#rip to your connor but mine's built different

[patbwaifs]

i think i've found the way i draw connor as well as my version of his character from snippets of storyboards and fan fic drafts that i've conjured up.

if anyone "ooc's" me i already got the perfect response

#rip to your connor but mine's built different #dbh #i also have pretty solid versions of nines and sixty #and a free form connor #connor-5x #he got out of the tower somehow #got hit by a train #has a right eye and right arm that had to be replaced #and they don't quite work right #so he skates cuz he's still got both oem feetsies #he also dissociates hardcore :] #he's fine. #right eye makes his reconstructive software frustrating to use. covering that eye does help a bit #but only a bit. #he can't recalibrate with his quarter bc his right arm lags badly and doesn't follow all of his commands properly. #hence the skateboard #and rollerblades #basically any kind of sport like that #He goes by fifty or X and i wanna squish him. #detroit: become human #connor rk800

[rjhpandapaws]

How a Family is Built

Chapter 1: It Starts with a Couple of Good Friends

Connor took some time on his own after the revolution. It had seemed like the most fitting thing to do. Very few androids trusted him, though he couldn’t blame them, so he didn’t believe he would be that welcome at Jericho. The hug he and Hank had shared had been nice but there was a defined line between coworkers and housemates that Connor didn’t feel that he would be permitted to cross. Not to mention being temporarily unemployed meant that he wouldn’t be able to contribute to the household which would have been unfair to Hank. He was CyberLife’s crowing achievement, he could figure something out. As it turned out, there weren’t too many places that were willing to hire you when the only thing you had done was hunt your own kind, and failed at that too. Sure, he was one of the faces of the Revolution, but that seemed to hurt more than it helped him. Some places seemed to believe that he was applying for jobs to make a point instead of the fact that he actually needed one and turned him away. He considered a dog walking service but only briefly because as much as he liked dogs they didn’t always seem to like him. He assumed it was because he didn’t smell like anything organic and that meant danger in most cases.

So he wandered instead and picked up odd jobs when and wherever he could. He was intentionally vague about his whereabouts and what he was doing whenever Markus or Hank reached out to him. He was aware he was probably causing them more worry than relief, but he wasn’t ready to admit that his venture into the real world had been a failure. That despite all that he had been built to be he had failed. He wasn’t sure how much of that fear was his own and how much of it was from what failure had meant for him before the Revolution. He was still trying to parse Connor from RK800. He was aware that there was only so much separation that could be done, but he still wanted to know the difference between his deviancy and his base code. Hank and Markus would both say that it wasn’t important, but they also hadn’t had an angry AI rip everything out from under them. She had been quiet since CyberLife had been returned to Elijah, but he wanted to know what his natural state of being was just in case she ever returned. He wanted to know what normal was in the event he would have to fight his way back again. Hank would have called him paranoid, but he felt he had a right to be after everything that had happened to him. Reality was a luxury in his situation and he wanted to keep his grip on it as best he could. If that meant wandering aimlessly through Detroit then that was what he would do.

The thing about friends is that when they only hear from you on occasion and don’t see you for nearly a year apparently they get worried. Connor couldn’t explain what had happened to him between when he saw Markus at a cafe and when he woke up in Hank’s living room. Before this crash he hadn’t gone into proper stasis in months. He got a few minutes here or there, but never enough to sort out the ever growing pile of errors in his code. “He finally back with us?” Came Hank’s voice from somewhere in the house. “Yeah. He’s back online, he just needs a few moments to recalibrate.” That was Markus’s voice, and from far closer than Connor would have liked. He was only made aware of the interface that had kept Markus so close to him because of the notification he received when it was terminated. He let his systems finish calibrating before he opened his eyes. He felt notably less sluggish now and the dread of the feeling that he had been slipping away from himself was nearly gone. He sat up carefully and took in his surroundings. He was in Hank’s house and it was much more clean that it had been on his last visit. “Welcome back to the land of the living Kid.” Hank remarked as he walked into the living room with a bottle of thirium in one hand and a light beer in the other. Some habits refused to die he supposed.

