#have had better defenses. he’s the master and he came to conquer. and such.

[bookdragonideas]

Healers are killers.

Katara doesn't know when she learns that. Maybe she's the first to realize. But healers are killers.

They have to be sometimes. When mercy is quick and painless, instead of drawn out suffering. But all to often its more of a choice.

Sometimes it's something completely different.

Katara knows how the human body works. She's helped her Grangran since she was small, and trained with the northern healers whenever she had a spare moment. She knows what muscles connect, where injuries are often found. The different ways a bone can break, and just how far you can wander into exhaustion before collapse. And she has seen, time and time again, just how far you can push a person to the brink of death before they fall off.

Humans are surprisingly durable. Until they aren't.

No one knows this better than a healer.

A man might break every bone in his body and still live to play with his grandkids. A single splinter can end a life or rob a person of their limbs.

For Katara it's a balance. And she likes to think that she uses the balance well. Water whips that only cause curable injuries. Never drowning enough to cause serious illness. Cuts that hurt but don't bleed enough to kill. She may not be a pacifist like Aang but she avoids killing when she can.

It's in the north when she first notices a twist of this balance.

Talking with the healers in the hut about herbs and the difference between North and South. A man came in with extensive injuries. But nothing that wouldn't heal in time. Until one of the other woman gave him the wrong medication, with a lethal dose.

Katara noticed, went to say something, thinking it a simple mistake. But Master Yagoda caught her eye and warned her off with a stern look.

Later she learned why. How the man had been injured. Who had injured him. No blame was cast. No voices questioned the death. And at the burial no one cried.

She had seen before, in the Earth Kingdom. Earth healers who treated everyone after a battle. Who would give Firebenders sleeping draughts they wouldn't wake from.

But that was different. That was war. That was enemies to dangerous to keep prisoner and a gentler death than execution.

This had nothing to do with the war.

Months later Katara stood above a woman who could have been kin. A trusted teacher turned monster. She sobbed in her brother's arms and deep down she wondered. How much blame lay in the war? Had Sozin never conquered would this power remained unknown? Or would it have made itself known somehow?

Years later when she fights another who claimed this twisted power she gets her answer.

Some evils cannot be blamed on the war.

She uses Bloodbending only a handful of times in her life. Mostly in desperation or defensive. Once in shameful anger, against a man wearing armor that reminded her of her mother.

And once in the dark of a small family's house. Where a newborn baby needed blood to flow more than Katara needed to restrain herself.

No one knew. Except for Aang, who she didn't keep secrets from. And Sokka who saw more than she gave him credit for.

But she knew.

She gave the wrong medicine to a mother whose half grown children cowered in fear. The children went to live with their cousins and learned to laugh again.

She failed to clean the wound on a man whose girlfriend was bruised and broken in a different way. He survived but she gained power over him for long enough to reconsider the relationship.

She healed Ozai, when Zuko asked. But if that healing only went skin deep? Well she had been distracted by helping Mai wrangle young Izumi. And Zuko never blamed her.

The two sides of her bending twisted alongside each other. A balance.

She interrogates a man who was involved in multiple kidnappings. She knows how far to push someone before they break. And afterwards she smooths a healing hand over tarnished skin. They find the children. And the man dies of unknown causes.

Some rebels attack Sokka and Zuko during one of their visits to the Earth Kingdom. If she hunts them down to deliver killing blows? She was just trying to capture them, no one can prove otherwise.

Bloodbending keeps getting rediscovered.

Katara teaches her students that you can heal someone with their own blood if the situation is desperate.

She watches as the the world changes, as old friends and family grow old and die.

Katara knows, as her own bones begins to ache, that some secrets do not remain secret.

She teaches what she can. Twists the narrative whenever possible. And sends a significant look to her newest prodigy as she gives a cruel man the wrong medicine.

Healers are killers.

This truth is far older than the war. It's a secret built into the very concept of the word. A balance every gentle healer holds.

Healers are killers.

But they are healers before they are killers. And Katara will do her part to ensure it stays that way.

Two years before she dies Bloodbending is announced as the newest form of Waterbender healing. Zuko and Toph congratulate her. Zuko looks sad. Toph looks serious. They understand.

Healers are killers.

In the next hundred years others will learn this too. Katara only hopes that they keep it a secret, as she did. She settles into her cozy home in her rebuilt tribe. She spends the rest of her life keeping the balance between the two sides of her own bending.

Healers are killers.

Katara has always been both.

#Well that got dark #Katara #Atla #avatar the last airbender #Bloodbending

[quietwingsinthesky]

it’s that no one ever believed him that gets to me the most. this is a society of telepaths. and yet when the doctor finds out that the drums are real, he’s surprised. the master is surprised, elated, by the confirmation that he’s hearing something that’s really there, that this thing that’s been following him and hurting him for so long is real.

after a certain point, given that the master is Really Fucking Good at mind control and such, you have to imagine that no one could just pick up on the noise in his head with a little general telepathy. he had to choose to let the doctor in to share it. and. and okay. we need to put aside him striving to be The Best At Controlling People’s Minds in the context of him having his mind violated as a child because if i think about these two things in relation to each other i’ll throw up.

but there has to have been a point before he was so accomplished that he couldn’t have defended his own mind as easily. that he couldn’t keep someone, anyone, from delving into his head and hearing the drums. which means i must conclude, because we find out who put them in his head at all and it’s the most powerful guy on gallifrey, that when he was younger, the people around him did know. they could hear the drums. they could figure out what was done to him. but they did nothing, they said nothing, they told him he was hearing things. because if the lord president wanted to use a child for his own ends, who was going to stand up and stop him? easier to sweep it under the rug. and the master lived with that for so long that finally having just one other person hear the drums was a shock to him.

#very fun that this twist is. first of all great for end of time. but also can be used to recontextualize other bits of the master’s behavio #not even explain away but give extra meaning to. you know? #he hypnotizes people because if he can control them it’d damn well his right to do so and if they didn’t want to be mindfucked they should #have had better defenses. he’s the master and he came to conquer. and such. #but it’s also. this is now inextricable from the fact that his own mind was opened up and used against him as a child. when he couldn’t #possibly have defended himself. this past and his actions cannot be separated. #a man can have more than one motivation he can be both a little bastard who wants to rule a world because its his due since no one could #stop him. and also. it can be because there is no way to undo what was forced on him as a kid. but he can at least make sure nothing and no #one will ever control him again. he’s the master and you will obey *him*. never again the other way around. #the master #simm!master #doctor who

[bluecollarmcandtf]

THEY Came and Conquered

It was just like any normal day when THEY arrived here on Earth! Dave had been spending another morning holed up in the office when a commotion erupted down the hall. His coworkers got up to investigate, but before anyone knew it, THEY had arrived. Soon, the previously quiet office was filled with screams of terror!

Dave fought the little green creatures off for as long as he could, but they were just too fast, jumping from floor to ceiling with their long slimy appendages. One of those intruders eventually slung itself past Dave's defenses and smacked him square in the face. He was sent flying to the ground.

Unfortunately for Dave, and pretty much everyone else on Earth, THEY came here to take over the planet. Their plan: use the human species as empty hosts for their own bidding.

With the alien squeezing tighter and tighter around Dave's face, his panic was quickly sucked out of his head. His thoughts and personality were slowly drained out as well, leaving him as nothing more than an empty husk for the alien to puppet around. Everything that made him Dave the Employee was replaced by the whims of the foreign parasite now attached to his skull.

Logan faced the same fate as Dave. He'd been in the middle of jackhammering some concrete when THEY showed up. He didn't even notice the attack until it was too late!

One of the aliens attached itself firmly to his head and began emptying everything inside. Within a few minutes, Logan's fear and panic were gone. He was just an extension of that alien's body now. His muscular arms and legs were just new additions to that alien's array of appendages.

The strange thing is that THEY can only bond with male humans. They have no ability to take over female bodies, so the girls of Earth were all able to pull the creatures off and stomp them like a bug. The men of Earth weren't that lucky. Within a month, nearly 87% of the world's masculine population was taken over, but that number continues to grow every day.

Logan the Construction Worker was the first of many. Within a few minutes, his entire construction crew was also converted. Within an hour, every man outside in the open was claimed. By the end of the day, every guy Logan had ever known had joined him as a hijacked servant of these foreign creatures.

Mitchell was able to evade the slimy little creatures for a bit longer, but even his athletic legs couldn't carry him fast enough. A pack of the aliens cornered him in the middle of a basketball court, and he had nowhere to run.

Mitchell's eyes glazed over as the parasite sucked out his mind. THEY had no use for a human's inferior vision when their own eyes can see 20x better. The alien mainly needed Mitchell's body for it's size, strength, and reproductive abilities...

...not human reproduction: THEY're reproduction. You see, the aliens reproduce by mixing an enzyme made from two parasite-host pairs. That's why the aliens need to find a host to attach to, and that's why every man converted into one of their hosts is constantly dripping from his mouth.

Mitchell's jaw hung slack as his parasite kicked his salivary glands into overdrive. Within mere seconds, drool was pouring from his zombified mouth, ready for another parasite-host pair to reproduce with.

It just so happened that Dave the Office Worker was there with Logan the Construction Worker. Obviously, it wasn't really either of them. They were just puppetted to walk there by their alien masters. The pair were still wearing the same clothes they'd had on a month ago when they were converted! The men had become rather ripe, but the aliens didn't have much need for hygiene.

Now that THEY had full control over the three men, the aliens began their reproductive ritual, generating even more enzymes within each of the humans' mouths. Now the only thing left was to mix. THEY relaxed and brought their human hosts close to each other, mashing their slippery mouths together in a disturbing mockery of a human kiss. It wasn't intimate it wasn't pleasant; it was transactional.

Neither Dave, Logan, or Mitchell were gay, but the aliens had no concept of sexuality. THEY just needed their host's bodies to sloppily exchange DNA for the next 24 hours and their job would be done. New alien life would spring forth from the act, and THEY would go find anotber host/parasite hybrid to mate with.

Earth as we know it was certainly over. Mankind was under the thumb of some slimy green aliens, and the resistance was quickly dwindling. Eventually, every man on Earth would be claimed and put to good use, producing even more of the alien kind.

THEY certainly came and THEY certainly conquered...

#mind control #gay ai art #body suit #male possession #alien possession

[little-lily-w]

Surgery part 3

<<Part 2 here                 You asked for Part 4>>

A/N: I’m screaming into the void

Your eyelids twitched. All of a sudden the darkness of the night was replaced by something bright, a white fluorescent light that had no mercy and finally conquered your awakening. You blinked fast, there was a horrible burning on the side of your waist. Your pupils searching around the room. Had you had an accident? Were you in a hospital bed? Well, actually, you were. But not in the one where you were supposed to find rest and health, more so of a stretcher for an unfortunate lab test subject. And there, looking down at you, the face of Chishiya.

You tried to scream as much as you tried to have your pitiful flight response altogether but none of that happened because your limbs were incapable of moving by themselves and Chishiya’s hand moved smoothly but effectively over your mouth. He let you squirm and growl against his palm, knowing that even if he was barely making pressure against your lips, your fast breathing was going to start suffocating you when trying to inhale so much air through your nose. By the minute, he was already seeing tears forming in the corner of your eyes, rolling down to his slender fingers and then your questioning scared gaze.

That was when he could finally start talking and you could finally listen.

“I don’t suggest you struggle”, he told you with that low tired air in his voice, wondering why he always had to explain the most obvious facts. “Your arms and legs are cuffed to the stretcher. You can thank the game masters for that, they got really inspired about this”, feeling your lips quivering underneath his palm, he released more of the pressure, not enough to let you talk but enough for his thumb to move as a subtle caress wiping the tears from your cheek, mostly because he didn’t like the wet feeling on his own fingers. “It’s better this way. You need to stay still for this”, he scanned your body for a brief second, checking how well the restrains responded when your muscles pulled as he spoke. He clearly wasn’t risking another chase. The charm of the first one was over, now it’d be a repetitive boring task. “I know you want to speak but I have to take the knife out of my pocket and you’re going to have a panic response. After you let it out, I’ll allow you to talk”, he explained as a matter of fact and pulled the steel weapon out.

As he predicted, you started struggling again, rubbing your wrists and ankles against the leather cuffs to the point where they began to burn more than the bruise from the taser gun did. Chishiya disregarded you and used the time to examine the knife against the shiny light. Quite similar to a scalpel but with enough imagination, it could also serve for self defense. Yeah, he was certainly keeping it.  

Once the cat noticed that the little mouse began to do those hyperventilating noises and that the muscles of your body contracted hard in a freezing motion instead of pulling and twisting against the restrains, he moved his face close to yours, leaning down so much so that his hand was the only barrier between you and him.

“It’s okay”, he said in a way that for a moment sounded as an attempt of gaslighting. “I know. Yeah, I know you don’t want this. No, you don’t have to tell me so. What?” he said and eventually removed his hand.

“Chishiya, please”, you hurried to let out as soon as he granted you the opportunity. “Chishiya, don’t do this. I’m begging you, we’ll find another way, Chish…”

But the hand came back to your mouth, shutting you off. Then the countdown announcing that an hour and a half had passed by.

“It’s clear you didn’t have anything else to say”, he said, clearly talking down to you and almost chuckling. You growled with anger and fear but he stopped your animal instinct pretty quickly. “Enlighten me. You came to me asking, better say begging to take you here. Now that I complied and we are here, you want me dead? I’m sure you considered this possibility”. The way he pronounced those questions managed to touch a key inside you that made you feel ashamed but also, to your disbelief, rather guilty. You were wasting his time? And now risking his life? Wait a second, weren’t you the victim here? What should you think?

Chishiya moved his hand off again. With half closed intrigued eyes, this time he seemed to be genuinely more interested in an answer than on the game itself.

“I’m sorry”, you tried out, swallowing as many sobs as you could. “No, I don’t want you dead. It’s just… this could kill me instead”.

“But you trusted me enough to take you here”, he still let your mouth free. “Why not trust me now too? Especially when they clearly designed this for us”.

You furrowed your brows. “W-what? You are a doctor?”

Chishiya’s subtle smirk lightened his face but he didn’t offer the soothing answer you expected. “They never said the cuts had to be of a certain depth. I’m confident you’ll be somehow alright”.

What? What did that mean? He was ready to cut you, there was no denial, no escape.

“I’ll start with the least dangerous parts, which means your thighs go first”, the hand that was impeding you to speak before now travelled down to the upper part of your knee, gently laying on the area but the mere touch and the difference of body temperature sent goosebumps along your spine. “This…”, he sighed, his face serious as he talked to you. “This won’t be possible with the shorts on. You’ll need to remove them”.

And his gaze was a pure dare. Silent and sweet like a respectful gesture but also a dangerous threat. The motherfucker was giving you a game inside a game. And if he was going to free one of your hands for the task, you better quite play along.

Maybe let me know if you think this is okay/want me to continue (?)

#chishiya x reader #alice in borderland #chishiya x you #chishiya #alice in borderland 2 #chishiya fanfic #chishiya fic #chishiya fanfiction

[teddyniffler]

In The Shadows of Friendship Forever

Chapter 26: An assortment of Gaunts and Garreth Weasley.

Ominis left the hospital wing two days later, Nurse Blainey had kept him in a day longer, due to his eyes not following her finger when she did the appropriate tests on him. “I am blind!” Ominis had protested in outrage when the nurse suggested keeping him in a third night. “I would very well imagine that’s why my eyes do not move to match your finger!” He was extra snappy today, having only realized he had missed the twins’ birthday, days after the event. He hadn’t sent an owl order to Zonkos yet because of his overwhelming homework. Now due to other people’s incompetence towards his condition, he now had to wait another day to check up on Poppy and to feed Snakey, whom would be growing hungrier by the second. Friendly or not, a hungry snake would bite. Fifth rule of the Gaunt family: Feed your snakes well. “I am very sorry, I overlooked it, I will-“ “Obviously!” Ominis snapped at her. “Well, I am feeling better after my accident. Thank you very much.” They all knew it wasn’t an ‘accident’, Black had attacked him, after he himself had threatened the headmaster.

He left the Hospital and stomped his way through the corridors. He was never this tightly wound up, but everything felt like it was crashing him on him. He didn't know if Sebastian was safe, he had been attacked and Marvolo may have hurt somebody he knew well. Twice his wand led him into a wall due to his rage interfering with it’s focus and he shook it violently, clearly expressing his outrage that his one trusted tool would let him down too. “Mr Gaunt! I would advise you to practice caution. You may take out an eye.” A stern voice reprehended him as Ominis continued to wave his wand around. He had almost taken out an unseen teacher. “What!” He yelled, his rage spilling over. There was a pause, in those moments he could hear whispers all around him, he must have walked into a busy part of the school without knowing it, too lost in his own thoughts and maybe the after effects of his concussion was confounding his sense of location. He was likely in the tea area of the defense against the dark arts corridor, he had been meaning to go feed Snakey before trying to find Poppy. Had he already arrived near to the Undercroft? “I am sorry, I’m just very frustrated.” He said apologetically “Professor…?” “Sharp” Came the voice of his potions master. “Oh yes, sorry Professor Sharp.” “If I may advise, wands are dangerous tools, one must always remember that, you cannot see it, but your wand is currently throwing out red sparks. That is not a happy wand right now. Please take control of your emotions Mr Gaunt.” “I shall Professor.” “Good day to you, Gaunt.” He heard Sharp move off. Mutters, mutters, all around him. He moved away from them, he always got mutterings just for the surname he carried, so it wasn’t really a new thing. However, since the Daily Prophet had released the plea for Sebastian to return to St Mungos after vanishing without any trace, some in the school believed Ominis was hiding him somewhere in the castle. The once innocent Sallow, victim to the dark arts, had clearly sought sanctuary with the boy who had taught him such magic in the first place. Well, Sebastian wasn’t in the Undercroft as much as Ominis knew, so that rumour was ridiculous.

“I’m sorry” Ominis said to the repeats of ‘Where you been, where you been, where you been?’ He hurried over to the wall where Snakey now took up residence and felt around all the branches, leaves and hides he had conquered for his snake until he felt a cold leather-like body. “Oh you’re freezing, haven’t you been in the heat?” Ominis asked. ‘Waiting to see you’ That made him feel worse. “Sorry” He hissed back. “Tried to help a friend, but it made things worse, it didn’t go well.” ‘No?’ “Not at all” Ominis took out his wand and started conquering a small mouse, he knew he had done it as Snakey suddenly grew excited and started trying to strike. “That’s my wand!” Ominis cried as something small hit his wand. “So my friend, he can’t come back here as the headmaster won’t allow him to, I tried to threaten the headmaster as Marvolo – ‘Bad, bad, bad’ – advised me too and it went very wrong. I woke up in the hospital.” He waited until he was sure his snake was eating. “Will you be ok eating that? I need to go check up on somebody.” Something came that sounded like a farewell from Snakey with his mouth full of food. Ominis quicky turned around and left the room.

It didn’t take him long to find Poppy. He walked into the Great Hall and made his way up the Hufflepuff table. “Is Poppy Sweeting here?” He asked as he went up. “Yes, she is indeed” Came a voice and an arm reached for him, making him stop. “you’re wasting your time though, everybody wants to know about the mysterious man she was with, an older man too! My my! Miss Sweeting isn’t the quiet, innocent chase girl we all thought she was, turns out she likes the company of older men. Sorry whoever you are, but it appears you are too young for our Miss Sweeting.” As the girl laughed, Ominis thought he recognized her as Sacharissa Tugwood, he mostly avoided her since she offered him a potion to make his eyes more bearable for her to look at in his first year. Ominis continued up the table.

“Poppy?” He asked. “Oh, over here Ominis.” Her voice came to him. “Hello” He said awkwardly, not sure he was looking at Poppy at all. “Poppy, that guy you were with in Hogsmeade was my older brother, he’s not who you think he is Poppy. He’s not interested in you, he’s dangerous and -.” All around him came giggles. “Dangerous? Dangerously handsome!” That was Lenora Everleigh for sure. A few other giggles followed. “He bowed to me and conjured a flower just because I said hello to Poppy.” Came Adelaide’s voice. “He is a gentleman like the one we all ought to marry.” Poppy smiled at Ominis and took his arm. Ominis felt her touch and blinked. “Ominis, it’s ok. I’m not dating your brother formally, we just met for the first time, we are just acquaintances. However, I do confess, we do have another date planned to meet, the next Hogsmeade trip-“ The little group cheered, all around Ominis were girls screaming. Next came hushing noises.

