#and every one of us thought we’d be the one to discover/figure out something unknown about them

[1920sitgirl]

#and every one of us thought we’d be the one to discover/figure out something unknown about them #*cough* the incredibly delulu phase of thinking we’d find proof of them escaping *cough* #<- I know for a fact that we all thought of something like that at least once #the romanovs #the romanov sisters #romanov sisters #house of romanov #olga romanov #tatiana romanov #maria romanov #anastasia romanov #whisper

[caspianjames]

BONUS Up And Coming: Julie and the Phantoms

Up and Coming: Julie and the Phantoms Jennifer McCreedy, Junior Correspondent 

On this month’s issue of Up and Coming I had the privilege of sitting down with one of America’s biggest up and coming bands, Julie and the Phantoms. Julie Molina (17), Reggie Peters (18), Alex Mercer (17), and Luke Patterson (17) began rapidly gaining popularity as YouTube stars last fall. They created music videos for songs they wrote themselves, editing them to appear as if the band were ghosts “popping in” behind Julie. Don’t understand what I mean? You can click here to check it out for yourself!

The band has a strong air of camaraderie, and it’s the first thing I notice when I walk into the room with them. They’re all piled on our big interview couch, Molina and Mercer are pressed together whispering. Patterson is bantering with Peters and flicks him in the forehead. They’re like any group of teenagers bordering on adulthood, excited and eager to please. It’s immediately apparent that to all of them, the band has a deep meaning of friendship and support. 

Of course, the first topic of conversation was about the band - what inspired the structure of their music videos, how they got their name, and which came first - the ghost music videos or the ghost band! 

“Since my mom died, my brother has really been into ghosts,” Molina explained to me. “It was actually his idea for the band to pop in like that. My dad does videography as his job, so he was able to help us film and edit. My best friend, Flynn Taylor, came up with the band name.”

The boys all laugh when I ask if they liked the name right away or if there were discussions before they went public with it. “Flynn doesn’t do discussions,” Mercer smiles at Julie like there’s an inside joke there. There probably is, seeing how close these four are. “They came up with the name and made us posters, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter before even asking us what we thought.”

“We loved it,” Peters is quick to jump in. “And we love Flynn. She knew we’d like it, or they wouldn’t have gone ahead with everything.”

Flynn Taylor, Julie’s best friend, doubles as the band manager - she is on tour with them, but opted not to be present for the interview. 

Since beginning their tour with Panic! At the Disco, all their videos have amassed over one million views each on YouTube and their music has been released on Spotify with startlingly quick success. Molina, I discovered, is actually the newest member of the band, although I would never have known from watching the four bandmates interact. She is also the youngest by a year, having just had her seventeenth birthday as the boys are all turning eighteen, but she holds herself with a quiet confidence that all the boys seem to look to. Even this early into the interview they defer to her to answer questions and look to her for reactions to their own answers. 

This made it especially surprising to find out that the band existed before Julie joined it, just under a different name. Sunset Curve. Clearly, it did not have the popularity that Julie and the Phantoms has even a few months into their creation. “We played a couple school shows and stuff,” Patterson told me, “but nothing clicked until we met Julie.” Luke Patterson carries a humming energy with him that comes across in his words. In true rocker fashion, he struggles to sit still, tapping his fingers on his thighs and softly bouncing on the couch. 

Unsurprisingly, Molina used similar words to describe the band’s first meeting. “The first time I sang with them at school we just clicked,” she says, smiling at Luke. 

Of course, given their success, I had to ask the question everyone wants to know. How did they end up opening for Panic! At the Disco, despite being relatively unknown outside the Los Angeles music scene previous to their debut at The Orpheum?

“We’ve seen some wild theories,” Mercer confides to me with a small smile on his face. He is arguably the most subdued of the group and generally seems content to watch his bandmates answer my questions. Don’t be fooled, though - not only is he a phenomenal drummer, he also sings backup vocals for Julie and the Phantoms. “My favouirte theory was one that caught a lot of steam on Twitter about us using ‘ghost powers’,” he adds air quotes with his hands and laughs, “to hide the scheduled opener’s tour bus and then pop into the venue in their place at the time they were supposed to perform.”

The whole band laughs at this - clearly it is a favourite theory amongst them. Peters adds, though, that it was clearly an unfounded theory given that “Julie doesn’t have any ghost powers, anyways. That’s why it’s Julie and the Phantoms. But I’d kill for ghost powers in real life.” When I ask what he’d use them for, though, he seems stumped. “I think it would just be cool to walk through walls.” We’re with you on that one, Reggie!

But what actually did happen to get them into the coveted opening spot at The Orpheum? Molina gives me a modest smile when I ask. “We were honestly just in the right place at the right time,” she explains. 

Patterson picks up the story from there with a little bit more flair, telling me that the opening band had actually gotten food poisoning - “from a street dog vendor, believe it or not” - and the manager of the Orpheum happened to be familiar with the Julie and the Phantoms YouTube page. 

“Since we were local,” Peters explains, “It was just a phone call. And then suddenly we were on stage doing a proper professional soundcheck for the first time in our lives.”

“Everything moved so fast after that,” Patterson adds. Each of his bandmates nod in agreement as he speaks. “We blinked and we were on a tour bus, suddenly.”

It seems that the band is handling the change well, though. 

“It’s definitely different,” Molina tells me. “We have to be responsible for our own school and make sure we’re turning in assignments on time. There’s a lot of driving and a lot of time to kill. We can get on each other’s nerves quite a bit, but there’s always a lot of time for songwriting, too.”

When I prompt her about who gets on who’s nerves, the whole band turns in tandem to look at Luke. He laughs and shrugs at me. “I’m an early riser,” he explains. “I like music in my hands twenty-four seven. I always have my guitar, but it isn’t always appreciated.”

“We’ve had to compromise,” Mercer says with a long-suffering sigh. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was the oldest of the group. “Luke isn’t allowed to start playing music until eleven in the morning the day after a show.”

As for being on tour with Panic!, none of them seem all too bothered by the fame of the headliners. “They’re really cool,” Peters explains to me. “They’ve been doing this a long time and they always have advice for us which I think we really value right now.”

Otherwise, though, the band seems to keep to themselves. When asked about their favouirte hobbies, Peters speaks at length about Star Wars. “I can’t watch the prequels before bed,” he says. His bandmates groan and shake their heads, although he seems unbothered. “Jar-Jar gives me nightmares.”

Other than Star Wars, “We try to make sure we get time and space for ourselves every day,” Molina says. “It’s a lot of us in a small space, and if we don’t get away from each other for a bit we argue a lot more.”

When I ask each of them who their favourite bandmate is to live with, all the boys say Julie and then turn expectantly for her answer. “I suppose Flynn doesn’t count as a bandmate,” she said with a sigh. “Probably Alex, but we live together normally so it’s not something that’s new.”

Mercer confirms this piece of information with a nod and a smile. “I prefer sharing a room with your brother to sharing a bus with you, though,” he says to Julie. She just rolls her eyes. 

When pushed, Mercer elaborates a little bit. “I’ve been living with Julie’s family for my senior year. It’s a better environment for me and is much closer to our school than where I lived. My parents are happy that it gives me more time to focus on school.”

Since I have Mercer’s attention now, I ask him a question I’ve been dying to know the answer to. Does he know what a role model he is to gay and questioning children and teens that get to see him be himself so publicly? 

As all the boys have been doing, he looks to Julie before answering. “I don’t think about it much, to be honest,” he says candidly. “If people think I’m a role model then I’m glad, but I’m just me. And being gay is part of me, a part of me that’s always been completely accepted by my band, just like my drumming or my singing.”

There was no tension, the band members explain, upon finding out about Alex’s sexuality. “No one was surprised when Alex came out,” Patterson adds. “We were only, like, twelve when he came out to us, anyway. It’s just a fact about who he is. Like, Alex is gay and hates mornings and I play the guitar and love mornings and we’re best friends.”

“Plus, I’m bisexual,” Peters adds, “So it would be hypocritical to have a problem with Alex.”

“I’m pansexual,” Patterson pipes up again. “And Alex being himself helped me figure out that part of myself.”

Molina doesn’t seem to have much to add. “Alex was already out when I met him,” she says. “It was never a surprise and someone’s sexuality shouldn’t be something that causes tension or makes people upset anyways.”

When I point out that it has seemed to cause some tension among fans, they all sigh. For unaware readers, the band has been stirring up quite the debate on Twitter and Instagram amongst fans and haters alike as to who is dating who. Patterson and Molina confirmed their relationship before going on tour and have been dating since before their band became popular. Recently, a Twitter user attending a Julie and the Phantoms meet and greet noted the closeness between Molina and Peters, causing fans to speculate that Molina is cheating on Patterson with Peters. When I ask if they'd like to address it, however, they all nod. 

“Luke and I have been dating for a few months,” Julie says, “very happily. Neither of us have cheated on each other, nor would we ever. But we’re both also dating Reggie.”

When I ask for clarification, Peters adds, “I’m dating Luke and Julie, just like Julie is dating me and Luke and Luke is dating Julie and me.” Although it doesn’t sound clear, it does seem to be clear for them. 

“We’d like people to give us our privacy, although we know that probably won’t happen,” Molina says. “We’re allowed to define our own relationships in the way that works for us, we don’t have to hold them up to anyone else’s expectations or preconceived notions of what a relationship should look like.”

When I ask if there’s anything they’d like to add before we wrap up, Patterson pipes up with a confident “Yes.” 

“We’re Julie and the Phantoms,” he says, prompting Peters to follow up with “Tell your friends!”

Tell your friends, indeed. You can find Julie and the Phantoms everywhere that Panic! At the Disco is playing for the next four weeks. 

masterpost

read on AO3

taglist under teh cut (ask to be added or removed!!)

@screamin-amuseum​ @angelwiththeblue-box​ @defultuser​ @peter-parkerson​ @willex-molina​ @thedepthsofhell​ @themongosianhorse​ @theamd426​ @k-padfoot39​ @wholitzukoonfire​ @invisibleraven​ @williesskateboard​ @leodolphin​ @moss-on-a-tree15​

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #jatp smau #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #alex mercer #flynn taylor #flynn lolastname #willie nolastname #jukebox #rukebox #juke #ruke #flarrie #willex

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Three: The Cover

Table Of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader

Words: 2,332

MASTERLIST

~

As soon as the hospital would allow you to leave, Emily and her team drove you to the FBI headquarters where they’d brief you on the plan, whatever that meant.

By the time you’d gotten there, you’d heard more about serial killers and their behavior than you’d ever like to. It took a while for you to calm down enough to properly listen, so when you were ready, everyone was as gentle as possible.

“This unsub has killed three other women at the least,” the bald man from the hospital, Morgan, his name was, said.

“Unsub?” you asked quietly.

“Unidentified subject,” a tall, wiry man said. He seemed a little young to be working for the FBI. “He’s been targeting women of your approximate appearance, same hair color, same height.”

The man flipped over a large whiteboard to reveal pictures of women that looked remarkably like you. It was unnerving in the first place, but downright terrifying when you considered the fact that those women were dead.

“But, I mean, there’s a ton of girls who look like me,” you stuttered. “Just because I look like that doesn’t make me a target, right?”

“All the victims have been discovered wearing elaborate costumes, clothes from many different eras. With each of them, a copy of a classic book accompanied the body.” Morgan looked over the police report the officer had been taking from you. “You said you own a bookstore?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean there’s a killer after me!”

There was an uncomfortable silence as the team looked at each other, clearly unsure of what to say.

“What?” you prompted.

The leader spoke, Hotch.

“We have evidence that this particular unsub has been displaying stalking behavior on an unknown woman in town. Based on your recent break-in and physical appearance, we believe you may be that woman.”

“That’s a pretty big leap,” you said, doubtful. Someone just broke into your house. It didn’t mean there was a crazy stalker killer after you.

“Actually, the theft of a personal item, something that has value to you and only you: the locket, your hairbrush, signifies that the perpetrator cares less about monetary value and more about what you value. This suggests obsession and stalking behavior.”

If a dictionary could talk that’s what it would sound like. 

“So, someone’s gonna kill me?”

The team hesitated.

“Unlikely,” Morgan said after a moment, “Most stalker-killers don’t intend to murder the subject of their obsession. Instead, this particular one seems to be taking it out on women who look like you.”

“So, someone is killing because of me.”

The silence was answer enough.

You weren’t sure what you had planned on doing today, but it certainly wasn’t this. Sitting in the middle of an FBI conference room surrounded by agents telling you that there was a killer obsessed with you.

“What’s gonna happen?” 

A blonde woman who hadn’t spoken yet came and knelt by you.

“We’re going to place a protective detail on you. An agent will be with you at all times while the investigation continues. We’d like you to continue your routine as normal. Any change in your schedule will prompt a change in the unsub’s behavior. He’s comfortable right now and we want him to stay that way.”

Comfortable. They wanted to keep your stalker comfortable.

“Okay. What do I do first?” You just wanted them to catch this guy so you could move on with your life.

“What do you normally do on Saturdays?” Emily asked.

“It depends. It’s the only day I have off from work. Sometimes I hang out with my friend Steve, go to the park, or just stay home and chill.”

“Well, what does the rest of your week look like?”

“I’m at school from seven to three, then work immediately after. Usually, I close up at eleven so I’m home by midnight.”

A stunned silence followed this summary of your schedule.

“What?”

The skinny man spoke, “What you’ve described is roughly an eighty-eight hour work week not factoring in all the hours doing homework.”

“Fast math,” you muttered. “But, yeah, pretty much. I’m either in school, doing homework, or at work. I don’t even know why anyone would want to stalk me. I don’t do anything.”

“Nevertheless, there is someone after you,” the blonde woman said. “We’re going to have to assign someone from the team to be your protector.”

“Meaning one of you is going to have to follow me everywhere?”

It was an uncomfortable situation already and every question you asked seemed to raise the tension in the room.

“Which of you is it gonna be?” Again, the team looked around at each other, seemingly not sure, themselves.                                                                            

“Why is this happening to me.”

It wasn’t a question. And they all knew it.

~

You waited patiently in the next room while the agents discussed what the cover would be. Finally, alone with your thoughts, you found you weren’t as scared as you probably should have been.

Sure, it was frightening to think there was someone obsessed with you, but you’d been in scary relationships before. And when your last ex decided to break in over a year ago, you certainly didn’t get an FBI detail. You wondered if this was at all related, making a mental note to bring it up later. 

In the office next door, their voices were muffled but loud. You considered each member of the team, thinking about which one would be the best protector.

Emily was the one you’d talked to the most, Morgan seemed strong, as did the leader, Hotch. You didn’t know who the older gentleman with the goatee was, but he was probably your last choice. The blonde woman had made a nice impression. The tall skinny guy was quick-witted and you would have laughed at his demeanor if not for the serious situation you were in.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the doors opening and the team coming back in, somber but determined looks on their faces.

Hotch spoke first, surprisingly gently.

“We’ve created a protection program. There will be a surveillance team parked outside your apartment and your workplace at all times. You’ll need to stop going to school during the investigation. In the meantime, you’ll need someone to move into your apartment with you to keep a closer eye.”

“How many bedrooms is your apartment?” The skinny man asked.

“One,” at your answer, the skinny man went pink. “Why?”

“The cover we’ve created places, Doctor Reid, here—“ Hotch gestured to the skinny man “—as your boyfriend who’s just moved in with you. That way he can keep you safe in your apartment.”

“Boyfriend?” You looked at him — Doctor Reid — and he met your eyes. Upon the contact, his eyes went wide and he dropped his gaze to the floor, cheeks reddening.

“It’s the best cover to place him in your apartment,” Emily assured you.

“Okay.”

It would be strange to live with a man. Sure, you’d had guys crash on your couch before and one very short relationship where you’d moved in together. But that was after a year together. Could you deal with a strange man living in your home so suddenly?

“You should probably get going,” Morgan said, making you and Doctor Reid jump slightly.

“Of course,” the doctor said, standing. “Um, I don’t have a car.”

You felt yourself smiling for the first time all day. He’s actually rather handsome, you found yourself thinking. That thought was quickly shooed away and you responded.

“Neither do I. I like walking places. Anywhere I can’t walk, the bus is much cheaper.”

He gave you a soft, awkward smile and ran his hand through his scruffy hair. 

“Well, you’ll have to use a government-issued vehicle,” Hotch said, breaking the spell between you and the doctor. “It’s safer for you to drive. Now, I want you and Reid to head over to his place now so he can collect his things to move into yours. We have a limited time frame to work in so as not to arouse the suspicion of our unsub. Remember, a security detail will be following you at all times.

“When you get back to your apartment, Reid will send the team a text. We’ll continue the investigation from afar and keep you both updated frequently. Any questions?”

He had spoken so fast, it was a lot to take in. 

“Where’s he gonna sleep?” you said, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

Hotch looked at Reid, then back at you. He opened his mouth, about to say something, then thought better of it.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” he said briskly and left the meeting room.

You turned to Reid and forced a smile. This morning did not go how you thought it was going to, but something about this man cheered you up whether you wanted it to or not.

“Shall we?” he said, motioning to the door and clearing his throat.

Nodding softly, you followed him out of the building and into the parking lot. He led you to a small green car that looked too . . . normal to be in the FBI car park.

“Who’s car is this?”

“It's a government issue. They have a bunch of extra cars down here for undercover work. I grabbed the keys to this one on the way out.” Then, more to himself, “I’ve kinda always had my eye on it anyway.”

He was a strange man. Not the type you expect to work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Even more startling was catching a glimpse of the gun on his hip as you both climbed into the car.

Reid must have noticed your sudden uncomfortability because he said, “I’m sorry about the gun, I know it can be unnerving, but it's a standard-issue. It’s to keep you safe.”

“I know,” you said shortly. You’d never liked guns. But Reid seemed to know what he was doing and, strangely enough, you found yourself trusting him.

Several minutes of total silence later, you were outside his apartment, helping him load a box of his things into the trunk.

“You really didn’t need to carry that,” he said, getting back in the driver's seat.

“I know, I don’t mind. I figure it’s the least I can do for you after all . . . this.”

He looked for a moment as though he were about to say something, then rethought it and started the car up, driving toward your apartment.

“We have to take the elevator,” you said, steering him towards the lift. He’d placed his bag on top of the box despite your protest you didn’t mind carrying something. Even though the pile was stacked so high he could barely see over the top.

“The elevator?” he groaned.

“I know, I hate it too, but the stairs are broken so we have to.”

“Isn’t it usually the other way around?” he grumbled as you rode the lift up to your floor. There was barely enough room for the two of you. It was less like an elevator and more like a small closet.

“This is mine,” you said, unlocking the door and stepping into your flat, regarding it very differently now that a stranger was with you.