“Thank you.” He said as he took the offered thirium bottle, “Sorry for taking up your couch.” Hank rolled his eyes as he sat in the open space on the couch, “You can make it up to me by being honest about where you’ve been the past few months and why you haven’t been sleeping.” “Androids don’t-” Connor started. “It’s a turn of phrase Connor.” Hank cut him off, “Now out with it.” “Take your time.” Markus said in a way that would have been reassuring if Connor hadn’t been so on edge, “I’m here if you would rather interface.” He watched Markus pack up the laptop and various tablets he had likely been using to monitor him while he had been in stasis. Did he dare tell them the truth and admit to being a failure? It didn’t come with the same consequences as before but something about it still didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to face their disappointment. He was pulled out of his thoughts by Hank putting a hand on his knee. “Nothing short of having gone back to tracking down Deviants is going to upset us Con, I promise.” Hank said and gave his leg a reassuring squeeze, “But you haven’t slept in close to six months and between that and never hearing from you, we’re worried. We just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“You’ve been checking for your Amanda program again.” Markus pressed, his tone was less frantic than Hank’s but the worry was still there, “We made sure that she was gone. Your Mind Palace is your own now.” “Is that what’s bothering you Connor?” Hank asked. “Part of it.” He admitted as he blinked away the stress warning that popped up on his HUD, “I want to be sure what I’m feeling is mine and not just my code. That it won’t be taken away again as soon as I make a mistake.” He hadn’t meant to let all of that out, but once he had started he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out short of shutting off his vocal processor. Hank looked surprised and Markus looked worried. “Connor, we wouldn’t let something like that happen to you.” Markus said as he reached out for Connor. His synthskin hadn’t fallen away but Connor knew he was offering to interface, to be a median if that would be easier. “You trust us don’t you?” “Of course I do.” He agreed, “Its myself and my systems that I don’t trust. How do I know that I’m actually Deviant? How can we be sure this isn’t just another last ditch effort by CyberLife to undo everything? How do I know that any of this is real?” “Alright, fuck this.” Hank sighed as he stood, “Time to get the dog. He’ll know if its you or not. You’re his goddamn favorite after all.”

Connor found himself looking around the room as he finally noticed the absence of a certain four legged beast. He set the empty thirium bottle on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. That was all the time he had to brace himself. He heard an excited boof and the scramble of paws on the hardwood floor. “Go find him, go find Connor.” Hank encouraged. Connor found himself buried under an excited Saint Bernard only a few moments later. He felt himself smile genuinely for the first time in months. He buried his face and hands in the dog’s fur and felt a rush of relief. Sumo had recognized him, which meant at the very least that today was real. Had he been able to he would have cried. “The big lug missed you just like the rest of us.” Hank said from behind him, “I had to pull him away from the door the first couple of weeks you were gone. He thought that every little sound on the other side was you.” “I’m sorry.” He said from his place buried in Sumo’s side. “Just keep in touch this time Kid.” He said as he laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder, “Or tell us where you’ve been staying so we can come and visit you instead.” Connor hesitated for a long moment caught between lying; which would lower Hank’s concern; or telling the truth and making him upset. He settled for the truth, “I haven’t really been staying anywhere in particular.”

He was met with a long stretch of silence before Markus decided to speak up, “Do you mean that you have been homeless or something else?” The concern in his voice made Connor flinch. “I don’t have a place to stay.” He confessed, “If I was working I would stay there if I was able to.” He heard Hank sigh from behind him, “Connor you could have come back here if you needed to.” “I didn’t want to disappoint you because I couldn’t do this on my own.” Connor said. He sat up but continued to pet Sumo who had finally calmed down, “I’m designed to be able to adapt and I couldn’t even get a job.” “Stop that Connor.” Hank said firmly, “I wouldn’t have been disappointed. I know it seems like it, but I’m not mad, I’m just worried.” He walked around to the front of the couch so he could look Connor in the eye, “Finding a job is hard, it always has been, but the odds are stacked against you because of what you’re known for. I know its not what you want to do, but I can talk to Jeff about you coming back to the station.” “There is always a place for you at Jericho as well if you would rather that.” Markus took a moment when he noticed Connor’s hesitation, “You can stay with me if that works better. We could always use a liaison with the police, I know it isn’t ideal, but we can give you that much until you can find something else that interests you.”

“There aren’t many androids that are willing to trust me. Are you sure it would be okay?” Connor pressed, “Police work feels too close too what I used to be.” “You don’t have to decide today.” Markus replied, “You can stay wherever you are the most comfortable until you decide on something.” “I don’t want to be a burden.” Connor deflected. “Connor, we’re your friends. We wouldn’t be offering if we didn’t want you here.” Hank argued, “That aside, I really don’t think Sumo is going to be all that keen on letting you out of his sight now that you’re back.” Connor looked down at the content Saint Bernard that had made himself at home in Connor’s lap and the space that was left on the couch. He supposed it wouldn’t be fair to any of them if he vanished again so soon after coming back. “And if you wind up deciding you would rather go soul searching again we won’t stop you.” Hank continued, “All I ask is that you keep in touch this time around.” Markus nodded his agreement, “Take a few days to rest. Think about what you want, and when you’re ready you can tell us what you decided on. We’ll wait as long as it takes.” “We just want you to be happy Con.” Hank said, “That’s where it starts.” “I’ll think about it.” He said eventually, “I missed you too, I think. Being back is nice at the very least.”