“- And I’m keeping mum on the subject. A lady doesn’t gossip, that’s what gran says.” Poppy ended. “Poppy” Ominis stuttered “Please, my brother is a killer.” “Lady Killer.” Giggled Lenora. “He is!” Ominis cried. However the girls before him didn’t seem to pick up on his warnings. “Poppy, I don’t-“ Ominis started. “Oooh back to your table, you snake.” Lenora’s said, not entirely unkind, but in a way that told Ominis she was only half joking. “Poppy can court your brother if she wants, it’s not against the law you know.” Poppy smiled apologetically to Ominis, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “Ominis, it’s ok, it’s just a second date, it may not even go anywhere, I mean, he is slightly older-“ Poppy’s words were drowned out by more good will cheering. “Shush!” Poppy protested. “I mean, we may decide to just be friends. Marvolo is such a gentleman though, I am in safe hands with him, I see he is gentle and is as passionate about beasts as I.” “No, Poppy, I ask you-“ “Bye bye snake” Leanora said, now pushing slightly on his arm. Knowing he was no longer welcome there at the Hufflepuff table, he moved away, his insides tight with the growing number of people he had to be concerned for.

A week had passed since Ominis had woken in the Hospital Wing. That morning, Professor Black shocked the entire school by limping into the Great Hall. He had last been seen looking immaculate as always a few days ago, but after a short disappearance he had returned, limping in through the doors, with multiple bruises neither the teachers or Nurse Blainey had been able to heal. His physical appearance to the whole school population had been a shock. Parts of his perfectly groomed mustache had been ripped out, forcing Black to tearfully shave it off. His left eye was swelled and bruised, with a deep vivid purple that was framed more by his dark hair. No amount of bruise cream had worked on him and his lip was torn and would not heal by magical means, making his mouth puffy. They had tried healing him in the muggle fashion, with tape. A tooth had been knocked out, with Black clutching the side of his mouth as it slowly grew back in. He had the appearance of somebody who had, unfortunately, flew their broom into the path of a Hippogriff.

“Not to worry. Not to worry. I know I have looked better, this job is much, much harder than what you students could ever imagine, so I hope you are all more the grateful for the work I do for you. Both for you and this historic school.” He winched as he sat down, slowly got up again, keeping one leg up he conjured a cushion and sat back down on his chair. His eyes flickered over to Ominis Gaunt who had his wand held to the Daily Prophet over at the Slytherin table, then he looked away again, back down at his plate of toast. Another one of his teeth was loose, he could only eat with his front teeth. No Wiggenweld potion had worked, not even Episkey. He could simply pull the tooth out and regrow it like the new one, but so far it was enough regrowing just one. He had been cursed with dark magic. As he sat, feeling sorry for himself, rage also cursed through him. He had tried making his stand against the Gaunts, and now everybody in the room before him could see the results, although they didn’t know why he bore those injuries.

After he had pushed Ominis down the stairs, the little brat had indeed informed his father, there was no doubt about it. Master Gaunt had wasted no time in paying him a visit, bringing the horror that was Marvolo Gaunt with him. Within seconds of them entering the room, all the past heads of the school had been covered up, the door locked from the inside, at the same time the door to Black’s own personal chambers had slammed shut. Gaunt himself had not touched him, it had been the son, the lunatic himself. Master Gaunt had explained to Black that the Gaunts wanted to see how Marvolo was progressing in the Dark Arts.

Phineas Black, from the proud House of Black, had been a sobbing mess on the floor within half an hour of Marvolo’s brutality. “I can’t believe you called me an ‘Inbreed’ Phineas, I thought we were friends!” Master Gaunt had called over the sounds, flashes and thumps on flesh, while Marvolo cried in joy. Mr Gaunt had taken his seat in the headmaster’s chair, his legs up on the desk after kicking all of Black's items to the floor. He had watched as his son reduced Black to a blooded mess, before he called his attack dog off. He had gotten to his feet and walked slowly around the desk. In that moment, Professor Black had thought he was going to be murdered within his own office, cowering like a child with his hand stretched out before him. “You could have seriously hurt my boy.” Gaunt said, looking down at Black with his pale silvery blue eyes. “A Gaunt. One whose life is worth ten times that of a Black. Do you need a reminder of who we are? Who we are descendant from? You could have harmed my families’ survival. Slytherin’s survival. ”

“Crucio” Master Gaunt didn’t even blink as Phineas started to thrash around on the floor. The spell had lifted before Black even noticed. Master Gaunt had kneeled down and prodded Black in the shoulder, all friendly, as if they were the best of friends. “Touch my son again and the Black family shall be a male down. I’m so happy we are friends again Phineas! Don’t break our friendship again, I will miss you should you die, whoever shall I talk to?” They had both left, together, with Gaunt praising Marvolo for his work, praising his son's level of devotion to his studies, leaving Phineas Black a blooded, beaten mess on the floor and the office in tatters. It had taken hours for Black to stop shaking. He had crawled to the door to peer out to make sure they had really gone. Then he had crawled down to the hospital wing. He had told them he had had an accident of sorts, in the forest, absolutely, no, he didn’t see what had attacked him, it had been too dark.

Now, sitting in the hall again, the chatter of noise all around him, Professor Black wondered if all of this really was worth the pay check. He had been roped into a conspiracy he wanted no part of, he had done everything correctly. If somebody preformed an Unforgiveable Curse, they were to be reported. It was standard wizarding law and it had been this way for almost two hundred years. He had done everything lawful, but all it had resulted in was every member of the Gaunts family using him, from the son to the father. He picked up his toast and tore some off before placing a tiny amount into his mouth. It was so close to Easter now, could he simply go home to his family and never return here? He glanced sidewards at Professor Weasley in bitter hatred, no doubt she would take over after him. She had nothing to fear from the Gaunts, she may be pureblood, but nobody wanted to work with Blood Traitors. His tooth wobbled dangerously in his mouth and he stopped eating at once, his hunger all gone.

“Professor Weasley, see the students to the train for those going home. I am leaving earlier, I need some time to recover from my, um, my accident!” Professor Weasley glanced at the Headmaster. He had said he had walked along the forest at dusk and was attacked by something within. She doubted that story very much, there was nothing in there that would attack somebody just walking along the edge, no centaur would come this close to humans and the worst beasts were very deep in the trees. It made no sense and it certainly didn’t explain why none of his wounds would heal by magic. These wounds were not from a creature, but a wand. The timing of Ominis’ ‘accident’ also was too much of a coincidence. She pressed her lips together. The Gaunts. It was them. “Sure Headmaster. I shall be escorting Garreth to his home personally, so I shall see to the students, as I always do.” “Good. Good” Black said, ignoring her sarcasm. “Yes, well, I shall be off early-“ “I hope you recover well.” Professor Weasley said, she wanted to tell him to be careful, but she didn’t want to let on how much she really knew. It was best to keep quiet in these circumstances, especially considering who was currently living in her brother’s home.

-“It’s ready! May I present ‘G.R.O.IN’ my health and pamering range for men. It stands for ‘Garreth’s Revolutionary, Organic, INcreaser!’ For all your hair woes. Can you see my face? It’s as smooth as a Golden Snitch, but with three drops of my elixir, applied to my face, I can grow a full range of facial hair, turning me from the smooth 17 year old boy to the growth of a 27 year old man in moments, watch!”-

Natty blocked out the cheering and excited Gryffindors all around her as she tried helping Leander free his nose from the enchanted clamps a group of Slytherins had placed on him. The camps were so tight Leander’s nose had turned blue, there was some blood leaking from his nostrils. “This is so cruel. Who did this, did you see their faces?” Leander tried to speak but his voice was so distorted Natty couldn’t hear him.

- “Oh my, it’s working. Watch closely” -

“I am sure this spell shall work.” Natty said, as she aimed carefully at Leander’s face. Thinking of the spell non vocally, a second later the clamps sprang free from Leander’s noise with a cry of pain. His eyes streaming and blood poured from his nose. “Here.” Natty said, holding the tissues to his nose for him to clean himself up.

-“Oh NO!” - Hysterical laughter rang out from across the common room. Natty looked over to see Garreth Weasley vanishing rapidly under- “Disgusting!” Cried Lucan Brattleby in his high pitch voice. “Is that arm pit hair?” “Somebody get me a razor! PLEASE” Came Garreth’s voice under all the hair. Natty shook her head, Garreth was always doing something silly.

“No” Leander answered her “There were Slytherins who I’ve never spoken too. The whole house is still blaming me for that interview over Christmas. It really wasn’t me.” Natty hesitated as she took out more tissues. “It was me who give that interview to the Prophet.” She confessed “What!” Leander gasped, lowering his voice. “I- I thought you and Sallow got along?” “We did and I thought I knew him, but last year opened my eyes to the real Sebastian. I knew he had been getting into trouble, we all knew that, but to hear he had been using the Dark Arts, and that he had killed his poor Uncle, led me into action. Now I don’t know what I believe, the Daily Prophet says he’s innocent, but still, something feels not right to me. I chose to speak as last year I was hunting down Harlow to stop people getting hurt, just like my father, only to discover somebody I respected was doing the same thing, right under all our noses. Somebody had to speak out, only now I wish I never, because I’ve gotten you hurt. You can tell people it was me, if you want.” Leander took a breath, this was a lot to take in, but finally the truth. “It’s ok, I won’t say anything. It’s not secret me and Sallow never got along, no matter what I say, people will still think it was me, but thank you for telling me.” As Garreth was engulfed in rapid growing hair, he turned and quickly made a run for the boys dorm to loud laughter. Natty and Leander sat in silence.

The next day, the train was due to take students home for Easter. Ominis had tried sending his parents an owl saying he had so much work to do over the holidays, he thought it would be best to stay at school and study. His parents had quicky replied, informing him he was to come home, least they could support him with his work. He had hesitantly packed Snakey into his cloak as he made his way to Hogsmeade station. He had also packed all of his homework, for he was planning on spending the fortnight in the study at home. Thankfully, the Gaunt household did not celebrate Easter with half the enthusiasm they showed New Year, so he was hopeful his family would not be murdering Muggles this time. “Have a happy Easter, Ominis.” Came Professor Weasley’s voice when he came to the station. “You too Professor.” “By the way, you haven’t seen my nephew, have you? He was to meet me here.” The irony of her words was not lost on Ominis, nor was it Professor Weasley as she appeared to pause for a moment in horror. “I mean have you heard him, I am sorry, it’s just it’s important I talk with him before he goes home.” She sounded troubled. “Oh, where has he got too?” The train rolled into the station with its normal vibration and sounds, cutting Professor Weasley quiet, Ominis climbed aboard, feeling the usual dread that came with going home. Professor Weasley watched as all the student returning home boarded the train, absent among them was a red haired, lanky boy. “Where has he got to?” Professor Weasley grumbled as the train pulled away from Hogsmeade Station.

The young Weasley in question had just apparated into his family yard. No way as Garreth getting onto that train, not with his diabolical hair problem. The hairs from under his armpit had increased in size until it looked like he was walking around with two garden hedges under each arm, the look was not flattering at all and he was not going to show his face ever again in the Gryffindor common room. All he had wanted was a good fashioned mustache, one that arched around to his face, he would look great like that, but so far his beauty tonics for men had only failed. Aunt Matilda had wanted to meet him, but he couldn’t face her looking like this, the best thing he could do was discreetly enter his house through the backdoor, creep up to the bathroom and shave with his father’s razors, the old man had plenty. He opened the door slowly, his mother was in the kitchen talking to somebody, no doubt his sister in the living room. He crept up the stairs slowly, home was just as it always had been, weird and chaotic. Steps ended at landings, steps went to rooms and more steps went to higher floors. His room was right at the very top, he loved looking out at the meadows in the morning. He opened the bathroom door, it was thankfully not in use and locked the door behind him. It took ages, he hoped he wouldn’t have to shout to his father for some help as this was mortifying, finally he was hair free, but he had made a terrible mess upon the floor.

There was a small tap on the door. Finally, his little sister had learned some manners and learned how to knock, rather than barging her way in. He took out his wand and vanished the evidence of his latest mishap, the bathroom was all tidy again. He was grinning now, no doubt his little sister thought one of their parents were in here, he would surprise her so much when she seen him home hours earlier than expected! He threw open the door “Boo!!-“ He stopped dead mid speech. There was no mistaken who was standing before him, but the sight of him made Garreth’s mouth drop open. “Holy Merlin…!” Garreth gasped.

Brown eyes, brown hair, loads of freckles. He looked somehow smaller than Garreth remembered him looking and not as healthy looking. Azkaban had certain done something to him, and not for the best. He was currently wearing very loose-fitting clothing with braces holding his clothing up. All of it did nothing to hide how skinny he had become. “Holy Hell. Sebastian? Whoa. Why, why are you in my house?” Garreth asked, shock flooding him. “Wait. Wait…My auntie, she wanted to talk to me- Oh my word! OH MY WORD!” Garreth’s full face was lit up, he looked excited. He looked horrified. He looked delighted. “Why is Sebastian Sallow in my house?” Garreth asked the empty bathroom as Sebastian winched slightly. “I-need to-use” Sebastian pointed to the bathroom. “Oh sure. I’m finished. Hi. Erm. Hey Sebastian, um, nice to see you again” he said as he ran down the stairs. When did his parents and Aunt become prisoner smugglers? He needed answers.

“Mum? Dad?” He called to them. He could not believe it, he never guessed his parents were capable of such high adventures. “You have something to tell me?” Sebastian Sallow was in his house. His family were hiding Sebastian Sallow. The boy everybody was looking for was currently in his family bathroom! “Mum, Dad!” This would be so interesting.

#ITSOFF26 #Hogwarts Legacy #Sebastian Sallow #Ominis Gaunt #Hogwarts Legacy fic #Professor Black #phineas nigellus black #Master Gaunt #Marvolo Gaunt

[pint4punt]

Is the Empire Finally Dead……or Rising?

The date was January 4th, 2020. The evil New England Empire had held a firm grip on the Republic of the NFL for the better part of two decades, but a wild group of rebels believed the Empire to be in a rare position of vulnerability and sought to capitalize on this once in a lifetime opportunity. Based out of the AFC South Sector, this little known (and hardly covered) militia group went by many names. Some still referred to them as the Houston Oilers, to some they were the Tennessee Oilers, but on this day, everyone knew them as Titans.

Led by Vrabel Skywalker, who in many ways, was a son of the Empire, these Titans were fearless and had a plan to thwart Darth Brady and Emperor Belichick (and it didn’t even involve spying on their military drills at the Gillette Battle Station). Rumblings had been growing about divide amongst New England ranks, with some even suggesting Darth Brady wanted to venture off and conquer new Galaxies on his own.

As the battle commenced, it was clear this was not the same old Empire. Behind an unstoppable barrage of running attacks, the Titans wore down the New England Defense systems and stymied the Patriots’ offensive game plan, even in the face of Brady’s ancient screen-game sorcery. Things looked bleak at times as C-3PTannehill kept trying to turn the fucking ball over, but between the continued battering of Henry turrets, and Vrabel Skywalker’s masterful employ of the one of the emperor’s favorite battle tactics, the Titans gave themselves a chance. As the battle came down to the wire, Darth Brady made a fatal error, turning the ball over in his own territory, resulting in the destruction of the Gillette Star along with the regime that had terrorized the league for far too long. So where are they nearly four years later?

Current State

The Empire is a shell of what it once was in its glory days. Emperor Belichick tried to raise a new apprentice in Kylo Mac, but frankly, he’s more of a whiny little bitch than a franchise Sith Lord. The Emperor himself has faced increasing scrutiny in the face of only one battle victory on the year, a loss at the hands of his hapless old apprentice, and the two worst defeats of his career suffered back to back. Their Offensive attack ranks only ahead of the New York Jar Jar Binks and their Defense systems have been compromised with injuries to key pieces such as Matthew Judon and Christian Gonzalez.

What’s on the Horizon

As bad as things are…..they aren’t looking up either. The Bills’ Mafia Armada is quickly approaching and not far behind is the Miami Dolphins’ fully armed and averaging nearly 500 yards/game Battle Station. There’s also a looming visit from Master Mahomesda following his recent alliance with the Swifties squadron. The New England Empire is tied for last in the AFC Galaxy along with Greedo Wilson and the infamous Bounty Hunter Payton Fett. Playoff hopes are as dead as the Disney Sequels and the Empire has never been less of a threat.

So What’s Left to Fear?

The Empire is currently in a 5-team race for the generationally talented young Padawan Caleb Williams. If the Empire were successful in acquiring and corrupting this budding young prodigy, their reign of terror could resume almost immediately and go on for the foreseeable future. While the AFC Galaxy and specifically the Eastern Quadrant of the AFC, are far more formidable than they were during the Empire’s heinous run, giving the evil Emperor a Padawan with such latent potential could pose a threat to every Team’s hopes of hoisting Lombardi’s.

Our Only Hope

While the New England Empire will be outmatched and likely overwhelmed in most of its upcoming battles, there are Teams who could slow them down in their pursuit of Caleb Williams. Lord Riverboat Ron and Count Brandon Staley are on the verge of their careers being cryogenically frozen themselves, while Master Brian Daboll appears primed to rebuild his fleet in his own pursuit of Williams.

Daboll has to let go of his hate and abandon his desire for vengeance on the Empire for what it did to his people in Buffalo for all those years, Ron needs to concede the battle to win the war, and Staley………just needs to keep doing what he’s doing.

Keeping the young prodigy Williams away from the Emperor won’t be easy and will require sacrifices across the board. But God Dammit we saw how terrible things got when Disney gave the Empire a sequel.

#new englad patriots #star wars #emperorbelichick #the dark side #nfl #afc #afc east #caleb williams #taylor swift

[mypoisonedvine]

Double-Edged Sword: Capt. Syverson x Reader (Chapter 1)

[I decided to ignore my WIPs and my URL and write something for Syverson because he is just…. a beautiful, meaty man and he deserves some more love.

To those of you who follow me for Witcher stuff only, I promise we will return shortly to the regularly scheduled programming.  As for the rest of us who are thirsty for Cavill in any context… enjoy!]

Summary: As a Major in the Marine Corps, you work with other units and branches relatively often.  That said, you had never really had to ask another unit for help before, so you felt pretty awkward when a mission required you to travel to a nearby Army camp and take shelter with them for the next two months.  Of course, their smack-talking, free-wheeling Captain isn’t going to make it any easier on you, either.

Word Count: 5k (oh jesus christ)

Rating: E

(warning for dub con and people being sexist assholes, cause yknow, it’s the military.  contains lots of angst and bickering and arguing, and of course, smut.)

“Listen, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m Ms. Popular,” you sighed, “but hopefully you all can appreciate that I look out for all of you.”

No one said anything, because they were standing at attention at their cots.

“At ease,” you added, and they all relaxed a bit, “but keep quiet so I can finish.”

A few sat on their beds but most still seemed to be paying attention.

“When it’s just us Marines, I don’t mind much whatever you call me when I’m not around.  Or when I’m around.  But once we get where we’re going tomorrow, we’re shacking up with the Army.  And as much as I want everyone to get along, I’m not sure how likely that is.  Anyways, what I’m trying to say is… right now it may be me versus you, but soon it’s going to be us versus them, Marines versus Army.  And us Marines need to stick together.  Does that make sense?”

There were a few nods, but you weren’t sure they were getting it.

“Alright, allow me to be a bit more literal.  Don’t tell the other soldiers that I’m a bitch,” you requested.  There were some scattered chuckles.  “I know it probably seems fine since you say it to each other but I need you guys to help me get their respect.  I’m not saying to go in there and tell every Army nimrod that I’m everybody’s favorite officer.  Just… don’t let them see any cracks they could exploit.  Because I have to start ordering these guys around and I’m already batting a thousand.”