“Sorry, let me just—“ quick as you could, you cleared some space on the coffee table for him to set down his things, took some dishes to the sink, and shoved a pile of dirty laundry into a basket.

He set the box down and took in his surroundings. You waited patiently for his judgment.

“Woah!” He pointed to your bedroom door where a huge Doctor Who poster was. You cringed. If you’d known you’d be having . . . company, you’d have tidied up a bit, hid some nerdy memorabilia. At least you’d closed your bedroom door.

“Oh, yeah, just ignore that. Guilty pleasure.”

He looked at you, eyes wide and smiling.

“I love Doctor Who!”

Shocked, you let a smile slip, earning one from him in return.

“Cool! Well, there’s something to do with our time together.”

Reid looked away for a moment, then regained himself.

“So, about the sleeping situation. . ?”

“Right, of course,” you grabbed some blankets from the linen closet and walked over to the couch. “Um, it folds out. Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah!” He perked up, slumping down on the couch and getting comfortable. “I can fall asleep pretty much anywhere, it’s no problem.”

“Okay! Well, I think I’m gonna take a nap. Feel free to help yourself to any food or whatever. The bathroom is just right there. If you need anything let me know. Just make yourself at home, really.”

“Thank you, oh, um . . .” he seemed more flustered than an FBI agent should. Actually, it was kind of comforting. “We haven’t really technically met.”

Oh yeah. You hadn’t introduced yourself to anyone back at Quantico.

“Right! Um, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I guess I assumed you already knew that. You’re Doctor Reid?” 

You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just stared at it awkwardly.

“Spencer! Please, call me Spencer. Sorry for not shaking hands, but the amount of germs passed through a single handshake is astronomical. It’s amazing it’s still in practice. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

He blanched, then backtracked.

“I mean, not that that’s what I’m suggesting. I just thought it was interest— Let me try again. Call me Spencer. Please.”

He flashed you a pitiful smile, seemingly desperate for a fresh start. It wasn’t necessary though, because you delighted in the way he babbled.

“Alright, Spencer,” you smiled warmly at him. “I’m going to sleep now.”

“Sweet dreams.”

Once you’d gotten comfortable in bed, you realized there was no way you’d be able to sleep. Not with everything that happened today. 

Then you thought of the handsome, smart, strong man in the next room who was dedicated to protecting you from any possible threat. 

You were asleep within minutes.

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid fic #fanfiction #fanfic #reid #criminal minds

[headcanonsandmore]

“Fell In Love With A Girl”, Chapter Two

Summary:  Ginny and Luna discover what the secret service agents have discovered about the mysterious group targeting florists and plant research departments. And a new world of danger and espionage becomes impossible to ignore.

Tagging: @lytefoot @cheeseanonioncrisps

TWs are in the tags. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

                          Read on FFN.                                 Read on AO3. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus Lupin smiled at them all as he sat down at the kitchen table. Like Agent Shacklebolt, he had an ear-piece attached, but he didn’t look as at-home wearing it like the MI5 agent did.

‘So… if we have security clearance, that means we can be told certain things?’ Ginny asked. ‘About what you’ve discovered so far?’

Remus Lupin nodded.

‘That’s correct. However, before we start, I should stress that this information is of the utmost secrecy, and cannot be repeated to anyone without security clearance.’

Luna, Ginny, Neville and Ron all nodded.

Kingsley Shacklebolt leaned forward in his chair.

‘We believe that the break-ins are one small part of the actions of a large crime syndicate,’ he said, his tone serious. ‘They are a worldwide organisation, and have been connected to various criminal conspiracies, illegal chemical weapons manufacturing, and… well, more than a few murders, to say the least.’

‘We have reason to suspect that the branch of the organisation responsible for the break-in at Ms Lovegood’s shop are part of a worldwide scheme,’ Remus Lupin added. ‘Rare plant research has been going missing across virtually every continent on earth and, on every occasion, it has been relating to certain types of plant bacteria. One plant that the organisation seems especially interested in is the Amazonian Octarine-Flame.’

Luna started, her eyes growing wide with alarm.

‘A-Amazonian Octarine-Flame?’ she repeated, her voice quavering. ‘Someone came into the shop yesterday morning asking about it.’

‘Any distinguishing features?’

‘They were wearing black, and they were… fairly tall and thick-set. And… well, they wore large sunglasses that hid most of their face. But that’s not why I’m worries. I… I think someone was in my shop last night.’

‘Wait…’ Ginny said, her eyes widening in horror. ‘You mean… when you went downstairs in the night?...’

‘That was likely a scout for the crime syndicate,’ Remus Lupin said, softly. ‘Ms Lovegood, you are extraordinarily lucky; usually they don’t let people live if they’ve been seen.’

Ginny, her face pale, intertwined her fingers with Luna’s.

‘I’m okay, Ginny,’ Luna whispered, softly.

The redhead nodded, still looking worried.

‘Like we said,’ Agent Shacklebolt continued. ‘The break-ins are all to do with rare plants native to South America. The plants themselves and the research surrounding them. So… I put forward the plan that we track the syndicate. We start in Rio, Brazil, and move out into the Amazon delta when we are confident in a lead.’

‘Hang on,’ Ron said, crossing his arms. ‘That sounds like trespassing in a sovereign nation without checking with the local authorities first.’

‘I would normally agree with you, but this case is different. The British secret services are already liaising with our opposite numbers in Brazil, as well as with Interpol. Not to mention… well, the head of the crime syndicate is a British citizen.’

Agent Shacklebolt pulled a photograph out of his pocket, and placed it on the table. It was a grainy still image, that seemed to have been captured by CCTV camera, and looked several years old. There was a figure, shrouded in black but his face pale and thin. He was completely bald and his eyes seemed to glow red.

‘This is… well, his alias is Voldemort.’

‘French for “In Flight of Death”,’ Remus Lupin added. ‘But his civilian identity was that of Tom Riddle, an illegitimate son of minor nobility.’

Luna stared down at the face.

‘Most people have that reaction the first time,’ Agent Shacklebolt said, noticing her horrified expression. ‘It’s the eyes, isn’t it?’

‘He doesn’t look like any toff I’ve ever seen,’ Ron said, wrinkling his nose slightly. ‘Usually, they don’t look so intimidating. What’s with the bald head?’

‘He didn’t used to look like that,’ Remus Lupin replied. ‘Once, he was even considered a rather handsome young man. But that was a long time ago. Before he discarded his name and submerged into the world of international crime. He’s at the top end of every security organisation’s most wanted list.’

‘Yeesh,’ Neville said. ‘And I thought normal toffs were bad enough.’

‘Ms Lovegood,’ Agent Shacklebolt said, addressing Luna. ‘Mr Longbottom and yourself are two of barely a handful of people in Britain who know about these Amazonian plants. We’d like you both to come with us to Rio.’

Ginny looked up at Neville, feeling very confused.

‘Er, Professor Sprout taught me,’ Neville said, modestly. ‘Luna’s better at the theory than I am, though.’

He turned to Agent Shacklebolt.

‘Count me in,’ he said, his voice level. ‘I want to help. I’m not a spy, but I can help out with the research into the plants as best I can.’

Agent Shacklebolt smiled.

‘We wouldn’t be asking you to spy,’ he replied. ‘We have people for that. But the talents of yourself and Miss Lovegood will aid us greatly, especially as we ascertain where the syndicate is based in the Amazon delta.’

Ginny caught eyes with Luna, and the blonde woman squeezed her hand.

‘I… I’ll come,’ Luna said, steadily. ‘I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but…’

‘It will be dangerous,’ Remus Lupin said, slowly. ‘Very dangerous. You will each be given a security detail, but you will need to keep your wits about you nonetheless.’

Ginny felt her stomach drop. Luna really was going to go to South America, into a world of criminal organisations and dangerous situations. Yes, she would be with Neville and the secret service people, but still. What if something happened to her? What is she… Ginny couldn’t even finish that thought.

Without thinking, Ginny squeezed Luna’s hand, and spoke.

‘I’m coming along too.’

Remus Lupin and Agent Shacklebolt shared a quick look.

‘Ms Weasley,’ Agent Shacklebolt said. ‘We are talking about a crime syndicate that thinks nothing of murder and widespread destruction.’

‘I don’t care.’ Ginny replied, firmly. ‘They broke into Luna’s shop, and they could have easily killed Luna last night. No-one messes with my Lu.’

Remus Lupin smiled.

‘I believe we can make an exception in this case.’

Agent Shacklebolt sighed, and nodded.

Luna squeezed Ginny’s hand, a soft smile stretching across her face.

 *

 The next morning, Ginny and Luna took the tube to Heathrow. It was an overcast, drizzly day, and people scurried down from the streets above like rats escaping into the sewer. Except that rats are normally a lot happier about it.

Ginny felt weirdly nostalgic for the rural Devon of her childhood. She loved living in the city, but sometimes she did grow tired of the frantic pace of life. Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about living in a cold, rainy metropolis for a little while, at the very least. Even if it was going to be more dangerous.

Neville had already left on a plane the previous evening. It had been decided that they shouldn’t all go to Rio at the same time, just to avoid any additional suspicion. Ron had texted Ginny earlier that morning, saying that he wished both Ginny and Luna the best of luck, and that he’d be keeping in contact with Agent Shacklebolt until they were all safely back in the UK.

The two women entered Heathrow’s main entrance, and spotted Remus Lupin stood outside a café, with someone that they didn’t recognise; a short woman with mousy brain hair.

‘Ms Lovegood, Ms Weasley,’ Remus said, holding a takeaway cup. ‘Allow me to introduce Nymphadora Tonks.’

The woman smiled cheerily at them.

‘Wotcher,’ she said, grinning. On closer inspection, her hair had pink highlights. ‘Although Tonks is preferable, if you please.’

‘Er, sure,’ Ginny said. ‘Are you…’

‘Security detail,’ Tonks said, sensing what Ginny was alluding to.

Ginny blinked. The woman was several inches shorter than both her and Luna.

‘Oh, don’t look so shocked,’ Tonks laughed. ‘I’m a master of several martial arts. You wouldn’t believe the various ways I can wrap my legs around people.’

Remus Lupin choked on his coffee, and Tonks burst out laughing. Ginny couldn’t help noticing that Lupin’s ears had gone red, in much the same way that Ron’s used to when he was flustered around Hermione.

Interesting.

‘Seriously, though, it’s nice to meet you both,’ Tonks said. ‘I’ve heard good things about you.’

‘Since this is coming from a punk with pink hair, I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Ginny said, chuckling.

‘You should,’ Tonks replied, grinning. ‘I am a bit more style-conscious than most of my peers. Or, as I call them, the black jacket and tie brigade. But Remus is alright, I suppose.’

Remus Lupin smiled to himself.

The four of them checked in their bags, and -a few hours later- Luna and Ginny found themselves in a plan bound for South America. Tonks and Remus Lupin had spread out, so as not to attract too much attention, but Luna and Ginny had been allowed to have two seats together.

‘Ginny?’

The redhead opened her eyes, and turned to look at her girlfriend.

‘Hmmm?’

‘I’m… I’m worried.’

‘What? About what will happen after we get to Rio?’

The blonde woman nodded.

Ginny reached under Luna’s blanket, and squeezed her hand.

‘What is gonna happen is that we’ll get everything sorted,’ Ginny continued, her voice soft. ‘And, if anyone tries to hurt you, they’ll have to go through me first.’

Luna smiled, squeezing Ginny’s hand in return.

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘You’re my girlfriend,’ Ginny said. ‘I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. Ever.’

The skin around Luna’s eyes crinkled as she stared at the redhead.

She leaned over, and rested her head on Ginny’s shoulder. Within a few moments, she had fallen asleep. Ginny smiled to herself, enjoying the feeling of Luna’s soft breath against her skin. She found herself drifting slowly to sleep, enjoying the brief bit of relaxation before they reached the unknown situation awaiting them in Rio.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! If you want to follow this series, subscribe to it or -if you prefer to be notified via Tumblr- ask me to add you to the tag list.

Thanks again for reading! :)

#'fell in love with a girl' #linny #florist!luna #florist au #basketball player!ginny #luna/ginny #ginny/luna #ginny x luna #luna x ginny #tw: food mention #warning- strong language #tw: referenced violence #kingsley shacklebolt #remus lupin #tonks #nymphadora tonks #background ronks #ron weasley #neville longbottom #tw: references to murder

[valkyrieelysia18]

RWBY Rewrite: The Jaundice Arc

Hey there everybody! Sorry it’s been awhile since you’ve heard from me, but I’ve got a job now and less of writing drive than I had when I was high school/college. Doesn’t mean it’s completely gone though and now I’m going to tackle the point that people started to really have problems with RWBY: the Jaundice Arc.

I know, big guns, but frankly I wanted to get this one. Partially because I want to do Jaune’s post eventually and I feel like I need to do this one before I can do that one, and partially because like I said before: this point where people really started to have problems with the show. And more specifically, this when people REALLY start to dislike Jaune.

Now, I’ve touched on my feelings on him before, but let me get this all out and over with. I don’t hate Jaune and I don’t think he’s an inherently bad character. Almost everyone on this show has been written badly and I think the absolutely simmering undercurrents that some parts of the RWDE community have for him is perhaps a little over the top. Personally, I think the core idea of his character is pretty good and he’s at his best in my opinion when he’s playing support to the other characters.

That being said, I completely understand why people dislike him. He has been constantly given focus away from the main team, which started in Volume 1 which was already short as it was to devote about a quarter of your episodes to a non main character in your first season. He also doesn’t suffer nearly as much for the consequences of his actions while the female characters get constant crap for theirs. I’m not even going to go into the Miles Luna Author Self Insert thing.

After having read fan fiction and seen some rewrite scenarios on Youtube, I personally think that Jaune can be written well so long as he’s not being written by Miles and Kerry. With that, I’m ready to take my crack at it.

Setup

As I said, Jaune took massive screen time away from the main characters since early on in the series. There’s an easy way to fix this. As I stated in an earlier post, I was going to spend the first volume/season focusing on Team RWBY aside from a small potential team up with Team JNPR. Jaune, and his other teammates, would mainly be relegated to comedy and background support for the main four girls after the Initiation. I’d throw in a few hints of what’s to come with them, but that’s it. Thus, I’d actually put the Jaundice Arc in the second volume/season which would be significantly larger than the first.

Because we’d be doing it then, we’d have bit more buildup for this story. Cardin’s bullying and enmity towards Jaune would be set up in the prior volume/season’s class interactions. As I noted in my School Rewrite, Jaune’s strategic abilities would also be showcased early on as well as Cardin’s tendency to go head on and brutal without realizing potential problems with that approach. Jaune’s relationship with Pyrrha and the rest of his team would also be better set up.

Now that the board is set, let’s get to it.

Student Days

The first thing I would absolutely change is making it clear that Jaune is actually trying. That was the thing that really did irk me with how Miles and Kerry wrote this arc, despite having gone through the effort of cheating his way into a huntsman academy, he then proceeds to goof off and put absolutely no effort into it. So, before and during this arc, it’ll be clearly shown he’s been studying like crazy and putting in extra time into the fighting simulations that are available for students. He’s not failing in terms of his regular studies, but he’s not top of the class either. In terms of physical combat, he’s the worst in his year, but he’s exceptional in Strategy and Tactics. This I think would be a good and reasonable place for Jaune starting out given his character and background prior to the series.

Thing is, this pisses Cardin off. He sees how much of a weakling Jaune is as a fighter and can see that he is so out of place at Beacon. Despite this, he’s paired with arguably the strongest person in their class who hangs on his every word and has (unintentionally) been showing him up as a leader during Strategy and Tactics. He knows something is off with Jaune, leading him to spy on him to figure out what’s up.

I wouldn’t change that much with him and Pyrrha’s interaction on the roof, I already briefed the reason why Pyrrha trusts him as a leader in her rewrite post. Maybe throw in a hint that his father really didn’t want Jaune to become a huntsman, but I’ll get into that when I get into his backstory proper.

I also wouldn’t change that much revolving in his talk with Cardin straight after save for one thing. After Jaune is left alone with his thoughts on this situation his lies have gotten him into, the scene shifts to being shown on a screen, making it clear that this is being watched from a camera on the roof. A finger taps on the screen a few times and we hear a familiar pensive hum.

The fall out with his team and his one on one with Ruby isn’t really changed, aside from Ren and Nora being more vocally concerned about Jaune’s actions and Pyrrha’s frosty change in behavior which the latter shoots down the concerns sharply.

Forever Falls/Aftermath

I don’t think I’ll change that much regarding the trip itself. I was thinking of mentioning the reason the teams are there is because this is their group task for the month (gathering sap for Professor Peach, who would actually be here taking originally Glynda’s place) and that’s why it’s only these three teams here. Same overall events occur: CRDL tries to get Pyrrha, Jaune stands up to Cardin, Grimm take down with Pyrrha’s unknown aid.

Jaune does apologize to Pyrrha like in the original and ask to train him. Though I was thinking that he’d get something a bit more painful than just a hard shove. I was thinking she’d take his hand and tackle him to the ground hard while pointing out his weaknesses.

This will cut to Ozpin’s office, with Cardin finishing up with telling his version of events who is obviously very agitated from the day’s events. In this Rewrite, there is no reason why he wouldn’t just tell on Jaune. Ozpin merely takes it all in with pensive expression before asking about the light that seemed to protect Jaune. Cardin answers this with confusion and some surprise, Ozpin nodding with a “Good to know” before updating a file on his tablet. Cardin is even more confused and asks what the Headmaster is going to do about Jaune. His answer: Nothing.

Cardin is shocked and furious at the Headmaster, going into him a bit before threatening to go to the board with this. Ozpin responds that even if he did so, he wouldn’t have a case. Cardin is completely confused as Ozpin explains: When students apply for Beacon, their applications go through extensive background checks before there are selections for the second round (ie the Entrance Exam). Such fake transcripts would have been discovered around that time.....had they actually gone through the admissions board. As it was, Jaune’s was accepted through an alternative.

But honestly, that’s not to say the admissions board is completely infallible, Ozpin would muse. Some are very inclined to promote those connected to them, others are interested in advancing their career elsewhere,.....and some might be inclined to take money from very influential people, such as a well meaning Uncle whose Council seat is up for reelection soon. Cardin gets noticeably stiff at that last one. Then Ozpin bring up some videos to the screen, all of them showing Cardin and his team bullying others, particularly Faunus students. The headmaster then would muse aloud that he wonder how Councilman Winchester, or moreso his Faunus opponent, would react to such un-Huntsman like behavior getting out into the news. Cardin immediately gets what the headmaster wants and goes completely quiet. Ozpin would merely say that he is a big believer in second chances and that while he understands that shenanigans in such as a school as this is to expected, Cardin would do best to remember that even if he thinks no one is watching he should act like there is. This cuts the meeting to a close with Cardin leaving quietly and Oz going back to his tablet, clicking back to a file with Jaune’s symbol on in it amongst others files with symbols on them. Only Jaune’s is a different color than the others and a scroll up would show us only one other file with that same color: Ruby’s.

