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internalsealpanic · 2 years

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In Altercations Long and Fierce

summary: 4 times you fight the team plus 1 time you fight along side them. a/n: Listen, this is basically just me writing a bunch of fight scenes with a very thin plot stringing them together. I have no excuse but also I do not care. Happy birthday to me. warnings: blood, violence, flippant attitude towards canon and any existing timeline.

The swing is infinite.

The motion yawning until time snaps back into place with the sound of knuckles hitting bone. It wasn't a clean, intelligent spar. That notion had gone out the window the moment you'd feigned injury just to elbow Connor in the face then jam your knee into his groin.

You could take Connor.

Pound for pound.

What you had lacked in raw strength, you made up for with a certain feral quality that told Dick that you were a brawler by nature. The jagged cousin of grace singing in your corded muscles with every blow you two exchanged.

Your clasped hands smash down on the back of Connor's skull and the half-Kryptonian goes down with a resounding thud that rings throughout the team's bones. Connor grabs for your ankle, pulling at it to throw you off balance and possibly crush the bone underneath, but you retaliate by stomping the heel of your foot into the crown of his head. There's another sick wet sound ringing throughout the arena.

The fight, if you can still call it that, is all hard brutality. Your hand threads through Connor's hair, yanking him up and showing off his bloodied face to the braying crowds. With a flick of your wrist, you shift your grip. In the space of a breath, Connor's body is colliding with the impenetrable glass walls of the arena. His head lulls back, consciousness drifting out of reach.

The team holds its collective breath. What else could they do as you stand over their friend while they watch helplessly from their own containers? Dick could hear muffled shouts from the cases around him, the rhythmic pounding of a fist against glass, and a body hitting a surface over and over.

That all goes still though when you bear down menacingly on Connor, a knife sliding into your hand. But before your hand even gets comfortable around the hilt, a hand wraps around your wrist, raising it victoriously. Your shoulders relax. It's only visible to Dick because ... well, Batman training.

You glance furtively behind you and you release a relieved breath.

Dick makes a note.

Even if you turned out to be just another run-of-the-mill villain, that was interesting.

The trident in your hand swishes through the air, bright steel cutting an arc of light that looks like it could slice a man in half. Dick narrowly but gracefully dodges with the appropriate amount of flare as he cartwheels out of reach. For good measure, he throws a few bird-a-rangs which you swat away easily.

Artemis groans and Kaldur shouts at Dick to keep his distance.

Dick knows that and he keeps it in mind as he slides under your trident to close the gap between the two of you. The loud, wet squelch of Connor’s face against glass is still very fresh in everyone’s minds but the lack of proximity is necessary.

Why?

Because you see, Dick is running an experiment.

Is it based on previous quantifiable evidence?

No.

Is it safe?

No?

Is it at all advisable?

Bruce swears Dick is the reason he's getting gray hairs. It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he risks his life nightly and maybe has the worst choice in partners. Ok, Selina isn't that bad but Talia? B, really?

See, his theory is this: you're one of those people who probably got the wrong career test or something and some how winded up with henchman instead of, he doesn't know, pro-wrestler or something. He's very aware of how specific this is and how nonsensical it sounds. But he sort of figured after they assessed Connor's injuries. Nothing fatal. Just cosmetic. Sort of. Just something he could theoretically survive.

You put some distance between the two of you, jumping back, pivoting, then immediately redirect your attention to one of the metahumans on his team. Making short order of slamming the flat side of your trident against Wally’s stomach, slamming Wally to the ground.

The wood creaks from the force, the weapon splintering from the impact. Wally's on the floor wheezing and you take the opportunity to kick him into Kaldur who falls off-balance.

God, you really are graceful.

Dick shakes the thought out of his head and jumps back into the fray. The dance is chaotic, sprawling with frenetic as you maneuver your way out of their attack, sweeping and slamming the flat head of your trident against their bodies.

Inevitably, your weapon breaks. You hurl the head towards Artemis to pin her hand to the wall then slam your foot into Connor's face who still manages a punch that sends you careening to a wall.