“Seems reasonable,” Private Cole replied, and most of the others agreed.  You smiled and left them alone to have a somewhat relaxing night before they had to ship out.

“I don’t want this to be Marines versus Army,” you told Captain Syverson the next day when you met with him for the first time.  Of course, that was what you had told your own unit would happen, but he didn’t know that.  “I’m sure you know that this is an officer versus enlisted issue.  And us officers should stick together.”

He was smiling back at you from across the table, but it didn’t seem that friendly.  

“I don’t see why there’s any ‘versus’ at all.  You and your unit are guests here.  We get this project over with and you’re out,” he shrugged.  

“Maybe you haven’t had much issue getting control of your soldiers.  But it took me a while to get mine to trust me, and now I have to go in blind and command your unit.  So I hope you’re on my side,” you explained.

He went from smiling in an unhappy way, to laughing in an unfunny way.  You regretted the way you had approached this conversation.

“Sounds like you’re not a good leader, if it was so much trouble for you,” he scoffed. “Maybe you should work on that.”

You didn’t get angry very often, but this was the closest you’d been in a while.  You understood his distrust, even a little duplicity was merited.  To just outright insult you to your face was, of course, hurtful, but mainly just stupid.  You’d always known Army guys were total morons, but this was just ridiculous.  What could he gain from going against you?

“How many years until you get promoted?” you asked him suddenly, standing up from your chair.

“About two and a half,” he responded.

“Well, if in two and a half years we’re both still alive, and I’m not already a lieutenant colonel, call me and we’ll talk about who’s in charge.  Until then, back off,” you huffed, and turned to walk away.  You yelped when he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back.

“You’re on my base,” he reminded you sternly.

“And we’ll try to be respectful while we’re here, regardless of how we’re being treated,” you grimaced, wrenching your arm out of his grasp.

“You’ll try to be respectful?  On my base?!  How generous,“ he scoffed.  "You can’t just show up and start running things.”

“I have no desire to micromanage your little sandhut, Captain.  I don’t give half a fuck what goes on in here.  What I do have is the final call on any decision made in this mission,” you explained.

“On whose authority?” he pressed.  You laughed.

“Cap, somewhere in your desk there’s a little piece of paper– it’s got a lot of pretty gold and silver stars on it– and it explains how commanding authority is ranked in every branch of the United States military.  Feel free to go and check me on this, but I’m pretty sure that ‘Captain’ is here,” you motioned in the air, “and ‘Major’ is here,” you moved your hand up an inch.

“Well, sweetheart, there’s a sign outside the front of this base that says ‘Army’ on it, and a little sticker on your chest,” he poked it, and you couldn’t decide if you hated the physical contact or the deriding pet name more, “that says USMC.”

“Rank is rank,” you argued.

“So if you’ve got a doctorate in physics and I’ve got a master’s in English, you have the right to lecture me about fuckin’ Grapes of Wrath or whatever?”

“My doctorate is in American History,” you frowned. He laughed in frustration.

“Only a Jarhead could miss the point that hard,” he groaned, “and find a way to brag in the process.”

“Call your superior,” you growled, “who is notably a Major, and ask him who has authority on this base while we’re here.”

You stormed out before you could hear his reply.

~

When the time came, the two of you discussed how you would approach the mission behind closed doors.  Not like it was fun or anything, but you managed to stay off each other’s throats for a while and agree on a few things.  It was nice enough that you actually let your guard down, so much so that you were totally blindsided when he waited until you were in front of the entire company to disagree with you.

“That’ll never work,” he suddenly interrupted as you explained the plan, “we’ll divide and conquer.”

You looked at him with confusion.

“That’s not what we discussed before,” you reminded him.

“I changed my mind,” he shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t.  So we’ll do it my way.”

“My men, my rules,” he growled, stepping closer to you.

“Half these people,” you corrected, since a few of your unit were women, “are mine, and you’re below me.”

“Fuck you,” he said casually, smiling while he did it.

“You couldn’t handle it,” you spat back.

A few of the enlisted ‘ooooh’ed but for the most part it was very, very quiet.

Finally, Captain Syverson silently turned on his heel and walked away, looking exasperated.

“Looks like the Captain is going to take a little break,” you smiled with fake enthusiasm, turning back to the company, “and I’ll keep explaining this mission to you all.”

“If Captain Syverson doesn’t approve it, we’re not doing it,” one of the Army kids announced.  Your Marines were notably silent, but the rest of the Captain’s unit nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got a word for you, boys.  It starts with ‘N’ and ends with ‘subordination,’” you frowned.  They all groaned.

“It’s not insubordination because you’re not in charge of us!”

“Manage your own people, Jarhead!”

You uncrossed your arms and let your voice get a little louder.  “Hey, hey, settle down!” 

It mostly worked, but everyone seemed pretty displeased.

“Captain Syverson and I had a discussion with our superiors and it was concluded that I am highest ranking and I get the final call on every tactical decision,” you explained.

“That’s not what he told us,” one of the Army boys chuckled.

You tried not to seethe in front of them, you tried to keep it professional, but how were you supposed to work in these conditions?

“As you were,” you resigned through your teeth, storming off to where the Captain had gone.  You found him in his quarters, relaxing on a sofa; you nearly kicked the door in to talk to him.

“What the fuck was that?!” you exclaimed.

“I changed my mind,” he repeated calmly.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you growled, shoving him where he sat.  He stood up, clearly agitated.

“Get your hands off me, lady.”

“Major,” you corrected through your teeth.

“Only Major you are to me is a major waste of my fucking time,” he replied.

“Take it up with the Department of Defense, they’re the ones who gave me the title,” you defended.

“You know, lately I’ve been having issues with a lot of their decisions.  I’m still trying to figure out why the fuck we’re doing this anyways.”

“The mission?” you asked.

“The war,” he corrected.

“Ah,” you nodded, looking around nervously.  You were more comfortable with the arguing than the awkward silence. 

“Whatever,” he scoffed, crossing his arms and slumping his shoulders.

“Go tell your unit the plan- our plan.  Better yet, tell them they answer to me,” you demanded.

“I couldn’t have made it any more obvious that I’m not gonna do what you tell me,” he frowned, crossing his arms.

“Will you at least cooperate with me enough to get this mission over with?” 

He thought about that for a minute, and you tried not to lose your patience.

“Hmm… no,” he decided finally.

“Then will you shut the fuck up and stay out of my way?” you suggested instead.

He stepped up to you until he was uncomfortably close, and you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.  He had these really bright blue eyes and they didn’t fit with the rest of his face, which was significantly angrier and grittier.

“Not a chance,” he answered.  But his voice had lost the intimidating tone, and his expression had changed at some point without you noticing… he looked sort of calm, considering the situation, and you realized that he was examining your face.

“You know,” he said suddenly, “you’d be pretty if you weren’t so…” he trailed off.

“Mean?” you finished, having heard this sort of comment more than a few times.

“No, it’s not that.  The mean thing is sorta hot,” he corrected casually as if it were nothing to say.  You bit your lip and broke the eye contact, trying not to blush.  It was a good thing you didn’t find him attractive- because of course you didn’t, him being this dirty brute and all- but still, it was uncomfortable.

“You’d be pretty,” he decided, “if you weren’t a Marine.”

You laughed and shook your head incredulously.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’d be pretty if you shaved that raccoon off your face,” you suggested, “and took a shower.”

You smiled as you left the room.

~

You delayed the mission briefing a day, to give you and the Captain more time to hopefully come to some decision, and you hoped it wouldn’t mean you and your unit had to stay at this camp even just one day longer.  You met with your Marines privately, and they were sympathetic but seemed to be getting along with the other soldiers enough to sympathize with their unwillingness to cooperate.  One soldier said he would only listen to you and not ‘Sy’ as they called him, but you told them to always listen to their commanding officer even if he’s a complete tool.

You were walking back to your quarters for the night when you passed by an open tent, a half-dozen Army boys inside playing cards.

“Hey Major, what size bra do you wear?” a soldier hollered at you, and the others snickered.

“I think they’re bigger than they look in that uniform,” another added.  “Double ‘D’s, at least.”

You stopped and decided to address them, unable to let a comment like that go.

“Oh I’ve got double ‘D’s alright,” you smirked.  “Dishonorable Discharge.”

“Aw, we’re just messing around,” the first dismissed with a frown. “Can’t you take a joke?”

“I can take a joke, but I can take your job, too.  Maybe stay on my good side.”  You winked, just to keep it playful, but you were really screwed either way.  You’d tried playing along with jokes before and all it did was make you seem like some creep and/or slut who liked getting hit on (was this even what that was?) by subordinates.  But getting stern didn’t seem to make you any friends, either.  That’s why you were so comfortable with not having any friends.

“Your good side?  You mean from the back?” one of them murmured, and you wondered if he was trying to be just loud enough for you to hear, or just quiet enough for you not to. 

“Dude, she’s probably a dyke anyway,” Private Lipowitz responded.

“Am I supposed to find that insulting?” you asked him.  He smirked, as did the others, as if it was obvious that you should, but nobody said anything.  “Maybe I am a dyke.  And maybe I could give your girl back home more pleasure in five minutes than you’ve given any woman in your whole life combined, eh Lipowitz?”

“You better not talk about my girl, Major,” he challenged, standing up and puffing up his chest.  “I know you’re not supposed to hit chicks or anything, but seriously, I’ll take out anybody who talks about my girl.”  You decided not to point out that you’re not supposed to hit your commanding officer, ‘chick’ or otherwise.

“Then you better start with your boys first,” you responded, motioning to a few of the other soldiers, “because word on the street is they found those saucy little pictures she sent you.”

Lipowitz turned to the other men with wide eyes, and suddenly you were the only one smiling.  Enlisted seem to talk so much more and so much louder than they realize.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, dashing to his pack, presumably searching for those photos.  When he didn’t find them, he stood up and pushed Private Mason back by the shoulders.

“Where are those fucking pictures, dude?”

“I don’t have ‘em, I swear,” Mason defended, but all the other guys were laughing.

“Seriously, guys, whoever has them, just give them back!”

“You’re not going to want them back in the state they’re in,” another finally admitted, “trust me.”

They all burst into laughter as Lipowitz went on a rampage, yelling and kicking and threatening to beat up the other guys.  You took the commotion as a good opportunity to sneak away mostly unnoticed and get back to your quarters for the night.

You weren’t there very long before you decided to spend some time in your temporary office instead.  You had taken your hair out of the tight regulation bun, intending to change into pajamas and go to sleep, but you remembered some paperwork that needed to be done by tomorrow night and decided to make some progress on it, since the Captain got in the way of your productivity during the day.

Of course, you weren’t an hour into it when he knocked on your door, though you didn’t know it was him until you told him to come in without looking up from your files.

He entered but stopped and didn’t say anything.

“Can I help you?” you asked eventually.

“You look different with your hair down,” he observed, and you looked back at him with a confused expression.

“Yes, I’d figure so,” you replied.

“You sleep in your uniform?” he asked, noticing that you were still in your fatigues, though you’d shed the camo long sleeve and just had on the green undershirt.

“Do I look like I’m sleeping?” you asked incredulously, looking back to your papers.  He snorted but didn’t say anything.  "Besides, I don’t think you’re ever in uniform.“

"Not when I don’t have to be,” he shrugged.  “I’m not sure why you wear it when you don’t have to.”

“I barely get taken seriously with it on, so it’s the least I can do,” you explained.

“About that…” he began, and you looked up in surprise. “I’m sorry they give you such a hard time.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, getting up from your chair to put some papers in your filing cabinet, “you talked to them and heard some of the awful shit they call me.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Well, you only have yourself to blame for that.  You had plenty of chances to instill respect for authority but you decided it would be more fun, I suppose, to go rogue and turn everyone against me,” you bit back with sarcastic cheeriness.

“Shit, I’m actually trying to be nice to you, and you’re still impossible.  You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he nearly yelled.  You felt like the word ‘brat’ specifically targeted the fact that you were younger than him, which you didn’t appreciate at all- you would rather be judged on your merits, even if the judgment was poor, than be treated differently just because you were young.

“I’m in charge of you,” you corrected, “and you’re refusing to listen to me.  So, if anything, you’re the brat.”

“What I would give to put you in your place right now,” he growled to himself.

“Oh, my place? And what place is that?”

“Bent over my desk and getting your brains fucked out,” he answered with a deep voice.  

A lot of guys probably fantasized about rough sex (or worse) as a means of revenge against you for all those extra push-ups and boot camp humiliations– a few had even made comments about it, though most hadn’t realized you could hear them at the time.  You’d learned quickly how to not let that stuff get to you.  But this got to you… and not in the way you prepared for.  Your face burned and your gut sank and your insides throbbed, as if out of nowhere.

“I figured you liked your women without brains,” you quipped in reply, trying not to show any signs of weakness.  

He dashed to close the space between you, pressing you back against the wall.  He was so big, and he smelled like sweat and beer and pine.  You were surprised, and confused, but you didn’t worry that he would hurt you, for some reason.

“Seems I like my women with a mouth on ‘em, because every time you make some little comment like that, I swear I get harder than steel.”

He pushed his hips into you and yep, there it was.  Your breaths began to stutter but you didn’t want him to see how much this affected you.

“Just wish you put that mouth to better use,” he added with a devilish grin.

“You’d better get back,” you threatened, without actually mentioning any potential consequences.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me,” he purred, and leaned down to speak against your ear.  “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?  I can tell you’re getting turned on when we argue, too.”

“You’re confusing arousal with irritation, Captain.”

“Mmm, I like when you call me that.  I assume the intention is condescending, cause you just have to remind me that you outrank me, but I like it anyway,” he presumed.

“It’s the proper way to address another soldier, nothing condescending about it.  You know, I actually don’t have any problem with your rank.  Or your branch.  My problem is with your personality,” you corrected.

“That’s fair.  I have a big personality,” he smirked, and pressed his erection harder against you… it felt pretty big but you couldn’t get a good impression through your fatigues.

“Well, that might explain your ego,” you murmured.

“Just tell me you don’t want it and I’ll leave you be, we’ll go back to bickering an’ shit,” he offered.  “Just look at me,” he prompted, putting a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him, “and tell me you don’t want it.”

As you met his gaze, you let yourself really get a closer look than you had before.  It had always been obvious that he was good-looking, but right now he looked oddly gentle considering the circumstances.  The look in his eyes lacked the confidence you were expecting… as if he really didn’t know if you wanted him or not.  As if he really wanted you to want him.  As if he really wanted you.  And it had been a long time since someone had looked at you like that.

“Fuck it,” you growled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.  His beard rubbed against your face but it wasn’t as scratchy as you’d imagined- not that you had imagined this or anything.  

He inhaled through his nose and stepped back, pulling you with him and putting a hand on your hair and the other on your hip. 

“Looks like you’ll have to settle for bending me over my desk,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Not gonna bend you over anything yet,” he replied, putting his hands on your butt and lifting you up until you were straddling him in the air.

He walked with you wrapped around him until he could set you down on the desk, and his hands felt so damn big on the small of your waist.

He pulled back so he could pull your shirt over your head, and he took off his own while you slipped off your sports bra.  You both took a moment to stare at each other’s toplessness, a silent acknowledgement that you’d both been wondering about the other’s body.  You ran your hands up and down his chest, and he just looked at you while you did it with a difficult-to-read expression.  Of course you were familiar with muscle, you saw shirtless soldiers all the time and they were all in great shape, but this guy was just enormous.  His shoulders dwarfed you and with him so close you felt uncharacteristically small.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into another kiss, and this one was a bit gentler than the last.  You felt giddy and nervous and so desperate for him; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, honestly.

His hands trailed down your back and you slid off the desk until you were standing.  He spun you around and pushed you down between your shoulder blades until you were face down on the desk, the cold wood making your skin break out in goosebumps.

He reached around your hips to open your button and fly, pushing your pants and underwear down to your knees.  You gasped a bit when you felt the air hit your skin.

“Oh shit, you’re wet already,” he noticed.  “Really wet.”

His fingers slipped through your folds and you tried to spread your legs but the pants got in the way.

“Just fuck me,” you demanded.

“All you know how to do is give orders, huh?” he laughed.

“This might be my first order you actually follow,” you considered, hearing him unzip the fly of his jeans.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he explained, “it’s an all-male unit, after all.”

Internally, you wanted to point out that being in an all-male unit doesn’t stop plenty of soldiers from getting it on, and that he shouldn’t be hooking up with anyone in his unit regardless of gender, but you realized this was not the time for explaining rules.

“Don’t need them,” you replied, “as long as you promise you don’t have anything I can catch.”

“You’re being so reckless,” he teased as his hands ran along your back and grabbed your ass, “it’s so unlike you.  What happened to that stubborn little rule-follower, hm?”

“She got really fucking horny,” you growled, “now get inside me, damn it.”

And without much warning, without any preparation, he slammed himself into you all at once.

“Oh fuck!” you cried out, much louder than you meant to.  He was big, really fucking big, and your walls struggled to fit him.  He didn’t slow down though, instantly setting a fast and brutal pace.

“Not so loud, sweetheart.  Not that I don’t love you screamin’ for me.  But if the other guys found out we were doing this…” he trailed off.  “Actually, I bet I’d be the most popular officer at camp if they knew we were doin’ this.”

“You already are,” you pointed out, struggling to focus on forming sentences. “And we’d both get in a lot of trouble– ah, god– if anybody reported it.”

“You’re right.  Better keep you quiet, then,” he sighed, leaning forward and stuffing two fingers into your mouth.  Your moans became sputters and chokes yet you eagerly sucked on his fingers and took them all the way down your throat.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled.  “If you’d deepthroated my fingers like that when we first met, I bet we’d have gotten along a lot better.”

That’s not really the way I do business, you wanted to respond, but you couldn’t say much when you were busy with the task at hand.

His fingers pulled out and you felt his hands wrap around your elbows.   He grabbed your arms and held them back as he slammed into you so hard that the desk scraped across the floor with every movement.

“So tight,” he observed.  “Bet no one’s done this to you in a long time. Bet what you always needed was a good fuck to loosen you up– literally.”

He landed a hard slap against your ass and you moaned.

“Oh, you like that?  You like it when I hit you?”

“Yes,” you answered through bared teeth.

“Dirty little slut,” he said, but the way he said it sounded more like a compliment than an insult.

He spanked you again, just a bit harder, and you yelped but found yourself pushing your hips into him and arching your back as an invitation for more.  He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, pressing as deep inside you as was physically possible and grinding against you.  You sobbed and he grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up until his chest was against your back.

“Anybody ever been this deep inside you before?” he asked, his lips right against your ear.

“No,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck down to your shoulder.  You weren’t sure how to feel about him calling you ‘baby.’

He let go of your hair but kept you close to him by wrapping his arms around you as he started to thrust again.  It was oddly intimate, and your head fell back onto his shoulder as you moaned and sighed and whimpered.

Calloused hands began to grab at your breasts, teasing and pinching your nipples; you hadn’t realized how sensitive you were there, because it sent sensation shooting straight down to your inner walls.

“I’m close,” you gritted out.

“That was quick.  You’re easy to please,” he replied, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Just don’t stop,” you pleaded.  He pushed you back down onto the desk and began to pick up the pace.

“Oh, I won’t stop, I promise you that.” His voice sounded different than normal- deeper and scratchier and oddly weak in a way.  You liked the idea that this had such an effect on him.

His thrusts slammed into you so hard and fast that you were sure you’d have bruises from it, and probably on your thighs where they were hitting the edge of the desk.  For some reason, that thought was what sent you over the edge.

“Ca-captain!” you cried out as you came, and he growled a bit against your ear.  You figured he thought you were calling him that as some sort of sexy nickname, a flash of authority, but it’s just the only thing you could think to call him, the only thing you’d ever really called him.  

He, on the other hand, responded with your first name, even though you’d never gone by it and never even told it to him, mixed in with his grunts and moans as he pulled out and came all over your back.  

It was strange to go from so much noise– skin hitting skin, moans and yelps, the desk screeching on the concrete floor– to just heavy breathing and the sound of the ceiling fan spinning above you.  Or maybe it was you that was spinning; you felt sort of dizzy and numb.

