#Here comes Valkyrie WITH THE STEEL CHAIR

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist. 

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely. 

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...” 

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you. 

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him. 

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him. 

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kiyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #fluff #swearing #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

[laketaj24]

Ransom: Sigtrygrr

Author’s Note: Backkk to the Last Kingdom writing! I love Sigtrygrr, if you haven’t watched season four this doesn’t have any spoilers, but it just shows a new character that is on the Show! My taglist and requests are open! Happy Sunday and Happy reading!

Requested: Could you write a Sigtryggr imagine where the reader is the chieftain's daughter, and sig kidnaps her for ransom. The reader stays in Sigtrygrr's tent for the night, where she tries to kill him in his sleep. But he wakes up and is unnervingly calm about it, and the two have some sort of chemistry. It could be smutty if you like.

Warnings: None, first part of three part series. Sooooo more to come.

Pairing: Sigtrygrr X Reader

The Last Kingdom Masterlist

“If she screams, cut out her tongue. No one is to touch her.” The wild-haired man had a mild voice. It was unsettling. He glanced over at you and smiled. The pristine look of innocence touched his eyes before he gave you a small nod and turned out of the tent. “I will return within the hour.”

It had been a day since the men had stormed your father’s hall and took whatever gold and silver they could get their hands on and then you. It was easier to kidnap and raid when the men were off fighting somewhere, cowards. You sat in the corner eyeing the place for weapons; like most Danes, there was bound to be one lying around here. Nothing. You pushed aside the furs searching for anything, and finally, a small dagger fell onto the floor. Quickly you tucked the leather holster into your shirt.  They’d already searched you, the chances of it happening again were slim.

Minutes faded into hours, or at least it felt like once your eyes started to grow weary. You closed your eyes and covered yourself in blankets, and slept sitting up, prepared for whatever they may try.

“Let me see the little bastard.” The slurred voice from outside of the tent boomed.

And now it started, the drunken state of men was sure to make your life a miserable hell, but you didn’t hide, you welcomed the intruder. You’d cut his tongue out and throw it in the face of that asshole who’d threatened you earlier. The tent opened, and the cool breeze brushed in.

“Lie down, you whore.” His face was disgruntled, brow furrowed and eyes glassed over. “Or squirm if you like… I like my women to have some fight in them.” The barrage of chuckles from outside the tent only made your heart beat harder. His belt fell to the floor, and the wool pants he wore started to slip. There he was almost naked from the waist down, and you had no fear. You’d just kill the asshole, and if he took your life, then the valkyries were sure to lead you to the gates of Valhalla.

“Do not touch me. I am Magnusdottir.” He stepped towards you, and you just watched, waited for him to make his move.

“Shut up.” He laughed.

He moved closer to you, and the smell of ale and woods hit your nose. Your stomach riled. You clutched the thick string of the necklace around your throat, Thor’s hammer Mjollnir was given to you by your father when you were younger. He claimed it was carved by Ragnar Lothbrok, it was there for protection. “Allfather,” You whispered. “Give me the strength.”

The spatter of blood hit your face before the drunken man fell back, gurgling his blood. “My instructions were simple.”

“Sigtryggr.” He growled, rolling to his side, cupping the blood that dripped from his mouth. He stood on wavering legs.

“Get some sleep.” Sigtrygrr pulled the chair close to you and took his seat. “Now, Leidolf.”

Leidolf left staggering, and you looked up to your captor. “I am not afraid of you.”

“Of course you are,” He chuckled, poured water into the curved horn, and handed it to you. “Drink.”

You didn’t deny the water, your throat ached from all the screaming earlier in the day. The cool water hit the back of your throat, and you breathed deep before gulping down more. Then your stomach rumbled, you hadn’t eaten in nearly a day.

“You can eat after we talk.” He crossed his legs. “Do you know who I am?”

“I do not.”

“I am Sigtrygrr.” Sigtrygrr placed his large hands on his chest.

“Spare me the introductions.” Upon hearing his name, you knew him, and you knew all about his glorious victories on the battlefield. Sigtrygrr was young and revered throughout Irland and Denmark. But in England he was a no one. He had to make his mark here. This was why he had taken you, a first step into establishing who he was while gaining a stronger following. You were a chest piece.

“And you are Y/N, daughter of the richest and without a doubt the most traitorous man of our people.”

“My father is not treacherous.” He did not interrupt you, he just stared attentively as you continued to talk. “My father has fought in his battles! He wants what is best for his family.”

Nothing. Sigtrygrr smiled, and the silence filled the room. “What do you want for me?” The silence in the closed area made it easy for him to hear the protests of your empty stomach.

“I want nothing from you; I only wish to broker a trader with your father.” He clapped his hands. “Leidolf, bring her some food. Her stomach continues to talk louder in this conversation than either of us.”

You scoffed. “I’d rather eat at home.”

“Or you can starve?”

“Fine.”

He took the plate from Liedolf and handed it to you. And you scarfed down the food, satisfied with the portions that he gave you. “Tell me about North Umbria?”

“I know nothing of it.”

“Your father conquered more than half of its lands. I know you know of it.” He perched back in the chair, raising the front legs from the ground. “I like conversing, so if you were honest with me, this would flow better.”

“It seems that you know more than enough.”

“Fine, we don’t have to talk. Sleep.” In a fluid motion, he took the plate and tossed it outside.  “Tomorrow, your father is likely to arrive, and then we can decide which limb to toss to him.” He smiled and laid back on the pallet of blankets. “Sleep well.”

 It didn’t take much time for Sigtrygrr to find sleep, the soft snores came from him within an hour. The darkness had swept over the camp. From the shadows, you could see the two guards at the entrance. Sigtrygrr was trusting or dumb. The sword at the side of the bed could easily be used to impale him while he slept. You cared less if he was polite or not, you wanted to return home.

Climbing onto the pallet, you moved stealthily, avoiding contact with him until you were over him with the steel of the dagger pressed to the nape of his neck. His eyes opened, not shocked, frightened, or even nervous. His eyes appeared welcoming. “This knife belonged to my father.” He whispered. “With it, he cut the eyes out of 100 Saxons and fed them to the ravens.” Sigtrygrr cleared his throat. “He said their eyes were not worthy of him, arrogant and confident he returned the heads to King Ecbert… and screamed at his gates for a worthy adversary.”

“I prefer not to hear the old tales of your father.”

“Well,” He easily pushed your hand from his neck. “If you were to kill me… I’d be disappointed you chose this dagger to do it. I am a worthy adversary of your father… this death would be unfair.” He said with a smirk. He reached for the weighted sword and handed it to you. “Here you are.”

It wasn’t fair; even with no weapon, Sigtrygrr had found a way to win a quarrel. You tossed the sword to the ground. “I do not think you honorable.”

“Good, that surely was not my intention.”

“Why are you doing this? Ambition, fame? Neither is worth it.”

“A man with no ambition hasn’t a right to be called a man at all. Now, if you’re antics are of Magnusdottir. I’d like to sleep.”

Even in the darkness, you could see the grin on his face. The youthfulness of Sigtrygrr was only in looks, his intellect gave him years of advantages you’d never seen.

Tags: @ceridwenofwales​ @whenimaunicorn​ @titty-teetee​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @geekandbooknerd​ @captstefanbrandt​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​ @carlya65​ @therealcalicali​ @sparklemichele​ @earthsmightiestasses​ @stardustnthings​ @dangerousvikings​ @greennightspider​ @awesomerextyphoon​ @allonesharingonebreath​   @rabeccablake​ @savismith​ @kittybites-94​ @naaladareia​ @umnoyeahno​  @riottkatt​  @ariellostatci​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @marvelousthronewars  @thevikingsheaux​ @prettythingsworld​ @miahelizaaabeth​

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #sigtrygrr ivarsson #sigtryggr #sigtrygrr x reader #sigtrygrr x y/n #sigtrygrr x you #lets be danes #laketa j writes

[blitzturtles]

Title: Up Ahead

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Steel Ball Run

Pairing(s): GyJo

Summary: Exhaustion seeps into his bones and spreads across his limbs like a disease. He can feel it in the tips of his fingers and up along the muscles in his forearms, where they’ve gone weak despite his attempts to hold onto Slow Dancer. His eyelids are so heavy that trying to keep them open leaves him cross eyed until he finds himself nodding off again, and then he’s jostling awake for the umpteenth time, several yards behind Gyro, who doesn’t look like he’s faring much better. What with the way he’s slumping almost sideways on his own horse.

-

Exhaustion seeps into his bones and spreads across his limbs like a disease. He can feel it in the tips of his fingers and up along the muscles in his forearms, where they’ve gone weak despite his attempts to hold onto Slow Dancer. His eyelids are so heavy that trying to keep them open leaves him cross eyed until he finds himself nodding off again, and then he’s jostling awake for the umpteenth time, several yards behind Gyro, who doesn’t look like he’s faring much better. What with the way he’s slumping almost sideways on his own horse.

They’ve been at this for the better part of the day. Night is rapidly descending on them, and all they’ve found is the same goddamn thing: a whole lotta nothing. And a whole lotta nothing is all they're going to get for the rest of the night, because Johnny’s at his limit. Before he can say anything, Gyro’s talking. The words nearly go in one ear and out the other, but Johnny forces himself to pay attention.

“--spot up ahead. Should be actual beds, but it’ll be a little longer.”

Gyro’s slowed Valkyrie to match Slow Dancer’s pace, making it so the two can look at one another, rather than Johnny staring at Gyro’s backside. It’s not a bad view, but it’s the only one he’s had for the last hour. His eyes are burning something fierce, and Johnny’s already past the point of being irritable and gone straight for apathy. He’d be fine with keeling over right about now. It’s not like he hasn’t slept in worse conditions (he has to shove those thoughts to the side. He’s prone to spiraling down a road better left forgotten when he’s worn this thin.)

“You can go on ahead. I’m gonna set up camp here,” Johnny answers, accent thick and words slurred. A bed does sound nice, but he doesn’t have the energy. Can’t afford to waste anymore of it unfolding and putting his chair together when he could simply unfurl his bedroll and toss it haphazardly on the ground.

Gyro frowns at him. Sharp, green eyes rake over Johnny’s form. Evaluating. Johnny’s long gotten used to the way that Gyro analyzes him when he’s worried. Working limb by limb and system by system until he’s come to whatever conclusion and decided on how best to proceed. It’s part of his training, and Johnny’s grown to find it endearing. Most of the time.

Johnny’s exasperation only grows when Gyro makes up his mind with a shake of his head. “No, I think we both need a proper night, and we’re not getting it out here.”

Johnny wants to shake him. He’d grab onto Gyro’s collar and-- sigh in defeat, because he doesn’t actually have the physical strength to try to impress upon Gyro how impossible his plan is. Instead, Johnny brings Slow Dancer to a halt and surveys the area. Decides that the best course of action is to ignore Gyro entirely.

It’s not an ideal place to settle. Too open, leaving them exposed to an attack, but Johnny doesn’t think the landscape will improve much. There are miles ahead that look exactly the same with little in the way of foliage and only hard, compact dirt to look forward to.

“Johnny!” Gyro waves a hand in front of his face with a raised brow that makes Johnny aware of the fact that Gyro’s probably been trying to get his attention for several minutes now.

“What?” And maybe that edge of irritation isn’t completely gone. His tone is snappish. Meaner than he intends for it to be, but Gyro’s just not getting it.

“This isn’t a good place to stop. If we keep going for a bit longer, we’ll have some place nice. And safe.”

“Don’t care,” Johnny says, already reaching for his pack. He can set up a fire himself, before it gets too late and too cold. It sounds like tedious work with fingers that are already struggling with leather straps, but he knows it’s necessary for survival. He can force his body to cooperate when he has no choice, and there’s already some kindling packed that might last him the next few hours. That’s all he really needs. Three or four hours of shut eye.

“Johnny,” Gyro repeats, firmer now than before, but his face betrays something else entirely, and his shoulders sag in what looks like defeat.

“‘m not movin’, Gyro.”

“I know, I’m- we rode too hard, sorry,” there’s a guilt to the edge of Gyro’s voice that makes Johnny pause. He looks up with a frown, and he hates the way Gyro’s shoulders are drawn forward. It’s slight, but it’s there. Easy enough for Johnny to read, even if anyone else would miss it.

“Didn’t have much of a choice, and you’re overthinkin’ shit. Probably because you’re just as tired as I am,” it’s not like Johnny hadn’t agreed. Hadn’t refrained from vocalizing his troubles over an hour ago when their options were still poor, but with a bit more energy than either has now. He’s been pushing and pushing, and now he’s backed both of them into a corner with no good choice, which is exactly why he plans to stick it out alone.

Gyro goes quiet. His teeth worry at his lower lip, and his eyes drift off in the distance. It’s another moment before he speaks up again. This time with a renewed sort of certainty, “Trust me?”

“‘course I do. What kinda question is that?”

“Ride with me a little longer?”

“Gyro-” Johnny starts, but Gyro holds up a hand, open palmed and facing toward him.

“I’ll take care of you. When we get into town. If you can just hold onto Slow Dancer and keep moving a little longer, I’ll make sure you get to bed. Deal?”

Johnny rolls the thought around in his head. He doesn’t know what Gyro’s thinking-- never does, really-- but he can’t lie and say that the idea is anything less than appealing.

“Alright,” Johnny concedes. He double checks the straps on his pack and nods toward their chosen path. Gyro grins back at him with those stupid teeth of his on full display. The sudden increase in Johnny’s heart rate will either be the nail in his coffin or the little burst of energy that he needs to keep going. Possibly both. He can’t decide, but he prods Slow Dancer forward and lets Gyro take the lead once more.

The ride remains just as brutal. Johnny’s little burst of adrenaline dies off far too quickly, and he’s back to gripping at the reins with his fingers so tightly that his knuckles are going white. He’d like to think that Slow Dancer would stop if he fell off, but there’s no guarantee, though Gyro keeps glancing back at him with concerned eyes.

When the inn finally comes into view, Johnny feels like crying. Might already be crying, given the misty vision he’s got going, but that’s the fatigue and not the pure relief that floods through him. Right up until he thinks about his chair, and he finds himself contemplating the merits of sleeping in the middle of the makeshift road. It won’t work, he knows. It’ll leave him open to anything and anyone with not so much as the flimsiest barrier between him and potential death. He has no choice but to keep going now.

“Relax,” Gyro says from behind him, already sliding off of Valkyrie. He has her reins in one hand and holds out his hand for Slow Dancer’s. “I told you I’d take care of it.”

Johnny wants to ask what he means, but the words die in his throat. Gyro’s already leading them along to the nearby stable with a clear determination in his stride. Whatever he’s set his mind to, he can’t be stopped now, so Johnny simply allows Gyro to take the lead. Quite literally.

The world passes by in a blur of motion. Gyro ties off Valkyrie first, then Slow Dancer. There’s a moment where Johnny thinks that Gyro disappears that might actually be several minutes rather than seconds. His forehead falls against Slow Dancer’s mane, and he only stays in place because of her effort to counterbalance him.

Gyro shakes him awake gently with that worried frown fixated on his face again. He undoes the straps holding Johnny’s legs against Slow Dancer’s flank with precise hands and turns his back to Johnny. “C’mon. I’ll carry you to our room. It’s already set up, and I paid someone to take care of these two,” he jams his thumb over his shoulder at the two mares.

It says something about Gyro’s concern for him that he’s allowing someone else to take care of Valkyrie. Typically, Gyro wouldn’t trust anyone else with her. Both because of his loyalty toward her, and because of his (justified) paranoia. He does all of her brushing and feedings. Loads and unloads his own supplies. The idea that he would allow someone else to do it for him, unsupervised no less, is almost unthinkable. Johnny would be more touched if he weren’t so focused on transferring from Slow Dancer to Gyro without a catastrophic event.

Gyro’s quick to hook his arms under Johnny the moment he feels the other’s weight against his back. He slides his arms forward and hikes Johnny up enough so that he’s comfortably resting against Gyro’s back with his chin tucked over Gyro’s shoulder. It’s not something that Johnny would typically allow, given how he feels about being coddled, but he’s too exhausted to fight about it now. It’s dark enough outside that he can only hope that no one will see. Anyone that might will hopefully be polite enough to mind their own business.

The trek to their room is relatively short. The inn is just beside the stable, and their room is one of the first to the left of what barely counts as the front desk. Gyro struggles a bit to unlock the door with only one hand. His other arm shifts to support Johnny directly underneath him. It would be an impressive show of strength if it weren’t counterbalanced by the complete lack of hand-eye coordination.

Gyro deposits Johnny on the bed once he finally gets them inside. He crouches down low enough for Johnny to easily slide off of his back and onto the edge of the mattress, where he stays with eyes that are almost entirely shut. Gyro watches him for a minute, caught somewhere between concern and adoration, but there’s a knock at the door a moment later that startles both of them. Johnny snorts a laugh at Gyro, who lightly punches him in the arm. “See if I don’t leave you fully dressed.”

“You promised,” Johnny says immediately, eyes widening slightly.

“You’re in bed, aren’t you?” Gyro grins at him, broad and obnoxious. Johnny sticks his tongue out in retaliation, and Gyro considers pinching it between his fingers just to be annoying. In the end, he decides to be nice and simply fetch their things from outside the door. He piles everything inside and searches through their bags until he finds everything they need for the night.

The first thing he does is pass Johnny his bear. To hold onto so that it doesn’t get lost, and not because Gyro’s sentimental. The next thing he does is debate the best way to go about stripping Johnny down to his undergarments. Easier said than done when Johnny insists on wearing bottoms that serve as both pants and riding boots, but they manage in the end. Johnny’s cooperative, despite his exhaustion. He hooks his arms around Gyro’s neck, so that Gyro can lift him up and slide his pants down to his thighs. Gyro sets him back on the bed and finishes peeling the fabric away, working the boots free as he goes.

Johnny wastes no time getting under the covers then. He curls up on his side, pulling his legs with him as he goes before he curls around the bear and closes his eyes.

“Not going to wait on me, huh?” Gyro asks with mock offense, but Johnny only waves vaguely in his direction. A clear dismissal to Gyro’s supposed distress. “Unbelievable,” he mumbles under his breath, but his smile gives him away.

Fatigue begins to take its toll halfway through undressing himself, and it’s only sheer willpower that sees him through undoing every last strap until he’s left in nothing but his underwear and undershirt. He crawls into bed next to Johnny and drapes an arm lazily across his waist. Johnny doesn’t move in the slightest. In fact, he’s completely unconscious if the small snores are anything to go by, and Gyro doesn’t plan to be long behind him. He closes his own eyes with one hand tucked under the pillow and securely wrapped around one of his steel balls. He’s learned his lesson about being caught off guard in the past. He won’t let it happen again, though he doesn’t have much time to fret over possibilities before the darkness reaches up and hooks its fingers into him.

#gyjo #gyro zeppeli #johnny joestar #sbr #steel ball run #jjba part 7 #jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #blitzwrites #posted to the wrong blog #let's try again #also i'm not thrilled with this one #but i've been sitting on it for days #blitz

[curious-minx]

Heat Lamp vol. [i]

A how-to guide on harnessing the very best light for your under-lit overly priced hovel! In Style!

“Lighting is everything, you goon!” spits Magda Marlene, and, of course, she’s absolutely correct.

“Don’t call me a goon, Magda! I’m trying my best. Have you ever tried shopping around for the best possible lights? Of course not. The challenge of conceiving of wattage and luminosity in the abstract blue light tech etching our basic human retinas will never compete with the likes of you. “ Elroy wipes away the trail of verbiage slipping down his prominent jawline. He attempts to grab at Magda to make her take him seriously, but it was impossible, because after all she is enshrouded in light. She is the kind of bruising overwhelming beauty that is perpetually well lit. Magda has endured a panorama of over stuffed suits of testosterone tossing off a clip of one-liners about her “lighting up a room,” because she had already brightened her entire surrounding vicinity. Light seeping out as far as several stories above and below whatever apartment is lucky enough to grace her presence. You had to alert your local neighboring Vampire’s of someone like Magda coming around. To forget would be akin to a hate crime. 

