had the sinking suspicion that the reunions he was going to have with friends and his former wife were not going to go well at all.

If he was lucky, maybe he’d get through them without getting hit.

Read Chapter 2

#sherlock #marylock #sherlock x mary #fanfiction #fanfic #sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #mary morstan #john watson #multipart: rectifying past mistakes #commissioned fic #melamungous

[orbemnews]

Little Village police shooting: Mayor Lightfoot vows justice after Chicago police fatal shooting of boy, 13 CHICAGO (WLS) — Mayor Lori Lightfoot is vowing to bring to justice whomever is responsible for putting a gun in the hands of 13-year-old Adam Toledo, who was fatally shot by Chicago police. “This is a tragedy. The most tragic of circumstances. Let’s not make it worse by passing judgment,” Supt. Brown said Monday. He said one of his biggest fears has been “a deadly encounter between one of our officers and a juvenile,” amid the recent spike in violence crimes involving Chicago youth. “That fear became a reality on March 29, 2021 with the death of 13-year-old Adam Toledo,” he said. At around 2:30 a.m. last Monday, Chicago police officers were responding to a ShotSpotter alert of eight shots fired when they came upon Toledo and a 21-year-old man in an alley near 24th and Sawyer in Little Village. They say a foot pursuit ensued and during an “armed confrontation,” an officer shot Toledo in the chest. A vigil to remember Toledo was held in the Little Village neighborhood Monday afternoon. “We are here today to stand in solidarity with Adam’s family and our community, to grieve and pray together,” said Jacqueline Herrera, Violence Prevention Director at Enlace Chicago. “He had a big imagination and curiosity since he was a baby. Adam was 13 years old,. He still had a full life ahead of him.” WATCH | Vigil held to remember 13-year-old boy fatally shot by Chicago police Toledo wanted to be a police officer, but Lightfoot said Monday that the teen had fallen victim to the allure of gangs. “I had the privilege of speaking briefly with Ms. Toledo,” Lightfoot said. “I called to offer her my condolences, and my help for whatever she needs. She was as you might expect overcome with emotion and profoundly grieving.” COPA is now investigating and is arranging for the mother to view the body camera video before publicly releasing it. The family is asking for peace after gangs reportedly called for shooting at police cars in retaliation. The mayor has now ordered an immediate review of the police foot pursuit policy. She is also vowing justice. WATCH | Supt. Brown gives update on fatal Little Village police shooting of boy, 13 Police shared a photo of a gun allegedly recovered at the scene. “Our officers have to make split-second decisions when it comes to the use of deadly force and that is a heavy burden,” Chicago Police Supt. David Brown said. A second suspect, 21-year-old Ruben Roman, is charged in the incident with a misdemeanor for resisting an officer. A source told ABC 7 Chicago Roman is a known gang member. “We will not tolerate [gangs] using our children pawns and setting them up for a life of misery… here is where we must, must draw the line,” Lightfoot said Monday. The mayor vowed Monday to find who is responsible for giving the young teen a gun. “I am determined,” Lightfoot said. “We will find the person who put this gun in Adam’s hand. We will not be deterred by threats from gang members. An adult must be responsible for putting that gun in that child’s hand.” An attorney for the Toledo family released a statement that said, in part “…want to correct the hurtful and false mischaracterization of Adam as a lonely child of the street who had no one to turn to. This is simply not true. Adam was a loved and supported 13-year-old boy. He lived with his mother, his 90-year-old grandfather, and two of his siblings. His father was in his life. They all loved him very much… Adam was not alone.” Pastor Matt DeMateo, whose New Life Church works with at-risk kids, stood with his 13-year-old son, who went to school with Toledo. They were also neighbors. “We lost a son, a neighbor, a student, and there are no winners in this situation,” he said. People in the neighborhood said they invited the police commander to Little Village Tuesday night for a peaceful community conversation. WATCH | Mayor Lightfoot gives update on fatal Little Village police shooting of boy, 13 “Adam was a good kid. He had no criminal history, he went to Gary Elementary School. He shared time with his four siblings and all we know is that he was shot,” said the Toledo family’s attorney, Adeena Weiss-Ortiz. “Officers must make split-second decision when it comes to the use of force and that its a heavy burden,” Brown said. Toledo’s mom said he used to sneak out at night while she was asleep and had filed a missing person’s report for her son the Thursday before the shooting after she noticed he was missing. She told ABC7 that Toledo eventually came back on Saturday, but had snuck out again Sunday night. The boy’s family released a statement last week claiming that Toledo’s mom wasn’t notified of her son’s death until two days after the fatal shooting. Brown addressed this Monday, saying that Toledo had no identification on him at the time of his death and that Roman provided a fake name to police, which resulted in