You spit blood and draw yourself up. Your limbs coil, ready to lunge at Connor and return the favor when Dick takes the opening to block your path.

You freeze, catching the kick Dick aims at your side, grunting as you force it down.

You stare at him, human and so very confused. "Oh my god, no," you wince, "I'm not fighting a 10-year-old."

"I am 14," he protests, throwing another punch which is actually just a distraction to latch a (possibly explosive) bird-a-rang to your suit.

You catch his hand and wrench the device out of his hand. You squint at it then at him. "Go home, kid," you sigh and toss the bird-a-rang behind you. You really just called him kid even though you are literally only a year or two older than him.

Dick shifts his posture, tilting his head to the side. "You literally beat a two-year-old in a cage match." Confusion ripples across your features. You look around at them then back at him for clarification. Dick shrugs. "Superboy is technically less than two years old but we round it up to make him feel better."

And huh.

Horror unfurls on your face as your eyes flicker to Connor. Dick takes the opportunity to land a hit on your sternum. You don't block it but you grab the side of his neck and toss him towards them. M'gann is nice enough to catch him.

You and Dick stare back at each other, your face etched with horror. Dick, well, he's positively delighted.

Hypothesis proven.

The plan had gone sideways.

To be fair, he wasn't exactly expecting it to go smoothly but he wasn't exactly expecting it to turn into this.

No matter, this isn't Dick's first hostage situation. It's not even his first time as the hostage. He'll just take comfort in the fact that your plan had gone just as sideways as theirs. That's fair, right?

"Wild seeing you here," Dick says. It engenders a look of mild irritation on your face but there's a familiarity there if not some weird, twisted fondness.

"It's not all that wild," you huff, tightening your arm around him.

Well, that's true. Kind of.

Crush, Wally's voice taunts in the back of Dick's head. Interest, Dick always corrects mildly because he knows if he puts any real heat into it Wally would just tease him more. I mean no matter what tone Dick takes Wally is still on his case about it because Dick keeps volunteering to fight you. And well, ok, it looks like that but that's not it. Not really. He just knows you. Well, he knows your type.

It's not a bat thing.

It's ... normal to feel familiar with someone who almost biweekly throws you around like a rag-doll but yanno, does it gently because as Dick had discovered, rather quickly, you preferred not to hurt people excessively. No more than you were required, at least.

That little revelation had left Dick bright, sparkling, and positively evil.

He just honestly thinks you've got potential.

Seriously.

You take a tentative step back as the team closes in on the both of you. M'gann is already phasing through the floor and Wally crouches ready to snatch him away from you the second your grip loosens.

"Could you at least look a little scared?"

Dick glances back at you, feeling you consciously fight the urge to wring his neck. "Why would I do that?"

"Worst hostage ever", you mutter too quietly. He only hears it because you're right by his ear. Now, he has to fight down the urge to laugh.

You hiss and click your teeth. "I'll let you go as soon as your teammates stop following me, yeah?"

Dick glances at you again. Not worried. At all. "They’re following because they care," he says, drawing out the last syllable. You do a good job of not reacting to that, not rolling your eyes at him and curling your lips. Dick is both impressed and unhappy. "You know you could have tied them up more tightly."

You wince. An expletive is mumbled and well, Dick can't contain his laughter.

You hiss again and cover his mouth. "Your friends can fly, right?"

Dick's answer is muffled by your hand.

In an instant, you pitch him off the side and make a break for it.

As you run, you glance back and you and Dick make eye contact as M’gann catches him.

You let out a relieved breath.

Dick crouches low, avoiding the spinning kick and using the momentum, he concentrates his center of gravity forward and shoves the heel of his palm against your chest. The thump of the impact is loud and palpable. It feels exactly like hitting at post after miscalculating the trajectory of your grappling hook. Your limbs go ice electric cold. Your vision goes white from pain and your hearing rings.

You go down hard, your head replete with freeze frames of the fight. Where you could have aimed a kick, what angle you could have landed a punch when you could have just driven Dick's face into a wall.

Whoever this new Nightwing character is, he packs a punch, you think, picking yourself back up and letting out a shuddering gasp.