“I do take pity on you sallow beef man. You are close, so close I can nearly taste your success, but this lack of suitable lighting! This will  be your ruin. That’s what all the Entertainment and Arts are all about-,”

“Yes, the lighting! The wonderful bright, but not too bright lighting. I know Magda. Ugh! I much prefer if we go back to when you would stick to sending me laymen articles on the anatomy of human eyeballs and the latest breakthroughs in light-based therapy, but now all I hear is your dogmatic barking.” 

“You sure do talk a lot for a layman. Why did you want to touch me? Don’t tell me you’re starved for human contact!” 

“Of course not! Don’t be foolish! You know I’m not attracted to you. It’s the only reason why you even bother gracing me with your infernal light. Why won’t you sell some of your light source already?”

“Oh no no no, not this this again. I will have no further discussion about the selling off of my light.” 

“You won’t share your light, you won’t sell your light, but all I ever hear you go on and on about is the importance of light! Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish?” Elroy tries sizing Magda up and all around with his big soulful hazel  brown dopey puppy dog eyes. 

“What is this, ‘on and on’ slander? That’s a complete and total falsity! I barely even talk to you! You asked me to come over and help you pick out a new light. Yet here you stand insulting me and everything I represent. I knew all men were trash! I really wanted a reciprocal  easy going friendship receptacle. Like the ones you see on flashy American sitcoms, but no! Instead you reek of man boy desperation. You are not Easy Elroy, nor are you sleazy enough to warrant a pass. Good day!” And with that Magda leaves Elroy in his room. A room that is painted a banana baby sick off-scrambled eggs shade of yellow that made Elroy think of himself as a “warmed over Simpson” whenever he looks at himself with his overhead lights on. Magda leaves him behind so that she can go attend a life devoid of preening men devoid of any elevated levels of cognitive stimulus. Magda had a strong feeling deep inside that being eaten out by Elroy would feel either like the confectionary sugar clinging to a beater or a cow pondering the universe with a cud.  Magda has bigger prospects to attend such as the purchasing of a new Ultrasonic Television, a television for people too interesting to own a regular television. Now this is a process more grueling than picking out some sort of pathetic LED lights set out to emphasize poor life choices. 

Magda’s candles burn ferociously for the scented perfume wick of her occasional beaux Hillary. Oh sweet sister Hillary.  Magda flips a dizzy spell as she gets behind the wheel of her space craft. In the driver’s seat she grabs and teases pinching caresses onto her sides, hands running underneath her shirt and imagines Hillary’s hazy visage.  Magda turns on The Quick’s Mondo Deco, the album is lodged into the fourth track already, “Hillary.” The porto-phrenetic ASMR zipper crunch! The perfect symmetry of a song making sense for the right woman in the right space and time. Magda wishes she could be some special somebody’s Kim Fowley. She knew she has the making of a Valkyrie companion. Mostly a bottom, but occasionally there’s a switch…a candy striped hypnosis stick being cradled in Magda’s hand turns her space craft into autopilot. The space craft assumes a sensible soaring speed, sharing the sky with all the other avians and sky ships. Magda lands onto the fetid grassless knoll where she finds the manor of Scent Maven Monique. A west coast equivalent of a Hobbit Hole in the Hills. Except instead of a 5,7” English gentleman it is a 5,7” Black American bohemian scientist woman. Magda lights up one of Monique’s Pixie Stix a jolt of nicotine, THC, estrogen, nootropicals, and most importantly caffeine. Cigarettes that don’t make you smell like cigarettes, that don’t make you smell like anything, but a hint, a wink, a whisper, and a prayer of exotic bubblegum. 

A Vaping Assassin is prowling on her rooftop. Antonia, The Daycrawler, of course. A woman so intimidating in strength and beauty that all law officers around the country worship at her talon toes. Lines of swat teams, cops, and military official personally see fit the they get their asses beaten by Antonia’s hand each and every year at The National Cop Christmas Party. Monique is constantly alienating, offending and inspiring everyone she works with, but they usually only send soft assassins like Soy Hands Flannigan or the Detangler. Magda believes that this must be the opening salvo of a new killer regime. 

“Quit your daydreaming Magda Marlene! Are you really about to let me red rover your special number one gal? I am dropping through the ceiling now! Catch ya later!” Antonia is always narrating her actions to her blind brother Donovan who makes glass sculptures for an assassin’s memento. Some assassins keep locks of hair, some assassins keep emails, some assassins bond and indulge their impotent’s brother pop art. The giant blocky neon green rotary telephone with each notch designed with a mysterious suggestion of a dreary person. A lot of guilt trips about being sent to  mental institutions and the occasional rainbow clamshell birth control pill case. All glass blown by the Daycrawler’s blind and naive brother. Monique doesn’t stand a chance! 

“Oh no,” mouths Magda. She’s going to be vaporized by that tall Nordic pillar of mayhem. Quentin Tarantino might as well be hanging himself up here on Monique’s roof turning himself into the human satellite, beaming this impeding cyclone of beautiful woman on beautiful woman violence for all of his cronies to see. “Not today,” mouths Magda. With a flick of her wrist, bracelets of light begin forming and overlapping. Discs of light coursing up and down Magda’s forearm. Magda then hides her arms underneath her long and flowing cherry blossom trench coat. Magda’s light does not instantly light up the rest of Monique’s abode. Antonia is hiding her frustration and she looks around Monique’s mostly spacious and poorly lit living quarters. Seeing only a completely stainless steel coated mini-kitchen and a chest level table top. No chairs. No other furniture or trace of personality. Magda hopes that this cat and mouse game will grow less cheesy and the Daycrawler will soon leave irate and hungry. 

“Aha! You got me good Light Bright. Of course you knew she wasn’t here and distracted me. For such good work I will personally see to killing you myself. I haven’t murdered anyone in over twelve hours. Do you know how rusty an assassin can get in that time? First, I must take a shower. Surely this lab rat has some sort of hose or bucket and pulley system to wash herself?”Antonia begins sizing up the space, trying to squint a bathroom into existence. 

“I believe her bathroom is right next the front door. You must have accidentally passed in when you were getting yourself worked up into this bloodlust.” Magda suddenly feels completely at ease. Yes, she could easily blind and frankly obliterate this toned and blonde killing machine. Doesn’t matter though, because Magda realizes that she has this whole ordeal in her pocket and it’s only a matter of Antonia getting into that shower. Magda goes to raise her fist in conquest but then meets resistance. Antonia’s silent rope snakes! They are giving Magda the world’s most cold blooded group hug. Magda knows she must submit to the plan. She grimaces feeling the ridges of her teeth and wait to unleash her light show. 

////

Antonia has been in the shower for over and hour and half. Magda is only now starting to bruise because the rope snakes have grown lethargic and weak ever since the water started. The rope snakes are clinging on to Magda out of obligation and lethargy. The water stops and a shrill elongated sigh is heard from the bathroom. Antonia, the Daycrawler, emerges from heavy plump clouds of perfumed steam. Magda thinks she can detect a hint of Ceylon Cinnamon and gun smoke, but you can never tell with Monique and her smells. Antonia is a lot drier than you would expect for someone who has ostensibly been bathing for the past two hours and she is wearing an oversized clumsy kimono with her hair wrapped up in a towel. 

“Alright, where is she?” Antonia asks in a voice that is almost saccharine and faint. 

“She’s clearly not here. Let’s revisit the fact that you were going to behead me as a house warming gift. How about instead you rob me of one of my kidneys? They are oozing with glow-stick fluid, but they never stop glowing! Please don’t kill me!” Magda says fully aware that Antonia is not going to kill, at least not while she’s so fresh out of the shower. 

“That’s what I need to talk to her about. I suddenly no longer have my urge to kill! Not you, you, or anyone else ever again!”says Antonia breathless like she is hearing her voice for the first time.

“I thought you were killing out of profession?”

Antonia crouches down and is almost blushing as she asks, “Why are you still on the floor like that? Can’t you not fry us up some rope snake snacks? Or wait! Are you like me and need the sunlight to fully operate?” Antonia begins opening up every window and even trying to create new windows in Monique’s house to let the light in. 

“Fine! I’ll do it! You made me do it!” Magda unleashes her light that sets off as a retina unfriendly supernova. The light charged specifically around her arms were even still lit up and racing to be shot off as blades of light into the nearest surface. 

“See? That’s wasn’t so bad! Why do you get so…so conservative about using your light whenever you’re around me?”

“I don’t want to end up blinding or hurting anyone.” Magda says still on the ground facing onto Monique’s steel plated sterile floors. 

“Even someone who was moments ago trying to kill your friend and you for the thrill of murder?”

“Your an easy target Daycrawler,” Magda gathers herself back up into a standing stance,” You are exactly the type that would change your mind if given half a chance. I still feel like you could plunge your famous ribbon blade into my personal generator… ” Magda trails off realizing that Antonia is no longer listening to her. She is still running her reformed(?) killer’s hands through her honey flaxen unwieldy tower of hair that only a towering murderess could support. 

“That shampoo it’s, it’s going to help a lot of people. I’m waiting to see the catch. Like with her cancer-free candy cigarettes they’re too good to be true, right?”Antonia takes in another long inhalation of her own hair and takes one lock and flecks her tongue only at the tip of the follicle. The one blank wall inside Monique’s apartment spins around revealing Monique on the other side who steps up and says without missing a beat:

“They’re called Pixie Stix!” Monique fully emerges from her illusion wall hiding the hint of a laboratory.  She lights up a Pixie stick of her own which begins flooding the spartan space. Who needs furniture when you bask in a smell this sweet? Magda lets her guard down and lights up the rest of the space turning the formerly drab and empty hovel into a chic and spacious boutique. “Lighting!” Continues Monique, “With the right lights and an overwhelming pungent odor reveals the path to an enveloping inner peace. No matter how small or unfashionable your home or hovel happens to be there could possibly be an outlet for a chosen few people that the three of us could use to build our own society or something?” Monique turns on music by malodorous mall core cyborg nu metal pop band called Neon Betty Degenerates. Antonia goes over to Monique and gently forces Monique’s bangled and gloved clammy hand into a boisterous hand shake. A Kashmir blossom shaped pin attached to Monique’s vegan leather newsboy cap opens up and contracts. The blossom is spraying out a mist invisible to the human eyes, directed into Antonia’s face. Antonia then immediately releases Monique and she turns away from the gangly scientist, she unravels the towel from her hair and starts sprinting outside of Monique’s house. Antonia begins climbing up the lone ancient hundreds of feet tall redwood tree watching over Monique’s property. Antonia climbs up to the tree in record time, she is nothing but a blur of momentum and rustling branches. Antonia, the Daycrawler, jumps out into the sky with the grace of a flying squirrel leaving her nest, and she’s reached enough height so that she can use the heel of her shoe to write, “I’m sorry! <3 I will work on respecting your personal space” in a cloud-based font. 

Magda turns to Monique who has completely flipped open her furtive laboratory, revealing the glow of scent analysis technology calling out to Magda begging her to crank up the wattage. Before submerging back into her lab, Monique turns to Magda and tells her, “Antonia is seemingly the only person my Perfumed Personality is working on. Do you think that will be enough?” Monique directs this question more to the ether than to anyone in particular. 

“Looks like it’s really working on her though. Oh right, before you leave. I am going through this really tough crush on someone and was hoping that you’d have some-“ Magda stops talking. Monique enters her lab leaving Magda behind in the empty kitchen and the lingering vapors of the ethical strawberry and lavender pacifist shampoo. Magda knows that she probably won’t see Monique emerge back out from her work for another two weeks at the latest. Magda shivers and steps outside and all of her pent up light energy continues bursting forth from her navel, banners of light shooting from her forehead, spotlights dancing out of each of her fingertips. Magda’s light even causes the clouds that Antonia used as calligraphy to break into a sweat. The extreme daylight and the small patch of rain causes a family of foxes to burst forth from out of the ground and carry on a quick and sweet wedding. Magda climbs on top of a dune and watches the wedding ceremony from afar. She remembers Hillary and groans, a sticky and somber sound. Magda has her revery broken by the sound of a voice calling from below the dune.

“cOuld yOu pleeze take Our picha, lamp lady? Da lurvely cOupa wOuld be sO grateful!!” The source of the voice is coming from an approaching silver fox who has a slight wobble in his gait. Magda looks at the silver fox further and notices that he also has two plastic and springy legs. Magda not wanting to seem judgmental, sighs and takes the fox’s hefty Kodiak bridge cam and without even taking time to focus the lens takes the picture. The newly wedded couple and the silver fox open up the camera’s finder and look at the results and start panting in approval. They have never seen themselves look so well lit before. 

“Daddy! You must pay this kind lady Beacon mucho ancient coins! I’ve never looked this good!” Magda smiles and shakes her head and puts her hands into her pockets, leaving the foxes behind. She readjusts her trench coat and puts on a large wide-brimmed blackout hat she keeps in a box shaped fanny pack. Even while wearing her light suppression accessories each and every passing streetlamp emits a powerful sphere of light that dims with each of Magda’s passing step. Most of the houses in Magda’s neighborhood are heavily tranquilized and sleeping in deprivation tanks so the dramatic light fluctuations don’t bother most. One overhead apartment pulls back its drapes and an angry shirtless and chiseled man has taken out a mirror and trying to reflect the light back down at the street. The power of the light’s heat creates another pothole into the road, which causes the man to start swearing and yelling incoherently. Magda kneels down onto the empty sidewalk and rubs her palms together causing the street lights to dim back down to their normal level. Magda’s face looks pale and she begins moving at a slower pace.

“Damn…I’m so close. Being mindful of so many people really sucks. I think I’m going to lie down in this pile of moss and maybe I’ll wake up back in my bed.” Magda hums a lullaby to herself and begins folding herself into a ball of fading light. Magda is blacking out.

///

She opens up her eyes as soon as she registers motion. Magda is being carried in somebody’s arms! Magda almost cranks up her internal light furnace but then she smells the tangy coconut cologne of Elroy. 

“What did I tell you about picking up tramps?” Asks Magda with a yawn. “Put me down you goon!” Elroy immediately does so and gives Magda her space.

“Of course, I’m sorry Magda. I was out scouting shoot locations for a new headshot this week and saw your abandoned space craft on the side of road. Knowing you as well as I do I had a feeling that you were probably enjoying one of your unnecessary sojourns. Thankfully you left it in one of the bougiest possible neighborhoods so I think you’ll be fine with picking it up tomorrow. I’ll leave you be. Clearly you are wanting some time alone.” Elroy brushes off a twig out of Magda’s hair and starts walking back into his own shabbier Electric Hover Desert Rabbit.  

“Any luck with your lamp search?”asks Magda causing Elroy to stop in his tracks and turn around revealing an excitable grin.

“I found this Ponce de Leon Torchier that promises to age and de-age me based on what kind of bulb I put into it. There’s  this audition for a movie about a man breastfeeding his own child I got. The role comprises of both the child and the father, it’s a student film but the kid directing is supposed to have a real stash of connections.” Chatters Elroy, clearly trying to regain a sense of joviality between him and Magda. 

“I have actually never really bothered playing with light in that way before. How are you so good at online shopping? And here I was about to actually consider giving you a droplet of my very own light” sneers Magda as she enters through the lamp shaded gate of her parent’s compound. 

“What?! Really! Wait Magda I’ll gladly take some of your light off of your hands! Come on, come back!” Magda leaves Elroy behind once again and a roving street sweeper pushes him up the current of streaming sidewalk leading deeper into the Energy District. He calls out to Magda yelling her name as he’s being street swept away. Magda turns copper green with regret with even toying around with the idea of sharing any amount of light. Especially with a total goon like Elroy! The family leopard spotted moth, Sapphire, comes whooshing up to Magda giving her a silky kiss. Magda grins and brushes the silk away from her face and picks up a floating torch, lights it with her finger and tosses it as far as she can throw, which due to the pent up hormonal surging emotional cycle Hillary has gotten Mega into, turns out to be quite far. Sapphire flap flap flaps her wings into a column of speed and chases after the floating torch. The outside ladder leading to her room has been rolled up. 

“Because of course!” Sighs Magda as she slips off her cycling light up shoes, the tongue of her shoes light up with a balloon showcasing the amount of miles Magda has walked from Monique’s house, nearly fourteen, if only Elroy hadn’t gotten in the way. Inside both of her parents are stationary as always. Wires running from the back of both of their heads so that when they glance over at the door in unison you can see the pulses of light traveling at the same speed from both of their skulls. Magda parents disgust her and she really tries getting up stairs into her room as fast as possible. 

“Magpie! Get your cute little grown ass over here and tell me about this nice young man you’re considering giving up your light to!”

“Journey,” Magda says addressing her mom by her proper name which causes her mom to feign a twinge,”Why must you two always insist on watching the security feed whenever I am coming home. Every. Single. Time. Do you two expect me to be still be living here until either one of you finally burn out? Just so you can always have a little show of someone else’s lives to watch? You’re almost as much as a goon as that ‘boy’ you are referring to. You know him already, that’s Elroy, we’re just friends.”

“See Enterprise? What did I say?” Journey says peering directly into her husband Enterprise’s vacant light producing sockets. 

“Aw dawlin looks like I owe you thirty pulses! I knew I should have betted on our Magpie giving her light away to some respectable enterprising lesbian. You’re donating your light to science right Magpie? That’s why you left today?”

“I am not donating my light to anyone! I am not anyone’s generator ready to be milked and sapped away for all of my worth.”

“Magda you know your light is strong enough that you could be a really successful crime fighter, or you could even be just another lamp builder like your lil brother and sister.” Coos Magda’s father, Enterprise.

“Or, she can be nothing too! Fine by me! Keep on going missy, I can see how much you are burning to get back into your precious room. All I ask is that at some point tonight please help your siblings make some kind of dinner. Your dad and I are going to be all tied up for the rest of the night running double concurrent shifts. Those damn strikers! We don’t need em! Ow ow ugh I’ve got to be quiet and focus.” Journey rubs her temple which emits a spark. 

“Relax my love. This is just a rough patch. Once there is a serum manufactured we’ll be able to import more workers and we can recharge for the next decade. Maybe even more.” Enterprise says this to Journey and they hold each other’s hands not even minding that they are becoming entangled within one another’s connecting wires. Magda hears the quiet scrape scraping of her younger brother and sister’s lamp and neon shop that takes up most of the second floor. Magda ascends up one more floor and reaches her bedroom at the end of a hallway adorned with family portraits. Mainly of her siblings Gidget and Chester selling lamps around the world. See Gidget and Chester in Bali with a lamp made from resurrected coral reefs. There’s a picture of Gidget, Chester and both of her parents soft shoeing on the grave of Thomas Edison. See Gidget defile the Tesla’s tomb. Chester burning an effigy of Musk. There’s one picture of Magda and Sapphire, Magda is only visible as a beam of light. Magda opens up her bedroom and finds Antonia, the Daycrawler waiting for her, suspending herself from the ceiling. Rotating around like a monk’s slimy finger circling around the lip of a singing wine bowl. 

“Hiya there Miss Shiney! I brought you a present!” Antonia says this in her persistently chippier and bubblier voice that has not  subsided since taking her shower with Monique’s personality shifting scented shampoo. Monique raises her right eyelid causing  one of her dimmest overhead lights to come on. The light reveals reveals the sight of a  tied up woman sporting a bouncy pompadour sprawling out across Magda’s bed. Soy Hands Flannigan! 