He leaned away from you until you couldn’t feel his touch anywhere, and you heard him zip up his jeans.  You awkwardly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your own underwear and pants as well, and looking around for something to wipe yourself off with.

“Did you come?” he asked, and you felt shame and fear and anger bubble up inside you.  This had been a really, really bad idea, and both of you could lose your jobs over it, or worse. And he was such an asshole and you were supposed to be setting a good example for the women in your unit and here you were with some Army dumbass’ cum all over you and he didn’t even have the courtesy to make sure you’d finished before he did… what a joke.

“Oh, I came alright– came to my fucking senses.  Get out of my office,” you barked.

He laughed like he saw all this coming.

“Your office?  It’s my base.  Everything here is mine.  Even that jizz you’ve got on ya,” he grimaced.  “Kickin’ me out before it’s even gone cold.  You’re a real ray of sunshine as always, Major.”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Major,” you realized. “Let’s make that the only thing done tonight that we turn into a habit, alright?”

He shrugged and turned to leave, but of course, he had to have the last word.  “You can fuck the ice queen but you can’t melt her, I guess.”

“Is that what this was?  Some sort of sexual scavenger hunt, to prove you were macho enough to get the prude to spread her legs?”

“Well, it worked didn’t it?” he grinned.

“I said get out,” you reminded him, hoping he’d leave before you started crying.  He did.

You didn’t cry very often, not something you had the luxury of doing after a decade at war.  And you still didn’t let yourself do it for very long, because you were morally opposed to crying over boys.

#syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader #henry cavill x reader

[lordmartiya]

lord Martiya’s Lilanette Week 2021, part 3: Science Fiction

@lilanette-week

@lilanette

One thing she had been grateful to Lila for was her talking Chloe out of her mother’s toxic influence. She hadn’t succeeded in time to prevent the whole Miracle Queen debacle, but now she was back trying to become a good person, and even taking therapy (something Lila also sorely needed, but even if she could be talked into it there was the problem of how it would reflect on her mother’s image in the weird diplomatic circles). As an addendum, now Sabrina was in their friends group, something Marinette was usually happy for… But not right now.

“How did Sabrina guess I’m Multimouse?!” Marinette complained to Lila after they were alone.

“Her father is a police officer, one trusted with commanding groups during important operations – she’s grown around secrets just like me, she was bound to get suspicious. That, or she saw the Mirage you used to divert Chat Noir’s suspicions, and kept the secret because, well, she’s a cop’s daughter. Still, I would have expected her not to tell the others when Juleka asked about your break-up…”

That was when the Ladyblog signaled that a perfectly normal-looking punk biker had been caught trying to find the heroic Volpina and then sent flying the police officer that had confronted him about it.

“Didn’t think Alya would hesitate calling him an Akuma.” Lila said.

“After that monster in London?” Marinette asked.

“Well, let’s see what we have.”

___________________

“Let’s see… He followed the Mirage me in the Bièvre and swam back to the surface, then shrugged off impact from five rakes, a brick to the head, and even an anvil… What can we say?” Volpina asked the two other heroes as she put away the piano at their insistence.

“That you carry the weirdest things in your Miraculous?” Ladybug asked back.

“That Rena Rouge could have done a lot more had she known about what you put in there?” Chat Noir deadpanned.

“I liked the Loony Toons, so what? But aside for that?”

“It’s most likely an Akuma.” Ladybug admitted. “Though we need to talk about what else you may have in there…”

Then Mr. Pigeon arrived on a swarm of pigeons and started carrying away the not-Akuma, ranting of how he had squashed a pigeon when throwing away the anvil, while the surprisingly resilient biker tried to fight back.

“I stand corrected. Now what-Volpina?”

Volpina had pulled out a binocular and started cussing like only a Roman of Rome and few others could. Then she pulled out another thing.

“What the-an RPG-7?!” Chat Noir shouted.

“Of course not, it’s an AirTronic PSRL-1, it’s made of better steel and has better optics, though it can use the same ammunition.” came Volpina’s reply as she removed the rocket and replaced it with a larger one.

“Put that thing down!” was Ladybug’s demand.

“You’re right, Mr. Pigeon and his flying rats don’t deserve this, and I need to interrogate that overgrown mushroom before killing it. Though I really wanted to finally use the thermobaric rocket…”

With that Volpina put the weapon back in her flute and cast the illusion of a tower of peregrine falcons, scattering the pigeons and making both Mr. Pigeon and his would-be victim fall down – the latter making a metallic noise when hitting the ground. Then, as Paris’ heroes dealt with the Akumatized villain, she grabbed the biker’s weird medallion and punched through his chest, revealing him as a metallic exoskeleton for a much slimmer individual, that looked perfectly human aside for the green skin and hot pink hands.

“You’re not an Evree!” Volpina accused the green man.

“Am I really that ugly?” he replied.

“No, but I couldn’t see your face – only the Evree tracker medallion and that you just wouldn’t give up.”

“Had the owner in my escape pod, before I could eject him in space.”

“Did you finish it off?”

“I fired my thrusters in his face.

“What are you talking about?”

Volpina and the green man looked at the two other heroes and the now free Mr Ramier, the latter of which had made the question while the former two were appalled at just how the Vixen and the green man were talking of killing someone, that and the apparent overkill.

“Nothing you should worry about, Mr Ramier.” Volpina replied. “Though my colleagues may be interested.”

_______________________________________

The talk had been moved at Gustave Eiffel’s apartment over the Tower, of which Ladybug and Chat Noir had the keys. And there they learned that the Evrees that had been fought by the United Heroez and Volpina weren’t just some alien pirates but a full alien invasion of planet-looting emotion-eating fungal lifeforms that moved around the cosmo with a mothership the size of a small moon. The ones that had repeatedly raided New York had been vanguards, trying to establish a beachhead and sabotage US defenses to allow a full-scale invasion without facing the US nuclear arsenal – that they could have weathered had they not decided to try and avoid the losses that would have caused, and that they had been stopped right as their emperor had been about to deploy their full force.

“And that is why I came here to talk with you, the broadcast I intercepted spoke of your role in defeating the invaders.” the alien – whose world had been conquered by the Evrees – explained. “My world fell, we lowered our orbital defenses for a few minutes as a sign of peace after signing the commercial treaty, and before we could reactivate them they had already overran the capital.”

“My role was small.” Volpina admitted. “Yes, I beat up a few of them, and was in the strike team, but I was the distraction, Doorman got us in and out, Feniks and the Russian soldiers were the ones that deployed the hundred megaton bomb – didn’t think the Russians were crazy enough to rebuild that monstrosity, or generous enough to provide it free of charge – and Jade Turtle saved everyone more times I can count with his shields, and wrecked his back doing so.”

“Master Fu did what?!” Chat Noir shouted.

“Considering the situation, I’m more surprised he didn’t Cataclysm everything.” Ladybug stated.

“He did that, and before he could leave my uncle decided to retire me and gave him my Miraculous.” Volpina confirmed. “Found out he was the Guardian only then…”

“I don’t know what happened, but from what I found out it was you to talk the surviving commanders into turning on each other.” the alien pointed out.

“Honestly, I just helped preserving our nukes, they were weakened enough humanity’s combined missiles would have done the job. Anyway, happy to have given justice to your people.”

“They conquered my world 36 of your days ago.”

“Cosa?”

“They had another planet spaceship and emperor, and it was them who invaded my world. We had an evacuation plan in place just in case, three colony ships – the Xabra they got in orbit, the Xenia escaped but I don’t know where, and my ship, the Antra… We were coming here to warn you and give you our technology, we knew you were better warriors than us, but they had an infiltrator on board and got us near Saturn. I’m the only one who escaped, with a full database… And-”

“And I can get you in contact with those who can actually make use of it.”

____________________

It had been quick – a call to the Italian embassy in Paris, and they had been able to bring the alien (who, when someone finally asked his name, had identified himself as doctor Xarion, First Counselor for Energy for the planet Xerba) to the Élysée directly to the French president. Even after his stunt in New York, Papillon didn’t rate that high. Then the three heroes had gone back to what they had been doing before Xarion’s arrival… Or at least tried, as Lila was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Lila, what is it?”

“The Evrees!”

“What about them? You and the United Heroez already beat them once, and-”

“And next time they won’t toy with us! They’ll get serious from the start! And then they’ll-”

“A time traveler told me we’re going to win.”

There. She had said it. Marinette hadn’t wanted to reveal Bunnyx’ existence, but she just couldn’t bear to see Lila in that state. Also, she totally had to snap her out of it before she got Akumatized. And that was the most important part. Seriously.

“It… Is it true?” Lila asked.

“The Rabbit Miraculous has the power of time travel, and the Holder, Bunnyx, arrived chasing a villain created by a future Papillon and told us a few things. Including that we’re going to defeat an alien invasion.”

Lila looked Marinette for a few moments, processing what she had just been told. Then, surprising both of them, she grabbed Marinette jacked and pulled her so she could stamp a kiss on her lips.

“Oh…” the Italian said as what she had done dawned on her. “See you tomorrow, OK?”

With that, Lila bolted, leaving Marinette to stand for about half a minute before she realized what had just happened.

#lilanette #lilabug #ladypina #volpinette #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #miraculous lb #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #lila rossi

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Fourteen

This chapter was so hard, you guys. I hope it kind of works. If it doesn’t, feel free to write your own version. That’s what fanfic’s for, after all.

In which Wei Wuxian experiences A Reckoning

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

--

Wei Wuxian sits in the dark, under a tree, and tries to meditate. Inhale (he knows, he knows, he knows). Exhale (a low buzzing, a rushing like wind through the Burial Mounds).

There must be order. He cannot shake apart, he can’t be driven mad, he’s not that wounded, starving boy anymore. He will approach it like a complicated talisman he wants to recreate. Break things down.

Lan Wangji knows. It stands to reason that the rest of Gusu Lan knows—or at least the Sect Leader and Grandmaster. And they agreed to his punishment, bore him as a shame to the sect. Made him a commoner.

You made yourself a commoner. A cultivator without a core is no cultivator, therefore not nobility, therefore common. That’s the mathematics of it. Who took your core away? You did.

So what’s the problem, really? The Lan Sect has broken nothing, betrayed nothing. They have treated Wei Wuxian as a villain, deemed him a villain based on all the information possible.

The Lan clan are learned, virtuous, just. Lan Wangji is learned, virtuous, just. And if Lan Wangji sees him as a villain, then…

Then he’s a villain. Fine. He doesn’t mind being the villain. It doesn’t mean he’s evil, it means—

It means you were wrong.

A night bird screams somewhere behind him, and he flinches.

There it is. There’s the nerve. 

Under everything, every laugh, every tease, every clever sidestep, the root of it all is this unshakeable belief that he is right. He can play anyone because he knows something they don’t—that Wei Wuxian is always right. Even after everything he’s been through, he hasn’t had any regrets, because what he did was right. He saved his brother, he defended himself. That was right.

And raising an army of corpses, and cultivating as far down the dark path as you could before they caught you, all of that was right?

He never needed to be a hero, a genius, a beauty. Anytime someone flattered and admired him when he was younger, it never felt right, felt like an itchy shirt in the wrong size. It wasn’t flattery you wanted. You never needed anything from outside. You’ve just always needed to be right. 

And be honest—the voice inside him spits it at him like venom—the whole time you’ve worked here, lived as a servant, it’s not the dishonor or the work that hurts you. They want you shamed, but you aren’t, not really. It’s that it wasn’t your idea. If you’d just decided to walk away, gone to live as a farmer somewhere, wouldn’t you have been proud of yourself? Wei Wuxian, who fooled them all. Wei Wuxian who walked away.

His hackles raise, his mind springing so typically to its own defense. (What else was I to do? What would they do, if they were in my place?) But the root of that defense, the “what else could I do”—it still comes back to his fucking pride.

He doesn’t like to look at that inner spine of pride. Never has. (I never needed anything from anyone.) The defensive voice is small, but stronger, finding its feet. (How can I be proud if I never needed anything from anyone?)

That makes it worse, the venom leaks from between his teeth, over his lip, staining his skin with invisible truth. So proud that you never valued anything outside your own mind. The only standards that matter are your own.

(It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t have a choice. Things just happened to me.)

It takes pride to be a martyr too, Wei Ying.

He’s been telling himself that all the ugliness inside him came from the Burial Mounds, came as the result of his sacrifice, but what if he’s been wrong? It was there earlier, the whole time. That horrible, vicious pride. The pride that made him take an extra beating, even though he knew it hurt Yanli and Uncle Jiang to watch. The pride that never let Jiang Cheng win, even when he saw how much he needed it. The pride that only ever let him tease Lan Wangji during that perfect summer, made him push and push and push beyond what any reasonable person could take, but never ask for what he wanted, never offer anything true. The pride that drove him to the edge of his abilities, raising corpses without provocation, testing the boundaries of what he’s capable of, just because he can. Just to see what’s possible. It’s a blade without a handle, this pride; it cuts him too.

(Attempt the impossible.) The defending voice is a child, learning the motto for the first time. (I didn’t have a choice, it’s how they raised me.)

Poor Wei Ying. Nothing is his fault. Nothing is ever, ever his fault. 

The whirlpool opens up inside him, an Abyss leading him down, down, howling in his ears. Creatures move around him in the dark woods, snapping branches, breathing in the dark. The venom voice grows like a dog inside his mind, and the child shrinks back, desperate for something to hide behind. He can’t breathe; his lungs are stone, his bones are iron, he’s going to sink into the earth and leave no trace behind, and no one will miss him.

Get up.

It’s not the defender, and it’s not the accuser. It’s familiar. It’s—

Get up, Wei Ying.

It’s Madam Xiao.

Get up, Wei Ying. There’s work to be done.

No, it’s Madam Yu. 

Get up, Wei Ying. You’re no good to anyone crying in the dark.

It’s Cangse Sanren.

Get up, Wei Ying. You’re still alive, aren’t you? You survived the ghost mountain, you climbed your way with bleeding feet to the top of a pile of corpses and conquered them all. And this is where you give up? What, will you be chewed to death by rabbits? Get up, you silly boy.

Wei Wuxian gets up.

---

He is rolling up his one spare shirt and pair of trousers when Lin Biming finds him. If he’s surprised to see the bag on the bed in front of him, he doesn’t show it.

“Where will you go?” he asks, and in the half-light of the empty sleeping quarters he looks old, sad.

“Wherever you like. Send me anywhere, sell me off, trade me for someone competent. Someone who doesn’t scorch the laundry, eh, Master Lin?”

Lin Biming doesn’t smile back. 

“Surely another sect would take me. It’s not fair that Gusu bears this shame alone. The Grandmaster was right about that.”

Lin Biming goes to a chest in the corner and pulls out an extra blanket. He rolls it neatly and holds it out. Wei Wuxian takes it and turns to pack it away, blinking hard against the sweetness of it.

“I—” he starts, but he’s cut off.

“I’ll need to speak to the Sect Leader. If I just let you go, that’s a diplomatic issue.”

“Of course.” There’s so much more to say, to apologize for. The man deserves an explanation, but Wei Wuxian can’t think of where to begin.

“Get yourself some leftover dinner from the kitchen. I’m not sure how long your trip will be.”

Wei Wuxian slings the bag over his shoulder and follows him out the door. He tries not to think about the weight of little Lan Sizhui on his back as he ducks away towards the kitchen. Before he can enter, a hand grabs his elbow.

“Wei-qianbei?”

“Wen Ning? What are you doing here?”

“The little ones can’t sleep, so I wanted to find you. Why do you have a bag?”

Wei Wuxian looks around, but can’t find a way to stall. Take the pain, you’ve earned it.

“I have to leave.”

Wen Ning’s eyes go wide and round, his dear little mouth falling open. “Why? Did we— What did we do wrong?”

Wei Wuxian throws his arms around him. “Nothing, nothing at all. Never, ever, ever. It’s all big world things, nothing to do with you.”

“But we need you.” Wen Ning’s hands grasp the back of his shirt. “Please, you can’t leave.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s like being cut open again, things removed from inside his chest. “Wen Ning, I—”

“You have to say goodbye to them.” Wen Ning lets him go and steps back, jaw set.

“I can’t.”

“You have to. None of the others ever said goodbye. But you’re different, right? You have to be different. For the little ones, at least. They won’t understand.”

“They’ll forget soon enough. And you have your jiejie. Isn’t that better? She’ll take care of you, and you’ll forget all about this one servant. It’ll be better with her. Aren’t you glad she’s here now?”

I’m right, I’m right, agree with me.

“I am, but . . .” Wen Ning’s brow is furrowed, his shoulders slumping. “I didn’t think, when she got here, I didn’t think I’d have to choose.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Wen Ning nods once, growing a year in that one gesture, and leaves. Wei Wuxian is numb, no feeling in his fingers, no heartbeat.

He stumbles away from the kitchen (away, away, away echoing in his mind), heading for the main path down the mountain. Lin Biming can find him here, or they can send guards to capture him, he just needs to keep walking. His skin is nailed to the wall of the kitchen, and every step pulls another inch of it away.

He’s just stepped out under the trees when he hears “WEI WUXIAN” shouted with a full burst of spiritual energy, echoing and reverberating off the stone beneath him. Sparks fly past his ears and he freezes, shocked out of his despair.

He turns around gingerly to find Wen Qing staring him down, her hair loose and one red robe hurriedly thrown over her sleeping clothes. A few white clad figures are hurrying down the path behind her, but Wei Wuxian can’t look away from the fury on her face.

“Wen Qing?”

“You’re leaving?”

“I have to. After what you said. They know, and I can’t stay here if they know and it makes no difference.”

“What difference is it supposed to make? What does it matter?” He’s never heard her so angry, and the part of him that isn’t legitimately frightened is downright proud. 

He can see the figures behind her now, Lin Biming, Lan Xichen, and Lan Wangji.

“Just let me go, Wen Qing. It’s fine. I was only ever going to get in the way—”

“You made my little brother cry!” she bellows, and a hot wind blows his hair back from his face.

Lan Xichen reaches out to touch her arm gently.

“Lady Wen, if I may?” He turns to Wei Wuxian, looking tired but patient. “Wei Wuxian, I understand that today was difficult. Wen Chao’s reaction was . . . regrettable. And if you cannot stay in Cloud Recesses, we respect your wishes. You have more than earned that.”

Wei Wuxian stares at him, confused. “It’s not about today.”

“It’s not?”

“All this time, I—” Wei Wuxian looks around at all of them, at a loss for words. “All this time I thought you didn’t know the truth. About my golden core. I thought if you did, then you might— but I was wrong. And I don’t know what that mean; I don’t know what I am anymore; I don’t know what I’m good for, and I can’t figure that out here.”

“Why not?” It’s Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian covers his face and groans into his hands. Because of you, and the way you’re looking at me right now, because your hands are so big and warm and your eyes are so soft, and none of it means anything, and I can’t handle it.

“We all know you lost your golden core,” Lan Xichen says gently. 

“You can’t tell Jiang Cheng.” He’s a moment away from falling to his knees. “Please, you owe me nothing, but please. It will destroy him.”

“I don’t understand,” Lan Xichen sounds like he is really, truly trying. “What does Jiang Wanyin have to do with—”

“Because he’s the one who has it!”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, grabbing his hands. “I’ve told no one. I swore to you I wouldn’t.”

“But you said—”

“I swore to you.”

“You said he knows. You told me that Lan Zhan knows.” His hands are the only real part of him, tethered by hers. The rest of him is smoke, looking for a shape, a container, floating around as nothing. His vision is blurry, like the moment before fainting.

“Wei Ying.” She grabs his face and shakes him a little. “I meant that he knows how you feel about him. I thought that’s what you were saying. Everyone knows. You’d have to be a blind fool not to.”

The complete reversal of Wei Wuxian’s entire life is interrupted by a quiet gasp to his right. 

“How Wei Ying feels . . . about me?” Lan Wangji is staring at him, eyebrows furrowed.

Wen Qing sighs. “And clearly I was wrong anyway.”

“And clearly,” Lan Xichen says, “there is information we are lacking.”

Wen Qing looks over at him for a long moment, then nods. “Wei Ying, it’s time to tell them.”