Hank and Markus smiled. “That’s all we could ask.” Markus said, “I’ve got to get back, but I’m only a ping or a call away.” “Thank you.” Connor said as Markus grabbed his things and stood. Hank ordered Sumo off of the couch and sat down beside Connor. “He worried more than he let on, we both did. We’re glad you’re okay.” Hank let out a sigh, “And I know its beating a dead horse at this point, but we care about you. If you ever feel like that again, please reach out. We can’t help you if we don’t know.” Connor nodded, “I will try and be better.” Hank smiled, “Good. Now let’s watch some shitty tv until you feel better.”

#How a Family is Built #HFB #rk1k #dbh markus #dbh connor #dbh Hank #dbh sumo #dbh fic #dbh

[cxdemistake]

| So, like I said before, this is a post on the basics of my sex-repulsion and how it connects to my muses. Some TMI under the cut (and it’ll probably be long as fuck) so here we go:

Background on my sex-repulsion: I’ve been sex-repulsed for as long as I’ve known what sex is and how it works. Personally, I don’t see myself ever having sex. I’ve never wanted to. Even something that isn’t considered sex, like masturbation, is mostly out of the picture for me, because with the way my brain works, anytime I desire something even remotely sexual (like what’s mentioned above), I feel immense guilt and I have a depressive episode, of which the length depends-- on what is beyond me, but it depends.

Sex in general is a giant trigger for me. There’s nothing in my past that has caused me to feel this way-- I already got an anon asking about this, no, I was not raped or molested, no, I am not repressing anything. Nothing happened to me. It’s a phobia, like arachnophobia or scopophobia, and why people are able to tag those without any problems but not think that my own phobia is valid is beyond me.

What happens when I read smut, see a random sex gif, or have someone talk about sex to me is pretty much what you’d expect from someone with a phobia (which I am)-- I feel sick to my stomach, usually I feel like I want to rip my skin off, I shake, I dissociate, all that great, wonderful stuff. And I can count at least 5 times in the past year that this has happened, because of untagged/uncovered smut. Seriously, guys, just tag it. It takes less than a second and it prevents triggering on my part.

Recently I had someone tell me that I act like I hate people who have sex... idk where anyone read that, but that’s literally like the opposite of me. I’m not equipped to hate people. I couldn’t even hate my own dad during the time that I wasn’t speaking with him after he told me he would disown me, I’m just that bad at hating. (Note: Obviously that situation is much better.) If you have sex, great! If you don’t, same! If you love sex, awesome! If you hate sex, I feel! But if you hate people who choose either to have it or not, then you’re a prick, and you should probably leave me alone, bc clearly we won’t get along.

When it comes to smut, idc if you write it or don’t, or enjoy it or don’t, just like with sex. The problem comes when people decide not to tag it, because, like I said up there, things happen when I catch a glimpse of smut. Once again, just tag it, it isn’t that difficult. I don’t hate anyone for writing it, because tbh, I’m jealous of people that can write about something so intimate without feeling the need to rip their eyes out or tear their stomach open. If you understand how genitals work, great, I’m 22 and a trans guy and I still don’t understand a damn thing about mine or why I need them, so you’re already way ahead of me. If you write it, tag it and everything will be fine and dandy in Alistair-Land.

When it comes to my muses, pretty much all of them are inherently asexual, like me. This comes more naturally for a few muses, some examples being Gamzee, Ellis, and Connor.

Gamzee is a troll, from Homestuck (obviously), whose species’ romance occurs in “quadrants”, each “quadrant” being based off of a suit of cards. A basic description is this: hearts(Red)=true romance, diamonds(Pale)=platonic soulmates, spades(Black)=hateship, and clubs(Grey)=hateship with a mediator. We don’t see anyone having sex in the comics, and while Gamzee has a nice Black relationship going for a while, trolls don’t seem to have sex until it’s time to... breed, you could say.

Ellis is from Left 4 Dead 2, and we’re not given much backstory on him. if you ask a couple of people I’ve written him with, there’s quite a few reasons why I consider him ace, and the only girl he ever talks about in a romantic way? Zoey. The only other woman he meets on his journey, and he calls her an angel. I doubt this boy has had much sexual experience, if any, and that’s perfectly fine. It’s probably why he talks about Zoey the way he does.

Connor is from Detroit: Become Human, and he is an android. There are specified models (ex: Tracis) that are used for sex, and therefore I don’t think that normal models, or even prototypes like Connor, are built with genitalia. Therefore, he is basically a Ken Doll down there. In addition, while I will ship him romantically with anyone (including Hank, though I’ll also do it platonically), I feel that Connor craves love (whether platonic, familial, or romantic), but not necessarily sex. He’s just learning how to be human, after all.