“What am I supposed to do with an assassin? All I want to do is curl up and shop. God I sound pathetic.” Magda says attempting to hide the  anxiety spiking through the roof of her dome  coursing down to her toes. 

“She knows how you can find Hillary!”

That’s all it took. All Magda needed to hear was her name. The utterance of Magda’s one and only Hillary causes each and every one of Magda’s three hundred and eighty five lights adorning her bedroom to flare out bright beams of all encompassing light. The kind of light that only glows for a woman once thought lost and dead to the world soon to be rediscovered. Maybe, thinks Magda, having a reformed violent and dangerous assassin as a companion wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

#short story #short fiction #surrealism #indoor lighting #science fiction #sci-fantasy #fantasy #power pop #The quick #Kim Fowley

[someonestole15]

Cooldown

This time I might just disappear.

There is a song with those words mixed in there, I’m quite sure many of you know of it. Hell below, the Empire troops are moving in to secure the perimeter around the mountain while we sit up here, heading back to their command ship. Finger still itches, the whole encounter with the siblings felt off, they had me locked in, but left as soon as the call came through. Have they finally started following orders, or did they not account for the additional unit in this squad of ours?

Perhaps, I shouldn’t think about it too much, but I’ll keep an eye out for the two. A bit more relaxed now, I turned my view to the window as we passed by Saber.

About twice the size of the Corporation Destroyer, 260 meters, Saber was clearly designed for fire support, several turrets lined the main deck, all aimed towards the site we had just left. Smaller anti-air weaponry spread around, they had likely dropped that missile out of the air before it made its mark.

Spaced out by the humming and fatigue, I sorted out some of the data within my head while the helicopter made its way to the control vessel. A poke to my shoulder by Valkyrie woke me back up as the copilot confirmed the landing sequence.

A carrier vessel, floating in what seemed large enough to call an ocean, runways along the main deck, one offset to the side. Several dropships rising up to the main deck via an elevator, the helicopter circled around for a moment before landing on a pad out to the side of the ship.

A bump as the wheels touched steel, a soldier opened up the door as we dismounted and got clear. Locust took off almost immediately, disappearing over the hull while the soldier instructed us to follow him. Through a bulkhead and several winding corridors, claustrophobia started kicking in again.

Stalking eyes everywhere, I can feel them staring at me. I don’t belong here; I am but a visitor in this house of madness. Clicking of gears, the thoughts form on their own, why are you here?

Paranoia coming back knocking. Silence, your points remain mute but carry a hint of things that could happen here.

Another door, the soldier stood next to it and signaled us to enter. Sticking with the same style as the corridors, white surfaces and bright lights, cables running along the ceiling above a steel desk with two chairs on one side and two on the other.

“Take a seat. Command will be here in a moment.” The soldier at the door said as he closed the door. Right, let’s get this over with, I pulled one of the chairs and sat down, placing my rifle next to me as Valkyrie sat down, Nine sticking besides her.

A hologram projection built up on the chairs opposite to us, an avatar of a man with greying hair and one of the Empress herself.

“Channel is secure, we’re good to go.”

“Good. It’s good to see you are still in one piece, my Ghost.”

“A few new scars from this, but thank you.”

“Shall we get to the main point?”

“Of course, Commander Erikson.”

Surface of the table formed a grid as several elements appeared along it, designating different units out of the field.

Empire had things mostly under control; the area surrounding the mountain was back in their hold as the Corporation units had retreated. Crimson still sitting in orbit, data showed they were refueling their vessel to get out of the system, any trace left by them either denied or burned to ashes.

He said, she said situation, hard to keep under control.

Their plan for us three? Get on board the carrier and follow the Crimson. Cut the head off the snake before it gets any hungrier.

“Our current intel on them is limited, but their leader is not of the shy type…” Commander said as he drew a picture of the Crimson captain to the screen.

From a blacked out visor to a monster, barely recognizable anymore. The Captain’s face was like a mechanical skull, several sharp metal spikes around his head like a halo, making him seem almost celestial. Devil in a costume, changing your exterior doesn’t change who you are inside, I felt a slight sliver of anger in my body, the words I heard from him on Mars echoing inside my head. Somethings different while others remain, his eyes still carried a strong red glow to them.

“Can you get me to him?”

“I was just getting to that part.” Another picture to the screen, a sleek medium sized spaceship, fitted for both orbital and planetary operations.

“This is our specialized model for scouting, equipped for low profile operations. Built in cloaking tech capable of matching the surrounding area and match the temperature. Almost undetectable on radar, we can use these to get you close to the carrier.”

“When are we are taking off?”

“That’s on you. Gear up and get everything you need together, our ships armory is at your service. Empress, anything you wish to add?”

“My people have asked to stop the fight, and with one surgical strike, we can do that. Your squad has already shown that you can handle them. Give them hell, my ghost. Show them your fangs, oh Valkyrie mine and keep the wolf alive.”

The communications cut, I took in the information as Valkyrie looked over the intel again, running the files to her systems.

Rifle back in grips, I placed it on my sling and walked to the door. A quick knock, the soldier opened it up and I headed down the hallway. Rapid footsteps as Valkyrie caught up, Nine sticking with her as always.

Beginning of an end, I can feel it inside my systems. An elevator down to the armory, stopping here would be a waste of resources and time, and I got a bone to pick with the Captain.

The storm has passed, but another is already on the way.

#logs of an android #stories #sci fi & fantasy #science fiction #scifi #fiction #fantasy #cyberpunk #cyber #story

[baseballbitch116]

Bad Guy - part 5

Negan x reader x Daryl

Warnings: Language, violence, prisoner-type scenario

Word Count: 1573

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  | Part 4

Masterlist

Prompt List | Submit A Request

You woke up to loud ass banging on a door, causing you to jump straight up and reach to your hip for your gun. You realize you don’t have your gun, and you’re not in Alexandria anymore. You stare at the closed door for a moment, remembering that Negan took you, everything that happened coming flooding back to you. “Negan wants to see you!” A male voice hollers from the other side of the door. You don’t respond, mentally hoping the guy would go away and you could hide in here until you figured out a plan. Your eyes trail over the room, and you take notice of light coming in from the tinted window, so it must still be daytime.

Suddenly you hear a click and your eyes shoot back as the door is swung open. “Are you deaf?! Get up, let’s go!” The man exclaims, waving his arm at you angrily. It’s the same one that was there earlier, the one with the dark mustache.

You hesitantly stand up and approach the man staring at you impatiently. He nudges you out the door and slams it behind you, motioning you to walk with another shove in the direction of the hall. You start walking slowly, trying to make an internal map of the compound still. There’s a lot of turns and different hallways, so it’s basically impossible to keep track of which ways you are going. Left, right, left, left, right. Door, another right.

You pass over the same common area, and you are almost tempted to jump off the side and make a run for it. You know that you are close to the exit, and the people down there look like prisoners or civilians, not fighters. It’s probably a twenty foot jump though, at the very least, so you would definitely end up hurting yourself if you did risk it. You decide against it, and the guy gives you another rough shove. You clench your jaw, your temper beginning to show. You consider punching him in the face too, nobody treats you this way. Fuck the consequences, you will not be shoved around by some dick.

He interrupts your plotting by opening one last big steel door and motioning for you to go through. The light is blinding, you can’t see, even with your hand shielding the light from your eyes. You step down the stairs and spot Negan with a few other men. You feel your heart speed up a little and your footsteps become shorter. The man is intimidating, especially after what he had just done to your friends... The image of Glenn flashes in your head again and you cringe.

The guy shoves you one more time and you snap, spinning on your heel and punching him right in the face, knocking him onto his ass. “Fuck!” You exclaim as you grab your fist with your left hand, not expecting it to hurt so bad.

“Oh shit!” You hear, and you spin around again, facing Negan and his men, two of which are aiming their weapons at you now. “Damn! I gotta admit... That was pretty fuckin hot!” Negan exclaims, leaning as he speaks again. He puts up a gloved hand without looking at his men, and they lower their guns.

You hear the man you hit groan and you turn around again, ready to defend yourself, but Negan interrupts. “Hey! We do not hit women!” He hollers at the man glaring furiously at you, clearly ready for a fight.

“But Boss-” 

“No but’s!” He interrupts, taking a few slow steps toward the man. He glares at him for a few long seconds, then turns his gaze back to you, his face lightening up a little. “Now. Why don’t you tell me why you felt the need to sucker punch one of my men?” He questions, tilting his head at you a little. Your gaze trails between the two men, jaw still clenched. You want to go home, this is ridiculous.

“He kept shoving me.” You mutter through your clenched jaw, glaring evilly at the man. He makes the mistake of taking a step toward you and Negan turns real quick, stepping between the two of you and getting right in the man’s face. “What the shit did I just say?!” He growls in his face. The Savior cowers and takes a step away from Negan, nodding his head in submission.

“Go. Now.” Negan says, and the guy scurries off in a hurry. He turns to face you once again and his eyes trail from your face to your fist in your hand. He sighs and shakes his head a bit. “Let’s go,” He says, beginning to walk back inside, that stupid bat propped over his shoulder. You watch him for a moment, glancing around in search of somewhere to run, but can’t find somewhere to take cover for when they start shooting as you run, so you just follow him back inside.

Instead of going over the common area, he starts walking down the metal stairs. You stop at the top, watching as people start scampering around, and hesitantly follow after Negan again. He glances over his shoulder at you and continues over to a table where there is a long line of people. He walks straight to the front and chuckles a deep throaty laugh. “Gauze wrap and peroxide.” He says, and the worker nods excessively and starts looking for the stuff. Negan looks back again and motions you to stand beside him. You do, intimidated being closer to him, and keep your head down - feeling bad for the worker. 

“What do you want?” Negan asks you, a smirk toying at his lips.

“Nothing,” You respond quietly, not even looking around.

“You can have whatever you want. So pick.” He basically demands. You let out a little sigh and look around. You spot a CD player and headphones and point to that, not wanting to actually ask for it. He chuckles and gives the worker a look, causing him to quickly hand it over to you. You take it from the man and give him a half smile. “Thank you.” You tell the worker, not looking at Negan.

“Come on.” He speaks, heading back up the stairs with the stuff he asked for and his bat over his shoulder still. You follow Negan through the endless halls and end up right back where you started - “your room.”

He walks in and stands in the middle of the room, turning around and looking at you expectantly. You walk in hesitantly, fearing the worst. His smirk returns as he sets Lucille against a table and takes a seat in the chair, motioning for you to sit on the bed. “Shut the door.” He instructs. You take a deep breath and turn around, slowly closing the door, looking around for anyone to call out to - with no luck. You walk very slowly over to the bed, taking a seat, pressing your knees together and avoiding looking at him.

“Jesus, don’t need to be that damn scared of me. I’m not gonna hurt ya.” He rolls his eyes, grabbing some loose gauze and holding out his hand expectantly. You raise an eyebrow at him and he huffs. He grabs your right hand and you flinch, but he does not let go. He looks over it, as do you. You split it open a little from punching the man so hard, but the cut doesn’t look deep enough for stitches. He dabs some peroxide onto the gauze and begins wrapping your hand. It stings and startles you, causing you to snap your hand away from him. He gives you a look, cocking an eyebrow, and you lower your eyes, placing your hand back in his. His hand feels rough, but not unpleasant. You ignore all of the thoughts rushing through your head as he begins wrapping your hand.

Why is he doing this? Your hand is only hurt because you hurt one of his men. Why is he pretending to care if you are hurt? What is his plan here?

He finishes up and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking you over. You try to maintain eye contact, not wanting to seem so afraid of him. He smirks at you and chuckles a bit again.

“You’re gonna fit right the hell in here.” He mutters. You clench your jaw at his statement, wanting to holler at him, but your better judgement telling you not to. “Damn, you really don’t like me, do you?” He questions, seemingly genuinely wondering. You make a face, in disbelief he would even ask that.

“Are you insane? You just brutally killed two of my friends! You stole me away from my group, you’re gonna make them miserable and keep me here away from them. No, I most certainly do not like you!” You exclaim, outraged by his ridiculous question.

Instead of looking mad, he just chuckles and stands up. “You’ll get past that.” He states. And with that, he grabs his stupid bat and heads to the door. Before he closes it, he takes one last look at you, which you return with a glare. He chuckles again and exits, closing the door behind himself. You hear the snap of the lock and growl, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it at the door in anger. “Damn you.”

---

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[veliseraptor]

okay okay okay, it’s 150 words meme time. got a quiet weekend planned, work will be dead tomorrow, let’s see if we can get some writing show on the road

and just for funsies, threw two of my original projects on there! thirteen all told. send me a number and I will write 150 words in that project. 

1. Loki didn’t sit down.

Most of the others did, claiming one chair or another in the large room where T’Challa had brought them, but Loki stayed standing, pacing restlessly, over to the windows, back, radiating tension in every line of his body. Steve watched him with concern, but held back from saying anything. Thor sat down next to him, gazing in the same direction.

It occurred to Steve that Loki had never talked about this before. Not really, not in one go, and not in front of an audience. He tried to catch his eye, to offer some kind of reassurance, but Loki wasn’t looking at him. (we live until we die)

2. “You are your sister’s brother,” Lymond said. “And you wage war with remarkably similar tactics.”

“Do we,” Gabriel said quietly. He moved, then, as though to strike, only it was with a hand curling around the back of the neck; a mouth brought down with force to claim and demand. A refusal of denial, and steel at last unsheathed. It only lasted a moment, but it was a long one.

Lymond did not sway. He might have seemed unmoved, but for the fresh tension in his body, holding him rigid.

“You would make this war,” Gabriel said.

“It already is.” (The Compassion of the Wicked)

3. “Felix, darling,” he purred in my ear. “Why do you run from me?”

“You are dead,” I said, trying to pull away, but his fingers only tightened further.

“Did you think I did not have contingency plans?” he said. “Of which you were but one. Though certainly the best.” I could feel him trying to dig into my mind and twisted, thinking of the Sim’s black waters, of dragging him down into them.

He bit my shoulder, breaking my focus. “No,” he said, the word reverberating through me, paralyzing me for a moment. I could almost feel my pulse battering against his fingers.

“I don’t belong to you,” I managed, breathless. “Not anymore.”

“Don’t you?” he said. “Won’t you always?” (Oizys)

4. He wrapped a cloak of unnoticeability around himself and started in the direction of the hunters heading his way. He’d need money, and supplies. Then he would go, find whoever was in control here, and find a place for himself, preferably close to power. He would do what he always did: survive.

That, first and foremost. He couldn’t think about anything else. Anyone else.

Selfish, wicked, creature, murmured a voice at the back of his mind. It sounded horrifyingly like Frigga, and that almost sent him wavering off course.

“Why yes, mother, I am,” he said under his breath, and summoned his knives. On this sort of planet, it might well be that only the selfish and wicked survived. (the rapture of that cruelty)

5. He’s not dead. I won’t believe it. He turned his back on her and walked over to the cockpit to stare at the back of Thanos’s daughter’s head. She’d been a Luphomoid, once. He wasn’t sure what to call her now. “What’s your game,” he asked, harshly.

“Getting to Thanos. Killing Thanos.”

Loki jerked. “Last I saw you-”

“Last I saw you,” she snapped, “you were dancing on Thanos’s strings. It’s been a while.”

“You know this person?” Valkyrie said, coming up behind him.

“Yes,” Loki said flatly. “Not fondly. There were a lot of sophisticated instruments of torture involved.”

He felt Valkyrie stiffen, and somewhere distant where he was still feeling things was touched. (you who turn the wheel and look to windward)

6. “They are your brothers,” Odin said, his voice a little harder. “Your family.”

“One of them,” she said. “The other is–”

“Choose your next words carefully, my daughter,” Odin said lowly. Hela glanced at him.

“Adopted,” she said, leveling the word with all the scorn she could put in it. Her father’s eyes snapped with a trace of the Battle-Crow. She felt a little thrill in spite of herself, some part of her bracing for battle.

“And no less your brother for it,” he said, his voice hard. (swords into plowshares)

7. Rogers looked like he was thinking. “I wasn’t sure I bought it when Thor said you’d changed,” he said abruptly. Loki donned an expression of polite interest. “But you really have, haven’t you?”

“Mm,” Loki said. “A complete metamorphosis. Miraculous, isn’t it?”

Rogers’ mouth twitched. “Certainly unexpected, anyway. At least from my perspective, though Thor doesn’t seem surprised.”

“Thor has always been an optimist. What is your point?”

“No real point,” Rogers said. “It’s just...interesting. And whatever changed, or why...I’m glad.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up. “I imagine so,” he said. “If I hadn’t, this encounter would be proceeding very differently.”

“Not exactly what I meant,” Rogers said.  “Anyway. See you around, I guess.” (the first steps stumbling forward)

8. Wanda looked down at her hands. “You asked what Thanos took from me,” she said quietly. “He took the man I loved. He asked me to...to kill him, to keep Thanos from winning. And I did. But it didn’t matter. He won anyway.”

Her chest ached. She bit her lip to keep from crying.

“You were braver than I was,” Loki said after a long silence, his voice quiet. “I was given a choice, too. Between Thor’s life and giving Thanos what he wanted. I chose the latter, and I would do the same again, and condemn the universe so doing.”

“I almost wish I had,” Wanda confessed. “Since it didn’t matter anyway. At least I wouldn’t have had to watch him die twice.” (Dead Superheroes Walking)

9. Loki had spent a great deal of his life with the awareness that something was wrong with him.

There was something wrong with him now. Something new wrong with him.

That wasn’t exactly surprising, all things considered. You died and came back and did not return unscathed. He wasn’t the only one. Half of Asgard - three-quarters, really - bore the scars. Not that Loki spoke to any of them about it. No: the strangeness of his body, the way it didn’t always quite feel like his own, the occasional excruciating awareness of his own flesh like it was a snakeskin he needed to shed…

Those things, he kept to himself. (how the dead walk)

10. the murder exes story

11. the ex-villain redemption didn’t equal death story

12. Tear My Castle Down

13. the enemy of my enemy

#meme #fic excerpt

[inoshatrynn]

Apex Legends reminds me of all the good things about wrestling.

#Apex Legends #Horizon from the top rope #Here comes Valkyrie WITH THE STEEL CHAIR #Can you smell what Caustic is cooking? It's probably bad...really bad

[realityhelixcreates]

Lasabrjotr Chapter 9: The Nine Realms: 101

Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Mention of implied non-con, mention of implied past abuse, Mentions of colonialism Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not yet) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC, Heimdall(Marvel), Brunnhilde/Valkyrie(Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, Reader was Once Part of a Board of Paranoid Conspriacy Theorists and has Never Denied Being One of Them, Reader Gets Things Twisted, Loki shows off, Loki is Jealous and Doesn’t Know Why, Time For a History Lesson, My Headcanons; Let Me Show You Them, Writer Loves Worldbuilding, Ode to the Worst World Mythology Book I’ve Ever Read Summary: Reader gets some disturbing ideas from a poorly written world mythology book, and also a joint history/astronomy lesson

Andsvarr would not let you leave the rooms that day, and he did not know when Loki would be back. You understood that the man was a prince and had a great deal of responsibility, but you didn’t know what to do with yourself while you waited.

Saldis had been by, to deliver a disappointingly small stack of English language books.

“They were with the donations.” She explained. “So there’s likely to be more at some time. Until then, this is all we’ve got.”

Four books, that was all. One on world mythology, another on Icelandic history. One astronomy textbook, and the last, a volume of the works of Shakespeare, containing his tragedies.

Well, if all you could do was wait, then it couldn’t hurt to learn a thing or two.

The ‘world mythology’ book was much more of a ‘Greek mythology with a few short entries from everywhere else’ book, but the small Norse section nevertheless contained some rather shocking concepts. You did not recognize the Loki portrayed here, nor the Thor. There were many other names listed, none of whom you had met. Where were the rest of them? Had they all died in the tragedy that brought all of Asgard here to Earth? Or were they just out doing their jobs, like Heimdall, and you simply hadn’t crossed paths yet?