“Can I sit down?” He doesn’t wait for a response before he drops down into the dirt, legs kicked out like a half-crushed spider. Lan Wangji rushes over to kneel beside him, one hand hovering an inch away from his forehead.

“Are you all right?”

“You’re not the doctor,” Wei Wuxian says faintly. “She is.”

“Is he sick?” Lan Wangji asks the others.

Wen Qing smacks Wei Wuxian’s face gently. “He’ll be fine. Wei Ying, I’m going to talk to Lan Xichen. You talk to Wangji.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You invented a new type of cultivation while living off corpse potatoes and carrion. You’ll figure it out.”

Without another word, she turns to Lan Xichen and nods, gesturing him back up the path. Lin Biming, looking as stressed as ever, grabs Wei Wuxian’s bag and hurries after them.

“I guess I’m staying,” Wei Wuxian says, and somehow that sets him off laughing. “I think I’m going mad.”

“What did you mean. Wei Ying. When you said ‘he has it.’ What did you mean?”

Finally, Wei Wuxian’s eyes focus, and he can’t stop a smile at Lan Wangji’s worried face. How strange that he used to think he had no expression.

“I don’t think I can stand up right now, Lan Zhan. Will you sit by me?”

Lan Wangji doesn’t hesitate, he sits down in the dirt, white robes and all. They must make an absurd picture, white and grey sprawled out on the path like cast off clothing.

“Lan Zhan, I’m going to tell you a story. But you have to promise—”

“I promise.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan! You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“It doesn’t matter. I promise.”

The promise is a building. A house for him to live in. He stops drifting and feels the ground underneath him, and then he begins.

Part Fifteen

#something good #assorted writings #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi #ughhh this plot stuff is too much for me #climb every freakin mountain indeed

[lokidrabbles]

Across Time (Loki x Reader)

Loki reminisces about Sigyn and his current relationship with Reader

A/N: This is also mildly setup as a Loki x Sigyn story, but it is more used as a device for Loki’s perception of his present relationship. As always, Gender Neutral reader! Hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Some implied smut, fluff n’ stuff

The young prince leaned against the marble column, arms crossed over his chest in a sheer display of disinterest. The large hall in which he stood was inhabited with a variety of Asgardians of all ages and trades, eagerly involved in the splendor of food, music, magic and chatter. While large festivities weren’t foreign to him, that being one of Odin’s sons, he felt out of place. This wasn’t your average conjoining of individuals, for this was Thor’s day of birth, and Odin had made sure his eldest son received every single demand and desire he voiced out.

Thor’s entourage involved the Warriors Three, a loud bunch of individuals who felt forced to involve Loki in their little shenanigans, Lady Sif, a woman too serious for her own good, and other belligerent Asgardians who drank and ate mercilessly. Thor was in the middle of it all, letting out a roaring laughter, blatantly drunk and uncaring of the spectacle he was making of himself. Everyone at the gathering cheered and clapped at Thor’s ongoing display of strength and cockiness, causing Loki to roll his eyes, embarrassed at how this man could ever be considered his brother.

He was content however. It was seldom when Odin allowed Thor to fully be his reckless self without reprimanding him on his role as the eldest prince, and Loki knew his brother better than anyone else. Thor needed these foolish events as to not collapse under the pressure of his royal duties, and so Loki only humored him from a distance.

From the corner of his eye, Loki caught a slender figure slowly approaching him, already recognizing her long golden locks and her habit of holding her hands behind her back when near him.

“My prince.” She began, curtsying before him.

“Lady Sigyn.” Loki replied, bowing his head in recognition. “How are you enjoying the merriment?”

“Oh it is quite wonderful. My family is so very thankful for the Allfather to have invited us.” She said softly, positioning herself next to him. “Although now I see how different both you and Prince Thor are.”

Sigyn belonged to a noble family, and the rumors had spread out of the possibility of Odin seeking her father’s approval to marry one of his sons. All clues suggested for Loki to be her suitor, as Thor would probably scare her off with his boasting nature.

Loki chuckled. “Yes quite. My brother takes much to Odin in the same way I take to my mother. Though irritating at times, it can be quite amusing seeing him make a fool of himself.”

“Oh, Prince Loki. You shouldn’t say that about your brother.” She replied jestingly. “ Though I do recall the one time he had passed out on top of the entire desert table. A lot of the nobles weren’t to happy about that.”

“Ah yes! That was indeed hilarious. Father had single-handedly dragged him to his quarters by his ankle. He was absolutely furious that next morning, and I did not envy Thor one bit.”

She let out a gentle laughter, causing Loki’s heart to flutter briefly. Both Loki and Sigyn were introduced to each other as young adolescents with prospects of them bonding and forming a tight knit relationship. Sigyn, like Loki, had studied under her family to master the art of seidr. Their first conversations involved talking about the mystic magic, comparing their abilities and attempting to teach each other what they have learned. Sigyn focused on healing abilities, spells which would replenish one’s energy and stamina, while Loki would learn a variety of defensive and offensive spells from Frigga. They complemented each other in abilities, and matched in their calm nature, drawn towards literature and increasing their knowledge base.

One would argue it was a perfect marriage in the making. As Loki grew older, he found himself naturally attracted to Sigyn’s blossoming. She had grown to be a beautiful woman, adorned with wavy locks, beautiful brown eyes and soft, sienna colored skin. She was kind and gentle, but also very confident with herself and with her abilities. While the deal was still to be sealed, both did share hidden kisses and intimate touches behind corridors, away from eavesdropping guards. At times, the thrill of seeing her and perhaps teasing her by playing with her hair or placing a hand at the small of her back was all he could think of. He pondered about a possibility like that playing out now.

“My prince, I take it you have something else in your mind?” She asked as a coy, pink lipped smile formed.

“Perhaps.” He said teasingly. “I admit, I was beginning to wonder what had taken you so long to approach me Lady Sigyn. Could it be possible you’ve grown bored of me?”

“My prince!” She sounded offended. “What could ever give you that idea? I was simply waiting for the attention to be drawn to Prince Thor. And since it is so, shall we meet by the balcony to discuss our affairs more appropriately?”

“How bold of you my lady. Quite inappropriate to be talking to a prince in such a sultry manner.”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, to which he responded with a cocky wink. “Shame on you. But alas, I shall retreat to said balcony all by my lonesome self.”

Loki lowered his head to kiss Sigyn’s forehead, knowing his duty would be to protect her and provide her with the care she so desired. “I shall meet you there soon enough my lady.”

She curtsied again, a flush of pink present in her cheeks. Sigyn soon disappeared behind the columns, far into the depth of the palace. Loki smirked to himself as a comforting warmness filled his chest. Was this love? Or perhaps just the excitement that his youth years would blind him to. He knew sooner or later, both Odin and Sigyn’s father would come to an agreement, and Loki would become her betrothed.

He once had a conversation about the possibility with Frigga. Who best to provide Loki with sound judgement to determine if Sigyn would indeed be a good wife? As any young Asgardian would, Loki shared his uncertainties with his mother. He understood the duty he would uptake once as a married man, while still addressing his duties as Odin’s son.

It seemed to make the most sense, and it was almost expected at this point. Loki and Sigyn simply got along well, they were both skilled and highly intelligent, and both came from nobility. The union of their families would make for some very powerful heirs, which was always an interest for Odin. Yet, the sense of doubt naturally picked at him. He was still young, and arguably inexperienced. Love, while the concept not foreign to him, was a new experience, and Loki wasn’t sure whether this was what he felt for Sigyn.

Frigga, knowing her son best, provided Loki with words of encouragement, for which he forever continued to carry with him.

“Trust your intuition Loki. Perceive your happiness with them, as the best blessing a partner can offer you is the opportunity to grow beside them. I believe in you, my son.”

Both Loki and Sigyn soon became engaged, and for a brief moment in his long life, Loki felt as his everything had fallen correctly into place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ugh. Come on.”

Loki popped one eye open upon hearing your groan. You had propped yourself up against your pillow, texting away furiously on the bright screen of your phone. The light was absolutely blinding, especially in the middle of the night. He blinked and squinted, catching how you had knitted your eyebrows together. You were rightfully annoyed, and he deducted you must have been awakened by the beeping of your device.

“Who has upset my dearest?” He asked, covering his eyes with his hand.

“Tony wants me to go in tomorrow for some maintenance crap. I’m telling him to stop messaging me in the middle of the night.” You responded, voice still groggy.

He made a disapproving sound. “I am not eager about Stark having contact with you so frequently. He’s a fool, and now he has disturbed my slumber with you.”

You tossed your phone by your dresser and pulled the sheets up to your face. You scooted closer to Loki, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. Loki’s body responded, soon placing his arm around your waist, hand resting on the small of your back.

“He’s my boss, his money pays my bills. But yes he’s stupid.” You muttered under the sheets.

“You have no idea how much I enjoy hearing you insult him.” He chuckled lowly. “You certainly have way with words.”

“Also, if I would have never gotten hired by him, I would have never met you. So technically-”

He shushed you immediately. “No. Do not dare say Stark’s intervention brought us together. I’d like to believe it was simply meant to be due to my charm and charisma.”

You snorted, your breath tickling the skin on his neck. “Fine, fine. I won’t say it. I gotta admit tho, you look super cute whenever you get upset by that.”

“Then it is no wonder why you always seem to infuriate me.”

You both laid together quietly, your soft breaths beginning to lull Loki back into that blissful comfort. His arm continued to be looped around your waist, bringing a deep, inward sense of protectiveness. You were small compared to him, yet it had come to a point where he needed to feel your body closer to his, clinging onto him for security. It was bizarre. He knew his past self would have never dreamed of the day where he would lay in bed with a human, much less have an intimate relationship with a human. The prospect was very difficult to accept at first, especially considering the circumstances of how he had settled down on Midgard. Despite this, Loki weirdly felt as if this made the most sense to him. The planet he swore to conquer almost a decade ago, now became his home. The humans, which he swore to conquer, had now accepted him to some degree. And now, he proudly called one of these humans as his own. This foolish human who had presented him with kindness, genuineness and often made him upset at the foolish comments they would make.

He relished in your touch, and how soft your skin felt. He found himself always seeking out your touch. There was a contrasting difference between human and Asgardian skin. Human skin always felt much more delicate and thinner, while Asgardians tended to have tougher and firmer skin. Your skin would bruise easily, especially if his grip would become harsh. He sadistically liked this, feeling as if he could easily mark you at any moment, claiming territory on this small Midgardian. He mindlessly began to make circles in the small of your back, feeling the shivers spread all over.

He smiled to himself once he felt your own arms loop under his arms, circling his broad chest. You picked your head out from under his chin, and reached up to plant a sleepy kiss upon his lips. A blessing for him. Your lips were much too tender for him to bear, and he kissed and suckled on them in return.

You giggled and pulled back from him briefly. “I need to sleep but I don’t want to anymore now.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?” He asked, smile still displayed.

“Yes. I just really want to get on top of you now. And maybe kiss you all over.”

He hummed approvingly. “I don’t have any reason to stop you. You have laid claim to me already, human.”

Eagerly, you removed your hold and climbed over him, your thighs tightly at his hips. He adjusted himself, just enough so he could ensure his grip on your waist would be secure. You lowered down to his face, peppering it all over with fleeting kisses and pecks. You ended on his lips again, this time kissing deeper and passionately, leaving Loki practically breathless. At times your displays of affection were overwhelming. Humans were always so physical with each other, and always giving themselves into that intense gratification. it was years and years since Loki experienced this type of fondness and the lustful pleasure of feeling someone on top of him. He was undeniably attracted to you, his little human, who proved their worth by his side. Tongues soon clashed with one another, and Loki groaned into your mouth, already feeling his blood rush into his core.

He halted however, knowing you would be reprimanded the following day if you stayed up the entire night. He hated Stark, but he also didn’t want to jeopardize your working relationship with him.

“Sweetling, although I would love nothing more than to fuck you right now, perhaps it is wiser for you to get some rest.”

Even Loki could see your childish pout through the dim light of the window. “I hate it when you’re right.” You said, laying your head on his chest in defeat.

He leaned inward and planted a reassuring kiss at the top of your head. “Once you are done with your duties tomorrow, we can resume our intimacy in the evening.”

You rolled off of him, still laying close by his side, arms clinging onto his chest. “Knowing myself though, I might annoy you about it in the morning instead.”

“Then sleep now. And I promise you will be awakened by a very pleasant surprise.”

The rest of the night continued, and soon Loki felt you doze off into deep sleep. He remained awake, as he always did, until you were fully resting. He focused his attention still to the weight of your arm over his chest, slowly caressing your hand with his. Loki began to feel his eyelids droop, slowly drawing back to a familiar memory, and a familiar set of words which he had forgotten about long ago.

He felted blessed with you. And his intuition affirmed it every single day.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x sigyn #lokyn #loki drabbles #loki imagine #loki imagines #loki (mcu) #loki laufeyson #loki odinson

[sourbat]

General #7? it's radiating Chickles energy at me 8)

“Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”

Wow, this one is good! Thanks so much for suggesting it :)

Warning: violence; drinking; swearing 

There was a mix-up with the orders, and instead of three shots of whiskey each, they ended up with Tequila, and although Pickles’ tasted the smooth, flaming simmer of agave pouring down his throat, couldn’t be bothered to stop Nathan until he had his fill. By then, the lug had conquered all three and then some, and was feasting on their shared plate of jalapeño poppers. He ought to have said something then, called a gear over to inform them of the incoming storm, but there were only two poppers and one fried potato skin left, and there was no way in hell Pickles was going to wait another ten minutes for some bacon and heavily processed cheese.

As was per usual, the tequila reached the intestines and the shit soon hit the fan, and Pickles found himself on the floor, crawling on the elbows and trying to reach for the door before things got any bloodier.  There was a swarm of civilians already racing out the door, fear-driven and eager to flee from an overly aggressive Nathan, and in that attempt to escape, got lodged between themselves. A violent ripple effect initiated, and before long everyone was throwing fists at one another. By that point, Pickles had given up on trying to be reasonable. Some douchenozzle stepped on his hand, and another knocked off his hat. Though it would only cause a bigger ruckus, Pickles started throwing punches, knocking teeth out with a few slugs as he slowly made his way towards the parking lot.

He didn’t consider the lack of keys an issue until their murdercycle came to view. 

Pickles tried to double back, but bumped into some drunk asshole, who took their accidental contact as a personal challenge. Guy was almost as big and broad as Nathan, but that didn’t stop Pickles from ducking and tossing a few blows to the stomach before attempting to retreat from his stunned enemy.

A light fell upon Pickles right as a massive arm came swinging towards him. It grazed his chin, pushing bottom teeth straight into the top row, and sent Pickles back with an ailing ring across his brow. Someone large approached him while he stumbled and fell. His right arm took the brunt of the impact, elbow scraping from the drag. Jaw reeling, Pickles wondered if diplomacy was still an option, but when he raised his head up, saw someone hanging from the hellicopter’s ladder. 

Pickles waved a hand. “Charles!”

Light focused on Pickles and the drunkard, uncontrolled onslaught surrounding him. The aircraft lowered, and Charles jumped from the bottom ladder, landed with a roll, and with calculated grace, brought himself to a stand at the tail end. He reapplied his glasses, pushed them up the fine bridge of his nose when the same drunkard from before attempted to land a blow. Charles caught the man’s hand in his own, pulled him forward, and slammed his neck against his kneecap.

As the attacker fell, Charles observed the violent scene. Clusters of brutes, truckers, and other fine examples of society were all busily engaged in some brawl. Towards the center, klokateers surrounded Nathan.

Charles returned to Pickles, kneeling over to help resituate him. “How many bottles?”

“Just three shawts,” Pickles answered, right eye wincing as Charles wiped away bits of gravel that collected across his cheek.

“Ah, right then.” Relieved at the number, and feeling quite confident of his prospects, Charles took his time to help Pickles up, dusting off his right side before returning to slam a fist into the center of another man’s gut.

“Gawd damn,” Pickles said, licking his lips as Charles took down his second victim. Freckled lanky arms crossed his chest, clutching their opposites while Pickles sucked in a charge breath of adrenaline soaked air. From a pocket, Charles pulled out a pocket knife, aimed, and threw it in the general direction of a group trying to overwhelm some hoods. A scream signified a successful attack, and Pickles let out an airy, excited exhale. He watched Charles trek deeper into the chaos, suit perfectly fitted to form and hair fixed in place, calling our orders for gears to settle around Nathan, and to prepare for rescue and pick-up.

Then, Charles turned, and his eyes opened wide in sudden panic. “Pickles, look out!”

Pickles heard the warning amid the groans and firing squad, and when he looked over his shoulder, saw someone racing towards him. Reflexively, he brought his arms in, defense pose poised for the beat-down to come. Then he noticed the lengthy knife in the bastard’s hand, and turned pale.

“Shit,” he muttered, breaking a fist and swearing at himself for not paying better attention to his surroundings. He didn’t want to end up with a blooded hand, but a few weeks without playing was better than a stab wound to the gut. Pickles raised a hand up, readied to grip the end of the blade. The knife raised high above him, vanishing under the sweat fog and flashy club neon lights, and when Pickles tried to defend himself, was pulled aside. He fell back, stumbled and returned to the rough concrete flooring.

When Pickles looked up, Charles was there, gripping the knife. Mouth agape, Pickles watched Charles’ controlled expression harden, wrinkles centering as he bared the edge of the blade with one hand, brought his other to the man’s cheek. It takes three quick swings for the bastard to draw back, and a rough kick into his side to drop the knife and to his knees.

Charles returned to Pickles once he was sure his third victim was no longer a cause for concern. He offered his good hand to Pickles.  “Are you alright?” 

Pickled homed on the cut hand dangling by the side. “Is that blood?” he asked, though he could clearly make out a fine stream of red flowing down Charles’s middle and ring finger, dropping and collecting into a puddle. 

Charles shrugged. “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-”  

“You are literally bleeding.”

Charles glanced at his left hand, eyes filling with indifference at the wound now soaking his cuff of his shirt.

“Sorry. I didn’t want you to, ah, damage the goods,” he said, hiding the bloodied arm as he pulled Pickles up. The smaller man fell into a semi embrace, his arms wrapping greedily around Charles, one hand in search of the wounded one. 

Wet, warm slippage. The ends of Charles’ eyes wincing from the intimacy, nerves searing with obstructive pain. Pickles had to settle for the wrist.

“Ya dumbass,” he hissed into the man’s chest, then drew his other hand back just to hit Charles a few times against the chest.

“Sir, we’ve secured Master Explosion!”

Charles gave a firm nod, then with his good hand, snatched Pickles’ attacking appendage. “Hurry. To the hellicopter” he said, looking deep into Pickles’ wary eyes, calming them with a plea to follow.

Looking at the ground, and finding several droplets of red speckling the floor, Pickles knew they had to hurry.

 “Right.”

Most of the attackers were now on the floor, either subdued by klokateers, or done in by another stranger’s aggressive force. Hand in hand, Charles and Pickles maneuvered around unconscious or dead bodies, leaving behind their own trail of red as they gathered near the resting aircraft. As they got near, someone stumbled forward. The guy was a mess, head covered in gravel and drying blood, and hardly worth the challenge, but Pickles knew he had Charles’ good hand in his own, which meant the handsome fool would try to attack with the bloodied one. Pickles refused to let it happen. Without warning, he let go of Charles, slid forward, and lunged.

“Pickles!” 

Thankfully, there was plenty of time for Pickles to make an impact. With the weight of his body, he brought the man down. The head slammed into the concrete, but Pickles went and formed two fists and threw in a punch to the cheek, another straight at the nose for good measure. A nice, wet snap certified a job well done, but Pickles rested dutifully on the lug chest until Charles arrived to pick him up one final time.

Charles brought his bloodied hand up to his forehead. “Pickles, you-”

Catching the wounded hand and stained suit, Pickles snickered.

“Didn’t want to further damage my goods,” he said, brows giving a suggestive wiggle. 

A light shade of pink dared to shine across Charles’ otherwise controlled face. Pickles laughed, watching Charles excuse himself and cover the fleeting blush with the good hand pointlessly rearranging his glasses. Gears called the two forth. The aircraft’s engine roared alive, and from within, Pickles saw Nathan seated, half-alert and covered in a blanket.