difficulty identifying the boy. After reviewing missing persons cases, including some who had returned home, investigators found a report with a description they felt resembled Toledo. The teen’s mother was then notified and confirmed it was her son, Brown said. Brown also promised the department’s full cooperation during COPA’s investigation. WATCH | Mother demands justice for 13-year-old son killed by police Toledo’s mom Elizabeth said he had aspirations of becoming a police officer one day. “He was so full of life,” she said. “They just took it away from him.” The Civilian Office of Police Accountability is expected to release body camera video of the shooting this week after it is viewed by the family. Last week, the agency released a statement saying, “COPA has determined that certain provisions of state law intended to protect the confidentiality of juvenile records do not prohibit the agency’s release of material related to its investigation of a Chicago Police Officer’s fatal shooting of 13-year old Adam Toledo. COPA’s General Counsel concluded that the Juvenile Court Act does not bar publication of the body worn and third-party video camera footage the agency has obtained to date. COPA will therefore follow established City policy, which requires public posting of material at the earliest point possible but no later than 60 days after the incident. COPA is currently working with the Toledo family and their representative to arrange for a review of the troubling video footage. Again our condolences are with the Toledo family during this challenging time.” WATCH | Family of Adam Toledo, teen killed by CPD in Little Village speak out The family is waiting to see that body camera video of the shooting next week before deciding to file any potential lawsuit. The officer involved in the shooting was placed on desk duty for 30 days while the Civilian Office of Police Accountability investigates the shooting, police said. FULL STATEMENT FROM TOLEDO FAMILY The family of Adam Toledo appreciates the personal and public condolences expressed by Mayor Lori Lightfoot, Chicago Police Superintendent David Brown, Pastor Matt DeMateo of New Life Community Church Little Village, and others who have reached out to them in this time of excruciating grief. We are concerned by presumptions, implications, and statements made today that are not supported by the facts made public so far regarding what transpired on March 29, 2021. We are unable to refute or respond to these statements until we obtain the evidentiary facts, which so far are known only to the police. We are working diligently to learn the truth about what happened in the early morning hours of March 29 when Adam’s life was so tragically cut short by a police bullet. We have requested expedited meetings with pertinent authorities to obtain evidence and to review the police body camera footage and other available video. To date, we have not received confirmation of a time to view the footage. We are not going to let the anguish and emotion of the moment interfere with our objective to obtain the facts. We will address all public statements about the circumstances of Adam’s death once we have the facts before us. We do, however, want to correct the hurtful and false mischaracterization of Adam as a lonely child of the street who had no one to turn to. This is simply not true. Adam was a loved and supported 13-year-old boy. He lived with his mother, his 90-year-old grandfather, and two of his siblings. His father was in his life. They all loved him very much. The Toledo family is a close-knit family. They look after each other. Adam attended Gary Elementary School where he had the support of his teachers and his classmates. Adam was not alone. Copyright © 2021 WLS-TV. All Rights Reserved. !function(f,b,e,v,n,t,s) if(f.fbq)return;n=f.fbq=function()n.callMethod? n.callMethod.apply(n,arguments):n.queue.push(arguments); if(!f._fbq)f._fbq=n;n.push=n;n.loaded=!0;n.version='2.0'; n.queue=[];t=b.createElement(e);t.async=!0; t.src=v;s=b.getElementsByTagName(e)[0]; s.parentNode.insertBefore(t,s)(window,document,'script', 'https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/fbevents.js'); fbq('init', '120854971962341'); fbq('track', 'PageView'); Source link Orbem News #13yearoldshotinlittlevillage #adamtoledo #boy #Chicago #chicagonews #chicagopolice #chicagopoliceshooting #chicagoshooting #CPD #fatal #Justice #Lightfoot #littlevillage #littlevillagenews #littlevillageshooting #Mayor #Police #RubenRoman #shooting #village #Vows

[akselhaddock]

aksel & eirik :~)

❛❛ let the wind carry us, to the clouds, hurry up, alright. we can travel so far as our eyes can see —   EVA VALKA HADDOCK-JØRGENSEN

Name :

{ E V A } - meaning “life”

{ V A L K A } - meaning “strong, healthy”

{ H A D D O C K - J Ø R G E N S E N } - meaning “prosperity; fortune” and “son of jørgen”

Birthday :

December 2

♐️ Sagittarius (The Archer) The Sagittarius Sun Sign has an honest, optimistic and independent personality. They are passionate about justice and love adventure and travel. They are lucky in many aspects of life. They love freedom, intellectual stimulation and their own space. Every day is a reason for a new adventure. Self-confident, positive and enthusiastic, they’re a resource of information. Restless at times, they risk jeopardizing their relationships if they let it rule their lives.