Once you’d read through the tiny section, wondering where the heck this Odin fellow was, you had to turn back to the much larger Greek and Roman section. They probably weren’t the same gods with different names, as you had once surmised, but they were contemporary with the Norse figures, and might help you understand godhood and your relation to it a bit better.

A few hours of reading passed, and the results were not comforting. Either the author had a major bias, or the gods were just kind of terrible. Every story seemed littered with assault and murder, suffering, revenge, and sexual misconduct-to put it delicately! Why could the gods turn humans into other things, but not turn them back? Why was every story so sad? Why so many non-consensual relations? Was that just the nature of dealings between man and god? If so, did the royal brothers simply see everything that had already happened to you-and everything that might happen to you in the future-as completely acceptable and normal? Where were the lines drawn?

Back on the fens, Iron Man had accused Loki of kidnapping you across the sea like it was still the Viking age. Loki hadn’t refuted the claim; he hadn’t even reacted to it. The last time an Asgardian had set foot on this planet, that had been seen as a completely normal thing to do. A legitimate way to get oneself a wife. Or at least, a female slave that they could do whatever they wanted with.

Loki’s time on Earth had been very short. What if he wasn’t up to date yet? What if that was how he saw you? What if he came to expect certain things from you? What might he do if you didn’t provide?

What could you do? Pretty much nothing, that’s what. This was exactly why you didn’t want to be dependent on him, or any man really, for your living conditions. You’d already been with someone who had gotten you into just such a situation. Him, you had been able to walk away from, eventually, though it had left you with scars and baggage. You had no means of escape from Loki.

And he had suddenly gotten so very tactile. Almost the very instant he knew that you would be staying, that he had gotten that concession to let him ‘take care’ of you out of you. Had he taken that as consent? How far was he going to take it? What could you do to fight back? Could you?

You set the book aside, and gazed out the window at the budding city, trying to calm down. Surely you were jumping to too many conclusions. There was no evidence for any of this, except for every entry in that book, which unapologetically painted the gods as major league assholes.

It wormed its way nefariously into your brain. Thousands of years was a long time to do truly awful things, and become jaded about them. Or simply forget they had even happened! A long time to justify, to normalize. What might be hidden, coiled up in his past, waiting to spring out at you? You didn’t know the man!

The book openly described him as a god of evil. Of trickery and lies, of deception. It didn’t seem possible. Evil wasn’t a solid concept. Acts could be evil, deeds could be evil, but evil as a concept was nebulous. It couldn’t be embodied by one person. People could, and did frequently do both.

But what if you were wrong? While you considered yourself as well educated as you could get on your own, it wasn’t as if you had never been fooled before. And if he was basically the god of fooling people, really so cold-hearted and vicious, really just playing a little game with your life, how would you ever know?

You were stuck trusting him, while the only source of information you had said that was a thing you should absolutely never do. So which did you believe; your own brief experiences, or an author who might be biased or might be an actual expert on the subject?

Did it matter? Knowing what he might do to you did you no good if you had no way to escape it. Maybe you should just steel yourself to the idea that he might not be done taking from you.

You were wound tight as a wire by the time you heard him enter the rooms, and you prayed to whoever might be out there that he would just skip checking in on you.

There might be thousands of gods in the universe, but they were all deaf tonight. Loki opened the door without even knocking.

“It’s dinnertime.” Was all he said, clearly expecting you to simply come along. So that’s what you did.

                                                                                   *****

Brunnhilde was a goddess too; the book had said that all Valkyries were. Not goddesses of anything in particular, apparently, but divine nonetheless. You were the only one at the table who was…lesser. Even Heimdall had come in and joined you all for supper.

Why Loki insisted on having you there baffled you. That first night was obviously a formality, but there was no reason to keep bringing you along. You felt even more awkward and out of place tonight, and he still kept touching you!

But with a bunch of gods at the table, maybe you could get a few answers.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking, where’s Freya?”

Thor hadn’t been expecting the question, but didn’t seem offended by it.

“She’s on Vanaheim, naturally.” He said, as if it were obvious. As if you knew what Vanaheim was.  “Along with her brother, and her father. Among others. Right?”

He looked at Heimdall, who gazed at the ceiling for a long moment.

“Yes.” He said simply.

“Good. They are just elsewhere right now, why?”

“Well, I just wondered why they weren’t here with the rest of you.” You said. The book had said that Heimdall could see anything, anywhere. It looked like that part was true. Did that mean the rest of it was? “Or why you weren’t with the rest of them. Why you decided to relocate here instead of…Vanaheim, was it?”

“The Earth is among the largest of the ni-eight realms.” Thor explained. “There is room for us here. And to be perfectly honest, humankind is much better at adapting to the presence of strangers than any other people I know. It must have something to do with your unusually short lifespans. Or maybe the almost aggressively social nature of your species.”

“What are the eight realms?” you asked. Your book must have skipped over that part, in its brevity.

“I believe an astronomy lesson just got planned for tomorrow.” Loki said.

“History too.” Brunnhilde added. “How’d you like to be the first human in centuries to gain an education in Asgardian history?”

“Second.” Thor muttered very quietly.

Loki and Heimdall seemed to both find that one spot on the ceiling very interesting, while Brunnhilde attempted to stare more information out of Thor.

None of your business. You turned your attention to your serving of creamy yogurt stuff-skyr-and its delicious red berry topping. Why didn’t they have this stuff back home? It was amazing. You didn’t allow Loki to drag you away until you’d finished every bit.

                                                                                     *****

 You ended up in the big library again, in another newish layered dress of green, black, and gold. They weren’t being very subtle about this. It wasn’t that they were bad colors, it was just that they were so very specific.

The prince and the Valkyrie had taken over an entire table, piled it high with books and illustrations. Loki waved you over excitedly.

“We’ve devised a joint lesson that you should find very enlightening. Come, sit. You will like this.”

He pulled your chair out for you, a noble gesture that was mostly lost on you. He took his own seat beside you.

“Let me start with the local galactic supercluster.” Loki said.

“The what now?”

“Yggdrasil.”

“The what now?”

He gestured grandly at the center of the table, from which a billowing figure began to grow and branch. Bright lights blossomed in places, glittering sparks shimmered across limbs of darkness. A masterpiece of tiny details, almost incomprehensible outside of context. It was incredibly beautiful.

“Is this…is it space?” You hazarded a guess. You hadn’t gotten very far in your astronomy book, but he had called it a ‘galactic supercluster’ which sounded rather self-explanatory.

“Oh yes. This is Yggdrasil. The Tree of Worlds, the Guardian of Wisdom. Is it not glorious?”

Another gesture, and the image began to slowly rotate.

“It’s very beautiful.” The way he was looking at you was so expectant. Was he showing off? “This is full of galaxies then? All these lights?”

“The lights are individual stars. But the glow you see is the combined light of tens of thousands of galaxies. Asgard once held influence over great swathes of this area, and our name was known and respected all throughout.”

You stared. This one image represented an area bigger than you could possibly comprehend.

“How?” You asked. It didn’t seem like there were enough Asgardians to even leave a single representative in every galaxy therein. How could the influence of one species reach so far?

“Same way everyone else does.” Brunnhilde said. “We’re really good at stabbing things.”

“There were a number of factors.” Loki said dryly. “Our great lifespans, prior connections made with other races, expansive colonies, the high number of Aesir born to us, and of course, the Bifrost. Other races had those other things to some degree or another, but no one else had a Bifrost.”

“That’s the beam of light that brought me here, isn’t it?” You asked. “That’s the thing that brought Thor, uh, the king back and forth between Asgard and Earth, right?”

“The one that brought you here is but the palest reflection of what we once had.” Loki said. “But give it time, and we will rebuild it to be as great as it once was, perhaps even better. I’m not sure you will live that long though. Maybe, if we are lucky, I can show you another planet someday.”

It was a good thing you were sitting down. The very thought of being on another world was both terrifying and elating.

“W-where would you take me?” You asked. What worlds were out there?

“Probably here.” The image zoomed in and in, past galaxies, stars, and nebulae, to focus on a very green and cloudy planet with one large moon. “This is Vanaheim. It isn’t dissimilar to what your own planet used to be a few thousand years ago. Here is Midgard, for comparison.”

The familiar globe of the Earth popped up next to Vanaheim, and your eyes widened at the difference in size. You were vaguely aware the Earth was the largest terrestrial planet in your solar system, but you hadn’t realized how big that really meant. The little image loomed over Vanaheim, nearly twice as big, and with much larger oceans.

“The differences look great, but Vanaheim is very similar to Midgard in composition, atmosphere, and ecology. Look.” Again, the image zoomed in, blowing through thick clouds, dropping down among tall forests that looked like conifers, though you knew they could not be.

At ground level, there was a small clearing from which a village sprouted. People moved here and there, looking just like regular people that you might see every day.

“These are the Vanir.” Brunnhilde said, taking hold of the conversation again. “Let me start a bit earlier in our history. Asgard became a space-faring civilization very early on, and we expanded into the star system that would become ours quickly. We conquered Nornheim, the only terrestrial planet in the system.” She gestured to Loki, who brought up an image of a large, dry, stony world, nearly as large as Earth, but without any blue or green, nothing but rock.

“This was back in Buri’s day, mind, and the Bifrost had just been built. Invading the planet was a test of its power. Turned out there actually was a race of people who lived there. They were rocks, just like everything else on the planet, but they really, really didn’t like us being there. And just like that, we were at war. We took the planet, but the rock trolls wouldn’t surrender. So we experimented with the Bifrost once more, using it to remove the trolls from Nornheim, and sending them to the next planet we found. That turned out to be Vanaheim.”

“Good lord.” You said, appalled.  “Why do all that in the first place?”

“Why do humans go to war?” Brunnhilde asked. “Not the fake reasons. Not religious or ethnic reasons, but the real, underlying reasons your ancestors always went to war?”

You thought for a moment, stripping away all the excuses, ideological differences, racial fears, age-old prejudices. What made the first man pick up a stone and smash the guy next to him?

“Resources.” You said. “Either need or greed, it’s all about what you can take from them.”

“You got it!” Brunnhilde said. “Buri was trying to build the foundations of Asgard and he needed as many mineral resources as he could get. And there was a whole planet of rocks, guarded only by rocks. So he took it.”

“Why not settle there?”

“Because it was just rocks! There was no water there, except in trace amounts in the atmosphere, and inside the rocks. No plants, no life other than the rock trolls. And Buri was obsessed with building an eternal realm for his people, from scratch. Before that, the pre-Asgardian people lived on fleets of ships, but most information from before they arrived in the Nornheim system and took over has been lost. No one knows where our ancestors first came from, and after Asgard was built, it was no longer considered important.

We mined Nornheim from then until very recently, and there was still plenty more left. It’s lost to us now. Perhaps new life will arise there again, who knows?

In any case, after the base of Asgard was built, we began looking outward again. The Bifrost allowed us to discover more worlds, and to rediscover Vanaheim. By that time, we’d actually forgotten about the whole banishing an entire species to a completely different realm thing, but the Vanir sure hadn’t!”

Nornheim disappeared, Earth disappeared, the wall of illusions focused back on Vanaheim and the Vanir.

“When we arrived, we hoped to take trees and topsoil back with us. But it turns out the Vanir had heard of us, from the mouths of a new enemy who had appeared suddenly to make war on them generations ago. And just like that, we were at war again.

The Vanir have always preferred to put down roots and stay where they are. We could have just left, and they would not have followed. But this was the reign of Borr, and Borr liked to conquer.”

You shuddered. It was a little disappointing to discover that the magical space gods ancestors had been just as bad as yours, and on a much larger scale.

“We lost.” Brunnhilde said.

“We didn’t win.” Loki corrected. “There’s a difference.”

The Valkyrie shrugged. “To Borr, a draw was as bad as a loss, because it was not a win.”

“Yes, he was rather rigid and uncomplicated like that.” Loki grumbled, as if embarrassed.

“This was your ancestor?” You asked.

“This was my grandfather.” He admitted.

“That recent?”

“It would not seem recent to you. And I never met the man. He died in war, long before any of us were born. A fitting end, I suppose.”

“It’s how he would have wanted to go, if he had ever expected to die.” Brunnhilde resumed. “The war ran long and fierce; neither the Vanir or Asgardians were very numerous at the time, but both were ferocious combatants. The Vanir are blessed with many of the strengths that our people once thought belonged only to them; long life, great strength, resilience, and so forth. And, to our great surprise, they had Aesir among them.”

“Those are gods, right?” The book had given that name to the gods, but hadn’t mentioned them belonging to different species.

“You would call them that, yeah. This was the first time we encountered them outside our own people, and it really threw us. Neither side could prove superior, so we had to try for peace instead.”

“Something Borr never tried again.” Loki interjected.

“Vanir custom demanded a trade of political hostages to ensure peace. From us, they gained Vili and Ve, Borr’s youngest sons. From them, we gained Njord and his children, Freya and Freyr.”

“So, they’re Vanir? Well no wonder they are on Vanaheim!”

“They come and go at their whims, now that we are allies” Loki said. “It’s better that they were there. Freya has a terrible temper, and while I would have personally loved to watch her punch Thanos in the face, I would not have liked to see her killed. I’ve never had anything against the twins.”

With a gesture, the trees and village swirled and coalesced into three incredibly beautiful individuals. A man who appeared to be closing in on middle age, decorated with seashells, his black hair attractively wind-blown. A gorgeous, voluptuous woman with a sword in her graceful hand, and a conspicuous golden necklace at her slender, tan throat. An extremely inviting young man with sparkling black eyes and a gentle smile, flowers in his tidy hair.

You reached out for him, without even realizing you were doing it. Your fingers passed right through, and Loki caught them on the other side, as the image dissipated around your hand.

“It’s just an illusion.” He said. “He’s not really here. A creature of base urges, are we?” He seemed annoyed.

Loki is skilled in the artifice of illusion, and he uses this to embellish his lies. So the book had said.

“Well, you made the illusion!” You said defensively.

“Oh, were you reaching for me?”

“No! I was just…” What had you been doing? You had just needed to try to touch the image of Freyr for some reason.

“Can it, your highness.” Brunnhilde interrupted, receiving a furious glare in return. “You know she couldn’t help it.”

“Is a simple image really so potent?”

“You’re Aesir, he doesn’t affect you in the same way. She’s mortal, and came from a land of grain. She was a baker, for the Norn’s sake! Of course even an image would affect her!”

“Why, please?” You asked above their rising voices. “I didn’t actually mean to do that. What happened?”

“Freyr is a fertility god.” Loki said dismissively. Oh yes, he was definitely annoyed. “He governs the cycle of crops, prosperity of all kinds, fruitfulness, and so on, and so forth. He and his retinue are associated with the baking of bread and animal slaughter; both as symbols of plenty, and as sacred offerings. You lived and worked in his domain, whether you knew it or not.”

His tone clearly indicated that he considered you weak for acting as you had, but his words sparked a pulse of pride. You had been doing, if not THE Lord’s work, then A Lord’s work.

“Oh, don’t look so smug. Fertility and prosperity gods are ridiculously common. They make up a huge percentage of Aesir across the universe. Coming under the influence of one or more is practically inevitable for mortal species.”

“You know, you asked me if I was ashamed of the work I did, or of ‘what I am’ was how you put it. And I’m not. My society really feels the need to consider poor people as less than dirt, and they take all the value away from low-paying jobs, but the thing is, those jobs are actually really important. All those jobs they say are for losers and failures are jobs that provide services that they desperately want. That they need even. Without those jobs and those workers, civilization would fall apart. What are you going to do without grocery stores? Or gas stations? Or sanitation workers? Or bakers?

The bad treatment did get to me. It gets to all of us who are in that situation, because we can see how wrong it is. But now I find out there’s a god somewhere in the universe who thinks bread is good and worth something, and surrounds himself with people like me. Why shouldn’t I be proud of that?”

“Oh, he’d like you.” Brunnhilde said.

Loki released your hand and crossed his arms. The illusion dropped away entirely.

“Anyway,” Brunnhilde continued as if nothing had happened. “We considered it safe to retreat back to Asgard at that point, and couldn’t do much invading for a while after that. But we did continue locating other planets across Yggdrasil. Some were empty, and we sent small groups to colonize them. Others were inhabited, but friendly. Borr conquered these through treaties and trade. But eventually, our army built back up. And then we located Svartalfheim. But before we go into that, would you like to take a break, to think about what you’ve already learned? It must be getting close to lunch time.”

“Yeah, actually.” You said, grateful for a small reprieve. Time to reflect on the information and ask questions without derailing the whole lesson would be welcome. So would the food. You wondered if you would ever stop feeling so hungry.

The three of you left the table as it was; according to Loki, no one would bother it for the rest of the day. You found yourself back in the side room off the banquet hall, enthusiastically tucking into a tasty lunch. At least the food was better than your budget usually allowed.

“So can you tell me more about the Aesir?” You asked.

Thor entered the room with a plate full of food.

“Specifically, why are there so many fertility gods?”

Thor immediately turned around and left.

“Coward!” Brunnhilde called after him. Loki snickered.

“Okay, what was that all about?” You asked. It was weird watching the mighty Thor retreat from a conversation.

“Oh, he’s just shy.” Brunnhilde said. “You know he’s a sky god, right? Lightning and thunder, storms?”

You nodded.

“And guess what else?”

“What, really? But I’m not drawn to touch him.”

“Eh, well, it’s kind of secondary to the thunder thing. He’s associated with the rains, but not the harvest. Freyr’s there from the beginning, to the end.”

“Gotta get me a man like that.” You mused.

Loki set his fork down just a bit harder than necessary.

“He’s married!” He exclaimed.

“Oh?” You asked, surprised that he seemed so scandalized. “To whom?”

Loki looked away from you, lips pressed into a thin line. Brunnhilde chuckled.

“A giant.” She answered.

“There’s giants?” You asked. Another kind of alien? How big could they get?

“That’s an entirely different lesson. You wanted to know about Aesir?”

You dug into a little cobbler of a blueberry-like fruit. They had called it bilberry. You called it delicious.

“Yes. So, are they just born at random, or what?”

“They can arise from any line, at any time.” Loki said. “We have recorded them in at least six of the ni-eight realms. But they do occur more commonly when there is at least one Aesir parent.”

“How do you know if you are one? You come out of the womb shooting lighting? Or does it at least wait until puberty?”

“Eh, it depends.” Brunnhilde said. “I assume they figured Heimdall out as soon as he opened his eyes. For others it’s a bit more subtle. But it gets figured out in the end.”

“But what causes it to happen in the first place?” You wondered. “This has presumably been going on for what, millions of years? When did it start? And why, and what keeps it going?”

“I’m sure every culture throughout time and space has their own mythos about it.” Loki said.  “My personal theory is that it involves the infinity stones. Which just means that I’ll never get to test it.” He grumbled.

Brunnhilde stared at him.

“Do they have an affinity for magic?” You asked. “The king said they made up everything in the universe.”

“They could be considered magical. Certainly they come from a source beyond anyone’s total understanding. There are stones that correspond to concepts so nebulous as Power, and Reality. I don’t suppose it would be too far-fetched to think they could have influenced the creation of beings such as us.”

“Excuse me!” Brunnhilde interrupted, earning a disgruntled look from Loki, who seemed to have been really getting into his theory. “Why does she know about that?”

“I honestly have no idea.” You said. “I remember what happened, but nobody knows why.”

“Is it because you have magical potential?” She asked. “His majesty said you were learning sorcery.”

“I…don’t know? Is it?” You asked Loki, but he was already hurrying out the door to yell at his brother.

“I think I know how to tell which humans can learn sorcery! Thor! She said there was a whole forum of them!”