Dick winces a little. He may have gotten carried away. An apology burns on the back of Dick's throat but then, you clutch your chest and lower into another fighting stance, shaking the pain out of your body. His tongue prickles with the taste of exhilaration. His entire body thrums with excitement.

You put your hands up in a boxer's stance, rolling your shoulders. Dick perks up. He licks his lips in anticipation and mirrors your posture.

You make a slow stride to the side, circling him. It's strange. It's cautious but not the same kind of careful he's used to. You've always treated him like a nuisance before but this caution is for a threat. That's ... surprising. Maybe it's the new suit.

"You look a little traught, (Y/n)."

Your shoulders drop. "The fuck?" You breathe. You squint at him and your face opens up piece by piece with the realization. "Robin?" Your eyes flicker to search his face and you hiss another expletive. You look him up and down for any sign of robin-ness. Now that you look, you can see it.

It's the same smarmy little bastard but taller? This fucking brat.

Dick makes the first move, throwing wingdings your way.

You duck and weave, launching yourself at him.

"The hell?" You hiss, elbowing him. Your face is flushing something awful right now. You can feel it.

"The heck do you mean the hell?" He says catching you by the wrist.

You scowl at him and grab his shoulder, using it as leverage to pull yourself up and wrap your legs around his neck. "I thought you were dead."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dick asks, falling back to try and shake you off.

You tighten your thighs around his neck in response. "Fuck, buddy, everyone thought you were dead. They thought I did it. Jesus." There’s a little bit of heat behind the words, almost enough to cover the strange sense of relief you feel.

Dick hears you rambling on but he can't quite bring himself to pay attention. He's ... Well, he's a little distracted. He swears it's by the lack of oxygen and not the fact that he's between your thighs. Fuck, they're very firm though. Dick's face flushes under the domino.

Wally may have been on to something.

It's a little embarrassing when Dick passes out, his vision blotchy and his limbs numb.

You huff, feeling him go limp between your legs, slapping him lightly to check. He could be playing dead or he could actually be dead and you have no fucking clue which would present more problems. You have time to mull it over as you drag him away to somewhere safe and hidden from your colleagues.

When you crouch over him, you smile a little. It's fond and soft and fleeting. You wipe it off the moment you hear someone approaching.

"Welcome back, birdy."

+1:

It's a flurry of limbs and steel, blood and the bitter taste of adrenaline. Deathstroke smashes the hilt of his sword into the side of your head and does it with such force that it sends you careening through a stack of crates containing God knows what and into the concrete wall. The sound of your skull crashing into the hard surface piercing through the air.

"It's not the time to throw a fucking tantrum, kid," Deathstroke says, sheathing the blade.

You turn your head blearily to the kids huddled at the far end of the port. They look so small. The twisting pain in your chest overcomes the possibly serious concussion you have and you spit your reply, in a jagged collection of syllables.

You draw yourself up and crouch low, ready to fight. Flexing your right hand, you wince feeling the dull throb of fire-scorched skin on your right hand. This wasn't how you'd planned your grand betrayal. It wasn't honestly supposed to be a grandstanding sort of even but maybe Robin— Nightwing— Dick Fucking Grayson has rubbed off on you.

Deathstroke clucks his tongue and rolls his shoulders. Shoulders tensing, you feel your fight-or-flight instincts go into overdrive but it only takes a second glance to your side, your eyes catching on the bruises on the kid's faces and hell, now you've really screwed the pooch.

Wiping the blood off your lip, you grin wolfish at the man. "C'mon old man, you didn't think I'd play lackey forever, did you?" You sweep low, the motion beautifully smooth but Slade knows how you operate so he knees in the face. He grabs you by the hair and slams your face to the ground.

The pain comes in waves, overwhelming your neurons. It's tempting to pass out from it. Fuck that. You grab for one of the knives strapped to his leg, driving it into his arm right where the nerve should be.

He draws back with a gasp and you fall to the floor with a laugh. It's wet and sticky from the blood in your mouth but it feels so much like a release.