Okay, it feels like I spent a lot of this post musing on the Cardin and Ozpin scene (really I could have done a oneshot on it), but this really was an important scene to establish some very important things to this Rewrite.

1. Ozpin is not an idiot. Ozpin is shown to be very aware of what’s going on at his school. While he may not get directly involved with things, he is shown to be watching his students. And while he is shown to be merciful in giving Cardin a second chance after the crap he pulled, he is also shown to not be a pushover. With such vigilance showcased, it will the Fall of Beacon even more devastating in how Ozpin missed his enemies working under his nose.

2. Ozpin’s true nature and goals are thrown into question. This rewrite is going to be more morally gray, especially in regards to Ozpin. Not only has he blackmailed a student to keep it quiet about another student, he knowingly let someone into his school he knew wasn’t qualified. In this rewrite up until this point he would have been shown as a distant but well intentioned headmaster. Now, he’s just gotten plenty shady. It would also bring into question Ruby’s enrollment into Beacon given that she got in in the same way (also strengthening those two’s parallels, but I digress).

3. Makes us question why Ozpin let Jaune in and sets up that Jaune is important in some way. As noted in my musings in a previous post, it makes no sense for Jaune to have gotten into Beacon unless Ozpin saw his transcripts and accepted him on that alone. Since we are shown in this scene Ozpin is aware of the transcripts, it makes us question what did he accept Jaune for. This also sets up that he will be important to the story moving forward, and not just as the revenge driven not ex boyfriend of the girl who tragically died.

Now, why did Ozpin accept him? Well, that will be covered in his own character post. I think this is plenty long enough and I think I will do something different before I get back to these Rewrite post. I hope like this one more than the last.

See you all! And stay save in this Covid time!

#rwby rewrite #Jaune Arc #pyrrha nikos #cardin winchester #rwde #team jnpr #professor ozpin

[opossumisst]

Redemption AU Chapter 1: Fateful Encounter

finally trying to write my Troy redemption AU stuff featuring my OC Azriel heyyoooo pls be gentle its my second time writing A Thing

* dialogue in [brackets] are in Eridian “ A-Are you sure dad’s okay with us going this far, T-Ty?” Troy huffed as he tried to keep up with his sister’s pace. “Course he is! Besides, if we see anything scary, I can just carry you and we’ll run back home!” Tyreen slowed down, allowing her twin to catch up. She flexed a cheeky bicep at Troy, reassuring him that she’d be able to run while having him on her back. The DeLeon twins were out exploring the vast lands of Nekrotafeyo. By 8 years old, Tyreen had already learnt to leech the force out of small nekrobugs and plants, so they wouldn’t go hungry so easily in places they haven’t been. It was also easy to make their way back home from the trail of husked plants left behind during their explorations. “You think we’d find some Eridians today, Troy?” Tyreen pondered with a skip in her step, curious as to what they would discover during their journey on that day. “But mom said the Eridians d-disa-disp… they’re gone-” “Who cares what mom thinks! She’s...not here anymore either.” Tyreen stopped skipping. Troy glanced away, remorseful that he even brought mom up. “Let’s just… Try to see what we can find this time, yeah?” She quickly changed the subject, the chirp in her voice returning.as they continue their trek through the flora.

-- It was a rest day for one Azriel Titana Kha’va. The young Eridian princess had no lessons for the day, and was left sitting by her balcony gazing at the sky, something she found herself doing more often the older she grew. The kingdom was lovely, but quaint. Visiting the same places grew boring; she was longing to see what was outside the walls that kept everything out of the last remaining Eridian faction in Nekrotafeyo. The elders warned her of unknown dangers that loomed beyond; but all she ever saw was the beautiful turquoise auroras that painted the lavender sky that seemed to lead her to a trail she wondered where it ended, the fauna that roamed the open grasslands and the mountains shrouded by the Nekrotafeyan fog. She was living in the lap of royalty, but every day felt like the same. She wanted to experience something different. She wanted to experience the greener grass on the other side.  

Her daydreaming was interrupted by the sound of her pet Nekrobug rattling the cage. It was behaving more eratically than usual. “[Tifaya?! What is wrong with you today!]” Az exclaimed as she rushed over to the cage, but before she could reach over and secure the lock, the Nekrobug had burst out, zooming past her and out of the balcony. Az watched as her beloved pet raced into the turquoise tracks in the sky. She wasn’t going to let Tifaya just fly off like that. Thinking on her feet, she grabbed a bunch of linen from her room and tied them to form a makeshift rope, long enough for her to climb down the balcony of her room and out of the castle premises. She was young but Eridians developed much quicker physically and intellectually than their Human counterparts. Trying not to alert the guards, she snuck past the back entrances and the gates when she had the opportunity, thankful that she was still small in stature compared to the giants that the adults of her species grew up to be. The escape eventually was a success, save for accidentally knocking a pot over and causing a mess in the corridor. A clearly calculated distraction, of course. Stepping foot outside the kingdom for the first time, Az laid her eyes on the new horizon, and continued her pursuit for her winged companion. -- “I’m hungry…” Troy mumbled, placing his hand over his stomach as it grumbled. They had been walking for almost an hour and he was growing weaker without sustenance. Tyreen had only been able to leech tiny bugs; her powers weren’t strong enough to absorb bigger organisms that had resided in the jungle they’d just wandered out of. “I’ll find something soon Troy… I promise.” Tyreen quickly reassured her brother. If only they hadn’t travelled so far away from dad. She was growing a little concerned that she’d never be able to find any food and no one would come to their aid… ..Until a slightly bigger than average Nekrobug flew past the twins. A spark of determination lit in Tyreen. It was a big enough animal to provide food for both her and her brother and she was going to hunt it down. “T-Ty wait up!” Troy was struggling to catch up to his sister, who was running around in circles trying to catch the Nekrobug fluttering around her, seemingly taunting the small children for not being able to capture it. “Almost…. caught .. y-” Tyreen’s gaze was too focused in the sky where the Nekrobug was flying around to notice her surroundings. Instead of lunging at the insect she had collided into something else.

Some-one else. Az emerged from the bushes only to be pounced on by what she thought was a small animal. She instinctively swatted away, causing Tyreen to scream in retaliation. “What gives!-'' Ty yelled, but paused as she saw the figure towering in front of her. Ethereal ash grey skin with lavender bioluminescent markings coursing through her limbs in a symmetrical fashion, covered in garb that resembled the ancient humanoid statues in the ruins she and her brother had seen around the vault where they resided. Electric purple eyes that seemed to glow through choppy white hair that fell to her shoulders. Whatever this being was, she wasn’t human. Ty heard the weird alien kid mumble something in a foreign language, albeit with a disgruntled tone, followed by a low, ominous growling behind her. “T-Ty… You’re too fast-” Troy heaved as he trudged towards his twin just in time as the noise  grew closer. Az raised her finger to her lips to hush the twins. She took on a more defensive stance, ready for what was about to appear.. ...a Mantakore burrowed out of the ground behind the twins, growling viciously and reared its bladed appendages. Why weren’t they doing anything? Az stared at the twins who were slowly inching away in fear as soon as they noticed the creature, not wanting to make any sudden movements. Why weren’t they summoning weapons or trying to fight back? Impatient, she took things into her own hands. “ [GET DOWN!] '' Az roared, diverting the attention of the Mantakore towards her, and the twins confused briefly by the unfamiliarity of the words she spoke in. She charged towards the beast, pushing the twins out to safety as she digistructed a basic pole from the glowing circles of her palms -- A natural ability for Eridians was to be able to materialize objects from their hands --  swinging it at the Mantakore and swiftly evading its hits. She had never fought such a beast, but she had read enough about it from her tutors to know its weak points and attacks. Mantakores were slow and easy to avoid, or so she thought. She was too focused trying to parry its limbs; she hadn’t noticed its elongated bladed tail striking, nicking her in the arm. Az yelped in pain as she jumped back before pouncing once more in retaliation, this time aiming to strike the pole straight into the beast’s mouth as it opened it to let out a roar. The Mantakore fell to its belly, legs sprawled on the ground too weak to get back up. 

She hadn’t killed it; she wasn’t sure if she could. Mustering up the courage she hesitantly positioned the pole near it’s brain, ready to slam down and end the creature’s life- “Wait!” Tyreen interrupted her as she walked over towards the dying Mantakore. She had been at the side tending to Troy after they were both suddenly pushed aside by Az to protect them from the beast, and had suffered a pretty bad graze to his knees.

Az stood aside as Tyreen took her spot, placing her palm on top of the beast’s head, where her pole would have struck. That’s when she noticed the smaller girl’s arm; the blue markings she originally thought were a mere fur patterning of the species she assumed the twins to be  started to glow as her hand touched the surface, seemingly disintegrating the creature in front of her. She could only stand in place and stare in awe as Tyreen finished the job. Tyreen walked back to her brother, who had been sitting at the same spot, leaning against a rock. Az observed that he looked paler and thinner than her sister, and tried to follow Tyreen to him, only to be blocked off by her. Noticing the fragile state Troy was in she felt bad for shoving the two out of the way so aggressively. “Don’t. Come any closer.” Tyreen shielded Troy from Az, clearly cautious of letting a stranger near her vulnerable brother. Bending down, she grabbed his wrist and his markings started to glow as well; this time a crimson red. “[I’m sorry]” Az mumbled. Troy sat up. 

“Was that…. Eridian?” His eyes lit up. “ [We are human.]” Leda had taught him a little bit of Eridian; it was his favourite thing to learn while he was confined to his bed on his sickest days. “H….Human?” Az gasped. She knew minimal English, but she knew that was the language most Humans spoke. “Damnit.. I’m all out of energy, Troy. Sorry.” Tyreen cut their conversation, glow fading from both the twins’ arms as she stood back up, slightly dizzy from the energy transfer. It was enough to heal the scrape on Troy’s knee, but not enough to get him back up to his feet again. “Energy…I give” Az fumbled around hoping the twins could understand her, and proceeded to carefully approach Troy, assuring the twins that she wasn’t going to harm either of them. “B-but you’re injured too-” Troy pointed out at the cut on her arm, blood trailing down. However, she seemed to ignore his remark and wanted to tend to him instead. She reached out her right hand, only to be met with awkward silence. “Uh…” Troy attempted to break the tension. He was missing his right arm all the way to the shoulder, and in its place was a worn out leather bracer strapped to his chest. Az quickly corrected her gesture with slight embarrassment and instead placed cupped Troy’s only hand in both of hers; a warm sensation started flowing into Troy’s arm as Az’s markings glowed white. He felt energy surge back into him. She was a tree of life, offering her fruit to the starving animal.

#my art #my writing #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #oc:Azriel #borderlands 3 #au #redemption au #borderlands #bl3 #canon divergent au #art #writing #fanfic #alternate universe #calypso twins

[bookish-black-girl]

story trigger warnings: racism, microaggressions, underaged drinking, 

Hmm so Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry? Let’s review:

This was another read that gave me cover envy once I discovered it sometime last year! The US cover is cute, but the UK cover (and the one I bought) is PRETTY!!! Alright, now on to the bookish content and my thoughts.

Unfortunately I didn’t love this book, but I liked it enough for 4 stars and it’s a nice addition to my shelf. I’m on a mission to collect as many Black couple YA books as I can lol. 

Ugly Cry is a story of growth. It’s story of facing your fears, of finding your own strength, of not feeling “Black enough” as a Black person, and for this review I’ve decided to add select quotes and use that as a vehicle to guide this post.

A “real Black guy,” as I’ve heard it put around the halls of our predominantly white private school, which makes me wonder about the authenticity of my own Blackness. I’ve never heard anyone call me a “real Black girl.” In fact, I’ve only ever heard the opposite. I bet he never has to deal with white people telling Black jokes around him. Must be nice.

I never attended a private school, but I did participate in the IB program in middle and high school, and within that bubble it was a trip to see my Asian and white classmates seem to be all in, up, and about Black culture (mostly music and entertainment) and there was I who felt like an actual fraud. I wasn’t listening to the newsest rap album nor was I plugged in to the current updating shows on B.E.T. And I laughed it off. Or just withdrew into my group of friends. I wasn’t shy y’all, but I was anxious as heck and I know there are things I should have put my foot down on but...didn’t. (I.e. the n-word)

The anti-Blackness is real, and like Quinn, you hear the bullshit for a long time and let it slide, but you never stop feeling uncomfortable and you don’t say anything in the present because you never put your foot down in the past. 

I stand close to Carter because, if I’m being honest, I am scared. It feels like they can see the other in me.

and 

REASONS I WISH WE’D BEEN FRIENDS SOONER Maybe then I would feel more welcome in Black spaces. Hanging with Olivia makes me feel okay to show the parts of me that are rooted in my Blackness. Like, for once, I’m not trying to come out of my skin. Like an entire hemisphere of Quinn Jackson comes alive, and I never even knew that side of me existed.

This is a jumping point off of my previous point, but takes a left instead. While I was reading this, at the time I was trying to pull my memories of growing up and laying them side by side with Quinn’s experience, and this may be more of a “me” experience, but this [tik tok video link] came to mind. 

Long story shot, Quinn doesn’t really experience any trauma from her own community (from what’s revealed in the story) but I do know that a lot of times I didn’t feel comfortable being around Black people as a Black person because I was afraid I wouldn’t measure up. I was already getting some side eye from close family members, me and my brother both, and it’s something that makes me skittish to this day whenever I find myself in a group of Black people who are my age. It’s weird, and I’ve gone on a tangent, but it’s something I’m working on, and while Ugly Cry didn’t go in that direction, I wonder if there are any (current) books that do.

“Anyway, I need more Black people in my life. I didn’t realize, until now, how important that is. There’s something about having Black friends that makes you feel . . . whole.” I close my mouth, whole ringing in my ears. I know exactly what he means. Having Olivia and Carter in my life, even for such a short period of time, has been life changing. I’ve had conversations and experiences with them that I could have never had with Matt, and especially not Destany.

Which brings me to...a reason why this wasn’t a full 5 stars. I can’t figure out how I feel about Quinn’s dad and his deal. At first, what I projected on Quinn made me go “mmmm, what if it’s her dad who actually went through this?” However, the support from the text was insufficient in supporting this SO I still am unable to piece out how I feel about him and his relationship to the story, other than to add addition external conflict for Quinn and her journey. 

I’m about to face the biggest bully at Hayworth. I look at Olivia, the septum piercing in her nose like a crown above her lips, her chocolate-brown eyes caked in black liner, long and skinny braids in a high ponytail. But I’m with the biggest badass at Hayworth, the girl who’s actually beaten boys’ asses. I nod. I’m ready.

OLIVA!!! (and)

“Bitch.” Livvy spits the word. The sound is so rich, it sounds like a slap, like palm colliding with cheek. They both recoil.

It’s comical how fast she went from ‘just a character’ to ‘GOD I LOVE THIS GIRL SHE IS THE BEST!’. Olivia had every right to steer clear from Quinn once she was told how Quinn added in her smear campaign with her photography, but she doesn’t. She’s an amazing friend to Quinn, is her hype-woman, and a solid character on her own. 

Final thoughts? I appreciated Carter’s character (the love interest) and adored his relationship with Olivia and his younger sister. It’s his (previously unknown to the reader) crush on Quinn, and his quest to help her cross things off her list and find her blackmailer that lends this entire story to be the perfect adaptation for a Netflix or theater release movie. 

The subject of dealing with a family member with alzheimer's is a plot B/C type deal, but also informs and colors Quinn’s world. All in all, it was a fun, quick read. 

#blaire reads excuse me while I ugly cry #bookish talks #joya goffney #spoilers #long post #excuse me while I ugly cry #I think this might be how I do my reviews on here moving forward??

[hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis]

Caught In Between 11. Windy City

Summary: Athena Dumont has finally found a place to call home after many years of foster homes and traveling. She had finally tamed her supernatural side and just wanted to live a normal teenage life. She quickly discovers that there is nothing normal about her hometown, Mystic Falls and gets sucked right back into the supernatural world.

Post Date: 07.07.20

Word count: 3k

Based off: 03x03 “The End of the Affair

Masterlist

After the event in Tennesse, Klaus had one of his little minions pick us up in a black SUV. We spent the next few days driving to Chicago for some unknown reason to me, “Welcome back to Chicago, Stefan.” Klaus says as we pull into a warehouse of some sort. 

I follow Klaus and Stefan out of the SUV once we’ve parked, “Why are we in Chicago?” I asked confused

“I know how much you loved it here, Stefan. Bringing back memories of the good old ripper days. As for you love, I thought you’d love to see the city.” Klaus says opening a door to reveal a semi-truck backing up. I didn’t respond to Klaus’ explanation considering I was still pissed about what happened in Tennesse.

“Blocked out most of them. A lot of blood, a lot of partying. The details are all a blur.” Stefan responds.

“Well, that is a crying shame. The details are what makes it Legend.” Klaus says back as I stand behind the two shaking my head before sitting on the ground.

Klaus starts to tell a short story before cutting himself off, “Chicago was magical.” 

“Yeh, well, I’ll take your word for it. Like I said, I don’t remember most of it.” Stefan responds before moving away from the door.

“Down to business, then?” Klaus asks as Stefan is clearly not interested in the story.

“Why am I still with you? We had our fun, your hybrids failed. I mean, don’t you want to move on?” Stefan asks.

“Same. I don’t understand why I’m still here,” I say getting up from the ground.

“We’re going to see my favorite witch. If anyone can help us with our hybrid problem, it’s her.” Klaus says getting ready to get back in the SUV.

“Our?” I ask. 

“Yes, we’re all involved in this. Together.” Klaus responds as Stefan and I get back in the SUV as well.

W arrive at our next destination, a building of some sort, “Come on love.” Klaus puts his hand out to help me out of the car.

“Do I have to come?” I ask not budging from my seat. He doesn’t speak a word but instead just giving me a look of, “yes you have to.” 

I reluctantly move from my seat in the car but help myself out. We walk into the building into what looks like a bar, “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” Klaus asks Stefan.

“I can’t believe this place is still here,” Stefan responds looking around.

“You got to be kidding me,” Some woman says from the other side of the room.

“So a hybrid walks into a bar, says to the bartender--” Klaus starts.

“Stop. You may be invincible, but that doesn’t make you funny. I remember you.” The woman interrupted Klaus and started walking towards us.

“Yeah. You’re Gloria.” Stefan states as she hums in agreement. “Shouldn’t you be…”

“Old and dead? Now if I die, Who’s going to run this place, huh?” She interrupts once more.

“Gloria’s a very powerful witch,” Klaus whispers slightly over to Stefan.