“Thank you, Brunnhilde! You’re so brilliant!” She called out after him. “Oh, thank you, I’m aware! But it’s nice to hear anyway!” She laughed, shaking her head. “Well, there goes my co-instructor. Come on, you want to go learn about Svartalfheim anyway?”

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel) #thor (marvel) #Heimdall (Marvel) #brunnhilde (marvel) #valkyrie (marvel) #marvel fanfiction

[hazyheel]

Impact Wrestling Rebellion 2019 Review

Night began with a six man scramble. We had Petey Williams, Jake Crist, Aiden Prince, Ace Austin, Cousin Jake, and Eddie Edwards. No real reward for winning here, but it would be a big victory. The announcers seemed to be implying that this match would be important in the X-Division. The big spots started right out of the gate, with Crist intercepting Austin’s suicide dive with a cutter onto a pile of opponents. Crist was actually all over the place, drilling people with huge DDT’s and cutters all over the place. Austin as well was flying around with well placed kicks to all of his opponents. Jake was the powerhouse of the match, coming in to deliver huge power moves when the action was low. The finish came very quickly, with Williams hitting Jake with a Canadian destroyer, but Austin slid in and rolled up Williams for the win.

Grade: C-. Fine match, very spotty, not really long enough. Jake Crist and Ace Austin really shined, but everyone else felt very left out. Prince and Edwards in particular only really got one spot each, with Edwards hitting a tiger driver and Prince hitting a 450. The physicality of the match may be enough for some people to put it on the positive side, but they just didn’t give it enough time, nor was there much of a story here. A couple side stories converged here, especially between Austin and Williams, but we didn’t need this many people in a match to further that story. If you are gonna book a match with this many people, then you need to give it ample time. There was less than 6 minutes here, so each wrestler literally had less than a minute to do something memorable. That would be impossible. This match was doomed from the start.

Then there was an ad for Impact+, a new streaming service. Very exciting.

Next was another new match on the card, Scarlet Bordeaux vs Rohit Raju. This was a pretty basic inter gender match, with Raju being a dick and not taking her seriously. Raju had the win early on with a snap suplex, but he pulled her back off the mat. Not long after, Bordeaux was able to lock in a cross face, with Raju nearly tapping out but powered out of the hold. Scarlet was able to get the win after hitting a low blow while Fallah Bahh distracted the ref, and then a package pildriver for the win.

Grade: D. Bordeaux really isn’t all that good, and this match was so easily telegraphed that I called her getting a win with a low blow from the beginning. Raju did his best selling and such, but this match was heavily held back by its own “gimmick.” Not really worth watching.

Into the 6-man tag, Moose and The North against the Rascalz. Page and Alexander were actually cheered as they entered, possibly because of their affiliation with Canada. Heels has a huge size advantage. Rascalz started out with some high flying teamwork, hitting senton after senton to Moose, before Moose destroyed them after a kip up. Dez was destroyed for much of the beginning, but when they got the offense they hit some killer offense. Page was taken out after being hit with a pushed moonsault off the stage from Wentz. Moose then caught a suicide dive from Trey, powerbombing him into the barricade, before Dez came flying in with a senton, jumping off the back of Alexander on the stage. The Rascalz hit a series of offense of the top rope, only for Page to break it up with a crucifix bomb. Alexander then threw Wentz out of the ring onto Trey. Dez continued to get destroyed, being hit with a superkick, forearm, and then a pump kick. The North then destroyed him with an assisted fireman’s slam, and then a spear from moose for the win.

Grade: B+. This is how to have a flippy sprint of a match. Everyone had a chance to shine, with the Rascalz showing some of their high flying prowess, and the heels showing how good they could be in a prominent pay per view spot. Makes sense for the heels to pick up the win, builds up a new tag team and a new challenger for the world championship. I liked this a lot.

In an interview, Johnny Impact and Taya Valkyrie bullied Melissa Santos, and ultimately said that they would destroy their opponents. Simple stuff, but Santos is an awesome interviewer. She gives me Renee Young vibes, and hopefully she becomes just as big.

Into the Knockouts championship match, Jordynne Grace against Valkyrie. Grace attacked right at the bell, immediately dropping Valkyrie onto the apron twice for a near fall. Valkyrie targetted Grace’s arm throughout the match. Grace started to fight back, hitting Valkyrie with a lariat, but falling to the mat in pain from the injured arm. Grace continued to use her arms to attack, with one lariat after the other, but she just couldn’t keep it up. Valkyrie took advantage of that and hit the road to Valhalla for the win.

Grade: B-. This match was a bit slow, and really was just short of being bad. I liked the story of dissecting the arm, and having that come back to hurt Grace. Valkyrie played a great heel here, and nevertheless got a clean win. It was just a very straightforward match that felt like it should have been on TV, given how much limb work was in it. But I was into the story, so good on them for crafting a narrative.

Another interview from Santos, this time with Gail Kim. Kim said that she is coming back to the ring to teach Tessa Blanchard a lesson. A lesson that no one is willing to teach them themselves. She wouldn’t listen to Kim as an agent, so maybe she will listen as an opponent. 

And next up was Rich Swann against Sami Callihan for the X-Division championship, under OvE rules. The rest of OvE, including their new heavy, are banned from ringside. As Swann came down, he was not dancing at all, dead serious, opening the match with a series of quick strikes. Swann wasted no time getting extreme, stapling Callihan several times in he opening stretch. Callihan returned the favor with a staple to the mouth the second he got the staple gun. Callihan countered a suicide dive with a brutal shot with a steel sheet to the face. Callihan even countered a crossbody by catching Swann, and drilling him into a seated chair with an exploder suplex. Swann shocked the crowd with how sadistic he could be, licking Callihan’s blood, and nailing Callihan with a series of kicks while his head was in a garbage can. Swann also used the stipulation to aid his flying offense, swinging off part of the set into a hurricanrana, and also nailing a handspring cutter on the stage. Callihan has a bit of railing set up between the stage and ring steps, and ended up piledriving Swann onto it for a near fall. Swann was on the top rope locking for a splash, but Callihan countered with a hand full of salt to the eyes, and then piledriver him off the top and onto a pile of legos for a crazy near fall. Callihan introduced a barbed ware baseball bat into the match, but Swann got it after a hitting a low blow, tapping Callihan out with a cross face using the bat.

Grade: B. Pretty good match, with some absolutely brutal death match spots. I wasn’t sure how much Swann’s offense would translate into a style like this, but he worked pretty well. My biggest problem with the match was simply that they didn’t play up their rivalry enough. This match was one of the best built on the whole card, but I didn’t feel as much emotion as I thought I would. They didn’t really tap into it until the end, when Callihan begged Swann to have mercy on him. With that little bit more of storytelling, and possibly a bit more wrestling before they got into all the deathmatch stuff, this could have been a really great match.

Another interview, this time with Blanchard. She said that she doesn’t need to respect anyone who doesn’t deserve it. Tully Blanchard showed up out of nowhere, saying that he fully supported his daughter, and that she needed this win. Well alrighty then.

We went right into that match next, Gail Kim against Tessa Blanchard. This was a brawl from the bell, and it was Blanchard’s strength against Kim’s speed. Blanchard hit a brutal codebreaker off of the middle rope for a near fall. This really felt like the two hated each other, with a bit of extra emphasis on each of the strikes. The two even brawled on the ring steps, with Tessa going face first into the post. After a big splash out of the corner from Kim, the crowd erupted into well deserved “you still got it” chants. The two brawled on the stage, and Blanchard used her signature reverse dragon suplex spot to throw Kim off the stage. Kim was able to hit Blanchard with eat defeat after countering a slingshot suplex, but only a near fall. As Kim locked in a dragon sleeper on the top rope, Blanchard countered by biting her arm, and then hitting magnum for another near fall. Blanchard then immediately locked in a sort of cobra clutch on the mat, and Kim had no choice but to tap out. After the match, Blanchard offered a handshake, but Kim came in with a hug. Blanchard was balling her eyes out, so happy to get the torch passed to her. Kim was in the ring and soaked up the applause, in what could easily be her last match. And it was a hell of a match to go out on.

Grade: A-. This was a brutal match for a brutal feud. All the hatred that built between the two in the preceding weeks was addressed here. They brought the fight to each other with as much as they possibly could. The adversity between the two was real, and it was awesome to see the two get to show what they had. The showcase at the end was very sweet, but it kinda took me out of the whole “hate each other” thing. But it was clearly a huge moment for Blanchard, the biggest win she’s ever had, so I understand why she couldn’t contain herself.

Cage cut a weirdly quick promo about how he will do anything to beat down Impact tonight. Their friendship was long gone, and he wants to show him that he is the better man.

And that world championship match was next, Brian Cage against Johnny Impact with Lance Storm as the referee. Another match that started right at the bell, with Cage destroying Impact with tackles, kicks, a German Suplex and an F5 for a near fall right out of the gate. Then he hit a buckle bomb, and a deadlift vertical suplex off the apron and into the ring for another near fall. He went for another deadlift, but Impact fought out and hit an incredible German suplex. Impact then took the fight to the stage, and hit a Spanish fly off the the ramp and onto the floor. At some point, Cage did a blade job, probably after being thrown into the barricade. Actually, looking at his head, Cage May have cut open the top of his head, but either way, he was bleeding like a stuck pig. As the two brawled, Valkyrie and the crooked ref Bravo set up a table for Impact on the outside. Impact had Cage set up for a Starship Pain through the table, but Cage got up and powerbombed Impact through the table. Bravo tried to get involved, but Cage caught him. Impact hit Cage with the belt in the back, only for Valkyrie to pull Storm out of the ring, and Impact nailed him with a dropkick to the outside. Impact then played possum in the ring, with Valkyrie pretending that she hit Cage with the belt. Cage drilled her with a powerbomb, only for Impact to grab the belt and hit Cage with it. Bravo then ran in the ring, with a ref’s shirt on, and Impact hit the Starship Pain, but Cage kicked out! Storm ran back in the ring, and superkicked Bravo. He was about to disqualify Impact, but Cage stopped him. Cage then hit Impact with a superkick of his own, and the drill claw to finally win the Impact world championship.

After the match, Michael fucking Elgin showed up debuting in Impact, and he seemed to challenge Cage for his belt. He attacked Cage with a backfist and a spinning powerbomb. Seems like we have the next big opponent for Cage.

Grade: B-. This was fucking wild. Huge moves all over the place, and while it seemed slow at times, the big moves more than made up for it. That finishing sequence was all over the place, but it seemed to tick all the boxes. Impact got comeuppance with a powerbomb through a table and losing his belt. Valkyrie ate a rough powerbomb, and Bravo was hit with a superkick. However, everything that was leading up to that finish, apart from the opening sequence, seemed like it slowed down too much. I think that Cage looked a bit weak, even in his victory, because he didn’t have he advantage much after he started bleeding. But still, his win was the right choice. I wouldn’t have had Elgin beat him down right after his big win, his first big win at that, but it will probably be an awesome match. I was wondering where Elgin went, and this is a huge acquisition for Impact. Also, they used to be a tag team in PWG, so maybe they will bring that up. The finish, while entertaining, was a bit overbooked and had too many twists and turns to really keep up with. A bit tough to grade this one, but I think that the loss of momentum and the flurry of stuff happening in the latter half of the match hurt it a bit for me.

In the clubhouse, LAX were prepared for their match in the main event. Kennan called the full metal mayhem match a Mexican standoff, which is weird because it is nothing like a Mexican standoff, other than the fact that it is a standoff amongst Mexicans. Maybe I’m stupid, because I was thinking about that so much that I missed the rest of the promo.

And in the main event, the Lucha Bros took on LAX for the Impact Tag Team Championships, in Full Metal Mayhem. Once again, LAX attacked before the bell with stereo dives. Fenix and Pentagon responded with dives of their own, sending everyone through tables. The Lucha Bros hit their classic double superkick spot, but Satanna’s head was in a trash can this time. LAX hit their team combo, but Fenix broke up the pin with a big diving dropkick, and then fended them both off with a series of kicks. At one point, Ortiz had Fenix up for a draping cutter into a couple set up chairs, and Santana assisted with a double stomp to Fenix’s head, for a near fall. The four met in the middle of the right, nailing each other with elbow strikes while just sitting in chairs. Konnan involved himself after this, passing Ortiz and Santana a couple forks. LAX set up a bunch of chairs near the corner, only for the Lucha Bros to use it against them with a terrifying fear factor into the chairs, but Santana kicked out! Fenix looked pretty busted up during the match, and even Don Callis and Josh Mathews on commentary pointed out that his left arm looked limp. Lax had a table set up on the ramp, and Ortiz tried to put Pentagon through it with something off a ladder, but Fenix walked the top rope and drove him through it with the scariest Spanish fly that I have ever seen. Fenix under rotated, and landed on his fucking head and somehow he could still walk. Back in the ring, Santana ate a Pentagon driver through a chair, but still kicked out. Then came the thumb tacks. Pentagon spread them out on a pair of tables. Pentagon and Santana battled atop a ladder, teasing who would go through them. It seemed like Santana would do the honors, but Ortiz ran in to make the save, putting Pentagon in a powerbomb position. Santana helped out his partner by stabbing Pentagon in the head with a fork, and Ortiz blasted Pentagon through the tables and the tacks. That was what did it, and LAX began their forth title reign as the tag champs.

After the match, Fenix could barely stand up straight. Konnan decided to squash the hate, saying that they are family. They all embraced, and then the faces of the roster came out to pay their respects.

Grade: A. One of the most terrifying matches I have ever seen. The spots were so sick, everything was scary as hell, and it was car crash TV at its finest. This was as much of a war as their feud needed, and it was a hell of a blowoff. I hope that Fenix is okay, because that was a scarier spanish fly than Will Ospreay last year. The embrace at the end made a lot of sense as well. They started this feud as friends, and that was how they ended it. Great match through and through, easily the best Impact match in years. Match of the night for sure.

Overall Grade: B-

Pros: Good commentary; 6-man tag; X-Division Championship; Blanchard vs. Kim; Main Event

Cons: Way too short of an opener; Bordeaux vs. Raju

On a note that I wanted to be completely separate from the review, why wasn’t anyone disqualified for using the tables in the main event? They aren’t made of metal, so they shouldn’t be legal. Just saying.

#Hazyheel #impact #impact wrestling #impact review #impact wrestling review #impact wrestling rebellion #impact rebellion #rebellion #rebellion 2019 #impact wrestling rebellion 2019 #impact rebellion 2019 #impact wrestling rebellion review #impact rebellion review #rebellion review #rebellion 2019 review #impact wrestling rebellion 2019 review #impact rebellion 2019 review #pro wrestling #pro wrestling review #LAX #Pentagon jr #fenix #lucha bros #santana #ortiz #konnan #full metal mayhem #brian cage #johnny impact #michael elgin

[directionlessbuthappy]

Voice of a Valkyrie - Part 4

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"Up and over Sigurd...yes, that's better," you nodded. "Around, and down and over."

Carefully his fingers wove across the strands, pulling the knot together just a tad too tight. You didn't correct him this time since he'd gotten the knot right. Finally.

"How long does this take you?" he asked. You laughed quietly and shook your head.

"Ages. Even when you're effecient, it takes much patience."

"This will take me a century then," he snorted. You shook your head and took the threading from him. It would make a decent bracelet for a child, but if he wanted one for himself, he'd have to keep going. You'd just finished telling him so when a slam sounded on the floorboards.

"What are you two doing?"

You flushed red in both fear and embarrassment. You were suppose to be in the kitchen...the feast to welcome Bjorn Ironside home was tonight. Myrun and Gaerta seemed to have things under control, and Sigurd wanted to learn to weave, so he asked you. You didn't question why, but Ubbe's presence reminded you of the possibilities...

"She was teaching me, brothers," Sigurd shrugged. "Try not to sound so jealous."

"Perhaps you wanted to teach her something too?" Hvitserk piped up from behind Ubbe. The two of them chuckled while you sat back, folding your hands neatly. You found these strangely open conversations the brothers would have in front of you were best to ignore. It was the closest you'd been to fulfilling Gaerta's warning. She'd had found out about you speaking to the sons of Ragnar, and she wasn't happy. The slave matron sat you down with Myrun to chastise you, and tried to encourage Myrun to help convince you to avoid them. 

Avoid them all, the sons of Ragnar.

But you were naive, and lonely...

Before they could all barge in and try to fit in the laundry house, Sigurd got up to leave. Perhaps to minimize the chance for close quarters with his brothers. He gave you a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. Ubbe's little wolf howl as they walked off was unmistakable. You got up too, taking dried laundry with you to at least seem like you'd been busy. If Gaerta caught you sauntering back to the kitchen empty-handed, she'd certainly wooden spoon your knuckles.

You rushed inside the Great Hall. In an attempt to remain uncaught you watched your feet, head low...but such a plan had its faults. Namely, running into one of the queen's shieldmaidens.

"Watch yourself slave!" the woman hissed in a narrow voice. You stumbled for a moment but did not drop anything.

"Ah, there it is," Aslaug sighed with relief. You couldn't see her over the laundry pile you carried. It made little difference. "Ivar has been looking for that shirt. You may go bring it to him, girl. He is in his room."

If the linens were damp even at all, the heat from your face would've surely dried them.

You rushed your way down the hallway you'd known well. Slinking into the furthest door and kneeling to lower your basket (which was getting heavy) you somehow forgot the queen had mentioned this was Ivar's room. Why should you be surprised he was in it?

"Jøra...have you come to see me this early in the evening?"

You stood up straight and swallowed your words at the sight. Ivar was shirtless, sitting upright in his chair with his hair along one shoulder. You'd never seen him unbraid it before...it wasn't too long and rested just three inches past his shoulders. He seemed so...vulnerable. And yet his abs looked like they could crack Mjolnir.

"I've...brought your clothes," you squeaked. Ivar chuckled and nodded to his bed. You expected some grand, lavish bed big enough to fit four people. But Ivar's bed was the same size as yours, with a major difference in rare silks...still, it was humble. Much more humble than you imagined. Not that you'd imagined...er...

Shaking your head to fend off swimming thoughts, you sat down on the side of his bed facing him, bringing your basket with you. You started taking out his shirts one by one, folding them, avoiding the staring and the heat in your face.

"Do you have a fever?"

The question surprised you. You quickly shook your head. "N...no."

"You look red like your hair," he snorted. Instead of further embarrassment, or ignoring him like most girls before...you laughed. Leaving his face with the same expression you had when he asked his question.

"What is so funny?" Ivar growled. Your laughing stopped and you smiled slightly at him. Not a smirk or a cocky grin. Just a smile.

"I have never been in a man's room before," you said quietly. Ivar's eyebrows shot up.

"Hmph. Ubbe was not lying..."

"Wha-" you became unable to finish that question. Ivar stood before you, towering over your sitting position, tilting your chin to look at him.

"I did ask for a song before," he spoke deeply. "Am I not to have one?"

You swallowed and set aside the laundry. Scrambling to get it all at the foot of his bed in case he'd want to sit there. In case...

Ivar surprised you again. He sat back in his chair to continue watching you. Nervously you folded your hands.

A songbird locked in a cage with a cat.

"What sort of songs do you like, Ivar?" you asked him cautiously. He smirked and cocked his chin, thinking for a minute or two.

"War. Battle. Songs they sing for warriors," he replied. You looked in your lap for a moment to think. You came from a small fishing village...they did not have warriors as viscous as vikings where you once lived. They did have warriors in Rome you'd heard much about...

"I heard a distant sound Upon the fields of grey The pearls of stars that line the sky Scream war is underway...

A great beast lain in every man’s chest, Bird shriek, and good men die, To axes and arrows of enemy's wrath, Widows made to wail and cry,

To please the gods and bring to piece All steel to flesh, and soul to Hel, Wrought warriors from west and east, Through man does blood rain well...”