Keep in mind, these are my OPINIONS, and how I portray my muses.

When it comes to a muse that is canonically sexual in nature, like Negan, things are a bit different.

With Negan, from The Walking Dead, it’s all about what happens that we see. What we do see is Negan bragging about fucking his wives, kissing some of them, holding them close, etc. But we never see any sex scenes. Obviously, TWD’s comic has a ton of sex scenes, but weirdly enough, never any with Negan. He makes sexual advances, jokes, and things like that, but he never acts on them on-screen or on-page. My Negan basically keeps his harem of wives for power-- when the man’s got your wife, you’re probably going to listen to him. In return for being treated well, they keep up the facade and counsel him when he needs it. He’s ace for a single reason-- Lucille. While he can still find comfort in someone else’s arms, after his affair while Lucille had cancer, he resolved to not sleep with anyone again, because he doesn’t want to cheat on her further.

My boundaries are simple: no sex of any kind, and no touching genitals. And I can’t understand why some people think that any affectionate action, like a kiss, or a bite to the neck, or running a hand up someone’s shirt, is inherently sexual. I write those actions as affection or flirtiness, and, y’know, there’s an easy way to make sure your muse isn’t aroused-- by not writing that they are. I’m pretty sure that’s what most of my partners have done in the past, is taken what they know is sexual, and suppressed it when they write something ship-related with me. If there’s no possible way you can do that... it’s not hard. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s appropriate and inappropriate to write.

In conclusion: I hate being sex-repulsed, I wish I wasn’t, if you love sex or smut then I support you (just tag smut and pls don’t talk about sex to me), my muses are inherently ace, and there’s no sex of any kind or genital touching on this blog. Thank. |

#I really hope I figured out how to actually word this shit #someone tell me if something doesn't make sense #; boy of a n g u i s h (alistair)

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Sledgehammer

Chapter Eleven

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 3319 Warnings: Swearing, violence, Norse language which may or may not be correct

The specially equipped plane was minutes out, Natasha and Clint at the controls while Faye, with Grant at her side, stood before the Command center. Everyone was geared up and ready, listening as she went through the plan a final time. She held everyone’s focus, everyone’s attention except Steve’s.

He knew his job. It was simple. He was going for his girl, and no one could tell him different. When Faye finished her recitation, he turned to Bucky, and with a short jerk of his head, the two of them made their way to a quiet, private space.

“Buck…” Steve started and hesitated, hating what he was about to ask.

“I know, Stevie.” Smoky blue-grey eyes held his unyielding.

“I hate to ask this,” he sighed, looking away. Even the thought of it made Steve’s stomach turn.

Reaching out, Bucky gripped Steve’s shoulder tightly. “Steve, I’ve got your back in this. You don’t gotta ask. I’m with you til the end of the line, pal.”

Lifting his eyes to Bucky’s, Steve watched the blue slowly brighten. “Winter?”

“Yeah, man. I’ve got this.” The Winter Soldier looked back at him.

It was a part of Bucky Steve knew he had a hard time reconciling with. He was brutal, cold and hard, and that wasn’t Bucky. Not the Bucky he knew. Not his best friend. But he needed the Soldier in this. He needed the no mercy fighter. He wasn’t coming out of there without (Y/N).

“Thank you.” Deflating slightly, Steve leaned his shoulder against the wall.

“We’re going to get her back, Steve,” Bucky stated firmly.

Nodding, Steve glanced toward Thor and Loki. “Buck…”

“The horned wonder got under your skin, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky smacked him in the back of the head. “Fuck him and his true love bullshit. You’re her true love. I should fucking know, watching her make cow eyes at you this last year, and now the two of you, shit, pal. You were made for each other.”

“But what if we weren’t? What if she and I…” he couldn’t even voice the concern and took another smack to the head, this one harder than the last.

“Don’t be stupid. You two look at each other and the world fades away. She’s yours, dumbass, no matter what that joker says,” he snorted, his opinion on the matter clear in his tone. “Stop being a fat head and focus on getting her back.”

A smirk curled his lips as Steve nodded. “Where would I be without you, Buck?”

“I dunno, but I bet you’d be doing something stupid.”

“Hey! You took all the stupid with you back in the day. There’s none left for me, jerk.”

“Punk! Who let a German scientist experiment on him?”  

Before he could reply, or the conversation degenerated into their regular brand of play fighting, Natasha called back, “Two minutes!”

“Thor, you’re up,” Faye nodded to the God of Thunder.