“I can slow the aging down some. Herbs and spells. But don’t worry, it’ll catch up to me one day.” Gloria explains.

“Stefan, why don’t you go and fix us up a little something from behind the bar.” Klaus turns to Stefan, who reluctantly agrees.

“You look ravishing by the way.” I roll my eyes at Klaus’ comment.

“Don’t. I know why you’re here. A hybrid out to make more hybrids? That kind of news travels.” Gloria quickly responds as they sit at a table.

“Athena, sit with us.” He pulls a chair out and I sit down. “So what am I doing wrong? I broke the curse.” Klaus asks.

“Obviously you did something wrong. Look, every spell has a loophole, but a curse that old...we’d have to contact the witch who created it.” Gloria explains.

“Well, that would be the Original witch. She’s very dead,” Klaus says as I look at him confused, having never heard of her.

“I know. And for me to contact her, I’ll need help. Bring me, Rebekah.” Gloria states.

“Rebekah. Rebekah is a bit preoccupied.” Klaus responds.

“She has what I need. Bring her to me.” Gloria demands once more.

“What is this?” Stefan interrupts. We look over to see him holding a photo.

“Well, I told you, Stefan. Chicago’s a magical place.” Klaus says getting up from his seat.

“But this is me. With you.” Stefan takes another look at the photo before holding it up to reveal an old photo of the two looking like best buds. We then leave the bar as we arrive back to the warehouse, Stefan bombards Klaus with questions about the 1920s. But Klaus only responds with vague answers. Until Stefan demands the answers, grabbing at Klaus’ arm. He reluctantly explains how they met each other.

“Your sister. So I knew another original vampire.” Stefan says repeating after Klaus.

“If you can’t handle it. Then don’t ask.” Klaus responds before walking over to one of the coffins. I stay slightly behind staying with Stefan as Klaus opens the lid. I slowly make my way with Stefan to Klaus and the coffin, to find a daggered and desiccated blonde girl.

“I don’t recognize her.” Stefan states.

“Well, don’t tell her that. Rebekah’s temper is worse than mine.” Klaus says quietly before pulling the dagger out of her chest. “Time to wake up, little sister.” He says looking at her. We stand there waiting a few minutes for her to wake up.

“Any day now, Rebekah. She��s being dramatic.” Klaus says standing over her body and I just sit and wait on the floor.

“Look, why don’t you just tell me what the hell is going on? I mean you obviously want me here for a reason, right?” Stefan questions.

“Well, you have many useful talents,” Klaus states not taking his eyes off his little sister.

“Do I?” Stefan says quietly.

“In fact, I learned some of my favorite tricks from you.”Klaus turns towards Stefan. 

Klaus begins to explain how much he adored ripper Stefan’s tactics, “I was your number one fan.” Klaus states as he leads us down a hallway or more like aisle.

“Why should I believe any of this?” Stefan asks as we find our way to a security guard.

“When she wakes up. Tell her to meet us at Gloria’s bar. Then volunteer your carotid artery and let her feed until you die.” Klaus compels the guard and walks off.

“Where are you going?” I ask as Stefan and I follow him.

“You think I’m lying to you, Stefan. You and I knew each other. You trusted me with one of your secrets and now I’m gonna prove it to you.” Klaus states.

“How?” Stefan questions back.

“We’re going to your old apartment,” Klaus responds.

“Do I have to come along? Can’t I just stay here? It’s not like I can go home.” I say stopping the boys in their tracks.

“I need you in my sights at all times. I can’t lose you again.” Klaus says before I drag myself along.

We hop into a car and start to drive to an old apartment complex. We make our way up to some stairs and to an old door, “What a charming little homestead.”

Klaus swings the door open, “Do you feel that? Is anybody here?” Klaus questions Stefan.

“It’s been vacant for decades. People must break in all the time. Why’d you bring me here?” Stefan responds.

“Your friend, Liam Grant, the one who drank his wife’s blood-- I never could figure out why you wanted his name. And then you told me your little secret. It was all part of your special little ritual.” Klaus explains.

“To write it down,” Stefan says under his breath.

“And relive the kill… over and over again.” Klaus finishes before opening the cupboard behind him. “You believe me now?” He refers to Stefan questioning him. Stefan approaches the cupboard as I just stay back not wanting to intrude. I follow behind Stefan to look at what they were both talking about. I’m greeted with a wall of names as well as an Elena Gilbert hiding out.

“Look what I found.” Stefan states. I freeze hoping he wasn’t about to give her up. Stefan then turns around with a bottle in hand as Klaus approached us. I sigh heavily, relieved he didn’t give her up.

“1918,” Klaus says looking at the bottle.

“Single malt.”

“My favorite. Let’s go and find someone to pair it with.” Klaus responds taking the bottle from Stefan’s hands. I back away from the cupboard as Stefan leaves Elena and closes it. We make our way back to a now open, Gloria’s bar. 

We make our way to Gloria as she serves Klaus and Stefan some beer, “Where’s Rebekah?” She questions.

“She’ll be here. I can’t just conjure her on demand.” Klaus responds as Gloria just walks away.

“You know what are you gonna do if she doesn’t show, Klaus?” I inject.

“She’ll show,” Klaus says turning towards me before taking a sip of his beer. “What’s with you? I thought Chicago was your playground.” Klaus says to Stefan.

“So this is why you asked me to be your wingman? Because you liked the way that I tortured innocent people?” Stefan questions.

“Well, that’s certainly half of it,” Klaus responds.

“What’s the other half?” Stefan asks quickly after.

“The other half, Stefan, is that you used to want to be my wingman,” Klaus says pouring a shot for Stefan and sliding it to him. “To friendship.” Klaus raises his shot glass. They clink the glasses together and down the alcohol.

Stefan continues to ask Klaus about their past friendship as that drank, “So I’m confused. If we were such great friends, then why do I only know you and the hybrid dick who sacrificed my girlfriend on an altar of fire? Huh?” 

“All good things must come to an end.” Is all Klaus said.

“Like us?” I say as Klaus turns his attention to me.

“Oh, we never ended sweetheart,” He responds.

“As far as I know we did,” I respond sternly.

“As far as I know, you left. We never ended anything.” He stares into my eyes. I couldn’t come up with anything to say back so I just looked down to the floor. “So, you agree?” He asks in his pippy voice again.

“Were not a thing. You’re nothing to me.” I say coldly.

“Sweetheart, you don’t mean that.” Klaus pulls his hand to my cheek. But I slam it down to the bar before it reaches my face. Clearly getting some stares from people around us.

“You’re nothing,” I say letting his hand go.

“Trouble in paradise it seems,” Stefan tries to stop the awkwardness of him being present.

“Anyways, what I was saying was that we had to leave quickly and I told you to forget us,” Klaus clearly changing topics back to their friendship.

“You compelled me to forget.” Stefan states.

“It was time for Rebekah and I to move on. Better to have a clean slate.” Klaus responds with sadness in his voice.

“But why? You shouldn’t have to cover your tracks...unless you’re running from someone.” Stefan says trying to figure out Klaus’ reasons.

“Storytime’s over,” Klaus responds clearly annoyed.

“I need another drink. A real one.” Stefan says taking a sip of the alcohol before walking off. Klaus just grabs a bottle from behind the bar and pours it into his glass.

 We sit in silence for a few moments before I break it, “Klaus. I’m wondering, what do you want from me? I’m clearly of no help for your situation. You’ve already killed off my family, I didn’t even help you find. Am I here so you can torture me for leaving you?” I ask.

“No. Love. You’re here because you said you made a promise to Elijah right? I’m wondering myself. Why are you so keen on wanting to leave but just as much as you are willing to keep this promise? Tell me, what is it?” Klaus asks turning his head to me.

“I’m keeping the promise because you daggered Elijah. I’m keeping it until you wake him up or I have the chance to. As much as I hate it. I won’t leave until Elijah’s back.” I respond sternly.

“You still haven’t told me the promise,” Klaus says almost teasingly.

“You really want to know? Because I guarantee you’re not gonna like it,” I say.

“Please, do tell. I’m curious.”

“The promise was that if I wasn’t able to keep you somewhat level headed, which I haven’t been. Then I can leave you and Elijah and you wouldn’t bother me either. And before you say anything, I accounted for the fact that you wouldn’t let me.” I explain. 

“Well, of course, I wouldn’t let you. We could never lose you again. Why did you leave anyways?” He questions.

“I needed a fresh start. Away from all of this, which clearly didn’t work. But if I hadn’t left you, I wouldn’t have met the people that you’re so hellbent on destroying.” 

“Well, I can give you that fresh start.” Klaus offers.

“A fresh start with you? That’d never happen. Another reason I left is that I didn’t want to be associated with the Mikaelson name. I could never get a fresh start. It was hard enough to find somewhere, where even one vampire, werewolf or witch, didn’t know me by association with you and Elijah. 

“At least you know, no one would ever mess with you?” Klaus states before I notice Damon sit next to Klaus. “I see they’ve opened the doors to the riff-raff now,” Klaus says to Damons but staring straight ahead of himself.

“Oh, honey. I’ve been called worse.” Damon responds as they both let out a small chuckle.

“You don’t give up, Do you?” Klaus asks.

“Bring me my brother back...my girl…” Damon starts.

“Umm, I’m not your girl. I’m neither of yours,” I interrupt quickly.

“You’ll never have to see me again,” Damon finishes disregarding my comment.

“Well, I am torn. You see, Athena is my girl, she’s staying with me. And I promised Stefan I wouldn’t let you die, but how many freebies did I really sign up for? And clearly you want to die. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here, so..” Klaus trails off.

“What can I say? I’m a thrill-seeker.” Damon responds and I eye him confused. Klaus just smiles before quickly grabbing Damon’s throat. He starts to lift Damon off the ground.

“I’m a little boozy. So you’ll forgive me if I miss your heart the first few tries.” Klaus says before stabbing a paper umbrella into Damon’s abdomen.

“You want a partner in crime? Forget Stefan. I’m so much more fun.” Damon says trying to take Stefan’s spot. Klaus throws Damon across the room onto a table breaking it.

He pulls a leg off a chair, “You won’t be any fun after your dead.” Klaus prepares to stake Damon.

“Klaus, don’t!” I yell before the stake catches fire. I look over to see that Gloria was the one who set it.

“Really?” Klaus asks trowing the stake away from him.

“Not in my bar. You take it outside.” Gloria demands pointing to the door.

“You don’t have to negotiate your brother’s freedom. When I’m done with him, he won’t want to go back.” Klaus says before taking his hand off Damon’s chest.

“Come on, love, we’re leaving,” Klaus aggressively grabs me by the arm and pulls me away.

As much as I hated it, I had to go with him. I look down at Damon and mouth ‘I’m sorry’ before allowing Klaus to pull me away. We make our way back to the warehouse. We make our way to Rebekah’s coffin, only to find its empty. Meaning she’s up.

“Rebekah...It’s your big brother. COme out, come out. Wherever you are.” Klaus taunts. The blonde then speeds over and pushes him to the shelving and daggers his chest. I stand there hoping that  I didn’t have to interfere.

“Go to hell, Nik!” She says through her gritted teeth. She backs away but instead of him desiccating, he just pulls it out and drops it to the floor.

“Don’t pout. You knew it wouldn’t kill me.” Klaus says.

“No, but I was hoping it would hurt more.” She responds walking away.

“I understand that you’re upset with me, Rebekah...so I’m going to let that go. Just this once. Brought you a little peace offering.” Klaus follows her pulling me along.

“I guess she’ll do.” She says looking at me.

“No, not her. You can come in.” Klaus tells her and Stefan walks out from behind the wall.

“Stefan?” Rebekah says with a smile on her face.  Klaus walks up to Stefan and compels him to remember their time as great friends.

“Rebekah,” Stefan says and makes his way to her.

“Stefan…” Klaus says to catch Stefan’s attention.

“I remember you. We were friends.” Stefan says under his breath.

“We are friends,” Klasu says to Stefan. “And now the reason you’re here. Gloria tells me you know how to contact the original witch,” Klaus tells his little sister.

“The original witch,” Rebekah says disbelievingly.

“What do you have that Gloria needs?” Klaus asks. 

She feels her chest but her expression falls as she looks down, “Where’s my necklace? What did you do with it? I never take it off!” Rebekah asks starting to get mad.

“I don’t know. I didn’t touch it.” Klaus tells her.

“We need to find it, Nik. Now, I want it back!” Rebekah demands.

“Tell me that’s not what she needs, Rebekah!”Klaus says getting mad and grabbing Rebekah by her shoulders. She pushes him off and starts to rustle through the coffin. She slams the coffin shut and flips it over out of rage that her necklace isn’t anywhere to be found.

A/N: So honestly I feel like this part isn’t great. I really don’t know what to do with it so it’s just a filler. I hope you enjoy it!

Taglist: @tristanacarry | @commentaryfanfic | @april-14-blog​ | @simonsbluee (for some reason it won’t let me tag)

#the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries rewrite #the vampire diaries series #the vampire diaries x reader #the originals #the originals imagine #the originals rewrite #the originals series #the originals x reader #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson x reader #Stefan Salvatore #elena gilbert #damon salvatore #TVDCIB

[truetgirl]

A bard girl... Angelic... I made the model while screwing around and then went to make a backstory. Figured it’d be a little nothing. I’m putting it under the cut because some unknown thing in me hijacked my fingers and this came out.

It is an exceedingly odd way to grow up, being the child of courtiers to a regional noble. You aren't really noble yourself, but you certainly don't feel you have much in common with regular commoners, so your social circle, especially as a child, is very limited indeed. It would be odd enough if you'd turned out to be a normal human, let alone if you had a priest declare after your birth that you were a gift from the gods themselves. Let alone if your parents then used that auspicious omen to climb at court. My parents, advisors as they then became to our gracious patron, never had much time to spend with me. I spent many, many hours huddled in my room or in a private corner of the library, reading and fantasizing about a life of excitement and what friendship must be like.

Eventually, I took to writing. It was a natural step once I started to run out of books in the library. I wrote simply for fun at first, poetry mostly. But, as I practiced and refined my craft, I started to wonder if maybe, one day, I could tell stories like the ones that had kept me company for so many years. I began to seek an audience, to see what others would think of my work. It took some months, not being very well practiced at the time in talking to other people and having gained something a reputation around court as the strange, cloistered girl that was apparently some divine gift, but eventually I found a few other young ladies of the court to hear my first tale. It wasn't a groundbreaking story by any means, a tale of knightly valor and the slaying of beasts, but it was, to my delight, a crowd-pleaser.

Over the next few years, as I grew into a "proper" young lady at court and honed my skills of storytelling for an ever expanding audience, I attracted all kinds of attention. My parents finally seemed to have some time for me, I made friends among the various ladies in waiting to the higher nobility, I took up work in an official capacity as a chronicler by day and entertainer in the evenings, and it seemed I had even attracted the attention of the young heir to the house, a boy about my age by the name of Lanno.

I was uneasy with  Lanno's advances at first. I'd never received attention of that variety, and wasn't sure what to think or feel. When my mother found out about the boy's interest, she began to "encourage" me to at least act as though I reciprocated. My mother, ever the political climber, clearly saw the opportunity for our family to marry into nobility. Most of my friends were no help either, seeming utterly confused that I would be unsure about the advances of a promising and handsome young scion such as Lanno. Only my best friend, Trisha, seemed sympathetic to my uncertainty.

Trisha had been a companion even in my early, cloistered days in the library. Her father, being the court wizard, had encouraged her from an early age to pursue learning in any way she could. As such, we often ended up in the library together. We almost never spoke to one another until we were in our early teens. When we did start talking, it was because we'd both eaten through our usual sections of the library and wanted advice on good starting points in the others. Through her I gained an appreciation for history, and through me she learned the appeal of tales of chivalry and romance.

We'd grown closer since I began making strides at court and she'd begun officially apprenticing under her father in the arcane arts. We found solace in one another, an understanding we didn't seem to get elsewhere. And, much as when we were children, we shared our love of learning; but this time as teachers rather than readers. I taught her about the crafting of stories and the structure of poetry, and in return she taught me the fundamentals of magic her father had taught to her. Soon I found that by concentrating as she had showed I could make objects blaze with supernatural light. Trisha was shocked, as the small spell she had shown me could do many things, but it couldn't do that. After several theories, Trisha remembered that supposed omen of divine favor when I was born, and hearing her say it I believed for the first time that it may be true.

I asked Trisha what she thought I ought to do about Lanno's advances. She was unusually evasive when I asked directly, trying to avoid the conversation and talk of other things, refusing to meet my gaze, and seeming very nervous. When I insisted that I needed advice she answered, in the coldest tone she had ever used with me, that it would certainly be a fine way to advance me standing. She avoided me for about a week after that, and I couldn't understand why.

In any event, with seemingly nobody telling me I shouldn't reciprocate Lanno's advances and so many pushing me to do exactly that, I began to spend time with him. We ate meals together, he attended my performances, we would take walks of the grounds together, and all manner of other things.

This went on for a few months, and during that time Trisha did not speak to me at all. I wondered what I had done wrong, but I never had long to myself to think on it at that point, now that I was getting properly involved in court politics through Lanno. Soon enough, his parents and mine made official arrangements for us to be married. We never really fell in love the way I'd seen so many times in stories when i was young, but I just assumed that was because the real world wasn't so pleasant as those stories.

After nearly a year of my marriage with Lanno, things went wrong. At a state dinner it was mentioned to the visiting dignitaries that I had been declared a blessed child the day I was born. One of these visitors took the statement very seriously, and demanded proof. Panicked, I produced light like I'd learned when Trisha taught me about magic, but that was not enough. The visitor, some kind of holy knight apparently, insisted that any two-bit mage could do that. With no other way to prove anything and not even fully convinced I had anything real to prove, I fled the room in shame and fear of the man's anger.

Lanno came to find me in our room after dinner. He asked why I was so distraught, and I explained how I had never really believed I could be some heaven-sent gift. He was dismayed, so I tried to make him understand, and after several minutes of increasingly heated discussion he blurted out that I had better be what the priests said or this whole marriage was a waste. I pressed him on that, and painstakingly extracted an explanation from him about how he had only courted me because he and his parents believed divine blood would strengthen their family line. He also told me that most of the other courtiers only humored me and my performances because they had assumed earlier I was likely to be the next lady of the house and now knew for sure. Feeling a pain in my chest I'd never known before, tears pouring down my face, I ran. I ran from my own room with no idea where I was going until I arrived at Trisha's chambers.

Trisha looked at first glance as though she intended to turn me away as she had for the last year, but her face softened instantly when she saw the state of me. She quickly ushered me in and sat me down. She brought me some tea and, once I had control of my voice again and could hold back the tears, I explained what had happened. Once I had finished we sat in silence for a long moment, and then she leaned across the low table and kissed me. She was gentle, calming, and the contact with her made my heart leap for joy. All at once I finally understood that love like it was in the stories did exist, I had just been in the wrong place for it.