Ivar's eyes were blown a dangerous dark blue color. You caught your breathe but lost the words for the rest of your song. The youngest son of Ragnar seemed dazed...less dangerous than before. Until he spoke.

"Keep going...but, this time, take off your dress."

#ivar #sigurd #ubbe #aslaug #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #ivar the boneless #vikings #writings

[melodyofmuses]

@awreckageofstarss

Astrid bit her lip, body shifting from side to side as she stood outside Hiccup’s door. It was silly, she shouldn’t be nervous about paying her friend a visit, and yet she was. There was something she’d been thinking about, something that she wanted, and he was the only one who could give it to her. Steeling herself, she finally raised a hand and knocked on his door.

“It’s open.” Came Hiccup’s voice, inviting her inside. Slipping into his hut Astrid followed the source of his voice up to his bedroom. The ground floor was for cooking and minor forge work, while upstairs was his bed and the desk where he pondered and drew. Climbing the stairs the blonde’s nerves came flooding back, halting her in her steps as she stared at his lean back hunched over his latest design. Biting her lip she waited until Hiccup turned to face her, the inventor wondering why his guest was so quiet. “A-Astrid! W-what can I do for you?”

Shifting her weight to her other foot Astrid tried not to talk herself out of it. She was here now, if she left Hiccup would think something was wrong, and then there’s be a big conversation and he’d probably think it was his fault she was having trouble talking to him. Taking a deep breath she finally opened her mouth. “It’s silly, really.” She told him, blue eyes suddenly finding the floor far more interesting than his face, despite how much she adored his face. “I just, I saw a couple of guys with them, and I thought it looked really cool and…I want a marking on my body like them.”

Whatever Hiccup had thought she’d come to talk to him about, that was not on the list. In fact it hadn’t even come close to the list. “Okay.” Hiccup replied, processing what she’d told him with the information he knew. “W-well we can talk to some traders and see if they know who to speak to about getting one.” If Astrid wanted one of these inked markings on her body then he’d help her get one.

“W-well I was hoping you would do it.” Astrid replied softly, eyes finally lifting to meet his. Noticing Hiccup about to open his mouth Astrid pressed on. “I mean, you’re a great artist and…you’re the only one I’d trust to do it.”

One look at her trusting blue eyes and there was no way Hiccup could say no. Nodding to the chair beside him, he invited her to sit down. “Okay, so I’m guessing you want a Nadder or an axe or something?” Astrid was a girl with few interests, weaponry and dragons being at the top of that list.

Pausing for a moment the girl thought about that. Initially that had been her instinct but somehow it didn’t feel quite right. “I uh…I actually don’t know what I want.” The blonde admitted softly, it felt strange to say she had no idea what design she wanted on her body.

With a pensive face, Hiccup grabbed one of his sketch books, sliding it over to Astrid. “Uh, maybe this will give you an idea?” His mind was already racing, thinking about what he’d need to mark her body. He had a few bottles of squid ink tucked away, and he certainly had needles to set the ink into her skin. Cloth and water were easy enough to grab, he had those waiting downstairs, and there were plenty of candles if he needed more light.

Astrid flipped through the pages, keen eyes raking over each design so carefully sketched by his hand. Most were sketches of Toothless, but there were a few more abstract pieces in there. Turning the page she felt her breath catch in her throat, the image of a valkyrie staring back at her. The face was soft, a small smile on her lips while the wind whipped at the strands plucked loose from her braid. Was that how Hiccup saw her? Blue eyes flicked up to his face wondering, not for the first time, if he felt the same way about her and she did for him.

Averting her gaze back to the book before he could grow suspicious she gasped, fingers lightly tracing the paper just beside the charcoal drawing. “This one. This is the one.” Placing the open book down on the desk she let Hiccup see the design that had her so enamoured.

Hiccup faultered at the picture she’d chosen, it was one of Toothless but not quite. It was a stylised design based on the Night Fury with slightly more angular features. He’d drawn it to look like it was defending something, just seconds away from attacking if needed, and he had to admit that seemed like Astrid. She was so graceful and fluid, but she could easily switch into an attack without a moment’s notice if she needed to. “Okay, uh, where did you want it and when should we do this?”

“Now.” Astrid replied, her voice quavering slightly. “Right now, before anything stops this happening.” If she left his hut she wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to come back. “And on my back, please.” Apprehensive blue eyes gazed up at him, she’d just asked him to see and touch her bare back while he placed a design on her skin, something that really should only happen between betrothed vikings.

Hiccup drew in a shuddering breath, sweet Thor, how could she ask him to mark her back and know she’d most likely end up a shield maiden or married off to a viking like his cousin? No, he couldn’t think like that. Astrid asked him for a favour and he was going to help her. “Okay, let me just grab some stuff. I’ll uh…” Standing up he grabbed the blanket off his bed, passing it to her. “…s-so you can cover up. I’ll uh…give you some privacy. Come on bud.” Grumbling about leaving his warm stone, Toothless followed Hiccup downstairs to grab what they needed while Astrid removed her top.

Staring at the blanket Astrid froze, was she really doing this? Suddenly realizing Hiccup could come back at any moment, Astrid took her armour off, setting them down on the desk, her shirt and bindings were next. Hearing his metal foot clanking downstairs she quickly wrapped the blanket around her chest. “Okay, you can come back now.”

Hiccup stalked back up the stairs, Toothless close behind him. Setting out the cloth and water basin, the dragon rider began to set up candles to give himself more light. “Okay, face the desk and I’ll take a look.” Setting his stool down directly behind her, he waited until she was settled before peeling back the edges of the blanket to stare at her naked back. Oh Thor, what had he gotten himself into?

Astrid held her breath as he reached for his charcoal, eyes closed as she waited for his touch. Careful hands shifted her braid to rest over her shoulder before gently touching her skin. His breath ghosted over her skin, fingers dancing over her back as he slowly began to map out the design over her body.

Once he began drawing it was easy to lose himself in the work. Using charcoal he began to replicate the design, cleaning away flubbed lines and re-sketching them until he was satisfied. This was for Astrid, and only the best would do. Slowly but surely he lovingly recreated his design over her back. Setting the charcoal down he let out a sigh. “Okay, now this part’s going to hurt. I-I won’t think less of you if you need to bite down on something.”

Astrid glanced at him over her shoulder, throwing him a gentle smile. “Hey, it’s not fun without a little pain, right?” Setting her elbows on the desk, her chin resting on her folded arms she got comfortable. “I’m ready when you are. I trust you.” Turning back to face the desk she waited for the first sting.

Nodding to the blonde valkyrie he poured a small measure of ink into a dish, sterilizing a needle before taking up position once more. Ink on the needle his hand hovered over her back. He had his design set but now that it was time to actually mark her skin, he was terrified of messing it up. Taking a deep breath he pressed the needle into her skin, hating himself when he heard her sudden intake of breath. “We can stop if you like. We don’t have to do it.”

Squaring her shoulders Astrid shook her head. A little pain wasn’t going to stop her, not when she’d set her mind to it. “Keep going.” Gritting her teeth she was tempted to take him up on the offer of something to bite but her pride refused. Instead she clenched her teeth while trying to relax her muscles.

Hiccup couldn’t even begin to describe how nervous he was. He was in his room with the girl of his dreams topless before him, expecting him to inflict pain on her while permanently marking her with one of his designs. And if that wasn’t enough to make him sweat, one wrong move and he’d ruin the whole design for her, especially when she was trusting him to do it for her. Mopping the beads of sweat from his brow Hiccup dipped the needle in the ink once more and pressed the sharp tip into her skin.

Slowly but surely, Hiccup found his confidence, each prick of the needle surer than the last. It helped that Astrid had become accustomed to the constant piercing of her skin and had relaxed into it. In fact he was fairly certain she was on the verge of falling asleep. A few more pricks of the needle and the outline was complete. “What d’you think Bud? Look alright to you?” The young inventor was actually quite pleased with how the outline had turned out. He’d have to go back and shade it in but at least the bones were there for him to work with.

Toothless warbled a pleased noise from his spot on the stone slab, green eyes glancing over at the humans before settling back down for a nap. It was clear this was going to take a while so any chance of a flight was out so the dragon may as well take a nap. Wings unfurling to stretch before folding back against his body, the black dragon settled himself before closing his eyes.

“Okay, time for a break.” Hiccup muttered, standing up so he could stretch his back and legs. “There’s a mirror over there if you want to take a look so far.” He pointed to a large sheet of polished metal over in one corner, he normally used it to reflect more light onto his projects.

Astrid stood carefully, clutching the blanket to her chest as she moved over to the mirror. Turning around she peered over her shoulder at the reflection of the dragon taking shape on her back. “Hiccup, it’s beautiful.” Blue eyes remained fixed on the reflection, missing the way he stared at her.

“Yes, you are. I-I mean, yeah, I think this might be some of my best work.” Hiccup stumbled over his words, hoping she hadn’t heard the slip of his tongue. He’d always though Astrid was gorgeous but seeing her under the golden glow of the candles, the way it seemed to illuminate her skin, he thought she was stunning. Thor, why did he have to fall for the prettiest, most intelligent and capable viking of their age? He knew why, it was because she was so intelligent and quick on her feet. Astrid was grace and fury in one delectable body, a divine beauty if ever he saw one.

Astrid was too busy staring at the ink on her back to hear what he said completely. “Yeah, I agree. This is incredible Hiccup.” Walking back over to the stool she settled herself back in place for more ink. “Ready when you are Dragon Boy.” The blonde waited with baited breath for his hands to reach for her once more, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers brushed against the slightly tender skin. The pain had become a memory but even if it hadn’t she would’ve wanted it to continue for as long as possible just so she could feel his fingers on her spine, his gentle breath blowing at her skin after he pricked it to sooth the nerves beneath. It was a silly fantasy, she knew, but she wished they were more than just friends.

Hiccup had finished the head and wings when he noticed the blonde had actually fallen asleep. Smiling fondly at the girl he paused to stretch before settling back in to work on the tail. “Sometimes I wish you knew just how much I adore you.” Hiccup muttered to the slumbering blonde, taking solace in the knowledge she would never know he spoke these words to her. “Every night I dream of you by my side creating a future of our own design. Those dreams are so wonderful I never want to wake up, but then Toothless demands his morning flight and it’s back to reality.” Gingerly he leaned forward, placing the lightest of kisses to the knape of her neck, jerking backwards as he felt her shift, before shaking his head and turning back to his work once he was sure she wouldn’t wake up. “Thor, I wish I was less of a Hiccup just so I’d be worthy of someone like you, Milady.”

The brush of lips against her neck had Astrid’s eyes snap open before she promptly shut them, hoping he didn’t notice. Did Hiccup just…kiss her? It wasn’t the sloppy, slobbery messes Snotlout tried to place on her, nor was it like the few quick pecks she’s placed on Hiccup throughout the years. This kiss was slow, gentle and somehow far more intimate than she’d expected from Hiccup, and she wished he’d do it again. His next words broke her heart, how could he think he wasn’t good enough? Hiccup was the only viking to view the world differently and find the truth between the blood-feud that had plagued humans and dragons for generations. Hiccup was better than all of them, it was Astrid who’d been doubting if he actually held any affection for her.

“You never kissed me back.” Astrid replied softly, one of them had to be brave enough to say something and it seemed clear now that Hiccup needed this as much as she did. “All those times I kissed you, you never kissed me back, and I thought it was because you just didn’t want to hurt my feelings, or you just weren’t interested.” Blue eyes fluttered open but she kept her gaze on her arms pillowing her head, not quite brave enough to face the man she’d fallen in love with.

“W-what? No, that’s insane!” Hiccup exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared at the blonde who was supposed to be asleep. “How could I not want to? I mean, you’re you! You’re Astrid!” The needle hovered over her back, his focus locked on the blonde’s face rather than his work for the moment. “But you surprised me a-and then the moment was gone and I didn’t know how to get it back.”

Setting the needle down he spun her around to face him, careful to keep the blanket pressed to her chest. “Astrid, I’ve been in love with you since before I even knew what love was.” A trembling hand reached out to brush his thumb against her cheek, a small smile reaching his lips as she leaned into the contact. “You’re brave, and smart, and Thor, have you seen you? How could I not want you?”

One hand pinning the blanket to her chest, Astrid reached her other hand out to grasp his. “I know I was hard on you when we were in Dragon Training, but then you opened my eyes and made me see the man you truly were, and Hiccup, he’s incredible.” Finally free to express how much she adored him, Astrid’s eyes gleamed with all the passion she held for him. “You might not see a big, brave viking, but I do. Hiccup, you’re thoughtful, and inventive, and sensitive, and you’re not afraid to show how much people mean to you, and that’s pretty brave if you ask me. Braver than me, anyway.” Gazing up at him she began to lean a little closer. “So if I were to kiss you now…?”

Green eyes dropped from her eyes to her lips, fleeting memories of her quick pecks still colouring his dreams. “Oh Thor.” He whispered before closing the gap and kissing her as he’d wanted to for so many years. His lips molded against hers, parting the moment he felt her tongue requesting entrance, his own returning the favour. Panting slightly he pulled back, eyes alight with desire as he stared at her. Claiming a couple more kisses Hiccup finally retreated. “As much as I’d love to keep doing that, I kind of want to finish your marking.”

Nodding silently Astrid turned back around. Hiccup was right, they should finish the dragon on her back, and the sooner he did, the sooner she could go back to kissing him. Biting her lip, a devious glint in her eyes, she let the blanket go, the woolen fabric pooling in her lap before dropping to the floor.

“A-a-astrid!” Hiccup’s slightly panicked voice sounded behind her, his eyes staring at what the blanket had obscured. From his place behind her, he could see the gentle curves of the sides of her breasts, especially when she leaned forward to fold her arms over the desk to brace herself.

The blonde permitted a small, pleased smile to cross her face before replying. “Yeah, yeah, only a woman’s intended husband should see her in such a state of undress.” Rolling her eyes she turned her head to gaze at him over her shoulder. “I kissed you, you’re mine Dragon Boy.”

Hiccup’s mouth dropped, of all the things he expected to come out of Astrid’s mouth, her declaration of wanting to be his wife one day was not one of them. “Oh you, Milady, are going to be trouble.” He chuckled, picking up the needle and continuing his work, his voice letting her know he was completely content with her brand of trouble in his life. Leaning in he brought his lips close to her ear. “Pretty sure I kissed you first.” He whispered, ducking his head to place a kiss to her shoulder before lightly nipping the spot. The inventor chuckled at her soft whine when he pulled back to complete his artwork on her back.

Soft cloth pressed against her skin, removing any excess ink before sitting back to look at his work. She was stunning, sitting in the candlelight, her skin covered in a golden glow while a Night Fury covered her back. That tricky little Nadder, she’d just made him place his own mark all over her back. If that wasn’t a declaration of who held her heart, he didn’t know what was. “What’d you think Bud? Does it look like you?”

Toothless grudgingly stood up, wandering over to take a look at the design on Astrid’s back. Giving them both a soft warble of approval, he tilted his head as Hiccup encouraged the dragon to lick her back. Rolling his eyes the dragon dragged his tongue over the tender flesh, dragon saliva was fairly useful for killing off infection and assisting the healing process.

Astrid scrunched her nose up as she felt Toothless’ drool cover her back but she had to admit, her back felt less tender afterwards. “Thanks, both of you.” Reaching behind her she petted the dragon’s snout, using touch alone to locate the spot under his chin that always got him purring.

“What? No chin-scratches for me?” Hiccup teased, hurrying to cover his and Toothless’ eyes when the blonde stood and made her way over to the mirror. “Sweet baby Thor in a thunderstorm, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Astrid shook her head at him before admiring his handiwork in the mirror. “It’s perfect Hiccup. I love it.” Stalking back over to the man she loved she bent down, placing her hands on his knees so she was eye-level with him. “And no you don’t get chin-scratches.” Warm, supple lips pressed against his, smiling at the hand still firmly planted over his eyes. “But I’d like it if you held me tonight. I mean, I don’t think I can put my shirt back on at the moment, and I don’t want to try to get to my hut without it, but mostly I just really want to be close to you for tonight.”

The brightest smile she’d ever seen lit up Hiccup’s face. “Do I get to kiss you again?” Holding Astrid was more than he could possibly want, but the idea of kissing her again, of feeling her lips against his, Thor, that was his idea of Valhalla. “Anytime I want?”

Astrid was hard pressed to bite back the laugh bubbling up her throat. Most guys would try to push for so much more knowing a half-naked woman would be in their bed, but all Hiccup wanted was more kisses. “Of course, I mean, kisses are a requirement.”

Darting forward Hiccup pressed his lips to hers once more, grinning like a fool for having permission to do that as many times as he wished. Nodding his head towards the bed, he stayed seated with his hand over his eyes until he knew she was on the bed and settled. Dropping his hand he walked over to the bed, placing a hand in her hair and caressing the golden strands. “I’ll go grab us some dinner and feed the dragons. Be back soon, Milady.” Dropping a kiss to her shoulder he slipped out of the hut, Toothless remaining to guard Astrid.

It didn’t take him long to grab what he needed and slip back to the Valkyrie waiting for him in his hut. With Stormfly fed, and a basket of fish downstairs to occupy Toothless for a while, Hiccup climbed the stairs to share a meal with Astrid, blanket pressed to her chest once more. It wasn’t until their plates were clean and placed aside that Hiccup began to feel a little awkward. “So uh, h-how should we do this?”

“Take your shirt off.” Astrid told him, watching as he hesitantly removed the crimson fabric, as well as his boot. “Prosthetic too.” The last command earned her a wary look before he dutifully removed the metal leg and set it against the side of his bed. “Now lay down.”

Hiccup shuffled down until he was lying on his back, wondering what Astrid had planned for them. He watched as she fussed with the blanket until it was covering both of them, before rolling over and laying so she was half-on top of him, her head resting on his chest. Smiling down at her his gaze lingered on her back and the Night Fury emblazoned on her skin. Slipping his arm beneath her he had thought to rest his hand on her back but suddenly realised how terrible that would be. “Would uh, would it be okay if my hand was on your-uh…backside, Milady?”

Astrid chuckled at how sweet he was for requesting permission once more. “Very much okay, Babe.” The blonde replied, shifting closer to share his warmth as his hand very carefully shifted to rest on the very base of her spine on the swell of her backside. “And Hiccup? I love you too.”

Reaching down, Hiccup tilted her head so he could kiss her one last time. “I can’t wait to wake up to this.” He muttered reverently, the idea of one day being able to do this on a regular basis was everything he’d ever dreamed of, plus dragons. One by one the candles blew out, Toothless no doubt snuffing the flames out before settling down on his stone slab, the fire downstairs built high enough to keep the hut warm all night. Closing his eyes the young dragon rider finally drifted off, a smile still plastered on his face.

#awreckageofstars #enjoy!

[imagine-loki]

Winter’s Hearts

TITLE: Winter’s Hearts CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 25/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being Loki’s old friend/Lover in Asgard, but you left for Earth a long time ago. For all he knows, you might be dead, but you’re still alive and you’ve been working with SHIELD and/or the Avengers. RATING: T (so far) NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3: Click here

    Loki shot Thor a hopeful look. You tried to keep the same hopeful look off of your own face. You were so happy to be home, though, that you were sure you were failing. Thor glanced between the two of you and his blatantly hopeful mother. He couldn’t resist three pair of puppy-dog eyes. “We can stay for one day,” he emphasized that last part. “Our friends will already be missing us,” he reminded you. “We did not tell them we were leaving.” You weren’t entirely convinced they would care that you and Loki weren’t there.

    “Fine,” you and Loki both sighed while Frigga lit up in delight.