Gender :

Cis-Female

Appearance :

{ H A I R } - auburn and wavy

{ E Y E S } - hazel

{ H E I G H T } - she’s quite average height, around 5′5″. although she’ll often say she’s 5′6″, because she likes the thought of being taller

Personality :

{ A D V E N T U R O U S } - With dads like Aksel Haddock and Eirik Jørgensen, two vikings known for their unyielding search for adventure, it was no wonder Eva turned out the same. Her curiosity was insatiable, and it was only fueling by the family outings they’d often go on. Eva started being allowed to go out on her dragon — a Monstrous Nightmare named Phoenix — with her dads when she was fifteen. (Eirik absolutely did Not gloat about his daughter choosing to ride a Monstrous Nightmare, no sir. He was humble and chill about the whole thing. And don’t listen to Aksel, he did NOT cry.) Eva started seeking adventure on her own, rather than accompanying the adults, not long after she turned sixteen. There was a whole world out there, waiting to be explored. Maybe multiple worlds! Who knew! Her grandma Astrid often said she was just like her grandfather when he was her age, and just as stubborn too. 

{ T E N A C I O U S } - Eva was nothing if not dedicated. She gave everything 100%, 150%, 200% if she could manage it. She took everything by the horns, and did not let go. And sometimes that was a good thing, like the time she was searching for an herb for Gothi —  who was, somehow, still alive — but had to go as far as the edge of the archipelago to find it. She didn’t give up, and she didn’t let anyone else take control, even though Aksel offered to do so multiple times. (”Babe, let her do it.” Eirik had said. “And if she gets hurt?” “She’s a Jørgensen!–” “Haddock-Jørgensen” “–she’ll be fine!”)

{ C O N F I D E N T } - The Jørgensen confidence is passed on both by nature and by nurture, apparently, seeing as Eva took to it so naturally. It was certainly a trait she’d learned from Eirik, not from Aksel. Eirik always had the same swaggering, flirtatious, playful confidence that Snotlout had — if a bit less obnoxious. And Eva herself had the same. She knew she was smart, knew she was quick, knew she was a gifted viking and dragon rider. How could she not be, with one Chief father and one Chief’s Second in Command father? With names like Haddock and Jørgensen that commanded respect and notoriety, she had no doubt in her abilities. Thankfully, because of Aksel’s more subdued nature and Eirik’s desire to please his husband, both instilled in her the thought that while she was talented and deserved to be confident, others held talent within them as well, and could be confident in their own right. Eva often cheers on those who lack the same self-assurance, telling them how great they were. 

{ B L U N T } - Aksel and Eirik both take equal amounts responsibility for this one. (No matter what Eirik says. No Eirik, Aksel’s sarcasm didn’t make him 65% responsible.) While there’s a good side to this trait as well — she’s honest — Eva’s bluntness gets the better of her more often than not. Sometimes it’s good things: “You look great!”, “You’re doing a great job!”, “Wow, this is an amazing sword.” Other times it’s not so good: “You smell disgusting.”, “Your dragon looks as irritated with you as I am.”, “Wow, those are some baby muscles for a grown man.” It’s not uncommon for village members to bring Eva back to her dads with a huff and an irritated explanation of what she said. 

Special Talents :

Dragon training. Eva doesn’t have the same passion for invention like Aksel, nor the same love of weaponry like Eirik. She isn’t inept in either, her quick mind and problem-solving skills are high, but she doesn’t love it. Not in the same way she loves anything and everything related to dragons, especially training them. She’s been known to rival even Hiccup with her ability to train what would have been deemed an untrainable dragon. They sense in her a dragon’s heart, and she connects with them better than with most people. 