You brush your hair back and brandish your carnivorous smile, none of that acrid fear on the back of your tongue showing on your face. You can see it irks him maybe even more than the fact you've just inconvenienced him by damaging a nerve. Good.

You scowl and the kids seem to get the hint because they book it somewhere else, maybe somewhere a certain terrible influence is. There's a voice in the back of your head that reminds you that you've never won a fight with Deathstroke. There is no chance in hell you're leaving this fight alive.

Well, you think, at least there's no chance he is leaving this fight with his dignity intact. His dignity for your life? Seems like a fair enough bargain given the situation.

His dignity and the kids' futures, a voice, so very Grayson-like, whispers in the back of your head. You make a disgusted snort. On the off chance, you make it out of this alive, you're going to kill him.

The next few seconds are a blur of movement. Falling back on instinct as you fight down the urge to run. You throw all your weight into your blows but it still feels distinctly like punching concrete. Just like always, you fight raw. You are teeth and fire and blood as you scrape together whatever semblance of fight you have left.

The old man is having more trouble than he's willing to admit. You land blows in quick succession and pull dirty tricks you've learned from friend, foe, and people in between. There is nothing more dangerous than someone with nothing left to lose.

Still, it's not enough.

You're tired from taking down the others and your head is still spinning from the concussion. Both you and Slade can see that. You both know how this fight is going to end.

Dick has a different point of view though.

Dick enters by landing a perfectly executed flying kick to the side of Slade's face.

Naturally.

There's a look of awe on your face and Dick, the showman that he is, can't help but wink at. You dart your eyes away from his face. If Dick were less inclined to memorize your gestures, he would have dismissed it as you simply refocusing on Slade but he is inclined and the smugness that wells up in him is golden.

Months of flirting with you and goading reactions was in fact worth it just to see those little signs of returned affection.

"I hope you don't mind me cutting in," Dick chirps.

You let out an incredulous breath but you smile at him. See, Dick isn't one for puppy love (lies) but that small smile sends him up the air. "Missed me?" He asks, the giddiness pulsing through him loosening his tongue.

"Sure," you say, shaking your head. You turn your attention back to Slade who looks livid but briefly you glance at Dick. "This is all your fault by the way." But before Dick can wring a clarification out of you, you launch yourself at Slade.

Dick huffs, running ahead of you. It occurs to you that you've never seen these two fight. Slade swings at him, his fist like lead, but Nightwing dodges beautifully, an impressive arc of his body into a backflip that he uses to kick the underside of Slade's jaw.

You slide underneath the whole thing and make a grab for one of his other knives. The old man hadn't been stupid enough to leave one of them embedded in your body. He's old but not senile.

Unfortunately for him, you're not stupid either.

You stab him in the side then withdraw the blade, kicking his back once Dick is out of the way. *If* you had the energy, you would gut him just to slow him down. It's not like it would kill him. Still, you're running low and even with Dick's help, you know you need to end this quickly.

You regroup and Dick flicks his eyes towards the crumbling ceiling a few meters away. That would work. Dick slips you one of his wingdings. You take his hands, spinning and flinging Dick towards Slade.

This wasn't the best plan. Admittedly, it was a terrible plan but it's all you had at the moment.

Dick lands flawlessly on Slade's face, using it as a springboard for a flip that lands his heel on top of the man’s head.

There's a tiny bit of hope in you, springing from how much of a joy Nightwing is to witness in a fight.

But there are too many unknowns and too few knowns.

It really was a stupid plan. It relied on Slade being stupid and he certainly isn't that. He sees what you two are going for, lowering his center of gravity and raising his sword above his head. Dick is still midkick, careening towards the path of the blade. What you do next comes to you in quick snapshots.

Your pivot, pushing the full weight of your body forward, knocking Slade out of his stance.

Cold metal tears through flesh. Hot, searing pain cleaves through your shoulder as you both fall to the concrete floor. Tears. Your eyes are leaking from the pain of it. No time for that. You scramble to get up and pin him down, the blade still sawing through your flesh. Your expression as you look down at him is manic with fear. Looks like you were gonna end up dead after all. Good effort, Nightwing, you think.