    “Kyrie, darling. Your mother wished to see you in the practice courts this morning if you were staying for the day,” Frigga told you, touching your arm to make sure she had your attention. You flinched and jerked back away from her automatically, panicked and terrified until you remembered where you were. Frigga looked so hurt and you felt terrible for it.

    You flushed, embarrassed, wings fluttering in distress. Damn things always gave away your emotions. “Apologies, Queen Mother. My time on Midgard has made me a little jumpy…” That was true, but not really an explanation. She nodded, though gentle and kind as usual. You could see the concern she was trying to hide. “If you’ll excuse me, I should see what my Lady Mother requires of me.” Frigga nodded and you stood, trying to ignore the sorrowed expression in her eyes. You offered her a bow, nodded at Thor, and kissed Loki. “Try to stay out of trouble while I’m gone. Call me if you need me,”

    He rolled his eyes. “Kyrie, love, even I cannot get into mischief while I am spending the morning with my Lady Mother,” he reminded you.

    You grinned at him. “Which is the only reason I’m not putting another tracking glyph on you, your highness,” you teased. He huffed and rolled his eyes even more dramatically. “It’s no fair you get to have tea and chocolate cake with your Lady Mother and I have to have my a-” you changed your word quickly with a glance at Frigga “backside handed to me by mine,” Loki was laughing as you used magic to change into your armor and headed to the practice courts.

    “Was Midgard really so hard on her to make her that jumpy? She acted as though I would harm her,” Frigga’s voice asked her sons with sorrow in her tone.

    “Because she is half-Jotun, she mortals cannot touch her skin without being severely frostbitten or worse. Until she found us again, no one had been table to touch her bare skin for 900 years without dying,” Loki explained sadly. “She still jumps occasionally when I touch her without warning and gets that same panicked terrified look expecting that she has harmed me…”

    “Poor dear,” Frigga’s reply sounded heartbroken.

    You quickened your pace to the practice courts.

    “Daughter!” your mother greeted you brightly as you stepped out to the Valkyrie’s practice court. You smiled and went to her. “Was there trouble?” she asked, looking at your wings after you’d hugged her.

    “Oh, one of the court ladies made a nuisance of herself and upset my charge. She’s been dealt with,” you flapped your wings once and vanished them. “And Loki likes the wings,” you added sheepishly, which is why you tended to forget to vanish them when you didn’t need them.

    “Of course he does. Come, let’s see what you still remember,” your mother bid you with a mischievous smile. You sighed, steeled yourself, and stepped into the practice circle to get your ass handed to you.

    *

    You did better than you had expected. You’d kept up with training while you were exiled so your skills hadn’t deteriorated. Your mother actually told you that she was proud of you and that you were fit to be the prince’s Valkyrie. High praise indeed.

    That didn’t mean she and the other Valkyrie didn’t thoroughly hand your ass to you while they were testing you, and of course the ever-present humility lesson. So you were a limping bruise as you made your way back to the family wing, desperate for bruise balm and a hot bath. Your feet automatically went to Loki’s suite.

    “Lohk?” you asked as you walked in the never-locked door of the suite and stepped into the sitting room.

    “In here,” he called from the bedroom.

    “Do you have any bruise balm or do I have to go steal some from Thor? Mine would have expired a good 900 years ago,” you asked as you followed his voice. You smirked when you saw him. He was trying to read and dress for court at the same time. The book was floating on air in front of him while he was buttoning his pants, no shirt, and his hair falling into his face. You sighed at the familiar scene and ripped the book out of the air and vanished it.

    “Hey!” he protested, glaring at you.

    “Finish getting ready for whatever court function you’re trying to dress for and I’ll give the book back,” you told him just as you had so many times before. He grumbled at you, but didn’t argue. “Bruise balm?” you asked. He nodded toward the bathroom.

    “Where it always lives,” he replied. You kissed his cheek and limped your way into the bathroom. “Kyrie, what happened?” he asked, taking in your state now that he was over you stealing his book.

    You huffed. “Mother decided that she needed to test my skills,” you told him as you dug through the cabinet in the bathroom for the jar of bruise balm. “Then she and the rest of the Valkyrie on the palace grounds this morning decided to hand my ass to me,” you grumbled as you sat on his bed and opened the jar to start applying the goop to your many bruises.

    “Why in Valhalla would they do that?” Loki asked and took the jar from you to work on the bruises you couldn’t reach.

    “Because they needed to make sure I’m still worthy to be your Valkyrie after 900 years of exile. And then to make me remember to be humble after I’d proven myself,” you explained. His cold fingers rubbed the sore muscles of you back as he worked. “Mother actually gave me a compliment,”

    “That’s impressive indeed,” he told you warmly. “Mother had decided to have a full feast tonight because of our visit,” he added.

 ��  “Of course she did,” you replied with a sigh. You were much more interested in a nice quiet evening with Loki than with entertaining the court, but you had a duty, which was even more important now that you and Loki were engaged. “Need an escort for whatever court thing you’re supposed to be going to?”

    “If you don’t mind. It’s not a function where it’s mandatory…” he trailed off.

    “Lohk, it’s no big deal for me to come with you. It’s my job, and your right as a prince,” you reminded him, wondering where this sudden shyness came from.

    He sighed. “Kyrie. I didn’t know what I was missing at the time, but I’ve had to get used to 900 years of not having-” he hesitated.

    “Not having a Valkyrie?” you asked and he nodded. “You didn’t think you deserved the honor,”

    “Why do you know me so well?” he grumbled, but laughed.

    “Because your mother is a very intelligent lady,” you replied, making him laugh harder. “Lohk, you’re a prince of Asgard. You have always deserved the honor of having a Valkyrie at your side. It’s time to remind the people of that, since they have obviously bruised you by forgetting.” You stood, stretched, and used magic to make sure your clothes and hair were in order, as well as clean from your workout earlier.

    “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Loki asked as he stood too, magic shimmering around him so he was dressed in court clothes. You handed him his book back when he was dressed and he laughed.

    “Loved me from the time we were infants,” you replied with a grin and kissed him.

    “You are incorrigible, my love,” he told you warmly and led the two of you from his suite. You walked beside him to whatever the court function was, you hadn’t bothered asking, and saw his relief and saw the strength he was taking from having you at his side again to face the court together.

    The court function was a mages’ council meeting. Loki and Frigga were both there and both took seats at the head of the table. You took your place standing just behind his chair, guard and advisor. The rest of the council looked surprised by your presence, but just gave you polite nods and small bows as they took their seats. The meeting was long and boring over a piece of legislature. You could see Loki losing his temper over the council being stupid. Frigga was letting him run the council session on his own. He would take over as head court magician someday, so the council needed to get used to him leading the meetings.

    You leaned down to whisper in his ear. Loki looked over at you when you moved and you caught the hint of gratitude in his eyes that you had a suggestion. “They should agree to a compromise,” you told him while the council watched on nervously, wondering what you were up to. “Agree to the lower taxation rate for a decade, but tie it to the condition that they increase the apprenticeship program. The crown can afford the lesser taxes from the mages and the young mages in the realm will be guaranteed training no matter their social status.” It had been a dream project of Loki’s for years to have all of the children with the capability for magic be taught to use it.

    “Wise as ever, Lady Valkyrie,” Loki told you warmly. He turned his attention back to the council and relayed your compromise to them. They all looked shocked, not expecting him to agree to the lesser taxes, and were quick to agree to expand the apprenticeship program in exchange.

    Frigga watched the proceedings and you saw the bright, proud expression in her eyes at how you’d both handled the council. “Very well done, darlings,” she told you after the council had left. “Impressively handled indeed,”

    “Thank you, Mother,” Loki replied, immensely proud at the praise, especially from Frigga. “And thank you, Kyrie, I never would have thought of that on my own,” he told you and kissed your cheek.

    “You would have. It was just a matter of thinking of it before your temper got the better of you,” you told him warmly.

    Frigga smiled warmly at you both. “You two always did work well together. I know you will be formidable against anything that dares try to stand in your way, and I believe the council just got a taste of that today,” she told you with a mischievous smirk of her own.

    *

    Dinner that night was a huge affair. Everyone was dressed in their formal best. There was way too much food, way too much ale and mead, and way too many people you had to entertain. But your engagement was officially announced so you had to stand and accept the toast in your honor.

    But after dinner, the tables were shoved back against the walls and the dancing began. You and Loki danced the night away. You hadn’t danced properly in years, but your body remembered the steps. You laughed in delight as you spun through the fast dances, twirling effortlessly from partner to partner, until you ended up back in Loki’s arms at the end.

    Loki had done nothing but gain grace and fluidity over the years and you saw it during one of the complex traditional court dances, when the less experienced dancers stepped off the floor for a break. You and Loki stayed. You were a bit nervous, you hadn’t danced the complex dance in years, but Loki’s smile was reassuring and infectious. It was no more difficult than the combat drills.

    The dance started simply enough. You curtsied to Loki while he bowed, you stood and stepped together, your right arms raised, touching as you spun slowly, watching his eyes, his strong muscled shoulders for the change in moves. The dance sped, sensual movements as you glided around the room. Most of the court stopped to stare. Your eyes were only for Loki, most of your attention on your feet and the steps, though trusting him to lead. You nearly floated together across the floor in perfect sync. You watched his shoulders, the muscles of his chest, you watched his eyes, and saw his undiluted joy. You were in the middle of the room when the dance ended and he kissed you deeply, even while you were both breathing heavily from the effort of the complex dance.

    The court roared in applause, but more important was the joy of your Loki

    *

    It was late indeed when you finally escaped to your beds… or more accurately to pass out together in Loki’s bed. You both giggled like silly teenagers when you spotted the alcove hidden behind the statue of Yggdrasil and neither of you could help ducking into that alcove for a few stolen kisses. A couple of maids came past the alcove and you both ducked behind the statue to hide, even though you were adults and had absolutely nothing to hide about a few kisses. Old habits died hard.

    “Aren’t you two a little old to be making out in alcoves behind statues?” Thor’s voice boomed, laughter in his voice.

    You both reached a hand around the statue to flip him off without breaking your kiss. Thor laughed, grabbed your hands and dragged you out from behind the statue. “Come along children. Bed. We leave for Midgard at dawn,”

    “Thor~” you both pouted. He huffed and dragged you both by the wrist to your suites and chucked you both inside Loki’s.

    “Go to sleep troublesome mischief makers,” he growled at you, but you heard the laughter in his tone too. He’d missed the old relationship the three of you had had growing up.

    “Pfft, he throws us in your suite together and expects us to sleep?” you asked Loki loudly enough that Thor had to have heard from the other side.

    “My brother is an idiot,” Loki reminded you and in the next moment his arms were tightly wrapped around you and his lips were pressed to yours.

    “LALALA I don’t want to know what my baby brother is up to!” Thor shouted through the door, realizing his mistake. He’d meant to just chuck you two somewhere where you’d at least be quietly troublesome out of the way. Now he had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what you’d be up to and he did not want to know about it.

    “Go away Thor!” you both shouted at Thor through the door.

    “I will come get you at dawn. You better be dressed!” he growled back before he stormed off.

    You laughed at Thor’s absurdity before returning to your previous activity of thoroughly kissing your Loki. That was a much more preferable activity to dealing with your Loki’s oaf of a brother. Much more preferable.

#Loki #Lover #Imagine #Submitted fic #submission #nekoamamori #winter's hearts #chapter 25 #love #asgard #dead #aline #S.H.I.E.L.D. #avengers #ecstatic #replationship #midgardian

[argyle-s]

THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME CHAPTER 22/38

Rating: Mature

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

Supergirl talks to the press, Maggie interviews a suspect, Kara babysits Carter, Lucy seeks some advice, and Cat offers someone a job at CatCo.

Note:  For those of you who might have missed it, I’ve started posting twice a week until this story is finished.  If you only read the chapter last Saturday, you might have missed Wednesday’s post of Chapter 21 - A Distant Early Warning.  The events of this chapter won’t make a lot of sense without that chapter, so make sure you’re up to date first.

Thanks to @ifourmindbeso for her great work as a beta. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

Chapter 22 –  The Back and Forth

“And in late-breaking news this morning, an arrest has been made in connection with yesterday’s bombing of a research lab in building fourteen of the Winslow Research Park. Sources close to the NCPD have indicated that the suspect in custody is a former employee at the lab. While details are still sketchy, what is known is that Supergirl was on the scene yesterday and managed to disarm two bombs, before flying a third one out of the building just moments before it exploded, and while the Girl of Steel was seen flying away from the scene of the bombing shortly after the explosion, she hasn’t been seen since, leaving some to speculate that the superhero was injured during the explosion. Reporting live from Police Headquarters in downtown National City, this is Tawny Young for CatCo News.”

Kara rolled her eyes as the report wrapped up and the story switched to a segment on the National City Valkyries getting trounced by the Gateway City Amazons. Much as she might like to take the time to watch the report and ogle the unreasonably attractive goalie for Gateway City’s women’s soccer team, it looked like it was time to do a little spin control, so she pulled up the Supergirl twitter account.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@TawnyYoung Not hurt, just doing laundry. Anyone know how to get out bomb stains?

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl Cold Club Soda for Semtex, Hand Wash in warm water and Woolite for C4. Gasoline or dynamite, throw it out

Lois Lane @LoisLane 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl Listen to @VickiVale young Padawan. She speaks much wisdom.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@LoisLane @VickiVale What about mad scientist grade super explosives?

Lois Lane @LoisLane 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl unless @VickiVale has some wisdom I don’t, ask your cousin, because I don’t think Perry White will let you expense the super suit.

Perry White @PerryWhite 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl @VickiVale I would not. Try @CatGrant. @LoisLane, meet me in my office. We need to discuss your expense account.

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

@LoisLane BUSTED! @supergirlzorel​

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl No. @PerryWhite I can loan you some thumb screws for @LoisLane @VickiVale Drinks tonight?

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

@CatGrant I don’t know. Will @SupergirlZorEl get jealous?

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@VickiVale what @SupergirlZorEl doesn’t know won’t hurt us.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@VickiVale I trust you. @CatGrant twitter is less private than you seem to think.

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl shouldn’t you be out saving kittens while @VickiVale and I chat?

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@CatGrant check @CatCoNews Feed. Dealt with a fire, a bank robbery, and 2 wrecks while you were scheduling Martinis. Can @VickiVale do that?

CatCo News @CatCoNews 17 Nov 2015

@CatCo @VickiVale @SupergirlZorEl A fire, a bank robbery, 2 wrecks and carried an old lady’s groceries to the car.

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

@CatGrant @SupergirlZorEl I cannot. Except for the groceries. I could do that.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@CatGrant @VickiVale I win!

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl If you say so. I’m still the one having drinks with @CatGrant in Metropolis tonight.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@CatGrant I take back what I said. @VickiVale seems kind of shady. Best not risk it.

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl of course @VickiVale is shady. She’s from Gotham. I’ll take my chances.

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl I feel like I should be insulted, but @CatGrant is right. Everyone from Gotham is shady.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

I don’t know @VickiVale @BruceWayne seemed nice. Didn’t he @CatGrant ?

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

Okay @SupergirlZorEl that’s a fair point. @BruceWayne is the one non-shady person in Gotham. Right @CatGrant ?

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@VickiVale I am not sure if @BruceWayne is a saint, or a mad man, or both, but @SupergirlZorEl is right, he’s always unfailingly nice.

Vicki Vale @VickiVale 17 Nov 2015

@CatGrant leaving aside @SupergirlZorEl ‘s opinion, the Forbes interview points to the mad man theory.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@VickiVale What’s wrong with the Forbes interview? @CatGrant didn’t @PenelopeWayne seem nice?

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl kittens. Saving. Now. @VickiVale see why I need a drink?

CatCo News @CatCoNews 17 Nov 2015

Supergirl spotted delivering a box of abandoned kittens to the Nations Bay Animal Shelter. @CatGrant

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@CatCoNews I still sign your paycheck.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

Now, @CatGrant be nice.

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl I can only be nice to one person a day. Today’s @VickiVale’s day.

Supergirl @SupergirlZorEl 17 Nov 2015

@CatGrant how’s tomorrow looking for me?

Cat Grant @CatGrant 17 Nov 2015

@SupergirlZorEl that depends on how late @VickiVale and I stay at the bar tonight.

Maggie walked through the door of the interrogation room where Ethan Knox had been waiting for them for the past hour and took the seat opposite him, laying a thin folder on the table. He didn’t look up, just kept staring down at the table looking slouched and defeated. She understood. They’d been going round and round since eight o’clock the night before.

This time was different though. Alex had gotten back from the DEO office about forty-five minutes ago, with an impressive amount of documentation of the money trail for the Knox girl’s medical bills. It was nowhere near enough to arrest Maxwell Lord, but it was enough to get the ADA to offer a plea deal if Knox fingered Lord. The paper trail, plus Knox’s testimony, would be enough to get warrants, which would be enough to put Lord behind bars for a very, very long time.

“How you doing, Ethan?” Maggie asked. Start easy. They’d been at this for sixteen hours, on and off, and Maggie had been soft balling it the whole time, but it was time for hard ball.

“I’m tired,” he said. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“The truth,” Maggie said.

He looked up, and she almost felt sorry for him, because the man looked absolutely broken.

“I told you the truth,” he said.

Maggie nodded. “Part of the truth. I need all of it.”

“I haven’t got anything else to tell you.”

Maggie leaned back in the chair. “Ethan, do you want to know where I was for the last hour?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I just want to go to sleep.”

“You should care,” Maggie said. “Because I’ve been out there talking to the DA. I’ve been out there, pleading your case. Ask… begging her, to let me cut you a deal. Took me an hour to get her to say yes.”

“I don’t want a deal.”

“Yes you do, Ethan. And I’ll tell you why. You got a little girl-“

“You leave my daughter out of this!” he said, leaning forward suddenly.

Maggie didn’t flinch. “I can’t do that, Ethan,” she said, as she reached out, and flipped open the folder, showing him a picture of his daughter she’d printed from his facebook page. “I can’t leave her out of this, because she’s what this is all about.”

He shook his head, looking down at the picture. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Yes, she does,” Maggie said. “I’m going tell you what I think happened, Ethan. And I want you to think really, really hard. I can’t stop you from going to jail. You walking out of here a free man isn’t on the table. You planted bombs. But, what I can do, is tell the judge that six months ago, your little girl, the light of your life, was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I can tell the judge that you were refused family leave and fired after you missed work taking your baby girl to get treated. I can tell the judge how your insurance was cancelled, and how you were afraid your baby girl was going to die. Then, I can tell the judge about the man who came to you, who offered to help your little girl. I can tell him that this man offered to pay for your daughter’s medical care, and all you had to do was plant a couple of bombs. No one was supposed to get hurt.

“If I tell the judge that, Ethan, you’ll go to prison right here in National City. Your little girl can come visit you, and if you don’t get in trouble inside, in five years, you’ll be home, taking care of your family.”

Maggie leaned forward, looking Ethan in the eye. “Now, ask me what happens if you don’t tell the truth?”

Ethan’s eyes lifted from the picture.

“If you don’t tell me the truth, Ethan, I can’t help you. If you don’t tell me the truth, that DA is going to charge you with terrorism. You’re going to go to a federal prison. A Super-Max federal prison in Colorado called ADX Florence. As a terrorist. You will have no human contact. You will receive no letters. You will spend the rest of your natural life in an eight-foot-by-nine-foot room. You will only leave that room for one hour a day. You will never see your wife or your daughter again.”

“But she’ll be alive,” Ethan said.

“You know, you have a guardian angel,” Maggie said. This was it. The moment she lobbed the fast ball.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Your daughter is gonna be home in a few days. She’s gonna be home, and she’s going to be completely healthy.”

“What? How?”