Steve watched Thor focus his attention on the storm raging around them. Faye had been brilliant in her planning, using the storm pounding down on the compound, having Thor send it on toward their destination, using it as cover to get close to the facility (Y/N) was being held in. The God of Thunder had built it big, letting it flow south like a natural storm and not a god created, rage-filled one, keeping a pocket in the middle of calm air for the jet.

Thor placed his hand against a window, and thunder rolled, breaking and crashing around them. Lightning flashed, slamming into the ground as Natasha set the jet down in a clearing not far from the compound. The dark, violent storm closed in, the heavy rain shielding them from sight.

“Loki?” Faye looked to the God of Mischief. “You’re next.”

“About bloody time.” Loki lifted his chin, glaring down his nose at Steve. “I will find (Y/N) and bring her to you.”

“Thank you.” Steve nodded.

“I’m not doing it for you,” he growled, eyes glowing green as his magic wrapped around him and he disappeared.

“Everyone else has their assignments,” Faye said, looking to Steve.

“Let’s make some noise.” Pulling his shield from his back, Steve headed for the door. He stopped when he came to Faye who would be staying in the jet running the show from the Command center with Grant and Maria as back up. Her heart was beating so hard, Steve could hear it.

Placing his hand on her shoulder, he looked down at the small woman who fidgeted nervously. “Faye, trust yourself. I do, or I would never have asked this of you.”

Her eyes snapped up to his, shock filling them. “You trust me?” she whispered.

“Shouldn’t I?”

She straightened, the nerves falling from her as her face smoothed into lines of confidence and the darkness which bespoke her powers filled her eyes. “Yes, you can trust me. I can do this, Cap.”

“Good.” Patting her shoulder, he headed for the rest of the team standing at the door.

Thor would be working with the brother’s, Skippy and Marcus, the wind and water elementals complementing the Thunder God’s powers. Susan and Maggie were running with Clint, Nat, and Sam - grounded thanks to the storm - doing what they could to get into the facilities computers and gather all the Intel they could. It might be a rescue mission, but the more information they had about what the Hounds were up to, the better. Besides, they didn’t know what this mystery substance was they’d been giving (Y/N). If they could get into the files, it would make discovering what was done to his girl easier.

Bruce and Tony were going to do what damage they could - which would be excessive - to the portion of the facility farthest from where they were holding (Y/N), while he and Bucky would be going in as close to her location as possible.

He looked to those gathered and waiting, Bruce already undoing the buttons on his shirt, skin tingeing green. Each face, those familiar and those new, were filled with determination. “I believe in each and every one of you. Let’s get this done.” Taking his helmet from Bucky, he put it on and punched the button for the ramp. “And if you find Garry,” he glanced again at Bruce when the Hulk within growled, “he’s mine!” Steve snarled.

***

Connor, the once Garry, standing aside with the rest of the top Hounds, watched smugly as the machine warmed and drifted back. It would only be minutes more and everything he’d worked for his entire life, everything his family had been working for these past generations, would finally come to fruition.

The reincarnation of Sváfa was within his grasp, her body prepped and waiting for the return of her past self, the memories of her Valkyrie days, and the power which would return when Sváfa did.

And he would be waiting. He wasn’t Helgi, but he was descended from the same family tree, the same family of the Norwegian king Hjörvarðr and Sigrlinn, though through the line of a daughter, not Helgi, the son. It should be enough to convince the newly reborn Sváfa he was her true love, her Helgi, especially with the drugs they’d been injecting her with. She would be so far under his spell, so completely his if they ever came across the reincarnated Helgi, she wouldn’t bat an eye.

With the return of her memories and the loss of her current self, Connor would have access to all that Valkyrie power. The strength, speed, ferocity, it would be his to command as would the rest of her sisters be when she reclaimed her title as Leader of the Valkyrjur. A legion of Valkyries would be at his disposal, and no one would stand against the Hounds with their might behind him.

Her muffled scream for Steve made him roll his eyes. Steve would not be coming. No one was coming. They had been far too careful. They’d left no trail for Stark or any of the Avengers to follow.

Thunder crashed, rattling through the building. “We going to be good if the power goes out?” he asked the man running the controls for the machine.

“Has its own power source,” the man muttered. “Storms been building all day. We were prepared for it.”

The General to his opposite side muttered, “Least it didn’t just appear. Don’t need Thor showing up.”

Connor snorted. “Not likely-” he was cut off by the snapping crackle of electricity when the machine started and (Y/N) screamed.

***

The pain was excruciating.

White hot lightning was tearing through your skull, ripping, shredding, pulling little pieces of your life away a knife slice at a time. You screamed and screamed, and screamed, tears pouring down your face. Your spine arched away from the chair, the only part of you not tied to the apparatus, bending with force to the point you thought it might snap.