When we, much to my disappointment, pulled apart, she leaned her forehead against mine and confessed that she had been in love with me since she was old enough to really understand what love was. That she loved my stories and my poems and my fierce love of learning and my laugh and my eyes... That she hadn't been able to stand seeing me with Lanno, no matter how good for my future it would surely be. I could hardly think, but I felt myself say that I loved her too, and then leaned in for another kiss, drawing her into an embrace.

For a few perfect moments we sat there in each other's arms, but the moment was shattered as Lanno opened the door and found us there. Believing that I had been putting on a show to break things off in favor of Trisha, he called for guards to seize us both. We were accused of carrying on an affair, and while Trisha's father managed to use his considerable position as the court wizard to save Trisha, my position and that of my parents was greatly diminished, and they could not save me from being banished from court.

My marriage dissolved, life in tatters, and my best friend... Possibly the love of my life? Now out of reach, I set off. I've wandered ever since, performing stories for coin anywhere that would take me and discovering new ways to leverage the tiny bits of magic Trisha showed me via my creative flow. I have no idea where I'm going with this life now, and I cannot imagine it will ever be fulfilling without her...

PERSONALITY TRAITS

I always want to know how things work and what makes people tick.

I’m full of witty aphorisms and have a proverb for every occasion.

I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. I can’t help it—I’m a perfectionist.

IDEALS

Generosity. My talents were given to me so that I could use them to benefit the world.

Aspiration. I work hard to be the best there is at my craft.

BONDS

The world is full to bursting with history and stories. If I can contribute to that great canon, then my life was worth something.

One day, somehow, I have to see her again.

FLAWS

I suffer from great anxiety both about my work and because I believe nobody could possibly respect me.

I'm good at appearing sociable but don't really understand the finer details of how it works.

#dnd #d&d #dungeons & dragons #Dungeons and Dragons #kelly things

[mochirimi]

A Single Word [Gloria x Hop]

Feb 11 | Day Three: Sudden/Slow Realization

It happened unexpectedly, long before she could give it a name. 

Read Here at A03

Like the first rain of the season, Gloria fell slowly through every experience and touch, and then all at once, a downpour. When she finally gives it a name, calls it love, admits to herself that she’s been in love with her best friend for far longer than she’d like to admit, she can’t breathe.  And when she finally decides to say the words aloud, to allow herself to say the words, give them voice and presence in the physical world, she can’t hear a single one. 

In retrospect, if she had to blame anything, anyone, for the way she is shot out of the sky, reduced to this vulnerable state, she’d blame everything on those damn glasses. 

The tradition began unexpectedly as she picked up the ropes of her new role as Galar’s reigning champion queen. Between this photoshoot, that commercial, and each exhibition match, Gloria’s hands grew heavy with the duties and responsibilities befitting her position; there was hardly any time to play, to explore the world she’d yet to discover. 

Running off to see Hop was her one reprieve in the little hours she had to spare. Sitting at the lab as he worked, she listened to his latest research discoveries, spin yarns while the pokemon rest and wander freely around the lab. Those were the moments she could let her guard down, put her attention into something effortless-- time with him. 

It’s in those moments she could be herself, joke and jab and observe the world around her without the world's eyes on her. She could be Gloria, she could be a Postwick kid once again. 

But the little moments, the little ways they spent just ounces of free time together changed slowly, gradually before Gloria could even understand the shift, the difference. It was in the way the sun hit him on the good days, how it illuminated the determination, the excitement, and the things that made Hop, Hop in the best light. It was in the smallest, intimate movements, the way his hands could get Zamenta and Zacian to wag their tails with just the smallest chin scratch, the way he taps his pen in thought in an uncoordinated beat. 

It was in these small unconscious moments that her brown eyes lingered on him just moments longer, taking him in. It was in these moments she was reminded that they weren’t Postwick kids anymore. They’d grown up.

The feeling built up like storm clouds across a clear blue sky. And she no longer knew how to act.

The tradition began unexpectedly, a habit of taking care of her friend without his request, without him needing to know. In the times she arrived in Postwick later than promised to meet him, she’d find him asleep, glasses on and askew as Zacian mirrors his master and companion in slumber. The image used to make her laugh under her breath as she’d take them off, leaving him to rest after a full day of work and research. 

But then.

“Glo?” Inches from her face, Hop’s eyes flutter open, his amber eyes still framed in sleep and dreams. 

And she is frozen. His spectacles fixed in her hands, color rising to her warm cheeks. What can she say? What excuse can she come up with?

“I…” The words don’t come. 

A slow grin spreads across his face, as he rubs his eyes, running a hand through his hair, slapping the color back into his cheeks. His arms begin to rise in an upward stretch, and Gloria finds her legs again, quickly stepping back, his glasses behind her back.

“I was wondering who’s been removing my glasses when I sleep.” He yawns, and she looks away. “I mean I thought that maybe it was Zacian, or you know, Sonia because she actually has hands, but you know, this kind of makes sense.” 

He glances at her and she can feel his eyes on her as she walks around the lab space. The words come easier now that she isn’t looking directly at him. “Yeah, you know. I figured it’d be best to let you sleep when you can. You’re always running around, after all.” She shrugs.

Her eyes wander across the books on the shelf. Butterfree flutter in a chaotic dance in the pit of her stomach as her body attunes to his movements, the pushback of his chair from the desk, the rollaway and the liftoff as he stands, and the five steps it takes for Hop to end him right. Behind. Her. 

She forgets to breathe. 

The grip on his glasses tight as his hands wraps around her own. 

“This is actually great timing. I was hoping we’d get some alone time tonight; I want to show you something.” 

His words, his touch, causing her to let the glasses go into his awaiting hands. And he chuckles, catching the spectacles in his hands. “Woah, I need these to see, ya know.”

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “it slipped.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him place the glasses back on his face, glancing at the time on his watch before tugging at her hand, leading her towards the large glass window. Tripping over her own feet, Gloria stumbles to the window with him, his eyes trained on the view outside, her eyes trained on him. 

The sky is lit by the country night stars outside and the biggest moon no city’s could compare. And across the night sky the Butterfree of Postwick dance, waltzing across the night sky in pairs. 

“It’s their time, you know.” He glances down at her. “To court one the one they fancy.”

Gloria looks away towards the view, watching the Butterfree meet and part on the sway of a breeze, waltzing to some unknown rhythm. 

And the words come. The feeling that’s been building up inside her like rain clouds pour, the word for this feeling pounding against her temple. 

Love.

Love.

Love.

And all at once Gloria has never felt the need to stay and run away all at once. Because it’s clear. Gloria loves him. She loves Hop. 

#postwickshipping #Postwickshipping Week #Hopyu #Day Three #Trainer Gloria #Rival Hop #Love realization #Pokemon #pokemon shield #pokemon sword #My Fan Fiction

[primasveraas-writing]

to deepen the deepest love of all

Request: “You asked for prompt so here it is. So, Poe being so shy and nervous to ask finn to marry him. Overall just awkward proposal. Or it could be the other way around.” -@ririsasy

This is different from my usual writing… very very tender. I’m so soft for these boys.

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1271

XXX

Poe, for the life of him, couldn't remember when he had made his decision.

It wasn’t love at first sight, of course, Finn leading him by the arm, concealed by that awful stormtrooper helmet. Nor was it love when he revealed his face, but there was a spark of something then, of hope, of affection. Fleeting at first, but distinguishably there, especially when they successfully escaped, when he gave Finn his name and the spark ignited into a raging fire.

It could have been love at second sight, when they reunited, both amazed that the other had survived. Poe couldn’t remember the exact moment he fell in love with Finn, much less when he decided that he would marry him, but this choice had nonetheless evolved into a defining fact of his existence. 

He shifted in bed, inching closer to the other man. Finn’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep, blissful. Leaning forward, Poe pressed his lips against his forehead, overwhelmed. During the war with the First Order, he rose before Finn to start his duties, but he would watch Finn for a few stolen moments, just to see him at peace before getting out of bed and starting his long, difficult days.

Disturbed by the motion beside him, Finn began to stir. Poe kicked himself mentally; he wanted to let Finn sleep for as long as possible, not to mention his own ulterior motives in needing alone time to plan. Still, Finn blinked slowly, eyes waking in the darkened room. His gaze settled on Poe, smiling sleepily.

“You’ve been up?” He asked, slinging his arm across Poe’s torso to draw him even closer. Sleeplessness was a familiar pattern for them, haunted by battles and endless conflict, but their greatest comfort was each other. Their faces were inches apart, and Poe smiled despite himself. 

“Yeah…” Voice just above a whisper, Poe closed the space between them, kissing Finn gently. “You should go back to sleep.”

“No, I’m up.” Finn grinned, propping himself up on his arm, hovering above his boyfriend. He grinned widely, basking in his presence before dipping down to kiss Poe again. Poe arched up, pressing close against him, entirely lost in Finn’s presence before his mind returned, unbidden, to his earlier thoughts.

Poe broke away abruptly, falling back against his pillow. Finn frowned, Poe avoiding his eyes as Finn’s hand cupped his cheek. 

“Are you okay?”

Nodding halfheartedly, Poe attempted a smile and rolled out of bed. “I’m good.” 

A skeptical eyebrow was raised. Silence dominated as Poe began to dress, until Finn finally spoke. 

“When are you gonna tell me what’s bothering you?”

Poe stopped, half-naked, and crossed the room to Finn, now sitting up fully in bed. “Soon. I promise.” He punctuated his words with a kiss, and for then, that was enough.

xxx

Poe had carried the ring with him for years. Finn knew about it, had asked about its significance the first time they spent the night together. Although he had seen it before, peeking through Poe’s shirt on its chain, the question went unsaid until a calm moment could be found. His mother’s ring, meant for the person he would one day marry. Poe had explained all this, feeling heat on his cheeks, and looked at Finn to see a similar expression echoed on his face. They both hardly dared to acknowledge any hope of a life together after the war, for the day-by-day struggle just to survive, but Poe was willing to say that if it would be anyone, his future husband would be Finn.

The topic of their future had been breached several times, especially after the First Order was defeated, and Poe had never doubted his feelings would change. Now that they were at peace, the time seemed right to act on them.

“You planning on following up on that promise?” Finn asked from beside him. Poe chuckled, flushing already. 

He had picked today to propose, and taken Finn to one of their favorite places on the planet, a quiet, unknown bluff overlooking a valley. When they settled down, Rey included in their small family, they had sought out someplace tranquil and green. They still had responsibilities in trying to stomp out the remnants of evil across the galaxy, but they had discovered at last the luxury of escaping to home.

Now, he wondered if it was enough. Today was ordinary, of no significance to either of them. He had nothing grand planned, barely even a speech, just the ring in his pocket and the love in his heart. 

His heart, incidentally, was pounding in his chest. Because of his background, no one ever showed anything close to affection for Finn before he joined the Resistance. A grand gesture may have been more appreciated, a bigger contrast to his days as a stormtrooper. Poe considered abandoning his plans entirely, to rethink it all, but realized that Finn was still waiting for an answer.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Poe inhaled deeply, daring eye contact for less than a second. Sensing his worry, Finn took his hand, ignoring that it was slick with sweat.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I know.” Another deep breath. “Can I ask you anything?”

“Of course.” Worry creased Finn’s brow. “What’s wrong?”

Now, Poe laughed, still nervous. “Nothing. Actually-” he began, but realized that what’s wrong, of all things, was not a good start to a proposal. “I just wanted to be with you.”

“I’m worried about you Poe. You’ve been off for weeks, I know this. Especially today-”

Poe interrupted, kissing him for lack of any other ideas. This time, Finn pulled away first, just as suddenly. “Tell me. With words.”

“Look, I- I wanted today to be nice. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask, but I have no idea if I’m doing it right. I don’t know if it would have been better if I had done something special, or- or something huge, but I just want-”

“Dameron. Just spit it out. You don’t have to worry around me, remember?”

Finally meeting Finn’s warm brown eyes, Poe nodded, finding his peace in the gaze of his beloved. He squeezed his hand, and took one last calming breath.

“I don’t know if today was the right day to do this, but I’ve been thinking. We’ve had so many days together: meeting, defeating the First Order, every time we’ve escaped against the odds. I figured that instead of picking one of those days, we’d make our own. For us.” The corners of his mouth turned up as he continued, still lost in Finn’s eyes. “I’ve known for a very, very long time how much I’ve loved you.”

Finn leaned toward him, fixed on his words, melting into his side. “I love you too.” 

He very well couldn’t turn back. Reaching into his pocket, Poe’s fingers found the ring, grasping the cool metal, and presented it to Finn. “Marry me. Make me the happiest man in the galaxy.”

The love of his life looked from the ring to Poe’s face, and back again. “This is why you’ve been anxious for so long. Really?” His expression softened from incredulous to a gentle grin, pressing his forehead against Poe’s. “I’ve never been more in love with you. I wasn’t going to say no.”

“I’m hearing yes, is that it? Y’know, to the all-important question in the air?”

“Of course. Of course, yes.” He grabbed Poe’s face in his hands, smiling against his lips, planting kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, everywhere he could reach.

“Good,” Poe said under Finn’s barrage of love, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

#finnpoe #stormpilot #poefinn #star wars #the rise of skywalker #finnpoe fanfic #stormpilot fanfic #finn x poe #star wars imagine #finnpoe imagine #star wars fanfic #stormpilot imagine #finn #poe dameron #big thanks to jj abrams for the title inspo! #nothing more satisfying than using your words to twist into gay fanfiction #their love IS deep bro #because theyre gay

[warofshadowstheorder]

Chapter 05

Bledsoe never enjoyed flying.  Growing up on a Cattle Ranch in Rory, Wyoming she was much more comfortable in a saddle than an aisle seat.  She’d never been on an airplane until she left for college.  It was a new experience, and as soon as she got back on the ground she knew that she wanted to avoid air travel whenever possible.

This particular trip was made worse by the fact that she was with Taylor the entire time.  The two of them were civil to each other on the commercial flight to Miami, primarily because Bledsoe spent most of the flight on the earbuds she brought with her.  They were at each other’s throats for most of the private flight to Guantanamo.

For every time Taylor reiterated his theory of Bledsoe being an informant to the assassin, Bledsoe gave a very well-placed and calculated verbal jab at Taylor’s ego or bandaged nose.  After Taylor used a crude term to describe her, Bledsoe let loose with a barrage of several words she had heard her cattle-rancher dad use out in the pasture.

“Real nice language for an Ivy League graduate,” Taylor replied, “did you ever go to class or did you just give your professors inside information in exchange for passing grades?”

“First off,” Bledsoe said, “I was a cattleman’s daughter long before I ever set foot on Yale.  And secondly, I learned early that one should communicate at the level of one’s audience, which forces conversation with you to the level of non-fertilizer grade manure.  Or, in words you can understand…bullshit.”

Taylor was visibly shaken by this and getting ready to offer a fierce retort when the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.

“You’ll want to fasten your seatbelts back there, we’re making our final descent.”

Taylor muttered something under his breath and buckled his seatbelt while Bledsoe sat down and did the same.  The descent went by without event.  As the plane coasted on the runway, Bledsoe looked out her window and saw a military jeep waiting on the tarmac.

Two Marines stepped out of the jeep when the plane stopped moving and stood by the entrance ramp.  Taylor and Bledsoe each put on their sunglasses, picked up their respective carryon bags, and moved to the door.

The contrast in temperatures was evident when they were met by a blast of tropical climate, an oppressive combination of heat and humidity unknown to D.C. residents, the moment they crossed the threshold between the plane and the outside.  The sun was beginning to set and twilight was upon them, but the air outside still felt like walking on the bottom of a heated swimming pool.  Inwardly, Bledsoe wondered why anyone wanted to retire to the tropics.

“Welcome to Guantanamo sir, ma’am” the first Marine said as Taylor and then Bledsoe came down, “Gunnery Sergeant Andrews and Lance Corporal Jacobi.  My dad said that you’d be coming.”

Gunnery Sergeant Michael Andrews had grown up in the Secret Service lifestyle and had nothing but respect and admiration for his father.  His father had served in the military prior to joining the Service and encouraged his son to do the same when he initially expressed interest in following in his footsteps.

He took his father’s advice and enlisted in the Marines immediately after graduating from High School.  He’d initially planned on sweating out a tour and getting some college courses completed before finishing up his Degree and joining the Secret Service.  That plan fell through when he discovered that he loved the Corps too much to leave it behind.

Consequently, several years, promotions, and deployments later he found himself at his current assignment.  His only concerns in life were accomplishing his present objective before moving on to the next ones.

“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said standing so that Bledsoe was completely blocked from view and shaking Andrews’ hand, “I imagine that you know why I’m here.”

“Affirmative Agent Taylor,” Andrews answered, “and if you would take a vest from Lance Corporal Jacobi here,” he gestured to his fellow Marine who was holding two bulletproof vests, “we’ll get moving.”

Taylor walked up to Jacobi, took a vest from him and strapped it on before climbing into the front seat of the jeep.

“You must be Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews said shaking her hand.  “My dad wanted to let you know that there will be a plane here tomorrow to take you back to the homeland.”

“Thank you Gunnery Sergeant,” Bledsoe answered earning a smile from the Gunnery Sergeant before taking the vest from Jacobi and sitting next to him in the back of the jeep.  Bledsoe was extremely upset about not being able to stay for the entire interrogation.  But, she remembered what Assistant Director Andrews had said before she and Taylor left and knew that she was fortunate to be getting to do as much as she was.  Gunnery Sergeant Andrews started up the jeep and the four of them drove off.

“What can you tell us about him?” Taylor asked after a few moments.

“Nothing,” Andrews answered, “we took his biometrics and a DNA sample when we processed him.  But he doesn’t show up anywhere on the grid.  We’ve even run his info through INTERPOL, and we still come up empty.  It’s like he doesn’t exist.”

“Have you questioned him,” Taylor asked, “please tell me that you’ve got something we can build on.”

“Some of the MPs have questioned him,” Andrews replied, “HUMINT will work on him later.  All he’s said so far is…” he paused trying to remember, “Lance Corporal Jacobi, what did he say?”

Corporal Jacobi took out a piece of paper and read the writing on it.  “He said, ‘war is declared and battle come down.’  Then later when we asked what he meant by that he responded ‘The ice age is coming with a meltdown expected, but I have no fear.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taylor asked, “Is this guy part of some terrorist organization?  Maybe eco-terrorism?”

Bledsoe, who had been mouthing what was said after “…the ice age is coming,” laughed from the backseat.  Taylor and Jacobi both turned to look at her.

“What the hell is so funny?!” blurted Taylor rudely, “is that some kind of code that you and all your assassin cohorts use?!”