“Supergirl,” Maggie said. “She found out why you did this, and she made a couple of calls. Sometime in the next few days, your daughter, along with every other kid in that cancer ward, is going to get a Kryptonian drug that cures cancer.” Maggie leaned forward. “She’s going to get that drug whether you talk or not, and she isn’t gonna have to worry about cancer ever again, because Supergirl is not going to hold the life of a little girl hostage. Not like the man you’re lying to protect. The question is, Ethan, do you ever want to see your daughter again?”

“What do you want to know?” Ethan asked.

“Everything,” Maggie said, “but start with his name.”

Kara glanced down at her phone and smiled when she saw Alex’s name on it. She picked it up and leaned back in her chair, watching as Winn sat typing away on his computer, doing Rao only knew what. She hit the accept button and raised the phone to her ear.

“Hey Alex,” she said.

“He cracked,” Alex replied.

“Finally,” Kara said. “That only took what, fourteen hours?”

“Sixteen,” Alex said. “But you should have seen Maggie. Once we had the deal cut with the DA, she broke him in about ten minutes. It was beautiful.”

“I’ll bet,” Kara said. “So, you going to arrest Max?”

“Not yet,” Alex said. “We’re waiting for the warrants to come through. Once we have the warrants, we’ll be able to tear Lord Tech, and Maxwell Lord’s entire life, apart. The TSA and the Mayor have already agreed to shut down the Train tonight. If we find even a tenth of what I think we will, Max is going to jail for a very long time.”

“That’s terrific!” Kara said. “I’d offer to come help with the arrest, but I’ve got to babysit.”

“Have fun with that,” Alex said.

“I will,” Kara said.

Kara smiled as she watched Carter and the other students come out of the school. Parents walked up and spoke with the woman who was checking students out. Some students headed for the waiting busses, but Kara took her time, waiting at the back of the line. She wasn’t surprised at all when the phone rang. She just hit the answer button and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hello Ms. Grant,” she said.

“How’s Carter? Does he miss his mom?” Cat asked.

“I’ll ask him in a minute Ms. Grant. I’m at the back of the line.”

“Why? Did you get there late?” Cat asked.

“No. I was talking to my sister when the bell rang.”

“Well, as long as you didn’t forget.”

“Of course not, Ms. Grant,” Kara said, smiling as she remembered how the day went in the original timeline where she’d done just that. “I’ll have Carter call you from the car.”

“Okay. Take care of my boy.”

“I will,” Kara said, and hung up. She waited patiently until the last of the parents were gone, and it was just her, the attendant from the school, and Carter.

“Hi,” she said. “Ms. Grant put me on the list. I’m Kara Danvers.”

“Hello, Ms. Danvers,” she said, holding out a clip board. “I just need a signature.”

“Of course,” Kara said. She sighed the form quickly and handed it back.

“There,” the attendant said. “He’s all yours. Have fun, Carter.”

Kara turned to Carter, smiling at him. “Hey, I’m Kara,” she said. “You remember me from your mom’s office?”

Carter nodded.

“You’ve grown since the last time I saw you,” she said. Carter didn’t respond. “How was school?” Carter shrugged, and Kara grinned. “This is a really good school. I’m surprised they haven’t taught you guys to speak out loud yet.”

That got the same laugh in this timeline as it had in the other, and Kara felt a small weight lift. It seemed like things would be okay.

“You know, I really liked school. Learning all sorts of things.” She leaned down, and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Don’t tell your mom, but me and my sister were both huge nerds.”

Carter laughed at that and smiled up.

“Mom says it’s okay to be a nerd. She says if you can face your fears and come out of your shell… nerds can win, in the end.”

Kara nodded. “That does sound like something your mom, who slips Star Wars jokes into article titles, and has the Imperial March and the theme from The Terminator as ring tones, might say about nerds.” Carter’s face split into a huge grin, and Kara straightened up and nodded back towards the parking area. “Come on. We’ve got to go into the office for a bit longer today, but I don’t think you’ll mind too much.”

From TMZ.com

Vicki Vale and Supergirl Fight a Twitter War over Cat Grant!

11/17/2015 1:45 PM PST

Gotham’s most famous reporter and National City’s own Girl of Steel got into a heated twitter exchange this morning over who would get to spend time with Cat Grant.

By the end of the exchange, it looked like a solid victory for the Gotham reporter. No word yet on what this will mean for Superhero/Press relations in National City, or for the future of Gotham’s favorite reporter and the National City Media Mogul.

The real surprise here, however, is Vicki Vale. While Cat’s long and sordid dating history has fluttered back and forth between both ends of the Kinsey Scale, and Supergirl was seen filling her dance card with the likes of Bruce Wayne, Lois Lane’s younger sister, and Cat Grant herself at a media event last Friday, Vale, has never shown any signs of enjoying the fairer sex’s company before. In fact, Vale’s only previous high-profile love interest was none other than Billionaire Playboy Bruce Wayne himself.

Seems like Vale and the Maid of Might could be picking through each other’s sloppy seconds.

Kara led Carter off the elevator on the forty-second floor, and gave a quick wave to Padme, Laura, Wilma, Marcus and Winn. “Hey, guys. This is Carter Grant.”

Winn, and the DEO agents all gave a quick wave from their desks, and there was a brief chorus of “Hi’s” and “Hello’s” as they all greeted him.

“Carter, I’d like you to meet the Supergirl Social Media Team,” Kara said.

Carter looked up at her, excitement written all over his face. “Supergirl? Really?”

Kara nodded. “Yes. Padme over there is responsible for tracking any social media traffic that mentions Supergirl, so we know if there are any trends we need to respond to.” Kara didn’t mention that Padme’s job largely consisted of reviewing prescreened material from Konex, before deciding if she needed to pass it on to Kara for a response, and working with Konex to make sure no one could track Kara’s movements back to her apartment, the DEO, or CatCo. “Laura is our business liaison. She actually talks to Facebook, Google, YouTube, Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr about Supergirl’s accounts, and handles media requests. And Wilma and Marcus take the raw footage Supergirl sends over and edit together her YouTube videos, and Winn over there is our IT guy. He runs the Krypton Remembered website.”

Carter looked around at all of them like Christmas had come early. “You guys all know Supergirl?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Kara said. “She doesn’t spend a lot of time here, but she drops by from time to time. Come on. Let’s get you settled.” She led him over to a spare desk she’d had set up just for this purpose when she’d had the contractors build out the floor. It was tucked back in a small alcove, close enough to Kara’s office, which set in the same spot as Cat’s two floors down, that Kara could keep an eye on him, but hidden from the rest of the floor, and with a clear shot to Cat’s private elevator, just in case.

“I got your Steam and Origin Passwords from your mom and had Winn download and install your entire Library in your user profile,” she said. “I’m pretty sure Winn’s down for some Plants vs. Zombies: Garden Warfare or some Star Wars Battlefront, if you want.”

Carter sat down at the desk and looked up at her shyly. “That’s cool, but… do you think Supergirl will be here today?”

Kara smiled at him. “Yeah,” Kara said. “I’ve got a meeting in a little bit, so Wilma and Winn are going to keep an eye on you, but Supergirl’s supposed to drop off some stuff for us today. I’m sure she’d have a minute to say hello.”

“Really?” Carter asked.

Kara nodded. “Really.”

“Kara?” another voice said.

Kara turned around, surprised to find Lucy standing there, a slightly flustered look on her face. She frowned, because she’d remembered running into Lucy the first time she lived this day, but she was sure it had been in Noonan’s. She held up a finger, indicating to Lucy that she needed a moment, then she turned back to Carter. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay,” Carter said.

Kara give Lucy a wave, indicating that she should follow as Kara headed into her office. She stopped at the glass doors, waiting until Lucy was inside then swinging the doors closed.

Kara’s office, in the same spot at Cat’s was two floors down, was laid out on the same model, but Kara disliked the fishbowl design of Cat’s, so while the front wall and door did have windows in them, the windows were covered with vertical blinds, which she drew. Then she turned around and dropped down on one of the comfortable sofas on either side of the coffee table, choosing to sit next to Lucy, instead of across from her. Unlike Cat’s office, Kara had opted for a warm color scheme. The walls were a warm orange shade that the contractor had called Terracotta. The carpet was a reddish tan, and the sofas were an off white with gold brocade pattern. It was the same color scheme as her room on Krypton, and just walking into the room usually set her nerves at ease, but it wasn’t having the same effect on Lucy. She was clearly upset about something.

“Is everything okay?” Kara asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just…” Lucy stopped and took a deep breath, finally looking Kara in the eye. “Is it okay if I say no?”

“Of course,” Kara said. She reached out, offering Lucy her hand. Lucy looked down at it for a moment, and Kara could see the confusion on Lucy’s face turn into surprise, and then gratitude as she reached out and took the offered hand. “How can I help.”

Lucy looked up at Kara’s face again and smiled for the first time since she’d gotten Kara’s attention. “You have no idea how long it’s been since someone has asked me that.”

“Well, then, people aren’t treating you the way they should,” Kara said. “Do I need to bust some heads? I’m really good at that.”

Lucy laughed, which brought a smile to Kara’s face. “No,” she said. “I appreciate the offer, but no one is really to blame. I just… I wanted to thank you, for what you tried to do.”

Kara shook her head. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean telling me who you are. Going out of your way to respect my feelings for James. Your cousin never did that.”

“James is being an idiot, isn’t he?” Kara asked.

“No,” Lucy said. “You just made me realize that it isn’t going to work out.”

Kara frowned and tilted her head slightly in confusion. “I don’t understand. I was trying to help, Lucy. I know you love James. I can see it every time you look at him.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said, nodding as tears started welling up in her eyes. “Yeah, I do. But he doesn’t love me. He likes me. He maybe loves the idea of me. But even now, even when I know about you, he still won’t let me in.” She reached up and wiped a tear off her face. “I tried. To talk to him about all of this, to get to understand, but he doesn’t want to share. Not with me. And it made me realize that it would never work, because no matter how much I want to be a part of his life, he just doesn’t want me there.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Kara said, letting go of her hand and reached up, pulling her into a hug. “I am so, so sorry.” She held onto Lucy for a moment, but a sinking feeling settled into her gut, and she pulled back.

“Lucy, when did you talk to James?” she asked.

“Last night,” Lucy said. “I’m supposed to go back to Metropolis… Kara, what is it?”

Kara reached up and pushed her glasses up so she could pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. God, I am so sorry.” She let out a sigh as she looked up at Lucy again. “I did exactly what I was trying *not* to do.”

“Kara, what are you talking about?”

“There are things I can’t tell you,” Kara said as she took Lucy’s hand again. “It’s not because I don’t trust you. I do. I know that sounds weird. We’ve only known each other a few days, but honestly, I would trust you with my life. But… You’re a soldier. You understand that sometimes information has to be compartmentalized.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said. “Yeah, of course.”

“I read James and a couple of other people into a big piece of information yesterday, Lucy. Well, more than one. I can’t tell you what it is, because you’d have a duty to report it to your superiors, at which point, any hope of containment is out the window. This is the kind of information that people would kill for.”

“I’d ask what could be that bad, but after working with my father for so long, I don’t want to know,” Lucy said.

“If you talked to James last night, and he was reluctant to talk, it’s probably just because he’s processing new information. Look, Lucy, maybe you can give it another try.”

Lucy shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve tried so many times, and I appreciate what you’re doing, even if it is for James, but-“

“It’s not,” Kara said. “It’s not for James. This is for you. I like James. He’s wonderful and supportive, and brave, but Lucy, you’re every bit as amazing as James is. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life with regrets. If you and James can have a life together and be happy, *you* deserve that. And if you can’t, you deserve to know that too.”

“You know, you’re pretty amazing yourself,” Lucy said.

Kara shrugged and lifted her face towards the ceiling in a dramatic gesture. “It’s my burden,” she said. “Go on. Go talk to James.”

“Okay,” Lucy said. “But, first, give me your phone.”

“Why?”

Lucy laughed and rolled her eyes. “For someone so charming, you sure have a hard time recognizing when a girl is trying to give you her digits.”

Kara landed on the public balcony on the forty-second floor of the CatCo building carrying a large binder, and immediately pulled open the door to let her into the floor. All six people immediately looked up at the sound, but there was one slightly strangled gasp from over by her office, and she had to fight not to smile.

“Ms. Danvers?” she called out.

“She’s not here,” Wilma replied. “She should be back in a few minutes, unless her meeting runs long.”

“Oh. Well, I brought back the list of proposed merchandise marked with the approvals.”

“Just leave it on her desk,” Wilma replied.

Kara nodded. “Okay,” she said backing towards her office. She turned around to find Carter standing next to his desk. “Oh… Hello.”

“Uh… Hi,” Carter said. A moment later, he started to blush furiously, and Kara could tell he was kicking himself.

She stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Supergirl… but you probably already know that,” she said, looking up and bouncing her head from side to side. She looked back down at him. “I mean, this makes it hard not to guess,” she said, gesturing to the El coat of arms. “And coming in through the balcony is a bit of a giveaway too.”

Carter laughed, and the blush faded, replaced by a smile. “The cape is a dead giveaway,” he said.

Kara looked back over her right shoulder, then over her left, before turning and bending down, asking Carter in a conspiratorial voice, “Do you think it’s too much?” she asked. “I wonder sometimes. I had an alien grab me by it and throw me through a wall during one of my first fights.”

“Really?” Carter asked.

“Yeah,” Kara said, nodding. “She said, ‘You might wanna rethink the cape’.” Kara had dropped her voice a bit when imitating Astra. “Then she grabbed it and flung me through a concrete wall.”

Carter’s eyes got wide. “Did it hurt?” he asked.

Kara waved her hand. “Nah. Concrete walls are really soft. Concrete floors though, those hurt.”

“Because the concrete won’t compress if there’s dirt under it?”

Kara smiled. “Exactly! Wow. You’re smart. I guess that explains why you’re working here when you’re so young.”

“Oh, I don’t work here. I’m just here with Kara until she gets off work.”

“Are you a friend of hers?”

“No. I mean… Well, I don’t really know her that well, but she’s really nice. But she’s taking care of me while my mom’s in Metropolis.”

“Oh! You’re Ms. Grant’s son.”

“She told you about me?”

“No, we didn’t really talk much about her,” Kara said. “But I saw a picture of you and her on her wall. I didn’t recognize you because you’ve grown a bit.”

“Yeah,” he said. “That picture was taken two years ago. I’m Carter, by the way.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Carter Grant,” she said. “But I have to get going.”

“Okay.”

Kara grinned and winked at Carter, then used a bit of her super-speed to zip into her office, and set the binder on her desk, before zipping back out again. She was just kicking off the balcony when his “Wow!” hit her ears.

KPJT Channel 3 Evening News

Richard Gardener Reporting

"And in late-breaking news this evening, another arrest has been made in connection with yesterday's bombing of a research lab in building fourteen of the Winslow Research Park. While no one at the NCPD is speaking about the matter on the record, CatCo News has exclusive footage of Maxwell Lord being led out of his lab in hand cuffs by Detective Maggie Sawyer, the same Detective who was scene commander at yesterday's bombing. Detective Sawyer was later seen escorting Lord into Police headquarters, and sources say the DA's office is currently working with federal prosecutors to bring charges against Lord, not just for this incident, but for a number of others based on evidence obtained in a search of Lord's home and office earlier today.  For KPJT Evening News, I'm Richard Gardener."

Cat shook her head and turned back to Vicki as the waiter set down a fresh round of drinks.

“What do you think?” Cat asked.

Vicki picked up her Manhattan and took a sip. “It’s a tempting offer, Cat. Head up a new investigative journalism division. I just don’t know about leaving Gotham.”

Cat took a sip of her own Martini. “Come on, Vale. Don’t play coy with me. You’re not twenty-five anymore and after what happened, I’d think you’d be itching to get out of Gotham.”

Vicki shrugged. “I’ve lived there a long time, Cat.”

“I’d lived in Metropolis a long time before I bought a run-down television station in National City,” Cat said. She sat down her drink and looked at Vicki. “You know John’s never going to put you back in the field again.”

Vicki sighed and nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

“He’s right, too,” Cat said. “After what Falcone did, it’s not safe.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” Vicki said.

“I don’t,” Cat replied. “I’d planned to offer the job to Snapper Carr.”

Vicki laughed. “Then why are we here, Cat?”

“Because every time I ask her to get me Snapper Carr’s number, my normally meek and obedient assistant suddenly develops selective amnesia, and the next morning, I find your, Lana Lang and Chloe Sullivan’s resumes on my desk, and I’d rather *not* hire someone who’s slept with Clark Kent.”

Vicki rolled her eyes. “I don’t think Chloe ever bagged that particular white whale. Though I admit, I came close a time or two. Grade A, corn fed, Kansas farm boy is good for the soul.”

“If wanting to sleep with Clark Kent were a crime, ninety percent of the women who’ve laid eyes on him would be locked up right now.”

“Not to mention at least ten percent of the men,” Vicki said. “I think Bruce might have tried to tap that at one point.”

Cat picked up her Martini and downed the entire thing in one go, before setting the glass down with a bit more force than necessary. “I did not need that mental image.”

“Oh, but it’s soooo pretty,” Vicki said, finishing her Manhattan, and waving for another round.

“Yes, well, once upon a time, I would have enjoyed it with you. Sadly, when Clark’s insanely perky cousin works as your assistant, it kind of spoils the fun. I can feel her judging me, all the way from National City.”

“Since when do you let anyone judge you, Cat?” Vicki said as the waiter came over, carrying more alcohol. “Wait… Oh, no. No! Not Cat Grant!”

Cat glared as Vicki’s face lit up in absolute delight. “I take it back. You can’t have the job,” she said.

“Oh, no. It’s too late. I am definitely taking the job. I’ve got to see this girl.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Vicki,” Cat said.

“Uh huh,” Vicki said, picking up her Manhattan.

“She’s barely twenty-five years old,” Cat growled.

“Well, now I definitely have to see her.”

“I hate you,” Cat said.

Vicki just shook her head. “If that were true, you would have slept with Bruce that night.”

Cat shrugged. “If you hadn’t had your head so far up your ass you can see your own teeth, you would know Bruce wasn’t the one I wanted to take back to my room.”

“Yeah, well, jealousy makes us all stupid sometimes, Cat.”

“And here I thought it was the heterosexuality,” Cat said.

“That too,” Vicki laughed.

“Considering the job I’m offering you, I hope you’ve gotten over that,” Cat said.

“What, the stupidity, or the heterosexuality?” Vicki asked.

“Preferably both, but I’ll settle for the stupidity,” Cat said.

“Well, I’ve definitely gotten over Bruce,” Vicki said.

“Everyone does eventually,” Cat said.

“Not Selina,” Vicki said.

“That’s got to hurt,” Cat said.

“Not as much as you’d think. If someone else wants to spend their life wondering when one of his stupid stunts is going to get him killed, they’re more than welcome to it. I’m not going to pretend that I won’t be a wreck when it finally happens, but I’ve managed to get enough distance that I don’t stay awake nights worrying about it anymore. Let Selina have that.”

“You’re going to take the job,” Cat said.

“Yeah,” Vicki said. “Of course, you knew that before you asked.”

“I don’t like to brag,” Cat said.

“Oh, come on, Cat. We both know that’s a lie.”

“True.”

“How soon do you want me to start?” Vicki asked.

“A month ago,” Cat said, “but until someone invents a time machine, I suppose I’ll have to settle for as soon as possible.”

“Monday then?” Vicki ask.

“That will do,” Cat replied. “Will John really let you go that fast?”

“John will help me pack,” Vicki said. “And honestly, the sooner I get out of Gotham, the happier everyone will be.”

#supergirl #supercat #supercanary #sanvers #fanfiction #the shape of things to come #kara danvers #alex danvers #cat grant #maggie sawyer #sara lance #j'onn j'onzz #susan vasquez #lois lane #clark kent #james olsen #winn schott jr. #future shock