Clenching your hands around the ends of the armrests, you were unaware of the cast crumbling beneath your palm. Every muscle in your body strained with effort. Dark spots filled your vision as you felt like your head was going to explode.

When the darkness went from spots to blobs to filling your vision, you just thought it was the pain causing you to pass out. Right up until the pain ended as abruptly as it had begun.

A warmth wrapped around your mind and you drifted within it as a bright light bloomed. A woman, beautiful and devastating in her glory walked toward you out of the light. The blonde of her hair was nearly white, her eyes a deep blue. Her headdress of wings flared out above her ears. A breastplate of old gold showed off her svelte figure, garbed in a flowing white gown which fell to mid-thigh. Heavy leather sandals encased her feet and legs, and she walked with a deadly kind of grace toward you. But it was the smile, big and wide and kind upon her lips that put you at ease.

“Hello, (Y/N),” she said softly.

“Who are you?” you asked, staring in awe.

She smiled and held out her hand. “You know.”

Without hesitation you took her hand, her first two fingers covered in long rings like armour, pointed talons for nails, gleaming in polished silver. “I’ve been dreaming of your life.”

Her long braids danced as she laughed quietly and shook her head. “You’ve been dreaming our life.”

“What?” you gasped in disbelief.

Her hand tightened around yours as she whispered, “Remember.”

Memories flooded through you. Laughing and playing with your sisters. Choosing your steed. Learning to fight. Patrolling and collecting the fallen for Valhalla. The day you met him, the man you’d come to love with your entire heart and soul, the one you’d named, “Helgi.”

She nodded, her smile spreading. “And we were Sváfa in that life, our first life. The life in which Helgi was taken from us far too soon.”

“Holy shit,” you whispered, eyes widening. “I’m a Valkyrie!”

Sváfa laughed, throwing her head back and letting loose right from her belly. It was so infectious; you couldn’t help but join in.

Once her giggles slowed, she squeezed your fingers and lightly touched your cheek. “You are a Valkyrie, have always been a Valkyrie. It is what has brought you to this point. It is why you were taken from them, your team and family.”

“But… I don’t understand. For what purpose?”

“They seek to take your life away to return me to this world. They wish to bridle us, place a bit in our mouth and tame what can never be tamed.” Anger filled her eyes, set them blazing as power crackled around you. “This cannot be. I will not allow it.”

“But... the machine…”

“You are still in it. Your body feels the pain, but for the moment I have shielded your mind. You cannot lose who you are in this life for if you do, they win. I dislike losing,” she huffed.

It sounded so much like something you would have said you snickered. “Me either.”

Sváfa’s face sobered, features setting into lines of determination. “They know not what they do here, the forces they meddle with. This was to be a quiet life for us.”

You snorted softly. “This is quiet?”

A smirk twitched her lips. “No Valkyrie would shirk from a battle. It does not surprise me to see our chosen path in this life has led you to fight for that which you believe in, but it is a quiet life compared to clearing the fields and serving in the halls of Valhalla.”

“Really?”

“You’ll remember soon enough,” she snorted, an echo of your previous one. Again she turned her attention to you, and you could feel the snap and crackle of power around you. Her free hand found your shoulder, gripped it tightly. “The time grows short. When I leave you, you will retain it all. Every memory of mine, Sigrún our second life, Kára our third, down through the ages until today. With it comes the return of our Valkyrie nature. The strength, power, instincts… but there will have to be a price paid. They have forced this connection and used… unnatural ways to bring it about.”

“That green crap?”

Sváfa nodded.

“What price?”

“I do not yet know,” she whispered, a touch of fear in her voice.

You stood in silence for a moment, absorbing everything, contemplating the coming change in your life before the niggling thought which had been itching at you since the start of this conversation would no longer be held back. “Helgi… is he… did he… who?”

Sváfa shifted her hand to your chin, tilting your face up. “You will know him on sight. We always do.” Her head lifted, a wolf on the hunt as the vibrancy of her eyes darkened. “It is time, (Y/N).” She leaned forward, her forehead coming to rest against yours.

Memories flooded you. Every life, every battle, every moment filled your head so full it ached and felt about to burst. Then your muscles began to burn; your bones ached, your joints snapped and popped. Groaning, you grabbed on to Sváfa, nails biting into her forearms as she held you up by your elbows.

She squeezed your arms tightly. “You will be weak once you return to your body. Good hunting, skjaldmær.”

Shieldmaiden.

The blackness faded as she did and pain rushed back in.

Something in your throat tore with the power of your scream. It felt like days, weeks, years before the whips of electricity coursing through your veins, searing off your nerve endings, trying to turn your mind to ash, finally ended.