Andrews and Jacobi shot confused sideways glances at the sound of Taylor’s voice.

“When you question him later,” Bledsoe answered slightly annoyed but with a hint of her earlier laugh, “ask him if he lives by the river?.”  There was a pause while all three of the men in the jeep got confused looks on their faces.  “Don’t you guys ever listen to The Clash?!”  She asked the last part in a voice that suggested a simultaneous disbelief and disgust, “That’s paraphrased from London Calling.”

“Huh,” Jacobi said, “thank you ma’am.  We’ve been trying to figure that out for hours.”

The rest of the drive passed by in silence, the embarrassment of Bledsoe’s comment and his own outburst festered within Taylor’s mind the entire way.  Taylor and Bledsoe got their visitor’s passes as they entered through the Northeast gate.  They drove near the facility and then got out of the jeep, leaving their bags inside.

“Sir, ma’am, I recommend you be quick,” Andrews said as he led them to an interrogation room after they checked their weapons, “because his lawyer is on his way down and you know once he gets here we’ll be very limited in what information we can get.”

Taylor and Bledsoe were silent as they made their way down the hallway.  Both of them were thinking of what they were going to do next, and relishing the feel of the air-conditioned building.  All the anger and frustration that Taylor was feeling since the assassination was threatening to come out, but he was keeping things in check by reminding himself that he had a job to do and needed to be focused.

Bledsoe replayed every aspect of the night Saunders was shot inside her head, completely aware that her assigned mission at the detention facility was to identify the suspect.  Having not seen either man’s entire face that night, and not having had any time to watch the news or read the papers since the assassination, all she had to go on was a pair of Prussian blue eyes, and she knew that it would be almost impossible to postively identify him based on that feature alone.

The only other traits she had to go on were views of both of them from behind dressed in black.  She had grappled up close and personal with the one they had in custody, but didn’t think that the guards would be keen with her fighting him again as a means to identify him based on his technique.

“Well,” Andrews said breaking them out of their respective trances, “there he is.”

The two agents looked through the one-way glass at the man who didn’t exist.  He wore an orange jumpsuit and was shackled by handcuffs and leg irons.  He sat calmly with his hands folded.  The people observing him didn’t know what to make of his appearance.  He didn’t have a look that suggested he was uncomfortable, or confident, or even crazy.  He just sat complacently and occasionally twiddled his thumbs or drummed his fingers.

“You can do whatever you want with him,” Andrews said, “we’ve turned off the camera and Lance Corporal Jacobi and I will be going out to the front to wait for the lawyer.”

“Is there anything else we should know about before we go in there?” Taylor asked.

“Only that we turned off the air-conditioner,” Andrews answered, “but I don’t think it’s having any effect on him.”

“I know,” Jacobi interjected in disbelief, “it’s crazy.  One time the A/C went out in our office building and we thought we’d die.  He’s been in there for more than two hours and hasn’t even shown any sign of discomfort.  Seriously, I’ve seen locals here break down under conditions like what this guy’s been through.”

“In any case,” Andrews continued, “until the lawyer gets here, he’s all yours.”

The Marines then walked back down the corridor.  Taylor and Bledsoe both looked at Odin for a few more moments before Taylor faced Bledsoe.

“You stay here.  I don’t need you interfering with my interrogation and telling your friend how to escape.”

Taylor entered the interrogation room and closed the door behind him before Bledsoe could reply.  She settled for looking through the glass at the events transpiring inside the room.

Taylor walked in and stood on the other side of the table from where the prisoner sat.  It was obvious that the man’s captors hadn’t made anything easy on him.  He was unshaven and filthy, and it didn’t take a Bloodhound to notice that he hadn’t bathed in quite some time.  The backs of his eyes were red with bags under them, and yet the expression on his face was one of confidence.  It was clear that the prisoner was in control, if only in his own mind.

Taylor paused for a moment, waiting for the prisoner to make the first move.  The bare walls in the room and the empty atmosphere were a stark contrast to the unexpressed tension in the air between Taylor and the man sitting down in front of him.

“Hey,” the prisoner said snapping his fingers and speaking in a confident voice devoid of any accent, “I recognize you from the pavilion.  Although, I have to admit it’s a little difficult with that thing over your nose.”

“Who the hell are you?” Taylor said as calmly as he could manage, “tell me that much and this little interview will go a lot better for you.”

“Okay,” the prisoner said in a hoarse whisper, “you caught me, so I guess that it’s time to fess up to everything.”

Taylor sat down and leaned forward, interested to know just who the man across from him was.

“My name is Clark Kent, and when I’m not undermining the reputation of law enforcement agencies, I’m a mild-mannered reporter for the Daily Planet.”  Raising his voice to normal levels, the prisoner quipped.  “Does that work for you?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”  Taylor answered trying to suppress the anger welling up inside him.  “If you don’t want to tell us who you are then that will become your problem soon enough.  However,” he paused briefly to ensure that he had Odin’s attention, “I would like to know how you were able to pull that off.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?” Odin asked.

“How were you…” Taylor said, pausing to regain his composure, “…able to infiltrate security, bring in what I can only imagine was a sniper rifle, literally dodge bullets, one of my colleagues tells me you and another man literally disappeared in front of her, and then there’s the matter of you fighting off around two dozen well-trained men.”

“Well,” the prisoner answered acting like he was thinking hard, “I suppose it all started back when I was fifteen and I began wondering why that cartoon bird keeps eating Cocoa Puffs when they clearly make him mentally unstable…”

“Shut up,” Taylor said with a calm but annoyed tone, “if you aren’t going to give me a straight answer then just say so.”

“I can deal with that.  But seriously, do you think that you’re going to get any real information from me?”

“It would be in your best interest,” Taylor answered.  “It would help your case and prevent your jailers from using any unpleasant means to obtain information that you’re withholding.”

The shackled prisoner started laughing after Taylor’s last statement.  Taylor stared at him with a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

“You know what’s funny?” drawled the man in the orange jumpsuit.  “You actually think that I’m stuck here, that you’ve got me locked up.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” Taylor said, “but look around.  You can’t get any more stuck than you are.”

“I actually like to break it to you,” came the confident reply, “I’m only here as long as I want to be.  I can leave anytime I want.  And there is nothing you, or anyone else, can do to prevent that.”

Bledsoe had been watching and listening to all the proceedings.  She found herself being amused by the man who was trying Taylor’s patience more than anyone she’d ever seen.  She was also paying close attention to everything she could observe about him now that he wasn’t in his tactical clothes.  As she continued to take in everything she could, she tried to remember as much as possible from the incident two nights ago.

Staring intently at Odin, but mindful of her surroundings, she could hear a few people approaching where she was standing, but kept her gaze fixed on the shackled man.

“Agent Bledsoe,” Andrews called out as he approached.  Bledsoe turned to see him and Jacobi escorting a short man with a receding hairline and a constant twitch on the left side of his face.

“How’s it going in there with your partner?” Andrews asked.

“I don’t think he’s making any real progress,” she replied honestly.  “And who are you?” she politely asked the short man.

“I’m the counsel for the accused,” he answered in a nasally voice, “and from the looks of things you’ve had enough private time with my client.”  Moving to the door, he entered the room and pulled up a chair next to his client.  Bledsoe watched him share some words with Taylor, who then left the room, leaving the accused to confer with his counsel.

As he closed the interrogation room door, Taylor vented his frustration.  “Okay Bledsoe, can you give us anything on that degenerate?”

“I can’t say whether he was the one who pulled the trigger,” she said, “but I can tell you for sure that he was the one I fought with and not the one who jumped me.”

“And how the hell can you tell that?” Taylor asked still in his frustrated tone.

“I got the feeling that the guy who jumped me was a lot quieter than he is.  And besides,” she took another good look at Odin, “his eyes aren’t the same.”

“You never mentioned that you’d seen his eyes,” Taylor said still frustrated.

“I didn’t think it was relevant at the time,” Bledsoe answered, “but the man who jumped me had Prussian blue eyes.  In any case, this isn’t him.”

“Who’s going to be prosecuting him?” Taylor asked Andrews.

“We’re still trying to figure out whose jurisdiction he falls under,” Andrews answered, “I already told you that he doesn’t show up at all on the grid.  We can’t even place where he’s from.  Our hands are tied until we can figure out some kind of jurisdiction.  We can only get away with keeping him here for so long.”

“Well,” Taylor said with his back to Bledsoe, standing between her and Andrews, “we should try to pressure him into giving us his accomplice.  At the very least we can take the death penalty off the table.”

Realizing that her part was done, Bledsoe started off down the hallway.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Corporal Jacobi called out as she walked past him while Taylor and Andrews continued their conversation, “but if you would like to rest before you head back, we can provide you with a temporary hooch.”

“That would be very nice,” Bledsoe answered.  She had been so caught up in everything that was going on and her arguments with Taylor throughout the trip down that she hadn’t noticed how exhausted she was.  She could never sleep on a plane.

“This way then ma’am,” Jacobi replied before leading Bledsoe down the corridor and outside.

The sun had set, the moon and stars now decorating the evening sky.  Jacobi took Bledsoe to the jeep and drove her to an area near the barracks.  He led her to a room near the front where a cot had been set up with a pillow and a blanket.

“I’m sorry that we can’t offer you more, ma’am,” Jacobi said, “I’m afraid this is the best we can do on short notice.”

“This is fine,” Bledsoe said as she sat down on the cot and placed her bag on the floor, “thank you.”  Jacobi nodded and excused himself, leaving Bledsoe to her new accommodations.

Bledsoe took off her shoulder holster and placed it on the floor next to her bag.  She stretched out on the cot and stared at the ceiling.  She couldn’t help thinking of the man that she could only refer to as Clark Kent and the fact that his accomplice was still out there somewhere.  It tore her apart inside to remember that she was going to have to sit it out while others searched for the accomplice and eventually prosecuted Clark Kent.  Within minutes, her exhaustion took over and she drifted into a deep sleep.

She was dreaming almost immediately after falling asleep.  She was on another assignment and patrolling her designated area. As she pacing around, she turned and saw the same eyes of the man who had jumped her from the shadows in the pavilion.  She stood facing him, not knowing what to do.

Her assailant just stood and faced her.  She stared into his eyes, the image that had been indelibly burned into her psyche since the brief moment when she had seen them.  After what seemed like an eternity, Bledsoe spoke.

“Who are you?” she asked, the dream mists blocking all sounds from her earpiece, masking all else from her surroundings.

The figure just stood where he was, immobile.  Bledsoe stared straight ahead at him, transfixed, searching to take in anything new.  Knowing his height from seeing the back of him, she endeavored to fill in the rest.

She remembered the G.I. Joe comic books her older brother Hunter collected and used the character named Snake-Eyes to construct a form for the bane of her existence.  She waited in anticipation, and then held her breath when he reached his hand forward in a motion that suggested he was about to remove whatever kind of mask he was wearing and reveal his face.

At that moment, the blaring sound of a siren piercing the night sky jarred her awake.

#novel #action-adventure #fantasy #historical fiction

[mrneighbourlove]

Evil’s Bane: Ch 10. Evil Anew

The World felt out of balance. Leere was so weak, her mind spinning back into consciousness. The first thing she felt was a stinging sensation in her wrists. Her arms were being held up by a chain, with torturous cuffs digging into her wrists to keep her hands together. She could barely have to strength to move her legs. When she did, she discovered that she could, the Mortuus woman felt a draft. Was she naked? She didn’t have her robes. They at least took her coat and shirt off. Maybe her pants were taken too. She was too numb to tell. Even moving slightly, she grimaced at the immediate pain that followed in her wrists. Blood dripped from her fingers to the floor, and Leere finally saw the pentagram that’s surrounded her. “Oh god.”

Looking around her, there were four obelisks, and straight ahead, the Destroyer himself.

"What? Going to call out to my brother now?" Destroyer was occupied finishing the text on the Obelisks for the ritual. His own claws were digging out the symbols from the stone. All this death and decay and he did not even flinch. "Go ahead. Prama's host is rather busy right now, so I highly doubt he'll come running. Though there's plenty of other deities or spirits or whatever you wish to call them to cry to as well. Makes this so much more fun." He then said, "Better yet, why not ask Tzitzmime to have mercy on you? Perhaps he'll be in a good mood today."

“What do you think you’re doing to me?” Leere sounded tired, mostly because she was, but she still had spunk in her voice.

"I'm simply preparing a feast for Tzitzmime." Destroyer answered as his tail then started to draw a line to connect the Obelisks. He walked the pentagram, making sure everything was in place. After this was finished, he could see Kaksa once more. It would be him and her for all eternity. "I have to be a good host now, don't I?"

Leere grimaced, feeling the tattoo on her back vibrate very slowly. “You want to unleash the horror in me, don’t you? Why?” She looked up bitterly into the eyes of the god. “What can you possibly gain from it?”

"I get the pleasure of seeing that snake wail at the realization of he can't save you." Destroyer had a disturbing grin creeping across his visage. "And relish in Prama's failure. The Anagari will come slithering, trying to be your 'knight in scale-covered armor', and risk exposing Prama. When the fool does, I'll be able to rip my brother from the Anagari's body." He held up his razor sharp claws. "Interesting biological component of these Drakkan. They can use the most ancient of all magic... soul magic. Transfer the very essence of a living creature. With the Anagari so weak, I will be able to use this energy I have saved for hundreds of years to end my brother."

Leere felt hope slipping away. Was this the end of her life’s journey? To fail spectacularly?

No.

Even if she was, she wasn’t going to sink into despair. She still had her grit and her spirit. And she wouldn’t die letting him have emotional satisfaction. “Too bad that as a Drakken you look like an ass. Can’t imagine you can get laid either. I mean, it would be the most logical conclusion. You could never get your claws on your precious Kaksa. So why this life too?” When Leere saw him twitch, she smiled evilly best she could. “I bet your brother fucked her good. They were lovers after all. And even as a snake, he’s still a charming lover. I should know. I bet you can’t even pronounce sex you pathetic, little man. Must be why Kaksa didn’t love you. You’re so little.”

Destroyer did not like her speaking of Balance in such a way. No mere human could understand his story. It was just the three of them for eons. She would give her love to Maker and to him equally. Though for the longest time, maybe just a year or maybe a millennium, she did not return to his side and he despaired. What did his brother have that he did not? Was it because he was of the dark? Was all darkness considered bad? No one would ever know or comprehend, even it if would be a relief to share his frustration.

"Insult me all you wish; it will not change your fate. I'm not stupid like my brother. I will not act upon emotions."

“Fool. You might not be emotional, but you are stupid if you think killing me will bring you any closer to your precious Kaksa.”

"Oh, I know it won't. Killing my brother will." Destroyer seemed so bitter towards Maker. "But killing you will be fun."

Now within range of her face, Leere spat a hunk of saliva into his eye. “How’s that for fun?”

"... I was going to start with your finger nails, though I suppose I could begin with a tongue or your eye."

Leere cracked her finger best she could with the cuffs on. “Do your worst.”

Destroyer was by no means ever merciful. He started with Leere's painted finger nails, removing them one by one. Sometimes, on purpose, he'd leave half of a nail and deem he made an error and had to take off the rest as well just to spite her. Then, he worked on her toes. Before long, all of her nails were decorating the floor. When that pain was not enough to rouse the demon from slumber, he decided to try a different type of torment. Over and over, she was made to watch the death of her loved ones.

Every nail broken off was a spurt of blood. Pain became an abundance to Leere. This commodity was fuel to four obelisks in the room, syphoning it from her. When the mental torment of her family came, and in raw creative ways, Leere wanted it to come to an end. Seeing Rinku, Zelda, Covarog, Sunny, and all the others suffer and day was agonizing. “Fuck. You!”

"Seriously, is that the best insult you can do? So often it is used, never followed up on. Not my type, for sure." Destroyer held up a large pair of rusty scissors. "I wonder how much more it will take for you to break."

“You. Can’t. Break me.” Leere was breathing heavily to keep her mind relatively sane.

"Are you sure about that?" Destroyer nearly chuckled at her defiant attitude. "You're not the first that I've tortured and won't be the last. Many of your fellow Mortuus have broken before me. I have pulled horrors that you have never even fathomed from the shadows that my brother tossed aside."

“Vile beast. You lost before for a reason. You will do so again...”

As Destroyer was ready to continue, two robed figures with grey feathery wings floated down next to Leere. Putting two bracelets and a crown of fangs on her, they started to chant an unknown language. The Shadow man whispered gently into the Destroyers ear. “Your brother draws near. You and your minions must stop him and the wrath from interfering. When my other half is freed, my connection to this avatar will be lost. But make no mistake, I am coming here to see my work complete.”

"So… he is coming..." Destroyer sounded most amused. "I was rather uncertain of whether he would or not. Or perhaps, is it the creature that is coming for the 'tiny princess' he holds so dear? Oh well, the snake did try to warn her. Prama probably showed him all of what was to be seen of her fate."

The two-winged cultists started to chant. From outside a dome surrounding Leere, others gathered from Mortuus to monsters chanted in a hellish pray. The bracelets on Leere’s arms sparked on, and the crown on her head sunk into her skull. As Leere was shocked, and the fangs on her head sunk deeper, a terrible scream radiated outwards.

~

A flash of white. Leere was standing in Hryrule field. The sun was shining, but every animal was dead. In front of her the ground opened up. She fell and---

~

A flash of white. Decay and blood poured under her legs with the force of a raging creek. A mirror lying in front of her showed her true reflection. How old she was. As Leere pushed her legs against the blood to be not swept away, she looked closer at a movement behind her. She peered closer to see the blank pale face and the eyes of---

~

A flash of white. A void of emptiness. It was so white. It had no sound, no image, no feeling. In the distance, Leere saw a figure holding themselves close. They were a shaky silhouette. Turning with white eyes, it flickered. Leere’s soul flickered. It was time. It was the end.

~

All over the Tower of Death, Bonegrinder and Black had teleported, hoping to find Leere. However, like a signal bouncing around, they couldn’t lock onto her easily. Just as they were giving up hope, they saw a flashing pillar of blue light. Eager cultists were running forward, and as they stepped into the light, they were flown upwards into a glowing hole in the roof.

"It's started..." Bonegrinder felt a sense of dread tighten in his chest. "We are too late..."

"... is there any chance we can still save her?"

"If the demon doesn't consume her, then perhaps we can. You must be ready to fight."

"I always am."

Behind them, coming out of the wall as if being birthed from it, the Abomination was still giving chase. All six eyes board in on them. They had two choices. Run up the beam, or stay and fight.

"This thing just doesn't give up." Black sounded irritated.

"A Hellspawn of the Second Ring of Hell never stops." Bonegrinder slithered as fast as he could, going up the beam with Black right alongside him. "Personally, he detests the ones of the First Ring the most."