Pickles grabbed the ladder rope, waiting on Charles who fired a few warning rounds before grabbing Pickles’ hand. He caught the slightest of whimpers, withdrew quickly and aimed for the wrist one more. Just as the aircraft lifted, Pickles used his strength and pulled Charles into his arms, breaking into a lopsided smile as the older man huffed, convinced the injury he endured wasn’t that big of a deal. Not willing to argue, Pickles merely rolled his eyes, and as the aircraft lifted into the skies, thanked him with a kiss on the cheek.

#pickles the drummer #charles foster offdensen #chickles #lampmeeting #prompt thing #thank you

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Written for @azulaweek​. Prompt - Smile. (Thanks to @piandaoist​ for the screenshot!)

Summary: Azula doesn't know it, but when she smiles, the older members of her family see a ghost.

~~~

Y'know that smile Azula has? The one so scary it has its own leitmotif in the musical score? (Which might just be Azula's leitmotif but Azula and her smile are pretty intertwined so *shrug*) Yeah so here's my headcanon on that.

Title is 100% a Good Omens reference.

Enjoy!

~~~

It was easy to convince Zuko to play with her. All she had to do was sigh and say that it was fine if he didn’t want to, she understood, he couldn’t shoot his flames as high as she could anyway -

Zuko scowled and stomped towards the less-flammable part of the garden to warm up for what were sure to be some spectacularly average fire blasts. Azula smirked, pleased. Her brother didn’t see.

Lo and Li did.

Azula was only six, but she noticed the way people looked at her. She was learning how important opinions were in the Fire Palace, and how the simple act of observation was a necessary survival skill. She’d certainly had plenty of practice observing Father’s reactions to her firebending practice.

Azula’s smirk faltered, and she studied Lo and Li for a careful moment, wondering if they wouldn’t approve of her methods of acquiring a playmate. It might be trouble if they didn’t. Lo and Li had served the royal family for decades. They’d overseen the upbringing of most of Azula’s relatives, and they had the ear of Fire Lord Azulon. If Azula misbehaved, Father would hear of it.

Lo and Li didn’t look displeased, however. If anything, they looked briefly startled, and then oddly fond. Lo smiled, and Li shook her head.

“Best not to keep your brother waiting, Princess,” said Lo.

“Not after he so graciously agreed to play with you,” said Li.

Azula huffed and paid the old servants no more mind, dashing off to show Zuko how to do a proper fire blast.

“Up for some early morning practice, are we?”

Azula whirled around to find her grandfather had entered the training grounds. Fire Lord Azulon regarded her bemusedly, like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with a seven-year-old. He probably wasn’t - Azula had noticed he didn’t seem terribly fond of children.

She pulled herself up straight and looked up at the old man. “Yes,” she said. “I’m practicing my tornado kicks.” She was practicing her tornado kicks because Father had taught her the move yesterday - Father had, not Master Kunyo. Father had taken it upon himself to give Azula a special lesson, as a reward for how quick she was learning. Azula had been so proud, Father never gave Zuko that kind of attention.

Except the tornado kick had proved tricky. She hadn’t gotten it right on the first try. Or the second. Or the tenth. Father’s frown had grown more and more pronounced with every failed kick, until he’d finally scowled and dismissed her with a scowl that had made Azula’s heart miss a beat. Father wasn’t patient, but she wasn’t weak. She knew she couldn’t leave it at that.

So here Azula was, drilling herself to perfection.

Grandfather raised an eyebrow. “Before sunrise?”

Dawn was a blur of pink light on the horizon. “I wanted to start early,” Azula said.

Grandfather hummed. “You have a better work ethic than some of my generals,” he said, and Azula couldn’t help but preen at the praise. She didn’t know Grandfather very well, but she knew he hated laziness. “Well then,” Grandfather said, taking a seat on a bench at the edge of the training ground. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on?”

Azula froze. “But...Father isn’t here.” It was a stupid thing to say, really, but - she barely knew Grandfather. She only ever showed him her firebending when Father wanted to present her progress to the court. Grandfather had never seemed very impressed.

Grandfather huffed. “Can a man not wish to see his own granddaughter’s progress? I should like to see what you’re capable of without your father hovering in the background. Come now.” He waved his hand at her. “Show me what you’re working on.”

She didn’t want to show him her tornado kick. It was far too sloppy, she wasn’t getting the twist right, her landing was unbalanced, and she was so focused on getting the form right that she could barely put any power in the flames. It wasn’t perfect, and Azula knew she couldn’t show off anything less than perfect.

But Grandfather was the Fire Lord, and the Fire Lord wanted to see her tornado kick.

She faltered her way through three in succession before he said, “You aren’t shifting your weight properly on the first swing. Practice that part a few times before you try again. You want to make sure you’re steady on your right leg before you push up into the jump. And do it without fire for now.”

Master Kunyo said stuff like that a lot, usually when he was trying to get her to focus on technique rather than power. Azula’s instinctive reaction was to huff and roll her eyes, but she managed to stop herself from doing so, because this was not Master Kunyo. This was the Fire Lord.

And it was more advice than Father had bothered to give her yesterday.

She did a few weight shifts in quick succession, feeling how to properly lean into her right leg, and then she bent her knee and sprang upwards. The actual spinning part of the kick was still sloppy, the landing still unbalanced, but - but she’d managed the first part.

“Much better,” Grandfather said, and that was more praise than Father had bothered to give her yesterday, too.

They kept at it as the sky turned pinker and pinker, Azula going through the motions again and again until she felt the memory of them sinking into her muscles, Grandfather calling tips from the sidelines. He wasn’t much of a teacher - but not in the same way Master Kunyo, who often over-explained and made things boring, wasn’t much of a teacher. Grandfather simply wasn’t a teacher at all, and often had to re-explain himself.

But finally, when the sky had turned from pink to gold, Azula landed without stumbling, and Grandfather said, “Almost perfect.”

“Almost isn’t good enough,” Azula said immediately.

“Indeed, it isn’t,” Grandfather agreed, “but you’ve still made more progress in one morning than some other people I could name. Come now, my dear,” he said, standing up from his bench. “One more kick, and then we’ll go get breakfast.” He gave her a sly look. “Use fire this time. Aim at me.”

Azula only balked for a second before she grinned and did as her Fire Lord instructed. Shift, jump, spin, kick -

The flames were more powerful this time, now that she knew how the movement went. Grandfather parted them easily as Azula came down for her landing, but he looked pleased. Azula felt a thrill run through her at this success, and she turned back to face him with a smile.

The look on Grandfather’s face faltered. He blinked down at her for a long moment, gaze strangely blank. Azula felt her smile start to slip from her face - but then Grandfather suddenly smiled back. “Well done, little princess,” he said. “You bring honor to your ancestors.” A strange thing to say, but before she could wonder about it he was reaching towards her, gesturing her forward. “Come now, let’s go have some breakfast, hm?”

That was his mother’s smile.

Iroh had never noticed before. In his defense, he had never spent much time around his niece. When she had been a child, he had been Crown Prince, and he’d spent months at a time on campaign in the Earth Kingdom, bringing honor and glory to their nation. When that honor and glory had turned out to be shame and tragedy and he’d returned home a different man, Azula hadn’t seen fit to spend time with him. He’d reached out to both children at first, after the loss of their mother, the loss of his son. Had wondered if he could help them, had hoped they might help him. Zuko had been receptive. Azula had not, but Iroh had made the attempt anyway, for Lu Ten’s sake. His son had loved both his cousins, and Iroh owed it to him to try. But Azula had soon made it clear she was her father’s daughter, and Ozai and Iroh had never been close.

Were far less close than Iroh had ever realized, apparently. It rankled every time he bowed to his brother, seated upon his stolen throne.

It would have been well within his rights to challenge Ozai to an Agni Kai, but Iroh knew a potential political disaster when he saw one. The Fire Nation couldn’t afford a civil war, not when they still had the whole world to conquer. And Iroh was so very tired, and after the loss of his son, the idea of fighting to reclaim what was his just seemed...pointless. So he bowed and called his brother Fire Lord, and Ozai smiled.

Iroh had always thought Azula smiled like her father. And she did. Even as a small child, she had the same smirk Ozai would make while sparring, or plotting, or watching some hapless politician make a fool of themselves in court.

Iroh had last seen her smile like when she bid her newly-banished brother farewell. Now, three years later, he saw it again, just before she shattered a seashell.

“Hm, must be a family trait,” she smirked. “Both of you so quick to get to the point.”

Shell fragments tinkled as they hit the floor, and Iroh realized.

He’d forgotten, but there it was now, gracing the lips of the first princess to be born into the royal family since Fire Lord Sozin’s reign. She was older than when he’d last seen her, a young woman now, her lips painted red, and as they curved up into something sharper than any knife, Iroh felt a pang of bittersweet nostalgia.

It wasn’t Ozai’s smile. Not originally.

It was Fire Lady Ilah’s.

How had he never noticed that Ozai had their mother's smile?

His mother had smiled like that when she managed to put Azulon on the defensive in a sparring match, when she aimed her arrow at a tricky target, when she discussed battle strategy with advisors, when she’d outmaneuvered political opponents. She’d learned that smile from her mother, the Fire Nation’s most brilliant tactician in the early years of the war. Grandmother Bhanupriya had worn that smile at the Battle of Han Tui, at the Battle of Garsai, at every assassination she arranged to get Prince Azulon on the throne.

There'd been a time in Iroh's life when that smile had meant safety, and love, and that things were going to fall perfectly into place and everything would be alright.

It was a dangerous smile, the smile of a predator cornering her prey, of a woman who knew what she wanted, how to achieve it, and was already assured of her victory.

And now he and Zuko were on the receiving end.

Iroh hadn’t fully appreciated how terrifying his mother’s smile was until he saw it on his niece’s face.

~~~

Author’s Notes

Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated and will help me get through the ridiculousness that is bound to be my Monday this week. *headdesks*

Uh...notes? Let's see.

I'm operating on the assumption that Lo and Li were some sort of...idk indentured servant maids for Ilah and followed her into the royal family and stayed in their service after her death. They raised that whole family.

Azulon really DOES NOT know what to do with children and is probably trying to pull up 40-year-old memories on what raising Iroh was like. XD This is one of the very few times Azula spends personal time with her grandfather. It's not enough to make her care when he dies.

Here's what a tornado kick looks like: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pn9gTVQWZDI I am by no means learned in martial arts so idk if the tips I had Azulon giving are viable or not.

While it's pretty awful that Iroh decides Azula "is crazy and needs to go down", I do think it was the only decision he could make. She was actively hunting them, had just shot him, and pretty obviously meant to do them harm. That's not the time to reach out to your antagonistic niece and try to get her to go on a life-changing field trip with you. And in my case, in their meeting scene in The Avatar State, I'm pretty sure Iroh, after giving her the benefit of the doubt, greeting her courteously, and getting rebuffed, is very quickly recalibrating everything he knows about Azula. They left her in the Fire Nation three years ago, she's obviously grown, gotten more skilled, has had no one but Ozai to influence her, and now she's here smiling and acting like the most dangerous woman Iroh ever knew. No wonder he suspected a trap from the start.

If you want to know more about my take on Ilah, please check out my fic Eye On Target, it's hilarious.

#azulaweek2020 #avatar fanfiction #atla fanfic #Azula #fire nation royal family #azulon #iroh #lo and li #ilah #Caelum's headcanon #caelum writes

[dinfeanoriel]

In Memoriam II

At long last, the second to last part of In Memoriam! I may have strayed a little from canon (you’ll know where) but there was a purpose behind it. 

~~~~

“We meet again,” The clipped, but no less meaningful, greeting resonated across the ethereal world. The first thing to meet Link’s ears after he watched the Golden Wolf howl and transform into his proud and tall, skeletal, mentor. 

A moment passed in which the Hero Shade critically scrutinized Link before nodding to himself in approval. 

“You have a little more of the look of a hero than you did before…” 

Link’s expression flat-lined. The Hero Shade certainly knew how to boost one’s confidence. 

Link could have sworn the Hero Shade smirked but...given the form he was in, it would be impossible. Perhaps he’d merely sensed it? 

His wolf senses did pick up subtle, less-than-noticeable, things humans couldn’t. Shifts in demeanor, genuine feelings, and ulterior motives. Ripples of joy, coils of anger, and stabs of pain. He could hear the steady beating of hearts, listen to the melody carried by the wind, and the rustling and scurrying of the smallest critters across the forest floor. 

At first, everything was far too overwhelming for him, but he’d soon adjusted. He’d had to. Besides, honing his wolf senses came in handy. “Do you feel ready to learn your next skill?” Hero Shade’s cool and steady voice broke through Link’s thoughts, scattering them. 

Link frowned, face set and eyes flaring with determination. He’d mastered the last Hidden Skill and had grown more experienced with handling a blade. It came almost naturally to him. As though he’d been born with the inherent ability of mastering the sword. 

He was ready to learn a new skill.  

He met the Hero Shade’s gaze, feeling eyes watching him although the skeletal being had none. 

“I do.” Link answered, voice echoing his resoluteness. 

“Very well,” Link could practically feel the ‘but’ incoming, “But-” 

And there it was. 

“-before we begin, I must test you to ensure you have mastered the last skill I taught you...the Ending Blow.” 

Link’s heart thumped once against his chest and sunk slightly. 

What exactly did the Hero Shade have planned? 

“Now then,” The Hero Shade’s voice thundered, startling Link, “Come at me!” It was a thinly veiled order. A not so concealed challenge. Already, the skeletal being had his sword and shield drawn in preparation. 

Well...Link was never one to back down, and he felt prompted to follow through with his mentor’s command. He wasn’t quite sure why he was so inclined to do as the Hero Shade told him. He supposed it hardly mattered. 

Link swiftly drew the Ordon Sword from its sheath and slid his shield from his back. Twirling the blade expertly in his calloused hand, Link reaffirmed his grip and watched his mentor lift his own sword up along with his shield. 

Faster than one could blink, Link shot forward and leapt into the air. He swung the Ordon Sword in a downward strike. The blade cut across the Hero Shade’s chest and the skeletal being flew back from the physical force gathered behind the blow. He struck the ground and Link immediately jumped high into the air and viciously stabbed the Hero Shade through.

The Hero Shade grunted as Link slid the Ordon Sword from his translucent form and gracefully flipped backwards. 

For a moment, the great warrior remained on the cool ground before bringing himself to his feet. 

“Excellent,” The Hero Shade approved, and Link couldn’t explain the abrupt burst of pride that filled him at the praise, “It appears you are certainly capable of performing my lost art.” 

His lost art? 

Link curiously inclined his head. These skills he was learning...were those the Hero Shade had developed himself? Then why had the Hero Shade chosen to pass his teachings to him? A Ranch-Hand-turned-Hero? 

“Very well,” Decision made, Hero Shade’s tone implied Link needed to listen closely and carefully to his next words, “My second skill is…”

Ah. A dramatic pause. 

Why did Link get the feeling his mentor had done so on purpose? He was purposefully goading him on, but Link couldn’t deny the thrill of excitement and willingness to learn from this ancient being. 

“...the Shield Attack!” 

Link perked up. This skill sounded intriguing. 

“Let it be hewn into your mind!” 

And so the lesson commenced!

“No matter how well-tempered a blade is, if a foe is clad in armor and bears a shield, the sword will do no harm,” Hero Shade briefly explained, “When facing such a foe, you must lock onto them and thrust your shield against the defenses of your enemy.” 

Made sense…

“Lock onto me, then try it!” The Hero Shade said, “You have learned much, so I am sure you will know the moment when you can do a shield attack!” He assured Link. 

They brought their swords together and Link executed the Shield Attack with hardly any trouble. 

The Hero Shade staggered back from the blow before recovering. He curtly dipped his chin, approval and a hint of pride evident in his voice, 

“Excellent! Open a hole in your enemy’s defenses and use your sword to strike without hesitation!” Hero Shade went on to add, “The Shield Attack I have just taught you can also be used to repel an enemy’s projectile attacks.” 

He hadn’t missed how Hero Shade subtly emphasized the word ‘repel.’ As though it were a forewarning of what was to come. 

“Would you practice?” Link was given no time to answer. The decision had been made for him. “Then repel my magical attack with your shield attack!” 

Link sent the glowing orb back after the Hero Shade had projected it. He’d almost miscalculated but narrowly managed to salvage his slight falter. 

“Perfect!” The Hero Shade declared, “When your enemies assail you with projectiles, this is how you will defeat them with ease!” 

A slight grin curved Link’s lips. 

“Done!” The Hero Shade concluded their lesson, “You have learned the second of my hidden skills, the Shield Attack! But I have five more secrets to teach you...in time. The path to becoming a true hero is a long one, but once you have grasped all of the hidden skills, you shall be worthy of walking it. You must persist on the lonely path of the sword to obtain true courage and earn the strength to conquer the great evils of the world!” 

He spoke from experience. This Link recognized. Hero Shade was...sorrowful and understanding. 

“Do not forget your discipline with the blade before we meet again!” 

And those were the words of wisdom Hero Shade left to echo in Link’s ears as he was drawn back into reality and away from his Mentor’s world. 

~~~~

Twilight started when his memory of the Hero Shade was interrupted by the rustling of the bushes behind him. 

He turned, teeth bared in a snarl as he crouched low and prepared to attack should the disturbance prove to be a monster. He only hesitated since he didn’t sense any ill intentions, malicious or dark auras. 

It hardly mattered. It paid to be cautious. 

Instead, a blue-clad figure came hurrying through, long, wheat-colored hair somewhat disheveled and blue eyes snapping onto his wolf form. 

Twilight relaxed upon recognizing Wild only to tense slightly at the unnerved expression he wore. 

“Twilight!” Wild breathed, jogging towards him. Twilight transformed into his Hylian form at once, worry creasing his brow. 

“Cub? What’s wrong?” 

“I’m not sure,” Wild admitted, peering past his shoulder and briefly scanning the area behind him. When he didn’t find whatever he was looking for, Wild looked back to Twilight, “Time’s looking for you.” 

The statement, for whatever reason, was ominous. The tone his Cub had used, the words, and how cornflower blues cautiously darted this way and that told Twilight something was off. 

“He is?” Twilight murmured and moved to swiftly make his way past Wild, “Then I’d better see what he needs.” 

He didn’t get far when Wild caught his arm. Twilight turned to him inquisitively. 

“Twilight, he’s acting...strange.” Wild said to him in low tones, locking their gazes together so his predecessor could see the seriousness behind his words, “He heard you howling that song. I don’t know what it was, but he reacted strongly to it. Almost daunted.” 

Twilight’s eyes widened by a slight margin.

“Oh, Hylia,” 

The Song of Healing. 

He’d sung it to commemorate Hero Shade and, consequently, the Hero of Time. Twilight’s ancestor. 

He’d sung it, both knowing and oblivious to the fact that Time might recognize it. At some point during his adventure, Time had to have learned the song. Twilight was unaware of the circumstances concerning his learning of the haunting melody, but he could infer from Wild that it must not have been pleasant. 

“He asked how you knew the Song.” Wild omitted the part where Time had opened both eyes to reveal one blue and one completely white. A sight he would never forget seeing. No injury, no wound, or scar was capable of ridding someone of an entire eye, leaving it unnervingly white and blank. He might’ve accepted mutilation as a possibility if he knew it wasn’t so. 

Twilight cursed himself for his stupidity. He raked a hand through his walnut colored hair, exhaling deeply. 

“I have two options.” The older teen muttered. 

Wild watched him closely, “And they are?” 

“Face Time willingly… Or face Time unwillingly.” Came the reluctant reply. Twilight pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling. He might as well get it done and over with. “How to explain Hero Shade without explaining Hero Shade…” 

Wild glanced at him in confusion. 

“Hero Shade?” 

“My mentor.” Twilight distractedly clarified. “Or...was. He rests now.” 

Wild clicked his jaw shut and sealed his lips together. He hadn’t known this. Twilight never before mentioned a mentor to him.

“He taught me all that I know. Without him, I wouldn’t have succeeded in defeating Ganondorf.” There was sorrow in his eyes and wistfulness seeped into his tone. He chuckled somberly, “He was brusque and short-clipped in the beginning...But in the end…” 

“Although I accepted life as the hero, I could not convey the lessons of that life to those who came after.” 

This particular statement had stuck to Twilight. Not because the Hero Shade had admitted to him his one greatest and lingering regret he had eased at long last, but because it told Twilight there were other Heroes before him. Heroes who fought against whatever evil had risen in order to defend and protect Hyrule and her people. 

Hero Shade had chosen to pass down his teachings to Twilight. His lessons had become all the more meaningful to the Ordonian and Twilight swore then and there to honor his mentor and ancestor, predecessor and leader, in all he did. 

“I…” Wild began, trailing off awkwardly. Sorrow swelled in his chest and he grasped Twilight’s arm, “I get it.” 

And he did. 

Twilight spared him a small, soft, smile, eyes no longer as fierce but undeniably warm. 

“I know.” 

The two teens stood in reverent silence, commemorating their fallen friends and mentor. Twilight gazed wistfully at the tranquil moon, mind distant and eyes faraway. 

“He’d come to me as a wolf.” 

Wild inclined his head curiously, “Hero Shade?” 

Twilight nodded with the shadow of a smile, “A Golden Wolf. With one red eye.” He said, unaware of the slow dawning look of recognition and bafflement stealing across Wild’s features. “Incredibly distinguished and proud. He would wait patiently for me to find him.” 

Wild pursed his lips tightly together, glancing past his shoulder then back to Twilight with stunned disbelief. 

“Um...Twi?” 

Twilight’s ears twitched at the cautious tone his descendant used. He looked to find Wild with a finger raised in the air, gesticulating vaguely towards where he’d come from. 

Wild?” He asked when the younger teen waved his finger in the general direction of the trees then back at Twi. 

“I thought I might’ve been imagining it but…” He met Twilight’s quizzical gaze, “When I was heading down the path to find you, there was a flash of gold to my right-” 

Twilight looked sharply at him. 

“I wasn’t sure what it was. I was calling out for you and when I reached the bend, I saw a wolf.” Twilight’s eyes widened. “He was Golden and-” He tapped beneath his right eye, hurrying on, “Only one eye. A red one-” The Hero was cut off when Twilight lunged forward and grasped his arms, asking breathlessly and voice shaking with undiluted hope, 

“Where?” 