Shaking, covered in sweat and tears, you heaved for breath, throat screaming pain with each exhalation. Blinking at the ceiling, you watched the lights flicker, and half of them die when an explosion rocked the building.

A roar, familiar and deafening pierced the air, making it through the thick walls to send fear tripping the hearts of those around you.

Well, that’s new. You’d never been able to hear so well before. Memories rose up, crashed through your already painful brain, made you whimper and slam your eyes closed against the new pain. Everything from your neck up throbbed violently, and when the chair started to tip forward, you fought down a violent wave of nausea.

The gag in your mouth disappeared as a calloused hand cupped your cheek. Eyes fluttering open, you blinked to clear the double vision. Crouched between your spread knees, hand touching your face, was the person you despised more than any other in the entire world.

His image wavered, shimmered, and you realized you could see right through his glamour. Blonde and blue of eye, Garry still appeared dark and grey to you. His powers now useless against your Valkyrie ones, and it made you smile.

“Sváfa?” he said quietly as the building shook from the Hulk’s blows and Tony’s missiles. “Min elskede?”

My beloved. So that was his game, the reason behind the glamour suddenly becoming clear. You made to lift your hand only to find it still tied down. “Hva er dette?” you asked, What is this, voice hoarse, playing along, knowing your team was coming.

“Kjenner du meg, kjære?”

Do you know me, darling? You bit your tongue to keep from spitting on him. “Selvfølgelig gjør jegdet, Helgi.” Of course, I do, Helgi. As soon as he released you, you were so going to punch that asshole in the face!

“Do you know this language, min elskede?” he asked, a smile spreading, excitement growing in the grey depths of his eyes.

“I… I think… yes. What… what happened, Helgi? Where am I? What is this?” You struggled against the chair, needing him to believe you.

“Easy. Easy, Sváfa, darling. Here.” He released the binding around your head, and it fell forward on your neck, a very real groan of pain falling from your lips. “Do you hear the battle, Sváfa?”

“Yes.” He was falling for it, and victory sang in your veins.

“Those people, the ones attacking us, hurt you. They took you away from me. Erased your memory of our time together in this life. I had to force you back to your first life, make you remember. I need you, Sváfa. I need you to fight at my side again.”

You looked past him to the scramble taking place as the other men ran to prepare for the onslaught, and the doctor approached you with another syringe. “Free me, Helgi! Free me, and I will win this battle for you. For us!”

Triumph filled his eyes, and he tore the bindings from your right arm, the cast cracked and in places completely crumbling to dust. “Yes! Yes, Sváfa! Call them, your sisters! End the Avengers and their reign of terror in this world!”

Lifting your hand, pieces of plaster falling away, you touched his cheek. It stalled his hands as he made to release your other arm, and you smiled. “I bet you didn't know I could lie as well as you. You always were a stupid son of a bitch.” Balling up your fist, you punched him with all the strength you had, sending him flying across the floor and pain rippling through your broken arm. “Oh!” you gasped, shocked at the power behind the blow. “That’s going to take some getting used to.” Reaching for the buckles on your left, you struggled to get free.

A half dozen weapons cocked, dots of red appearing on your chest, and you froze.

“Take your hand away!” Garry, Connor, whatever the fuck his name was, snarled at you holding his cheek.

You lifted it slowly into the air. “You’re not going to shoot me, Garry. All that work gone to waste? I don’t think so.” A sudden awareness washed over you, a familiar, yet foreign feeling which made you smile when a new memory rose up. “Besides, you have much bigger problems than little old me.”

Garry sneered at you and motioned to the doctor. “Knock the bitch out, then get her on a transport until we can figure out what to do with her.” Getting to his feet, he stormed out of the room, shouting orders as he went.

Doctor Dick stalked forward while a half dozen soldiers kept their guns trained on you.

“I don’t think you want to do that, doc,” you said as he closed in on the side of you still tied down.

“You think you can stop me, sunshine?” he scoffed, pulling the cap off the syringe.

“Oh, I can’t stop you,” you smiled, and he shivered, nearly stepped back, “but he can.” You nodded toward Loki pulling his knives from the body of the last of the soldiers, letting the man drop at his feet. “Hei, ugagn,” you called out and watched magic filled eyes widen in surprise.

Next Chapter

#sledgehammer #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction

[capes-and-cowls]

2am, Wynter

Wynter slid out of bed, and walked quietly to a small bag in her apartment.

It wasn't really an apartment, though.  She had previously had an apartment.  This was something different.  This was a tent.  A tent, or perhaps an old makeup car.  There was magic about in this place.  The whole place felt so much bigger than it could absolutely be.  Still, in her mind, it was a one bedroom flat, with a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom and an office area.  She grabbed the bag, and placed it quietly on the desk.  She opened it up, and slid out her laptop, firing it up.