Slade grabs your face and slams it to the ground. He pushes himself up ready for the killing blow when Dick steps behind him, electrified escrima sticks pressed to Slade's temple.

There's a loud thud near you and in your splotchy vision, you think you see Slade go down.

Huh.

You won.

"What the actual fuck, Wing?"

You side-eye Dick 'they'll be fine with it' Grayson. He ignores you in favor of trying to salvage the situation. You wish him the best of luck because Tigress is not having any of it. It’s impressive that she has a rebuttal for every single one of Dick’s bullshit. Must have had a lot of practice.

You look blearily at the team of heroes surrounding you and wonder how it took them this long to notice you.

“We can trust her.” “Wing, for the last time, we can’t trust her and we absolutely can’t take her with us back to HQ.”

For the last time.

You are now confused, lost in the middle of a conversation you'd just stumbled upon even though you feel like you'd been part of it longer. That. It's a strange, invasive feeling that makes you irritable and that wasn't ideal when you had multiple flavors of discomfort already whirling around in your head.

“Well, we can’t just leave her to the Light,” Dick bites out.

You reach out and brush your hand lightly on Dick's gauntleted hand. The movement causes everyone to shift into a defensive stance including Dick who steps just a little in front of you. "Dick, it's ok, I get it. I'll just mosey on."

Your face is scuffed up and the skin of your right hand is singed. You can't see it but you can feel the blood leaking down your arm soaking into the fabric of your uniform. It's fine. It's fine. You just very badly want to pass out in a room that isn't a cell. That's all you need.

Everyone stares at you.

You shrink a little under the weight of their attention.

"You know his secret identity and haven't shared it with anyone else?" Connor asks slowly with a brow pitched up almost to his hairline.

There's a tickle of memory there, a vague recollection that it was supposed to be a something. What’s the word? "Yeah," you pause, trying to figure out why this was suddenly so important. "I've known for a little bit..." You give up on trying to guess. "Uh, anyway I can go ..."

There is a palpable shift in the air.

"You're injured," M'gann says slowly, the first to lower her defenses. The others follow suit, still weary but not ready to attack. You tense with the change in the atmosphere but Dick being in your corner puts you a little at ease.

"I'm serious. It's fine. I can—"

"What," Dick says sharply, "are you gonna call an Uber from 10 thousand feet over the Atlantic?"

You wrap your arm around yourself in a gesture that is too vulnerable not to look like you're hugging yourself.

"When we land then," you amend, "I'll—" What can you do? You've just betrayed the biggest crime organization in the world with no plan for the fallout whatsoever. You're scared but you can't find yourself regretting it. Not when you're so sure the kids you rescued are going somewhere safe. "I have a few safe houses," you lie. You try to wrack your brain for any country to disappear to. The concussion is making that very difficult.

"You have one in Bludhaven, right?" Dick suggests, very pointedly.

You nod.

"That's settled," he says, clapping his hand on your shoulder. "If you'll excuse us, (Y/n) is still very much bleeding."

He drags you off to the medbay before anyone can formulate any reasonable argument against it.

You shift uncomfortably like the ground beneath your feet would collapse and given you're on an alien ship the assertion isn't wrong. The sheer discomfort you display in a place Dick would consider safe, and oh God is that rare, feels so wrong.

"Safe houses, huh?"

You wince. "I was a little overwhelmed," you sigh. The heat of embarrassment flourishes over your body.

Dick snorts, "Let's get you whelmed then, yeah?"

"Weirdo," you mutter under your breath but you take the hint and sit down.

It surprises Dick that you don't fight him on treating your wounds like you usually do. Maybe, he reasons, you've had enough fighting for today. What does surprise him is that you know exactly what to do before he instructs you to do it.

"You know how to do this?" He prompts but really he's asking, "Has this happened before?"

"Not him. I—" Breathe. "— Don't worry about it. It's the cost of training ..." You shrink a little knowing how that sounds but you know following it up with "It's ok. My healing factor always keeps me from dying" would only start another argument. A very long, very stale argument that you two have had before.

He was Robin back then. It was weird getting lectured by someone a foot shorter than you.