Who They Like Better :

She loves both of her dads to pieces. She couldn’t be more grateful that they took her in, gave her somewhere to call home. However, it’s Eirik that is the most fun. Aksel isn’t unfun, but he’s often busy being chief or he has to be the “responsible” parent of the two (if you could call him that at all.) Eirik, however, is just as goofy and reckless as he was as a teenager. He’s not an idiot, he doesn’t let her do anything he thinks would sincerely put her in danger, but if she wants to have a good time, it’s Eirik she goes to. If she wants to talk out her problems, Aksel is a better fit. 

Who They Take After More :

I think she’s equally both, just in different ways. She has the same instant connection with dragons like the Haddock boys have always had, and she has the same confidence and tenacity that the Jørgensen clan is known for. However, upon first impression, she’s more clearly like Eirik. 

Personal Headcanon :

The day Aksel dared Eirik to steal a Screaming Death egg did not lead to Eirik’s death. The dragon got back, tossed Eirik from the nest, but somehow Eirik survived. And Aksel was thrown for a loop. He stayed by his best friend’s bedside until he was recovered, with his dragon Valhalla and Eirik’s dragon Inferno sitting by his side. Eirik was off of his feet for a while, seeing as his leg was severely damaged in the fall. It was difficult, getting him up and moving again, but Aksel was there every step of the way. 

The two had the chance to talk deeply during that time, to talk about the unspoken tension between them that Aksel often avoided by changing the subject. Eirik had been patient for years, simply content to be with Aksel however he was able, but with this boy he cared for so deeply holding his hand and taking care of him and talking to him endlessly to keep him entertained, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. 

“Aksel, how do you feel about me?”

Aksel had paused, practically frozen. “I– I mean... We’re best friends, right? I don’t know what–”

“Aksel.” Eirik’s gaze was firm, but pleading. He had to know. 

After a long discussion, Aksel explained that he wasn’t sure what he felt. That he’d never really felt anything for anyone before — demisexual, was the term he was unaware of — but he knew that his feelings for Eirik went beyond friendship, that they had for a long time. 

They took things slow, getting to know each other in a different capacity. But with time they became comfortable labelling themselves as a couple. 

The village was thrown, to say the least. Snotlout himself was quite vocal about his shock. There were some that were supportive, others weren’t. Eventually, the people who mattered came to understand that the love these two boys had for one another could not go hidden any longer. And having a loyal dragon at your side keeps away most of the disapproving remarks. 

Their relationship blossomed, as did their love for each other. Their dynamic hadn’t shifted much, many of the villagers came to notice. They still caused trouble, still laughed louder than they should, still were together more often than not. But now Aksel didn’t step away from lingering touches, and now Eirik felt more comfortable showering Aksel in flirtatious compliments and pet names. 

They were in their early twenties when Aksel’s Uncle Daggur showed up with a baby swaddled in cloth, lucky to be alive. He explained that he found her aboard a shipwreck, floating on some wreckage that was surrounded by giant eels. He and Sleuther had managed to swoop her up in time, but now he didn’t know what to do with her. With no clues as to the whereabouts of her actual family, Aksel was left with the decision as Chief to take her in. 

He’d claimed that the care of her would be a group effort, until her family could be located, but soon the group became Aksel and Eirik. They both cared for her immediately, and she took to them just as quickly. 

Aksel had said it first, after asking what they should name her. 

“What about Skylout?”

“We are not naming our daughter Skylout.”

Eirik and Aksel had both paused. They were keenly aware that they could never have a child of their own — not without one of them bringing someone else into bed, and neither cared for that idea — but they’d never openly discussed the idea of it. 

“Our daughter?” Eirik echoed. 

“I didn’t say that–”

“Yes you did.”

“It was a slip of the tongue, just–”

Eirik confessed that he’d always wanted a child with Aksel, even though he knew it wasn’t possible. After some discussion, they decided that they’d give it a try. They reluctantly still looked for her actual family, but in the meantime it wouldn’t hurt for them to be a family...right? 

The naysayers of Aksel and Eirik’s relationship reared their ugly heads again, but just like last time, they held strong. Most of them had left Berk once Aksel became Chief, no longer loyal to the community. Let them go, Hiccup had said, patting his son on the shoulder. 

After those who were opposed saw how much Eva — the name Aksel and Eirik finally decided upon, with the help of Alva — loved her dads, and they quieted themselves. 

As Eva grew older, her bond with her dads grew stronger, and the reality that one day her real family might show up only became a bleaker future neither Aksel nor Eirik wanted to picture. 

So far, seventeen years later, that day has yet to come. 

Faceclaim :

Ashleigh Cummings

#eirik #i love pain :-) #rylie-barton