"And that's not a First?"

"No, if a Nameless was here, we'd both be in trouble."

"Hey, I thought you knew all sorts of magic."

"He does."

"So just magic it away."

"Only the one who calls the demon can do that. Or a Summoner."

"... great."

The ‘Angel’ drew close. Its six clawed talons suddenly glew a menacing purple, and it drove them at Black. As one nicked him, a deep sickness flew through the Wrath. Something that shouldn’t be possible was.

It was as if Black was suddenly paralyzed. He could not move and slammed harshly into the ground. Groaning, the Wraith tried to will his body to function, but he could not do so. Even lifting a finger was unsuccessful. As the creature tried to descend upon him, Bonegrinder's huge tail whacked the fiend away. Snarling at the demon, the Anagari maneuvered the Wraith onto his coils, out of harm's way. "You won't interfere." The Anagari curled the tip of his tail around the fiend's ankle and crushed it with a sickening snap. With that, it stopped its movements. For now.

As Bonegrinder and Black flew up the beam, they gave themselves ample time to flee as the Abomination recovered. It was a silent trip up, every second filling with more and more dread. At the top, they found themselves on the outside of a dome. Inside, Leere was floating upwards now. The Obelisk was burning bright with energy. Suddenly, complete nothing filled the ears of all in witness. It was then the Obelisk fired out a beam, killing all the cultists who wished to be sacrificed. Leere was flipped over with her back exposed. The tattoo on her back was glowing, with blood pouring onto the ground below. Outside the dome a whirlwind was starting to storm, red blood sky being torn by the wind. The final step to the ritual began.

Bonegrinder had managed to use a touch of Prama's magic to undo the effect of the fiend's poisoning on Black. The Wraith could now move again, but felt like he was dragging. There was hardly any energy for him to spare. He would be of no use fighting hardly. As the demonic magic started to fill the air, the Anagari nearly panicked. This was not supposed to be happening. He gently set down Black on a high ledge, hopefully to protect him from danger and rushed forward. Slamming his fists on the dome, he repeatedly struck at the structure.

"YOU LET HER GO!!!" He bellowed. "You want this snake!!! Come get him! You leave her out of it!!! Dhakk!!! He knows you hear him!!!"

"Ah, dear brother, you finally arrive to show!" Destroyer was on the other side of the dome completing his work. "A little late, as always, but better than never."

"He is here! You release her! This snake has seen a thousand deaths and he refuses to see another!"

"It seems Prama is still silent? Too cowardly to come and face me?" Destroyer played dumb, tapping his chin with a single finger. "Or perhaps... he's still not at his full power?"

"You are not capable of your full abilities either, Dhakk!" Bonegrinder snapped at him. "That will not happen until the day of prophecy!"

"Oh, you and that stupid prophecy, do you honestly believe Balance will come after Prama? After me? It's nonsense."

"You know she will! She is the Mother Goddess! She will strike down Chaos and restore harmony to the world!"

"Not if I can help it. This world will be consumed by Chaos and with you out of the way, Balance and I can live peacefully without the hassle of meddling affairs of a mortal world in the void."

From outside the dome, waking through the storm, a familiar voice shouted out to them. Sheer-Khan trotted through the bellowing wind, slowly making his way to the Hive leader. “Bonegrinder! We must abandon our station here! Open a portal to Hyrule! We must flee, now!”

"Kit!!!" Bonegrinder was relieved to see that Hades was still here. He had sensed his life was still there, but it was so hard to know for sure in this cursed land. "He is so glad to see you! Please, help him break through! Leere needs us! If the ritual is completed, then Tzitzmime will have another part of his whole joined!"

Lightning crackled, and Hades gently laid a hand on Bonegrinder’s shoulder. “She is lost. But we might be able to rally the rest of Hyrule’s Warriors. You must hurry. You are the only one able to open a portal home.”

"He cannot leave her!!! Don't you understand, Kit?! She's a key! If this is completed, Chaos can take hold of the world before he is scheduled to do so!" Bonegrinder pleaded with Hades. "Help this old snake stop the ritual! There is still time! He can suppress the demon!"

As Bonegrinder turned to break down the dome, Hades grabbed his massive metal club. With a sigh, he swung two critical blows. One strike struck Black. The force of the swing against a body his size made him fly high into the storm as if he was nothing more than an ace in the hole. The second blow was brought down on Bonegrinder’s head, caving in his skull, his brain, and his spinal cord. The concentrated explosion tore down the rest of his nerves along his massive coil. Hades sighed, carefully holding down Bonegrinder’s body. “.... You forced my hand. You stupid bastard. I didn’t want it to come to this. You should have listened to your heart and never should have come here. Now I have to play this disgusting role to its fullest depravity.”

Black had tried to rush forward to save Bonegrinder but Hades had swatted him away. The storm picked up the Wraith and threw him around, but he was still conscious. Finally, Black was able to grab onto a tower's spire and managed to climb inside. He was still here. He would find his way back to his master.

Bonegrinder, however, was out cold. Not moving. But still alive due to the deity inside of him.

“I know you can hear me, you wretched god. This is your doing. You denied me my most simple request. You brought my friend here. You allowed the gods and goddesses to fall out of Balance. My friend could have waited in the Hive while the world was recreated in blissful ignorance. But no. Now I must ensure he stays down for this.” Leere gurgled, a small cry leaving her throat, the Obelisk shining a light on her. Great new lengths had been taken to bring new conditions for the ritual, but it was finally done.

Bonegrinder was a creature of magic and violence when he desired. Sometimes, mere mistaken words or a careless action might agitate him into a rage. Many thought it was due to his split personality. The Anagari showed the side of his usual self, 'Modoc', and then other times, the true, cruel nature of 'Bonegrinder'. Yet, those who knew him throughout the years, had learned that he was one not to mess with or else there would be consequences. There was very little patience in the Anagari except for those he held dear.

Prama, for all his glory and splendor, had no patience. With Bonegrinder's mind silent from the blow to the head, the deity took over his host's body. The divinity inside of him was much stronger and could use his strength through the Anagari's body... but with some consequences for his host later. It was not an action he did often. Those large coils curled around Hades' body and one large hand snatched at the Lynel's throat. "Treacherous creature..." Prama's voice held no love for the creation of Dhakk. In full control, the Anagari's body was radiating powerful celestial magic, floating in particles around the snake. His eyes were glowing white, narrowed and angry. He always thought Lynels were rather haughty. And then one made the mistake of striking his host. "I will scald you into ash."

Hades opened his mouth, blasting the god in the face. His arms still free to move, he brought the power down on the body once more. “You could have resurrected my species! Instead you told me that they should stay dead. A being of creation too spineless to create! You should never have inhabited Modoc’s body!”

Squeezing tighter and tighter with the Anagari's coils, Prama did not let go. The deity did not feel pain. This was not his true body. His magic kept healing the damage. Returning a blow of his own to Hades' face, he kept repeating the same move, punch after strike after blow. "All things come to an end, and my brother is the one who decides that." Prama spat at Hades. "If you're angry about it, argue with him, not me. You should be grateful that the snake took you in, looked after you. Who else would have done so with a despicable species such as yourself?"

“You brought all his pain upon him. You... you alone.” Unlike the god, Sheer-Khan could not regenerate. The feline’s face looked like a tumour by the time that Prama was done. “Modoc would have... helped me. Now watch as you fail....” Before the Lynel went limp, he pointed to Leere.

~

Agony and suffering radiated through every nerve of Leere. Chanting echoed in the chamber, and brimstone sizzled from her back. With an explosion of blood and flesh, Leere’s eyes rolled back. From the pentagram on her back, something crawled out. The moment it did, two things happened. The night sky itself cracked open, bleeding the heavens. The second was that the sail of a baby rang out to all who heard it. As Leere fell to the ground, a little pinkish piece of flesh crawled on the ground. It had the upper body of a baby with its eyes sewn shut. Its lower body was a slug, flapping back and forth like a fish out of water. Every wail was cosmic torture to the ears. Schwanz des Teufels: Tyrannin was reborn into the mortal world.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626630162211028992/evils-bane-ch-9-everyone-has-something-to-lose

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626632248299536384/evils-bane-ch-11-rage-against-the-dying-of-the

#Crossover #comments appreciated #ridersoftheapocalypse #Leere #Leere Dragmire #Bonegrinder #Teufel #Malus #Dhakk #Horror

[freelifefreedreams-blog]

August 15

I had the biggest crush on this one person. It was the second time I had ever been this head-over-heels for someone.

Is that what they call being infatuated? Or maybe it was an obsession?

I’ve liked them for 3 years if I’m not wrong. It’s kind of annoying now that I realized how long I’ve been chasing after them: how much time I wasted on them. It’s frustrating if I think about it and kind of sad because I know at some point they figured it out too. On how I felt for them that is. You know how long I spent trying to hide that fact? How hard I tried to become their friend first in hopes of developing something earnest with them? Seriously wasted time and effort there.

The reason why I’m saying that is because at one point they offered to be friends. Such a golden opportunity presented itself to me I just had to take it. It was fool’s gold. Every time I tried to make conversation they’d reply back on short. They called it small talk when I confronted them about it. Saying how much they hated that, but isn’t that how every conversation starts? Start small then end up big? I thought it was my fault, but really it wasn’t. 

Later on, they’d start this game where if either one of us lost we’d have to answer to the truth/dare of the other. It was stupid. I played it. I lost. It cost me several secrets that I had kept hidden. Was it worth it? Ha, it never really is, but it was fun I suppose. All his questions were revealing while mine were more fun-nature. Rarely was it a question of revealing matters. I just wanted to know them more. Now I do. If I’m honest -now that I’ve gotten this far with more knowledge of who they are- I wish to have them removed from my life. It’d be less of a pain. They should have stayed an acquaintance. 

There was a moment where I thought things were panning out sweetly between us. One night, they invited me to hangout with one other friend of theirs. A mutual of ours really wanted to just have a fun get together. I should have said no, but temptation got the best of me. I’m weak in saying no, thankfully I learned now. We listened to some music, shared some scary stories, and finally played some games. Whoever lost had to do the challenge the other person had in mind for them. In our final game, I was up against them and woefully lost. I’m competitive so it slightly hurt my ego, but it was all for fun’s sake so no harm done: yet. They made it into a truth or dare situation. I wasn’t fully there, but enough to make a somber decision of choosing truth. I don’t trust them with the dare if I’m being honest. Especially when I’m zoning in and out of reality. That doesn’t matter thought since the truth turned out to be a dare: freaking assh0les. I complained about it, but who cares about me at this point? Certainly not me and definitely not them. Sh1t, that was great we were all in the same page. The truth now turned dare was basically 7min in heaven. During that time inside the room we did two things: 1.) cuddle and 2.) makeout. They wanted more but I wouldn’t allow it. Never will if I’m ever in that state. I never really knew if that threw them out of loop. Knowing that they had the idea that I liked them at that time. Doesn’t matter at this point really. I’m over it. That day ended all well with me returning a happy soul. Days went by and I never really thought much about it anymore. I thought we were good, and advancing to a new stage. 

Then came the day we would meet again. 

We had some conversation with playful/flirty remarks being made. Everything’s perfect until the night arrives with a new person in tow. They were throwing a small party at their place and invited me. Seeing as we were barely acquainted but clicked well it made sense. They already knew the person I liked since their high school years, so it was a given they were going. The party was fun and enjoyable, but nothing much happened with us. If anything happened it was between the one who invited us to go and the one I liked. Chemistry off the chart it was radioactive and stung when near it. Meaning I gave them space and minded my own business. I thought nothing of it other than they were friends. Party over and a couple days later they become a couple. 

Oh.

I saw it coming, but turned a blind eye to it. Hoping that our interaction was a sign that they would be with me. If our interaction meant anything then the meaning behind it was nothing but to use. I guess in the end they did get what they want? Even after discovering all of this I couldn’t bring myself to hate it. Why? Cause it would mean wasting my emotions even more. It’s draining and I can’t afford it. Writing about it might equate to me giving a damn, but its more like me trying to help me getting over it fully.

It stings, but that’s just how it was meant to be. It’s a process into feeling better. If I had any final words to say to the person I used to like. They would be good luck. I can’t be bothered with you ever again. 

- unknown :P  

#freelifefreedream-blog

[escapingreality1992]

Birthday Celebrations

In honor of Bucky Barnes’ birthday, I decided to dedicate a piece to him. Calleigh discovers Bucky is celebrating his birthday alone since Nat and Steve are on a mission and Sam is on a date. She cancels her plans to spend time with him and year after year this repeats with a few other celebrations tossed in the mix. One year, feelings are revealed and their relationship becomes something more.

           Being with the Avengers meant meeting all sorts of personalities. Some I got along with like Steve, Natasha, Wanda and Tony. Others, not so much. Loki happened to be on this list and for some unknown reason Stephen Strange. He didn’t particularly like me as I was told by Tony. When I inquired as to why, Strange kept giving vague answers; the “excuses” ranged from too cheerful or too friendly or – and this was my favorite – too outgoing. To be fair, the girls and I went out a lot; Eating, drinking, clubbing, you name it. If it was exciting enough for us, we’d be there.

           Other personalities were still a mystery to me. It depended on the person. It took me a while to get to know Clint, Vision, or Sam. Even Carol had deemed me suspicious and it took her a while to warm up to my bright personality. Bucky was on this list too, though for different reasons. I didn’t dislike the man and I suspected that he didn’t dislike me either, but we didn’t know too much about each other to come to a decision. He seemed friendly, but other days – the terrible days – he’d be off standish and distant. I hoped the more time I spent with him, the more I’d get to see him open up.

           Though it was rare for us to ever be alone together. Bucky would often spend his time with Steve, Nat or Sam; they’d become his comfort group and he didn’t stray much from them. He’d be alone sometimes too and that was when he’d chosen to isolate himself from the group for obvious reasons; when he was having a bad day, he didn’t think being around others was a good idea. I’d venture off with Carol, Wanda, Maria and Nat. As time went on, I discovered I desired to spend time with him; a developing crush I hadn’t expected. Who could blame me? He was good looking, especially when he had taken the time to get his hair cut and his beard shaved. He’d been hot before, now it was almost as if the transformation had only intensified his looks.

           The day we’d start getting to know one another came on his birthday, which came as a shock to me. Steve and Natasha were sent on a mission and no one else knew it was his birthday outside of his comfort group. I had planned on going out with Carol and Wanda to dinner and bowling afterwards, so it surprised me when I came downstairs and saw him sitting alone in the kitchen. I made a pit stop to pre-game with a beer and he was perched on one of the stools sipping one of his own, a solemn expression on his features.

           “Hey, Barnes. What’s up with you? You seem a bit down today,” I greeted him. I propped my elbows on the island counter across from him, taking another sip of my beer. I took him in; the green Henley shirt, the black jeans made him handsome in my view. I thought my outfit was great; the loose grey tank top and dark blue jeans paired with black sparkly Converse, but he definitely out did me on the hotness scale. I had even curled my plum-colored hair, a decision made to bring out my ice blue eyes.

           “Nothing. It doesn’t concern you. Steve and Nat are on a mission and I’m having to celebrate alone,” he answered, the last sentence a whisper. I still caught it.

           “Oooh. What are you celebrating? A new relationship? Training moves? Maybe you played-,”

           “It’s my birthday,” he interrupted my teasing. I frowned, feeling terrible about messing with him. Maybe that’s why people didn’t care for me. Could I be too sarcastic? Too teasing?

           “Oh. It’s your birthday? Today? Why isn’t anyone throwing a grand party? You know Tony can’t resist a gathering if it’s contained within our group,”

           “I didn’t tell many people about my birthday. Only my closest friends know and they’re on a mission,”

           “Where’s Sam? Doesn’t he know?”

           “Out with his girlfriend. He had already made plans before we figured out what we were doing and then the last-minute mission came in. I wasn’t needed and now I’m by myself,” I nodded, polishing off my beer. As I tossed the bottle in the recycle bin, an idea popped in my head.

           “Hey, I know! Why don’t you and I hang out? I’ll be happy to celebrate with you and it’ll give us a chance to get to know each other better,” I said, turning around to face him. He raised an eyebrow, putting down his bottle after a long drag of liquid.

           “I thought you had plans,” he responded.

           “Nothing a quick text can’t fix. I’ll text Carol and Wanda and reschedule. And now…my night is clear,” I exclaimed, showing him the rescheduled plans. “So, what you like to do? What would Bucky Barnes like to do on his birthday?” I asked. He looked at me, a stunned expression on his features.

           “We could go see a movie. Grab dinner go drinking. Stay in and watch a movie. Go dancing. Bowling? Roller skating? Just hang out and talk?” I suggested.

           “I…uh…can we stay in? Order food and watch a movie?” he asked, a pink hue lighting his cheeks.

           “Sure, but first I must go out for a few minutes,”

           “Why?”

           “It’s a surprise,” I answered, winking. I grabbed my purse and left the compound, heading for the grocery store. The surprise in question was supplies for a birthday cake. I had noticed that when there was party thrown for Steve, Nat or Sam, a chocolate ganache cake was requested from Bucky every time. I figured it was his favorite, so I picked up the supplies needed to make it. I returned and we agreed to order in burgers, placing an order at one of the diners the Avengers frequented. While we waited, I started preparing to bake the cake. While we are, I assembled the layers once cool, decorating it with ganache, putting a few candles in it, lighting them.

           “Make a wish birthday boy,” I said, carrying it into the den and placing it on the coffee table. I knelt on the floor and watched as he appeared to think of a wish. Bucky blew out the candles, the smoke curling upwards towards the ceiling.

           “Wish for something good?” I asked.

           “Definitely. Thank you, Calleigh,”

           “You’re welcome, Bucky,” I got up to get plates and a knife to cut the cake, bringing forks to eat it with. We settled down to watch a comedy he chose and as the movie came to an end, we sat on the couches talking. Turns out we had a lot in common with some of things we liked. Movies, books, T.V. shows and more. The conversation felt natural, flowing from subject to subject.

           “Is that the time already?” I asked, catching the digital numbers on the clock behind us; They read 2 a.m., surprising me.

           “Yeah, I guess it is. Maybe we should turn in, though I’ve been having a great time,” he said.

           “Me too. You’re right. Training is in five hours,” I said. We got up and said goodnight, turning in for the rest of the evening. This was the start of our growing relationship.

             Each year that passed, we’d repeat our hangout session, more even before his birthday would come around. There would be an additional celebration with Natasha, Steve, and Sam, but we’d always end the night alone; sometimes we’d spend the whole night talking, the morning sun peeping in on us, time merging in on itself. Training sessions would be tiring, and we’d have to tap out to get some rest.

           These celebrations between Bucky and me varied each time. Once it was a weekend skiing, once bowling, movies, but they’d always end the same; with cake and laughter, smiles and subtle touches.