It had been almost two weeks since the incident.  She had opened her door, and saw Skyy standing there.  They had a series of passionate moments, but then, well, then, the moment when she realized her lover was working with a man she'd known as both an ally and then an enemy.

She couldn't help herself, as she rubbed the spot on her chest where he had branded her.  The pain was long gone, but the memory was still there, she couldn't help that.  This was just something there for her.  Sort of like what she was about to do.

She opened up a program on the computer, and began to write.  It was built in her training.  Have a day, log the day, it was standard MATTER training, and some things never changed.  And unlike the old MATTER debriefings, the logs allowed the agents to write freely.

LOG ENTRY:

"Two in the morning. I still have the nightmare.  I can't tell Skyy about it, but I know she knows. They all know.  I don't feel the pain anymore, the memory is just a memory, but I still have the nightmare.

I'm frozen in time, unable to move.  He walks up, a man I used to call an ally.  He rips open my outfit, callously.  He grabs my chest, and he burns his brand into me.  Then, he ruthlessly shoves a Carnival Mask on my face.  I go from struggling to no movement at all.  I am a blank slate.

Funny thing...now when I see the dream, it isn't Connor who burns me.  It isn't Connor who puts me in my place.  It isn't Connor who locks me in a state, and causes me to become a blank slate.  It's Tommy.

Thomas Avery, that bastard. He could have loved me, but chose not to.  He could have protected me from guys like Connor, just like he did all those times before.  But no. No, instead, he was off playing footsie with that Family Princess Bitch, because of her big tits and blonde hair.

And left me to die.

I still don't want to be around Connor anymore, though.  Connor's brand still itches from where he put it on me, but I wear it because it is a part of me. Vanessa and Skyy both say they can use their magic to remove it.  But I keep it because I know it defines who I am now.

Weird that I wrote Vanessa's name before Skyy's.  I love Skyy, she's my other half.  She's Mine.

Vanessa is a crush, I know it.  But it's one that not only Skyy but also Vanessa seem to be encouraging.  Even Cody, that beefcake guy who Vanessa has on a leash seems to be encouraging me.  I bet Vanessa has a good time with him...

Shit, and now I feel a little jealous of Cody.

What is wrong with me?

Change of subject. While Skyy has been dealing with Connor and whatever his plan has been, I've taken to wearing the mask...their mask...my mask?  I do see myself as stronger when I am behind it, and my strength is growing day by day. I'm probably more powerful than any member of MATTER, and that includes people who aren't here anymore...like Connor.

But.

But.

Something strange happened the other day.  I was patrolling.  Vanessa said it was smart to do, to really stretch myself, and see I was capable of doing good for the city.  That my place was to be beneath her...

Shit I could a drink.

My place was to serve her...

Well, that doesn't sound much better either, does it?

To be one of her soldiers, protecting the city, protecting the Carnival.

So, I did.  I went out into the streets.  Something, a voice, Vanessa?  I don't know, but something led me to a group on Peregrine Island.  They were good people, no one questioned my appearance, and while beating up Council, we actually had time to loosen up and laugh.  But then...then something happened.  It was a large group of Council.  Maybe enough for two mobs.  Big crowd. And they were coming at us hard. I didn't panic, but something inside me saw these men, and I wanted to hurt them.  A darkness opened in me that I was not prepared for.

I've always been proud of my mutant power, even when it got me kicked out of my home.  I am who I am, and that is good enough for me.

But this?  This scared me.  When 8 people are charging your group, and you want them to stop, and your mind opens up to the darkness....and tendrils appear and engulf every one of them?

I honestly didn't even know where this came from.  Was this Carnival magic?  Was this something I had just been able to do, and had just never bothered?

I don't know where this came from, and it scares me.  I know I'm going to have to show Skyy, Vanessa likes us going out together on missions, and I admit I enjoy it too, even if Skyy stays behind me where I can't stare at her ass...

But she's going to see what I can do.  And I don't know how she's going to feel about it.  She hasn't spoken about me still having the nightmares, maybe she already knows about this, and just hasn't said anything.

We'll find out, soon enough.   I can already tell that we have some more time on the streets together.  And I'm looking forward to it.

I can hear her in the next room, mumbling.  Better get back to her.  If she notices I'm gone, she'll know I've woken up.  I don't want her to worry.  She means too much to me."

END LOG

Wynter closed the computer, and slid it back into her bag.  She walked on bare feet back into her bedroom, and slid back into bed, curling her Skyy in her arms.  The nightmares may still be there, but the warmth of her Skyy would fix everything.