~~~~

“We meet again...It appears your efforts have begun to return vigor to Hyrule, but it is far too early to relax…” “My third hidden skill is...The back slice! Let it be hewn into your mind!” 

The unmistakable pride in Hero Shade’s voice. The gradual softening of the rough and disciplinary conduct. 

He ended his lessons with a single phrase that filled Link with hope. 

“May we meet again.” 

He always looked forward to finding the Golden Wolf. 

Hero Shade would greet him the same. 

“We meet again.” 

Link found himself waiting to hear the familiar echo of those words. 

“This next is the greatest of the hidden skills I have taught you to this point, and it may test the limits of your endurance.” 

Hero Shade would issue a challenge after his brief description of the skill he wished to pass on to Twilight. 

“Do you still wish to master it?” 

Link would respond in favor of learning. A curt dip of his chin, a fire blazing in his eyes, and words laced with conviction. 

Hero Shade would then test to ensure Link had mastered his previous skill. 

“My fourth hidden skill it…” 

The dramatic pause Link knew was incoming. He enjoyed the thrill of anticipation. The wonder of what skill Hero Shade would give for him to master. 

“The helm splitter!” 

Link would practice with Hero Shade until his mentor was satisfied with his progress. Hero Shade concluded their lessons with a reminder to train daily. 

“Do not neglect your daily sword training…” 

Link never did. 

It was the fifth meeting Link should have known. There was a phrase Hero Shade used he hadn’t thought to delve deeper into. A sentence bearing a blatant truth. 

“At last, the skills I have to teach you have entered the realm of true secrecy. They are forgotten ways that do not leave our bloodline…” 

Link hadn’t caught the blatant truth Hero Shade had shared for he was swiftly distracted.  

“My fifth hidden skill is...The mortal draw! Let it be hewn into your mind!” 

It was in the sixth session Link found himself weighed down by reluctance and sorrow. A burden weighed heavily upon his shoulders, threatening to crush him. He listened to the Hero Shade but without the usual excitement, anticipation, and willingness to learn. 

“...There are but a few hidden skills for me to teach you.” 

Link could not quell the onslaught of sorrow and unwillingness to proceed. The words tore apart his fragile defences, breaking down the neutral façade he wore, and cracking apart the mask of ferocity, strength, and resolve he’d crafted long ago. 

He’d known the day would soon come but he valiantly fought against the painful reminder of having to bid his mentor goodbye sometime in the nearby future. 

Hero Shade took notice of his hesitation and wandering mind. The golden-armored stalfos took it into his own hands to draw Link back to attention. He drew his sword back and struck forward. 

Link came close to being skewered. He noticed Hero Shade’s movements a second before the strike would hit. The Ordonian leaped back, shocked and startled. He staggered, feet tripping against one another, and he fell back. His sword fell from loose fingers, clattering loudly to the ground, his shield following close behind. 

Ashamed and sorely disappointed, Link bowed his head and bit his lower lip hard. He clenched his shaking fist, pressing it to the cold ground and listened as Hero Shade drew near. 

He waited for the rebuke he knew was to come. The reproach and urging to stand and face him. 

“What ails you?” 

The unexpected words drew Link to lift his chin and meet the Hero Shade’s glowing gaze. 

It could have just been him, but Link swore he sensed a tendril of concern emanating from the proud and distinguished Hero Shade. 

“Hesitation in the midst of battle can cost you dearly. A lethal price to pay. Stand,” 

Link did so. He drew himself to his feet, keeping his head low and gaze averted. 

“Speak.” 

The invitation disguised as a thinly veiled order garnered a baffled reaction from Link. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, debating whether or not to tell Hero Shade of what troubled him so. 

Hero Shade merely cocked his head, “I have watched you from afar. You have shown great reluctance in finding the Howling Stone and learning the melody carried by the wind. You are slow to seek for me and to learn the Hidden Skill I have yet to pass on to you. Why is this?” 

“We are on the sixth Hidden Skill.” Link found himself saying, inexplicably drawn to answering his mentor- to explain the conglomeration of emotions warring within him. 

“We are.” 

Link deflated, grief-stricken eyes meeting the Hero Shade’s single one. 

“There is only one left.”

There was no need for Link to clarify what he’d left unspoken. Hero Shade heard and understood what was implied behind those four syllables. 

“Oh child of mine...” Hero Shade stepped forward, reaching with a skeletal hand to grasp his shoulder. His glowing gaze softened, an air of comfort and understanding wrapping soothingly around Link, “An acquaintance once told me, ‘Whenever there is a meeting, a parting is sure to follow.’” 

There was an odd, sorrowful, intonation in his quiet voice. Link’s wolf spirit curled within itself, howling mournfully, expressing what Link could not bring himself to. 

And then Hero Shade said these words that remained freshly engraved in Link’s mind, 

“‘However, that parting need not last forever...Whether a parting be forever or merely for a short time...That is up to you.’” 