           “You and Bucky are spending an awful lot of time together. Am I expected to hear wedding bells sometime soon?” Nat had commented one night during an outing with Wanda and Carol. I blushed and brushed it off as Bucky and I were just close friends.

           “Uh huh, sure. I’m positive he thinks of it as just close friendship too,” she said. The blush deepened, but she didn’t push the subject of the matter any further. Things would change soon, and all feelings would be brought forth.

              Another year, another birthday.

           “Bucky! Happy birthday!” I shouted, flying into the den and throwing my arms around his neck in an embrace.

           “Calleigh! Thank you. Let me guess, you cancelled your plans to spend my birthday with me…again,” he said.

           “What plans? My calendar is free. What do you want to do this year?” I answered, winking.

           “Do you remember when you celebrated with me the first time? You suggested dancing that year. I want to go dancing. Get dressed up and everything,” he requested.

           “Consider your wish granted,” We went to our rooms, changed and drove downtown. Apparently, he had found a place which held old-fashioned dances – all ages welcomed – and decided it was where we were meant to be. It also served dinner between dances; out choice of meal – pasta, a classic.

           “Shall we?” he asked, extending his hand. I nodded and he led me to the dancefloor. Silence, then music started up. Not 40’s as I originally thought it might be, but waltz music instead.

           “I’m afraid I don’t know how to waltz,” I told him.

           “Don’t worry. I’ll lead you through it,” he said, taking my hands and placing them in the correct positions, a familiar longing echoing in my heart. It was intimate, romantic and only intensified my crush on him. The music stopped and so did we. Time froze or it rather seemed like it. We gazed at each other, our breathing almost in sync.

           I couldn’t tell if the room was warm or if my body was only reacting to him, to Bucky. I heard my breath hitch when leaned in; my heart freezing in its beating as his lips touched mine; soft, tender and delicious. The cold metal of his fingers reached up to cup my jaw. The kiss was gentle, yet passion lingered in it and I wanted more. More of him. I was vaguely aware of my hands clutching him tightly, afraid if I let go, the dream would end. He pulled back, his forehead touching mine.

           “Can I have one more wish?” he asked.

           “Yes. What do you wish for?” I answered. He closed his eyes for a moment.

           “I wish for what I’ve always wished for. Ever since the first time you wanted to celebrate my birthday with me. I wish for you,” he said. He opened his eyes, the steel blue irises my icy blue ones, awaiting my reply.

           “Consider you wish granted. I’m yours. I always have been,” he smiled and leaned in for another kiss, his other hand tangling in my hair.            

           “Good, because I refuse to live without your love. Calleigh I love you,” he confessed.

           “I love you too, Bucky,” I said, accepting a lifetime with Bucky Barnes.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x oc #bucky barnes birthday #birthday #avengers #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #iron man #tony stark #Stephen Strange #doctor strange #Doctor Stephen Strange #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #black widow #scarlet witch #sam wilson #falcon #thor #loki #bruce banner #clint barton #hulk #hawkeye #love #vision #Carol Danvers #Captain Marvel

[real-sotenbori-hours]

Madness Among the Maddest - Loki x Fem Reader * smut * - Part 1

Summary: The Grand Master is tired of you sneaking around Sakaar without his permission or understanding of what you’re doing. Since you refuse to explain yourself, he’s sure he knows just how -or who- can get you to talk.

 Warning: NSFW, smut, multiple orgasms… y’know how it is.

 ***

You were tougher than nails and feared nothing. Pain didn’t motivate you, nor intimidation. Your resolve was as ardent as Mjolnir itself, save for one thing nobody’d yet discovered. Your reputation sang of your ability to withstand adversity, your very existence indomitable in every sense of the word. Known all through The Nine as an unbreakable force, your power was complimented by your innately sultry character, your mere presence a source of magnetism. Unbreakable to all... 

 ...but bendable by One.  

 For centuries, you’d traveled between planets, in search of the perfect civilization to dominate. Taking intel and research from every corner you visited, you’d deliver the information to your cohorts and the group would continue to deliberate. You could build your own society, but why bother? When you’re physically and philosophically sound in every fundamental form, all that’s left to be desired is a designated place to originate from.  

 Until Sakaar.  

You’d discovered a seemingly unknown porthole that could commute you from one end of the galaxy to another, rendering Sakaar as a geographically perfect checkpoint destination. You’d been using this thoroughfare for decades, quietly pillaging while keeping an eye on the Grandmaster’s dog and pony shows and other successes, namely his out of town guests. You were however unaware that the GM had been keeping a vigilant eye on you as well, and was patiently awaiting your most recent return.  

 That’s how you found yourself immediately before him, magnetically bound to the GM’s signature submissive chairs. Via his whimsical interrogation methods he pried, asking the nature of your origin, motives, etcetera. You shrugged the best you could within your restraints and uttered not a word. Quickly flustered, he summoned his melting scepter beside your cheek, slowly emitting heat to your skin. You can call a bluff in your very bones, so you smile. The heat intensifies and you remain strong in your silence. The GM continues to illustrate the physical torture waiting for you outside his chambers and to that, you let a small, faint yawn escape your lips. Just then Topaz leans into the GM’s side with an urgent whisper. A second passes as he murmurs with delight and intrigue, writhing rhythmically to his own tune of thought as it materialized on his face. He had a plan.  

 So, there you are. Still clad in your black protective leather armor, you’re relieved to remain in what’s comfortable, even if your accommodations are horrifying. Looking around, you find yourself in the strange, striped circular loophole dungeon that houses the bodies (both living and dead) of the GM’s Prisoners With Jobs. On your left, you see the vaguest silhouettes of Korg and a couple of less identifiable beings, their voices low and fuzzy as if the volume’s turned way down. On your right, more distant voices crowding like a contained hum.�� Confusion begins to tease you as you contemplate the reality that you just might be inside a cell within a cell, a hole within a loophole. 

 As the very question begins to form in your mind, a projected message from the GM appears right in front of you, giggling feverishly as he informs you that you won’t be able to hear or communicate with anyone, as he’s putting a kibosh on your eavesdropping and ultimately, the gathering of intelligence... along with your shameless shoplifting of goods from his sacred planet. Oh and on a final note: he has a weapon even you might not be a match for, and in your surrender to this weapon, you will reveal everything he asks.  You smirk. 

 A good challenge has never failed to entertain you in your many centuries of life, trials and tribulations. You’ve seen and felt, pursued and exhausted everything in The Nine and yet player to player combat still enthralls you most. What a wondrous existence. Your ability to resolve and conquer keeps things interesting, as it should. Existence is all about experience, testing limits from every angle and making note of it all. You seldom say no to something you’ve not had the chance to analyze. All for the sake of knowledge.  

 Slowly yet suddenly, your contemplation is interrupted as the invisible walls of your cell dim to a dark, cloudy gray and a figure appears as if through a mist. Interesting. You stretch your legs out in front of you, crossing them at your ankles. You lean back, reclining for the next act about to unfold before you. Just a few feet ahead stands a vision in black and green, of alabaster skin, raven hair and a smirk nearly as enigmatic as your own. A vision of dark to light, stark and alluring. Interesting indeed.  He takes one step toward you and stops, breathing in a sigh punctuated by a playfully sinister laugh, echoing from the depths of his belly and hanging seductively in the air. He watches as gooseflesh erects like falling dominoes, trailing rapidly along your arms. He tilts his head and coos, “Right on schedule.” 

 You sit up slightly, raising your eyes to meet his and he smiles. “I’ve always had the ability to disarm even the most resolute of beings. But do tell me, pet: what is a striking young vixen such as yourself doing in a place like this?” You fight the urge to snicker and lose, a grin peels across your face. You retort “ah, Loki, Prince of Asgard. Flattery may get you all you desire back home, but I’m rather well versed in what you do.”  He takes another step forward, stopping at the push-back from the tip of his boot prodding the sole of yours. The thought of him being close enough to touch you begins to distract you from your trademarked stoicism. Better tread lightly. Don’t get cocky. Don’t lose your wits now. Don’t let him in your head.  

 You pull one leg back, bending at the knee as you slide yourself back, straightening up, somewhat defensively. Acknowledging your attempt to posture, he waves a hand and produces two chairs, facing one another. He reaches his hand to you. “Let us sit comfortably as we discuss the matter at hand.”  Rising to your feet, you lightly wave his hand away as he scoffs, amusedly. You take a step forward and he teleports behind you to pull your chair out. Thanking him, you take your seat. You can work with this.  

 Expecting him to sit across from you, you’re taken aback when the apparition before you disappears and the Loki behind you wraps his long, slender fingers around the chair, gripping your arms ever so lightly. Leaning in, he whispers deeply into your ear, his bottom lip grazing your earlobe as he forms every syllable. “Tell me, my darling. What truly brings you here?” An undeniable heat flickers in the core of your lap. You tilt your head away from temptation and remark, “Well on this trip, I was just on the hunt for materials, my lord. But I’d be happy to call it a day and be on my merry way home if you’d just point me in the direction of the door.”  

 His fingertips slowly begin to run up and down your arms as he brings his head further to meet your ear, laughing breathily and murmuring, “If talking is not in your interests, I can make it so.” You chuckle, in a profound attempt to conceal your growing arousal at this game. A fruitless effort as the Dark Prince can detect exactly what you’re feeling. To this, he responds by placing his left hand at the base of your neck, lightly pushing your head aside with this fingers, exposing your neck to his tongue as he licks a slow, broad stroke straight to the very same earlobe. You breathe out slowly and deeply and reach nimbly for a lock of his hair: to subdue him, sure. But with the mood striking, why not remind him not to get too familiar?  

 He catches your wrist immediately and laughs again, this time leaning into your face, resting the tip of his nose beside yours. He returns your slow, deep sigh for a second, then brings his lips to barely touch yours as he asks, “How have you been getting here, little dove? That’s all I’m asking.” Before you can pull your other arm free to grab his neck, he pins it to the chair. He narrows his glare into your eyes. “Tell me.” He lets the tip of his tongue out to graze your bottom lip. You take his bottom lip, dragging your teeth to suck it briefly. He revels in your response, and you release him, pushing yourself free from him as you stand. “You’d like to talk, my lord? Then please, have a seat.” You muse, and he follows. 

 “I just thought we’d have some fun, is all. I’ve found you mystifying for a rather long time, and at long last, I’ve got my introduction.” He shrugs, nesting in the chair across from you, crossing one long leg atop the other. You smirk. “You’re not the only one with wiles, your highness.” You can withstand even the most grueling physical pain and torment. You’ve survived true agonies. At this rate you wager if you go along, allowing him to work you up, you can figure out why he’s here just as well. Why not go along, make him think if he gets you off, you’ll tell him everything? That way you can at least have some fun for now and possibly still accomplish something.  

 You step towards him and you watch as his eyes follow every curve of your body, making a second pass upward and stopping at your lips. You relish the look in his eyes and decide to move forward. You tower over him, giving him a moment to breathe in your scent. You grab his hair and tug his head backward, speaking into his throat. “What do you really want to know of me, my Prince? Am I all that beguiling?”  He chuckles once again. “I was sent to question you. But at this moment, I could not care less. Of my own reasons I sought your company... for my own reasons. Would you like to find out what they are?” He immediately grabs your wrist once again, freeing himself from your clutch and sitting upward, beneath you, defiantly and daringly raising his chin to you as he places a hand on each of your hips. You try to hold back the shudder but it overcomes you. He takes this as a cue and slides his thumbs up along your hip bones and cups his fingers beneath your ass cheeks. Time to move.  

 You take that last step forward, closing the gap. You swing one leg over each of his and rest on his lap, leaning in, breathing in. Burying your nose in the nape of his neck, taking in every note of him, you murmur, “What do you want now, my lord?” He runs two fingers from your collar bone to the valley of your chest, slowly tracing around. You begin undoing the front clasps of your armor, all the way down to your belt, stopping. He reaches up to your now open collar and tugs it, grinning, gazing for a moment. “Ah, a fair woman with the fairest skin. Just as I imagined... for so long.” Inviting him to peruse, you allow him to wander further. He runs fingertips along your bare stomach, stopping at the center of you, cupping it. And squeezing.  You gasp and lean forward, entrenching both hands in his hair. Pressing your lips to his and snarling, “Tell me.” He slides his tongue directly into your mouth, alongside yours, and the heat between your legs, within his palm smolders. The erupting frenzy set you ablaze. Once in a while, you’ve gotta treat yourself. And in this case, worst case, you were going to get off... and fuck a god.  

 Straddling his lap, making the slightest suggestion with your hips, circling around the rapidly hardening bulge between his thighs, you run your wet lips down to the tip of his chin, sucking it. “Say it, your highness. What do you want?” He meets your gaze again and looks down at his hand, pressed against the warmest thing in The Nine. Like a switch, the chairs disappear and you’re thrown against the awkwardly, angularly curved wall of the cell, your throat tight against Loki’s hand, while his other hand runs between your knees, up your thighs, stopping once again at the place on the map that the Dark Prince longed to conquer. “I want to ravage you, taste you, feel you, break you, render you defenseless. I’ve not wanted someone so badly in as long as I can remember.” 

 Sighing, you lean forward and he pushes your head back against the wall. He moves in close, taking your upper lip between his and slipping that silver tongue back into your mouth, coaxing you to forget about missions and intelligence, the only focus on your radar now the swell of desire raging between your legs, pulsing in his hand.  You shrug. He pulls away and takes a step back, a mischievous smirk peeling across his face. An oddly soft sensation enveloped you as your armor quickly peeled its way down to your boots, a feeling both warm and cold at the same time freeing you of your material bonds, offering you to the rightful King of Asgard as he stood before you.  You decide to be coy, to extend this moment just a little longer. “I did not ask you to will my armor off of me, my Prince. If you’re going to undress me, why not use those lovely Asgardian hands?” 

 A feral smirk flushed across his face as he shook his head, scoffing. A millisecond passes as he flew up against you again, your hair now locked in his fist and his mouth to the crook between your ear and your cheek. “Let’s not forget whose stature here is greater, my love. You will do well to kneel before me and fulfill my every command. You are a prisoner on this planet and in this moment you are MY prisoner. Now still your tongue and await my next order.” He then grabs the empty sleeves of your armor and wraps them around your wrists, binding you to yourself in the most exquisite arrangement.  

 Intriguing indeed.  

 Waving another hand in the air, he repositions you on the floor, leaning against the wall, wrists bound and connected to your ankles, nearly hogtied before royalty. He towers over you, laughing again, placing a hand atop your head. “You look stunning in this position. Fit to be Queen. A character of strong will and instinct, working her way through The Nine Realms, all in the name of knowledge. A woman unbreakable, but quite possibly bendable, right before me. Mine to experiment on. Mine to do with as I please... and it would so please me to see just how far I can bend you.” He pulls your face up to his and you slide your tongue out, leaving it pressed between your teeth. Not batting an eye at the failing mission in your midst is all too easy now. A good game is hard to find. Fuck the mission, it’s time to fuck.  

 He runs the tip of his tongue along yours, sending electric jolts straight down to the conductor itself, your slightly aching cunt. You raise your hips off the floor subtly enough to suggest you’re ready to talk terms with your body. His eyes follow, glazing by the inch, stopping at your beautiful center. Running each hand from your calf upward, he stops just short of your entrance and slides his tongue out... and in.  Incredible.  As his tongue darts within you, you feel the presence of another Loki behind you, unbinding and undressing you completely while running his mouth along your neck, finding your mouth and cupping your breasts. The Loki below you peers up for a moment, watching you preen. You lean forward as a way to beg him not to stop. He rolls back on his ankles and grins. “Shall I continue, pet?” You nod. 

 He slips back in between your legs and continues masterfully manipulating every sensation tingling through you. Gripping your thighs and pulling his face deeper into you: the very sight enough to unravel you for eons to come. The Loki behind you grabs your face and pulls your lips to his, bringing you over the edge as you grind along and against the two Dark Princes wantonly galvanizing every last part of you. As the one before you continues lapping you up, the one behind you slides two fingers into you, undoing you in the most delightful way, entrapping you in the most delicious madness conceivable. Your body convulses as you’re released, the Loki behind you vanishes and the one before you is still within you, between your knees, on his knees.  You utter an airy chuckle as your orgasm retreats.

 Looking down at the fine Asgardian god before you, you couldn’t resist. “Who’s kneeling now, your majesty? I do so enjoy the worship in your prowess.” He pulls his head up, looking both defeated and entranced, rocking back on his ankles once again. You waste no time. At your feet, you close the distance and push him back to a seated position against the opposite wall of the cell, pinning him in place as you stretch your legs apart and straddle his lap once again. Instantly he’s disarmed, placing his hands on your back and running them up and down, digging nails into you, exhilarating you further. 

 You reach down for his cock, grasping it firmly and lean in to take to his lips again. Hungrily he meets you, tongues massaging one another as passion coursed through every vein. You pull away and up to his ear. You let out a short chuckle and slowly ask, “Do you wish to take me, my Prince? Do you crave the sensation of my wet, hot tightness gripping you deeper and deeper, greedily pulling you into me while you fight not to concede?” He stills. No woman has ever spoken to him in this manner, he’s absolutely floored. Asgardian women are demure and well behaved, it’s no wonder he’s felt his wants go unmet... for so long. 

 For the first time he decides to put the whole rightful-King-of-Asgard schtick on pause and just explore the extraordinary matter at hand. He takes a deep breath, attempting to hide how indescribably aghast he is and sighs, “That is indeed what I plan to do, little dove.” He grips your hips tightly, pulling you against him, grinding the invitation against you. You chuckle again and lean in even closer to prod, “How badly do you want to be inside of me? I can delay you.” 

 He cups you once again, slipping the slightest of fingertips within you and holds you still. “I want you more than anything,” he whispers in a nearly deadly voice. You retort, “More than the throne of Asgard?” He laughs softly and rocks forward in one motion, pushing you off of him and onto your back, flat on the floor. He waves off his armor and crawls over you, boring into your eyes, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. He leans down and begins to run the tip of his tongue along the underswell of your chest. He grabs your face between his index and thumb, pressing his forehead to yours. 

 “If you think I pleased you before, you have another thing coming. I’m going to summon you to the edge and hold you there longer than you can fucking stand. I’m going to revel in the flavor of your anticipation, the scent of your arousal, the taste of your body as you beg me to let you come. I’m going to hold you captive until you repent and plead, crying out for me to fill you, to soothe this maddening need. You will be screaming and you’re going to love every fucking moment of it. I’m going to make you come so hard that it almost hurts. You know not what I’m truly capable of, pet.”  

 ***

Oops, got a little indulgent with the smut... so there’ll be a part 2, of course. I’m just tryin’ to work ya up, let ya down n’ work ya back up again. ;)

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki ragnarok