Link took those words to heart. 

~~~~

When Wild pointed, Twilight bolted away. The Ordonian tore through the woods, effortlessly ducking beneath low-branches and maneuvering around the obstacles barring his way. There was a trace of desperation, a billowing of hope, unrestrained yearning, and a multitude of other indescribable yet profound emotions surging rampantly within the Hero. 

He sprinted without slowing, his heart thundering in his chest and ears pulsing. The timing of his breaths echoed in his mind, like a countdown of sorts. 

His feet grazed the earth and his tunic blended into the undergrowth and shrubbery. 

He knew he was nearing the bend when a familiar panting caressed his ears. Raspy, deep, breaths Twilight had memorized long ago and longed to hear again. A tell-tale sign he was nearing the Golden Wolf waiting patiently for him to arrive. 

He burst free from the foliage, skidding into the path and drew unmistakably wide eyes swirling with a myriad of emotions to find Wild’s words rang true. 

For across from him, seated regally and patiently, was the Golden Wolf Twilight had last seen two years prior before Hyrule Castle. 

“Surely you can restore Hyrule to its stature of yore as the chosen land of the gods. Farewell! Go and do not falter, my child!” 

Twilight’s features contorted, eyes stinging, and he whispered tremulously, 

“Hero Shade.”

#Linked Universe #linkeduniverse #Legend of Zelda #Hero Shade #Twilight #Wild #Golden Wolf #Memories #At long last I have written part II of III #I strayed from canon #Purposefully #Dinwrites

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #359

“i’m only a crack in this castle of glass  /  hardly anything there for you to see”

Do you look better with your hair down or up? It's too short to go up. Has you mom ever directly told you that she favoured your other sibling(s) over you? Yeesh, no. Have you ever read The Outsiders? Seen the movie? Read the book, seen the movie. Adore both. What’s your favourite drink from Jamba Juice? I don't think we have those here. Can you stand eating the crusts of a slice of sandwich bread? I don't mind the crust at all. Do you do your homework at home or in class? Prior to college, I did my work right after getting home to get it out of the way. In college, I did it in-between classes or when waiting for Mom to finish class. Do you feel uncomfortable sharing drinks with other people? Yes, I never do it. Do you get jealous if your boyfriend hugs another girl? I'm single, but hypothetically, I wouldn't... It's just a hug. At least for me, it's just a friendly gesture. Is there something that happened in your past you hate talking about? A few things, yes. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? Nah. If you had to choose, what color is your favorite? Baby pink. How many times have you dated the person you’re with now? I’m single. Has anyone suspected you of being a different sexuality? Yes. Do you like chocolate or vanilla cake more? Chocolate. Does it bother you to have blood drawn or not so much? Nah. What color is your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. Do you normally fall asleep fast or slow? Ridiculously slow. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? No. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? I'd love to dress up as like a Ms. Oogie Boogie and take some cool pictures, but I highly doubt it'll actually happen. What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Do you still look in the toy aisle, or do you pass it by? I walk past it. What are your summer fashion essentials? I don't have fashion essentials for any season. Do you have your own website? For my photography, yeah. Do you think you would be a good salesperson? Ha, no. I worked in retail before and I fucking sucked. Do you like candy corn? NO. Just colored wax, ugh. Do you like to wear skirts? I don't wear anything that shows my legs. Were you happy as a kid? Yeah. That, talkative, and hyper. Favorite store to browse but not really buy anything? Haha, I LOVE going on MorphMarket now and again to browse the ball pythons especially, but boy if I had the cash and space would I buy like fifty of them at once. I don't really know about a store I like browsing but not buying from. Skittles or Sour Patch Kids? Both are great, but I guess Sour Patch Kids. BUT, if you throw SOUR Skittles in there... then it's a war lol. If tattoos were free, how many would you have? A HELL OF A LOT. I wanna be just about totally painted. Do you wear a retainer at night? Not anymore. I had one, but I stopped using it. Are you afraid of dolls, puppets, or clowns? I'm not a doll person, particularly porcelain ones. When you’re in your room, do you keep the door locked? No. It's not even closed. Do you think your face is mostly symmetrical? Actually no, and I'm self-conscious about it. Stupidest thing you have ever said out loud? OH Christ, I'm not retrospecting on this. What’s your least favourite ice-cream flavour? That I've actually tried, strawberry. It's disgusting. What was the last good news you heard? I got approved for TMS therapy! Who was the last person to comment on your Facebook status? My friend Lyndsey. How did you meet him/her? World of Warcraft. She's actually my guild master, and she is the sweetest damn person. Have you ever learned any self-defense? If not, would you be interested in learning? I haven't, but yeah, I'd like to. When was the last time you took a nap? How long was it? Yesterday. For some reason, I actually slept a LONG time, like at least three, but probably close to four, hours. I mean I was tired, but I didn't feel THAT tired. Do you like Gushers? YAAAAAAAAAAS What would you do if you could do anything without failing? Actually get a degree for SOMETHING. What is your native language? English. Do you have a younger brother or sister? A younger sister. If so do/did they really get on your nerves? No. We were very close as kids, but we've drifted apart. Now, she absolutely doesn't get on my nerves. I'm so proud of her. Name something that happened to you that was completely unexpected. Uhhh I dunno. Do you judge people that have multiple piercings? Lol wtf? No. Do you watch the Olympics? No. What did you have for breakfast this morning? I had Kix cereal. Do you like orange juice? Yes. So long as it doesn't have pulp in it. Do you think it’s cruel to keep an animal in a cage while you’re away? It depends on the size of the cage as well as how long you're away. Do you have a pet gecko? No, but I'd love a fat-tailed gecko. Are you scared of reptiles? Not at all, I adore them. Is your car messy? I don't have my own car. Mom's kinda is, though. It needs a wash badly, but because of her bumper literally being zip-tied on, she doesn't trust going into a car wash. And neither of us are about to do it manually, lol. Have you ever seen the show 16 and Pregnant? No, fuck that show. Do you buy expensive clothes? No. Does death scare you? Not really. What are your current goals? Conquer my social anxiety, get a job, lose weight, do something to strengthen my legs... Those are the four biggies. Do you clap or cheer when at a concert? I did both at the one I've been to. Do you drink coffee? What brand? No. Do you use a comb or brush? A comb. When you were younger, did you ever do that exclamation point that looked like an upside down triangle and had a really big dot? No. I loved the cutesy girl handwriting though, haha. I just could never do it. You’re locked in a room with the person you last dated, any problems? Well yeah, we're locked in a room lmao. What kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? It's perfectly fine, we're best friends. Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No. Do you get mad when people smoke around you? Yes. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yeah, more than once. When was the last time you were on a city bus? Never. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? Who said I even want kids? Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yessssss, good shit. Have you ever seen a ghost? I think I have. Have you ever burned an ant with a magnifying glass? No. Have you ever been to craigslist.com? Yes. Have you ever used Nair? Yes, on my legs. It works, I just have stupidly hairy legs that need so much to get it all. How many tabs do you have open and what are they? Two YouTube tabs and then Tumblr. What browser do you prefer to use? Chrome. What room are you in right now? My bedroom. Are you excited for anything this month? 1.) I get my tattoo on the 19th, and 2.) I start TMS next Wednesday. What language course did you take in school, if any? I barely survived one semester of Latin, then I did all four available German courses. What language would you most like to learn? I'd love to improve my German. What would you like to get a degree in? Photography. What book are you reading, what genre is it and do you like it so far? Wings of Fire: The Brightest Night. It's young adult fantasy, I think. Did you ever sometimes flip through your text books even when you didn’t need to? Yeah, mainly to just look at pictures because I was that bored in class, haha. What types of magazines do you read? None. Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Play a video game. What’s your current relationship like with the person you lost your virginity to and do you wish it was different? We don't have any relationship anymore. I don't regret losing it to him, if that's what you're asking. If you mean our relationship stance, it'd be nice to still be in touch with him, but I know it wouldn't be healthy for me. Have you ever felt responsible for someone’s death? Pets, yes. No humans. What was the last book you recommended to someone? Idk. What’s the most difficult thing you and your current or last significant other have gone through? Distance was very hard. What’s your best memory with your ex? I'm going to assume this refers to "the ex." In which case, we were "play arguing," and I came storming into the kitchen after him to make a point, and I slid mid-sentence, and he caught me. We just held each other laughing our asses off. It's the simple things, man. Who was the last person that asked to hang out with you and what’s the story of how you met that person? Summer. My little sister and her were in pre-k together and became friends, but I gradually became closer to her than Nicole did when we were teens. Has anyone ever asked you out and you turned them down? Yes. Is there something you generally always ask for help with? Yeah. Like recently I've been having apples and peanut butter a lot, and I ask my mom to cut the apple because I'm terrified of knives. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NOPE. Have you looked at any old photos of yourself lately? No. In a relationship, have you ever been on and off with your partner? No. Do you consider cooking to be an art? Yes. Are you a fast or slow reader? I'd say I read at a moderate pace. Does it take a lot to gross you out? It depends on what it is, but I am actually more squeamish than I used to be.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''castle of glass'' by linkin park

[brandongoodwin]

Goodwin, Brandon

COM 105 Media & Society

Spring 2021

04/30/21

Blog post #5 My superhero

Mr. Moltent (aka Billy Negrin)

Early life and Family

William S. Negrin was born on March 1st 1976 on the Hawaian island of Maui in a small town called Hana. He attended Saint John's highschool until graduating in 1994. As a child he liked to surf and play soccer with his friends. He was always drawn to the outdoors and was a boy scout as a teen. He was known as the fire master in his troop able to start a fire with anything. He is an only child to his parents Susan M. Negrin and Mark H. Negrin. He lost his father to a drunk driver at the age of 2. His dad was 30 years old at the time. At the age of 17 Billy fell into Mauna Loa, an active volcano in Hawaii when he was hiking up it by himself. He says something inside him told him to go to the top of the volcano. Billy slipped and fell into the Volcano only to emerge as Mr. Moltent. It is believed that Billy has a genetic mutation which allowed him to survive and adapt his body to the extreme heat and pressure found inside the volcano and giving him his super powers. However it remains a mystery how such a thing could have occurred. When this event happened his life was changed forever. Given his new found abilities he was approached by the H.A.T.W.A and they showed him how to handle his new power and be responsible. After joining with the H.A.T.W.A he lived in the headquarters training and getting control of his powers for many years. After his training was complete he went back to live in his hometown where he currently resides. His powers gave him a great opportunity to be a firefighter and that's what he does when he is not fighting villains. William now has a family of his own and is married to Tiffany A. Sanchez. He is a father to two children Abigail born in 2010 and Thomas born in 2012. They live in Hawaii on the island of Maui about 15 minutes from his hometown Hana in East Maui.

Super Powers and Superhero organization

Mr. Moltent often compared to the marvel hero Human Torch, has a range of abilities as a superhero. He has the ability to shoot hot lava from the palms of his hands and incinerate things with his touch. He also has the ability of super strength and can lift buses, cars, boulders, and people with no problem. His defensive power is that his tough leathery skin is impenetrable by anything that isn’t water. Another cool ability of his is that he can mold anything malleable from heat into whatever he wants. Since his hands can reach temperatures of up to 2,400 degrees fahrenheit and has super strength he essentially has a forge in his hands. His abilities are only active in his Mr. Molten form which he only calls upon during his time of work or when his help is needed. The only way to get back to his normal form is by simply cooling down until he transitions back into his human form. His weakness is that he can not activate his powers in the rain or aquatic environments. If he gets wet while using his powers he will feel the pain of the water extinguishing the molten lava that is his body. As for his superhero organization he is a part of the H.A.T.W.A or Heros across the world association which includes him and six other superheroes such as Atomic Storm and Faze. This group of superheroes advocates for peace around the world and the freedom of people to explore their own fate. The headquarters is located in Warsaw Poland and is open to the public on Saturdays and Sundays. They were founded in 1946 after WWII when a german soldier (Mutant Man) had gained superpowers through radiation from a bomb blast. It shocked the world when his abilities were uncovered and the United Nations created the organization inorder to control the use of these superpowers. They created the organization because they knew more superhumans would be discovered. The effects of the war were devastating to the clean air we breathe and it was only a matter of time before more gene mutations were revealed within humans.

Appearance and specs.

Mr. Moltent stands at six foot four and weighs in at two hundred and twenty-five pounds. He has Brown hair and brown eyes in his regular human form. You would probably see walking around the town with a smile on his face and baseball cap on his head if he was not at the firehouse or at home with his family. When he calls upon his abilities and goes into his super human form he develops thick leathery skin with cracks that looke like veins that contain hot magma flowing throughout his body. His eyes become fiery glowing orange eyes and his hair is burnt away within seconds of transforming. Mr Moltent is estimated to be able to lift up to twenty-two tons but it is not proven. He can shoot lava up to one hundred and thirty-five feet at seventy-nine miles per hour and continually for up to one minute at about fifty-five miles per hour. Mr Moltent’s only abilities are those I have mentioned earlier and he does not possess increased intelligence. Although he can feel pain, his thick skin is able to protect him from injuries. That would otherwise be fatal to regular people.

SuperHero career

Mr. Moltent has saved the world with his organization many times; some of the most notable acts of Heroisms are his efforts in the stop of Devil Man who tried conquering the world with his demon summoning abilities. He was able to use his powers to bring the Devil Man right back down to the underworld where he came from, something only he had the ability to accomplish. He also saved the lives of thousands of people when he single handedly redirected an active volcanoes blast away from people and towns in his own state of Hawaii. He heroically stood at the top of Loihi and used a huge slab of rock to direct the spray toward the ocean saving the townspeople. He also works nonstop with firefighters by going in and saving people when firefighters can not because of hazards and heat. He currently has a charity called fire safety for all or F.S.F.A which is working to replace smoke detectors in places like homeless shelters, hospitals, schools, malls and other places to ensure the safety of others. Along with smoke detectors they also supply fire extinguishers and train people on how to use them properly. He also talks at schools around the globe teaching children about fire safety and what to do if there is a fire in your house.

The future of Mr. Moltent

Mr. Moltent now 45 has many years left defending the world from bad guys. Even though he is not immortal he is in much better shape than your average 45 year old dad. His friends in his organization keep him fit and in shape, ready for anything to happen. It is hard to say when Mr. Moltent will retire but I do not see it anytime soon. He still enjoys protecting our world and helping citizens of our planet everyday. He says that he plans to retire at some point but he can’t give an exact age. He also says that he will never stop being involved with his charity and his community.

The impact of Mr. Moltent, his charity, and his superhero team.

Mr. Moltent came to be in a way that can not be scientifically proven. However the world has accepted his supernatural abilities just as they have with the other superhumans. He has proven himself to the people that he is only making good use of his powers and citizens around the world entrust the H.A.T.W.A to keep them safe from any potential threats. His superhero abilities have been seen by the world and every country celebrates their efforts in protecting them with world superhero day on june 11th. The start of his charity for fire safety has helped install over 500,000 smoke detectors and fire extinguishers world wide and is becoming one of the largest non-profit organizations in the world. Working with fire departments across the globe his charity has been very impactful in educating people on fire safety and protecting them from tragedies.

[ourladyoftheironmasque]

A Cross-Time Caper

When Hawk Moth's machinations inadvertently lead to the akumatization of Ladybug, it will take a bunny, a butterfly, a monkey, two ladybugs and three cats to set the world to rights again.

Chapter One of Three 3,564 words

*

It was all still very theatrical, of course. He bowed low, head nearly even with his hips, one arm bent across his stomach, the other extended up and out. The broad grin permanently etched on his face these days was the perfect compliment to his exaggerated manners. “A pleasure as always, Ladybug, but I’m afraid I must be going.” Another paw pad on his ring vanished, leaving him with two. Chat Noir straightened, and drew his baton.

Two weeks ago, this would have gone down differently.

Probably, he would have bowed over her hand. His performance against the day’s akuma victim always informed his flirting. When he was pleased with himself, he was the old world gentleman. He thought it charming to bow over her hand, kiss her knuckles and call her m’lady. Ever hopeful good work would earn him romance, he’d resist leaving her until his ring demanded it. (Or until she teased him so much that he lost his nerve.)

If he had embarrassed himself during the fight, then he’d be defensive. All sass and unearned bravado, the sort that a girl with self-respect just couldn’t let stand in a boy who couldn’t back up his trash talk. He’d call her Bugaboo just to hear her yell at him. That was his other favorite persona—the little boy on the playground who didn’t know how to tell a girl he liked her, so he antagonized her instead. Sometimes she answered his absurdity with cleverness, but more often than not she’d cross her arms and feign annoyance. Chat Noir always wanted attention, but when he was disappointed in himself, he usually tried to goad her into being upset with him, too. A good job meant looking for rewards he wouldn’t find and his easy acceptance of their absence; when he performed poorly, he’d force a scolding out of her if he had to. With hindsight, she’d let him have his way too much. When Chat Noir went fishing for a set down, his partner should have been the one propping him up.

Now she was Ladybug, always.

And she wasn’t the clever one anymore.

Giving up on Adrien and watching him ride off into the sunset with Kagami should have ended with Marinette climbing atop Luka’s white horse. He was sweet, and she liked him. Maybe he was a little too punk rock and anarchy for a beautiful house and three children at the end of their story, but it’d still be a good story. They would be happy together. The disparity of their feelings had left their friendship unbalanced, but if they were together, then Marinette could reciprocate. She could appreciate and support and respect him like he always had her.

But.

Life never wants to follow the path it should.

Her heart, Marinette learned, was interested in hopeless pining exclusively. As for her stomach, well, that started doing flip-flops for Chat Noir. And although her tongue was just as adept at barking out a plan to defeat the an akuma as ever, once that was finished so was her ability to string together a coherent sentence.

Ladybug wished she could say it was because Chat Noir had matured a lot recently. Because he had! Chat Noir stepped up during the battle against Miracle Queen and it turned out quick thinking and strategy agreed with him. There had been more equal division of labor in the past two weeks than the entire preceding year combined. Just in time, too. Without Master Fu to guide them, they were on their own. Ladybug could not have shouldered the burden of the Miracle Box and come up with all the plans and always be ready to wind her yo-yo around Chat Noir’s ankles to yank him out of the line of fire. Saving Paris had never been a game to him, exactly, but he’d enjoyed it in a way Ladybug couldn’t. To don a mask and smack a monster with a stick was how Chat Noir blew off steam. It was his escape from stress. Now even he could not deny the magnitude of the job before them.

The identities of their entire team had been compromised.

The loss of Master Fu’s memory was bad enough, but it also meant they lost their access to Guardian lore and the Grimoire.

The only council they had left was their kwamis, and transformation cut them off from Tikki and Plagg. Ladybug and Chat Noir had always been fond of using the two of us against the world as a rallying cry, but now it was true. And Chat Noir was pulling his weight.

Ladybug wished she could say she fell in love with him because of that. It would have been poetic, somehow. It would have been worthy of him.

But no.

Marinette had a good cry over Adrien—a dozen of them, really—binged ice cream and terrible rom coms with Alya, heard some variation of if he doesn’t see how special you are then he doesn’t deserve you from literally everyone she’d ever met—most in good faith, though the Chloe version was excruciating in it’s backhanded compliments and the Lila version was pretty obviously designed to make her feel worse—and bought a new diary. New pages for a new era. In general, Marinette did her absolute best to put her feelings for Adrien behind her.

If Adrien and Kagami made each other happy, then that was all that mattered, right? Right.

Right.

Right.

Right.

Marinette did her absolute best to put her feelings for Adrien behind her and they went absolutely nowhere because feelings don’t go away when you ask them nicely. But the loyalty to Adrien that had once made the idea of dating someone else feel so relentlessly wrong? That did leave. It turned out the world was filled with people as cute and smart and funny and kind and gentle and charming and vulnerable and brave and good as Adrien. Her heart scamped right up to Chat Noir and went, Well! How about this one? Isn’t he exactly who you’ve always wanted?

And when she tilted her head and squinted, he kinda was.

Only...she didn’t have to squint, actually.

Or tilt anything.

Looking back, Ladybug had probably been half in love with Chat Noir all along. Her dislike of the cute nicknames and attempts to steal kisses had simply been part of the mask. Another means of distancing Ladybug, Ultra-Competent Hero of Paris from Ladybug, Regular Teenager Making Up How to Save the World As She Went. For a while, she even fooled herself! Before Felix, she might have said Chat Noir pushed her boundaries and ignored her comfort zones. But after? The contrast between her playful partner’s irrepressible flirting and the actions of someone who pressed onwards without caring about her feelings could not be sharper.

Looking back, Ladybug had definitely been completely in love with Chat Noir all along. When viewed through the lens of having loved him, their year fighting side by side made so much more sense. It was her own love that she called upon to conquer Dark Cupid’s spell. When Chat Noir wondered if he would have had a shot in a world without Adrien, Ladybug couldn’t imagine one—but Oblivio soon stripped her of her memories, and photographic proof suggested that in a world where she was at least ignorant of Adrien, she would have fallen into Chat Noir’s arms immediately. And then there was Chat Blanc’s timeline. Ladybug could never know what really happened in that twisted world. Chat Blanc had babbled a lot about them being in love, but in the moment, Ladybug had thought nothing of it. It was simply his one track mind run off the rails. But from the safety of distance and a repaired timeline, she started to wonder if Chat Blanc had been more lucid than he let on. Maybe something had happened between them…

And ended with the boy she loved akumatized, Paris a half-submerged hellscape and herself dead.

Rationally, she knew Ladybug and Chat Noir could go get an ice cream at Andre’s together without triggering the end of the world. There must be a step in between their love and the destruction of the city they were charged with protecting. It was a moot point. He had a girlfriend now.

(Sometimes, she was confident she could steal him away if she tried. He’d wanted Ladybug for so long. Surely if she just apologized and told him how she felt, he’d forget all about other girls. But doing that would make her a bad person, wouldn’t it?)

(Other times, it wasn’t right and wrong that stopped her, but the fear that he didn’t care anymore. That Chat Noir would say no, and Ladybug would have to face that she’d lost her chance with him forever.)

“Pleasure’s yours, I mean, nine. Mine. I mean… See you next time, Chat Noir.”

At least the precarious nature of their transformations meant Ladybug was never trapped in a long, awkward conversation with Chat Noir. When she made a fool of herself in front of Adrien, that was agony for hours. Chat Noir only had two pad paws left, and her earrings were not faring any better. He was leaving, and she wouldn’t see him again until they were in the thick of a fight.

He was kind enough to never question her sudden tendency to get tongue-tied. Ladybug knew he noticed. His banter came slower, like he had to make a mental adjustment when her confidence disappeared.  

It was in that beat of silence—the one that used to not be there, but hung over her like the blade of a guillotine while Chat Noir cautiously decided how to respond—a brand new opportunity for chaos that two weeks ago would not have existed, but did today—when she wished a black hole would open up and swallow her whole

that one did.

Sort of.

“Minibug! Kitten Noir!”

It wasn’t a black hole, but the white-blue void of the Burrow. Bunnyx hung half out, arms making sweeping gestures to urge them closer. “It’s go time!”

As far as holes to swallow you up so that you don’t have to confront your own embarrassment went, the Burrow was kind of a lousy one if Chat Noir was invited. “We’re about to transform back!”

“I came prepared, Minibug. I’m sure you both did, too, with snacks for your kwamis.”

Chat Noir tossed Ladybug an uneasy smile. “Bunnyx wouldn’t be here just for chit-chat. We’d better go.”

(He had lately developed an irritating tendency to take his job seriously.)

(The love and support of his girlfriend was so freaking good for him that it was a little grating.)

Bunnyx’s security measures were, unsurprisingly, a pair of bowls slapped over their heads before she ushered them blindly into the Burrow. Well. Ladybug more or less knew to expect that. Chat Noir yelped. It was good to hear his facade drop, even if just for a second. He had come into his own recently, but underneath it all, he was the same pratfalling goofball he’d always been.

“Spots off.”

“Claws in.”

Familiarity with her purse made any awkward groping unnecessary. Producing a macaron for Tikki was as natural as breathing. For her part, Tikki seemed to be in awe of what she could see. Marinette heard a tiny “Wow” pass Tikki’s lips and from further away, de-transformed Chat Noir trying to placate Plagg. There was a job to be done. No rest for lazy cats, and no time to explore for Tikki.

“Tikki, Spots on!”

“Plagg, Claws out!”

The Burrow was full of secrets. Bunnyx monitored untold timelines, ushering their lives along the best possible path. Although she had heard Chat Noir transform and knew their identities were safe for another day, Ladybug did not dare remove the bowl. Bunnyx would tell her when it was safe to look.

“That—”

“Don’t!”

“—is the mini-est Minibug I’ve ever seen.”

Ladybug tilted the rim of the bowl back. Bunnyx was glaring daggers at a thoroughly unconcerned Chat Noir. A taller Chat Noir. His shoulders were deliciously broad, and his mop of blond hair was not a smidge neater. What should have been absurd—a grown man in a skin tight cat costume, bell and all—simply wasn’t. He stood with the complete assurance that he belonged in that outfit, and so it looked natural. Right.  

Ladybug eyes darted to the boy Bunnyx had brought with them. He’d also tipped his bowl back, and was staring dumbfounded at his future self.

“I mean it,” Chat Plus Sombre said, looking thoughtfully at Ladybug, “What are you? Thirteen?”

Ladybug bristled. So he was a grown-up, so what? That didn’t mean she was useless. “Almost fifteen.”

“She may be a newbie,” Bunnyx interjected, “but she’s good.”

Chat Plus Sombre held his hands up in surrender. “No need to remind me how fast Ladybug picked up the ins and outs of being a superhero. I’ve been playing catch-up since the day we met. I’m just surprised you went this young, Bunnyx. Isn’t the goal to pick her up five minutes before she quit?”

Quit.

Quit.

The casual way the word rolled off his tongue, as if Ladybug quitting could ever be normal, made her blood run cold. It was one thing if she wasn’t needed anymore. She’d happily hang up her yo-yo if Paris was safe. But it sounded like she’d left Chat Plus Sombre high and dry, reduced to plucking partners out of the timestream in order to keep on fighting.

She was going to quit.

Bunnyx treated the revelation like it was normal, too. “For you. They’re gonna take a quick detour. I found something else in the timestream that needs fixing. We’ll get back on track once Minibug and Kitten Noir have accomplished their mission.”

Chat Plus Sombre frowned at Chat Noir. “I don’t remember being tagged for one of these.”

“One of what?” Chat Noir cried. “And where’s future Ladybug?”

“We can’t tell you,” Bunnyx answered. “It’s bad enough you saw him as it is.”

Chat Plus Sombre shrugged. “Nah, it’s fine. I don’t remember this at all. He’s definitely gonna get mindwiped.”

“And her?”

Crossing his arms, Chat Plus Sombre acceded the point to Bunnyx. “Okay, since I don’t know my little lady is also gonna get mindwiped, I’ll be infuriatingly obtuse. That suit you better?” It didn’t appear to placate Bunnyx, but Chat Plus Sombre had evidently compromised as far as he was willing. “My Ladybug—by which I mean the Ladybug of my time, attach no further significance—is fine. She’s taken a temporary leave of absence. We—she planned it in advance. No Guardian mindwipe activated. She’s coming back. But since Paris still needs a Ladybug, we take one from the timestream as needed. There’s a gap of about three years between when she made the plan and when she needed it that we usually swipe a Minibug from.”

That felt...reckless. Tentatively, Ladybug said, “I thought time is delicate.”

“It is,” Bunnyx answered. There was a slight air of scolding.

“But,” Chat Plus Sombre interjected, “you’re not replaceable, and the earrings are too powerful to sub out even if just anyone could do the job.”

Ladybug looked away, embarrassingly flattered.

“We’ve wasted enough time,” Bunnyx declared. “Better get back on track.”

“She says that,” Chat Plus Sombre added merrily, “but it really doesn’t matter. It’s time travel. She’s gonna drop you in the same nanosecond no matter how much time we spend in here.”

“You can only say that because you haven’t faded from existence.”

Chat Plus Sombre flailed. “Don’t you dare listen to her, Minibug and Mini Me! I’ve stopped existing loads of times! I’m an expert at it! You just—whoosh!” He snapped his fingers. “Stop.”

So the new and improved Serious Chat Noir was not a step away from pointless self-sacrifice. His adult self sounded like it was half-badge of honor, half-hilarious to disappear. “It isn’t funny,” Ladybug said, feeling vaguely faint.

Cat Plus Sombre softened. “You liar, you’re not almost fifteen. That was pure fourteen-and-a-half.”

Ladybug crossed her arms. “Like you can tell. You thought I was thirteen a minute ago.”

“You had a bowl on your head! It’s not fair to judge my level of knowing you-ness by what I thought when you had a bowl on your head. I demand a re-do. Get me another Minibug, Bunnyx.”

“No. Stop.” Bunnyx inhaled. “Here is what is going to happen: they are going to do their mission. We are going to wait here. If they fail, we dip back into time and try again. We’ll do it as many times as it takes for them to get the win. Then, we’re going to go back to our time for the mission we were supposed to be doing. I will not be taking questions.”

Chat Plus Sombre held up a finger. “Not a question. Comment: We broke Mini Me.”

Bunnyx fisted her hands in her hair. “You said you don’t remember this!”

“I don’t. He’s just not having any fun with this, so I have concerns.”

It was a good point. Chat Noir had been awfully quiet. “Can you give us a minute?” Ladybug asked.

Chat Plus Sombre gestured to the Burrow. Yes, it was surprisingly large, but there was no privacy to be found. “Not really.”

“Pretend.” Ladybug shooed Bunnyx and Chat Plus Sombre to the far side of the ...what even was this? Plane of existence? Pocket dimension? Chat Noir sank to the floor, knees up and put the bowl back on his head.

“Kitty, what’s wrong?”

“Him. Me.”

Well, that was just crazy. “You realize you grow up to be Doctor Who, right? Pulling companions from time and space. You should be excited!”

“I’m trying so hard to not be that guy anymore. Looks like it doesn’t even matter.”

“What’s wrong with that guy?” Ladybug happened to like that guy a lot. So much so that seeing him curled in on himself like this was a complete crisis, disastrous enough to forestall all stuttering.

“Were you even paying attention to the way he talks about you?”

“I don’t like how me quitting seems normal to him, but I guess I just don’t understand why we’re both going to think it makes sense someday.”

Chat Noir’s shoulders hunched. “Thought so. He keeps calling you his and you don’t even notice. I stopped doing that.”

“I noticed you.”

“I know the nicknames didn’t mean anything to you, but they mattered to me.”

She should tell him that she missed the nicknames. She wanted to be his lady, his Bugaboo, his everything. But that wasn’t fair to him. He had a girlfriend now.

“Are you really fourteen and a half?”

That it was even a question to Chat Noir struck Ladybug with unexpected force. That level of specificity into their ages was so far into Secret Identity territory that they’d never gone there. Chat Noir didn’t know how old she was. But his adult self could pin it down within a span of months. Chat Plus Sombre knew her better than Ladybug had ever thought she and Chat Noir could realistically know each other.

Ladybug didn’t answer, but they both knew she didn’t need to.

“You quit, and he goes through time looking for different yous instead of just getting a new partner.”

“That’s not his fault,” Ladybug protested. “If I don’t give up the earrings, what else can he do?”

“It isn’t fair. I’m trying, Ladybug. I really am.”

She laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know you are. You’ve matured so much. I’ve been really impressed these past couple of weeks. You’ve been awesome, and you shouldn’t look at him and feel like you’re not. Because he’s awesome. You’re still a superhero when you grow up, and a really good one. I’m jealous. I don’t grow up to be Doctor Who.”

Chat Noir eased the bowl back. “Let’s just do the mission and go home.”

Probably, Bunnyx and Chat Plus Sombre couldn’t avoid overhearing the conversation, but the polite thing to do would have been feign ignorance. Yet the moment Chat Noir announced he wanted to get it done and go home (and probably get an ego boost from his girlfriend), the illusion of privacy was shattered.

“That sounded like ready to roll to me!”

“Cross-Time Caper is go!” Chat Plus Sombre cocked one hidden eyebrow. “When are they going?”

Ladybug pulled Chat Noir to his feet and tossed his bowl aside. They followed Bunnyx to the window she beckoned them towards. It was Paris, of course, the beloved skyline marred by a whirling, writhing mass of red hovering in the air near Notre Dame. Bunnyx zoomed in.

The red was…ladybugs? Ladybug bit her lip. Those were her Miraculous Ladybugs of creation, but they weren’t repairing magical damage and disappearing. They were hard at work, diligently crafting something in the sky.

Bunnyx scrolled down, and on the street stood Chat Noir, (a third Chat Noir) staring up at the ladybugs, his face streaked with tears.

“Oh,” Chat Plus Sombre breathed. “This I remember.”

She had a feeling she knew the answer, but Ladybug asked anyway. “What’s going on?”

Grim, he said exactly what she suspected he would: “You’ve been akumatized, m’lady.”

#miraculous ladybug #love square #fic #time travel #ladynoir #reverse crush #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #bunnyx