The conversation turns to silence because neither of you know what to say to make things ok. Not at the moment. You fix your gaze on the door and soak it up.

"I have some safe houses in Bludhaven you can stay in," Dick says, bandaging up your hand. He squeezes your wrist gently to assure you this is a genuine offer.

Your throat is tight. You glance towards him, not his face but more his chest. "You know if I turn out to be what they think I am, you're shit out of luck."

He does this easy one-shouldered shrug. "Lucky, you're not then."

You make an exasperated noise in the back of your throat. "God, you're an idiot."

"Say that to my face," he says and the grin in his voice is so clear and crisp that you feel just a little bit of petty energy flow into your veins. Getting in his personal space, your foreheads pressed together and your lips barely touching. "You're—"

Well, Dick tried.

He really did. He swears by that. Maybe he didn't try that hard but he tried. He leans in, closing the gap, his lips touching yours, taking in the heat of your skin before quickly pulling away.

You gape at him, tripping over thoughts that come too fast for your mouth to shape them into words.

He can't wipe the grin stretching from ear to ear off his face. That time, he can admit, he didn't actually try at all.

"You were saying?"

You bluster and protest about a concussion. Dick is listening but he is definitely glowing in his smugness. "About those safe houses."

You gape at his nonchalance but you're tired and you have never in your life won an argument against Dick. "Fine. Only for a few weeks. Just til I get my feet under me again."

"Alright," he flicks his gaze towards you, "You know they would trust you more if you told them you were our informant."

Your face falls a little. Right. You forgot about that card. You hitch your working shoulder. "Need to know basis."

"Like my name?"

"How do they know I wasn't just calling you a dick?"

Dick hums a little. "You would do that huh."

You smile again. It's that little thing that only lives in the corner of your lips because stretching it more might make it break. "You know me so well."

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson imagie #Young Justice #yj

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Physical Fatality Part 13- Icarus

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warning for very slight suicidal themes this fic has a happy ending I swear

Masterlist

Agony.

Losing you is agony.

Endeavor is lecturing him for pulling the stunt with Bakugo earlier that day but he can’t hear or really process any of it when all he can think about is the fact you’ve blocked his number and seem to want nothing to do with him. He vaguely registers words of “I told you so” and “I warned you” and even a word or two about a demotion but none of it matters. Hawks doesn’t know how to do anything but be a hero. It’s been the driving force behind a lot of the choices he’s made in your relationship and he knows it’s the same for you, but that doesn’t make any of this easier.

“You’re going to have to work really hard to earn my trust back Hawks and the trust of your coworkers,” Endeavor warns. “Understood,” Hawks replies, his voice almost detached. It seems to disconcert Endeavor, the other man being far more accustomed to the snarky Hawks persona than the serious man in front of him now. “Hawks, uhm, do you,” Endeavor stutters suddenly unsure. He coughs to cover his discomfort and clears his throat before resuming. “Do you need to talk about what happened between you and Artemis?” he finally manages to ask. He looks so deeply uncomfortable potentially talking about the subject and his discomfort only grows when Hawks continues to give him nothing back. “That won’t be necessary,” Hawks replies before turning and walking out of the office. If Hawks doesn’t know how to live without hero work, Keigo doesn’t know how to live without you. So his only option is to abandon Keigo until the pain stops.

He can’t have slept more than a handful of hours that night but he still wakes up early the next morning to run an extra patrol before his normally scheduled one. He files paperwork, even revisits old cases, all in a bid to keep you off his mind. Of course it’s not enough to stop his coworkers from whispering. Typically he ignores the gossip of the lower ranking heroes but it’s hard when he knows they’re speculating about you and him. It certainly doesn’t help that your break up was so public and now it feels like nearly all of Japan has watched the video of it happening. Hawks used to be the darling of Endeavor’s agency, beloved by all of his coworkers. Now he’s practically a pariah.

His new outcast status is only made more obvious at the cocktail party later that day. He’d wanted to skip it entirely, the fact you were supposed to be his plus one to the event made it all the more unappealing, but he’s already skating on thin ice and had no legitimate excuse to justify his absence. So instead he watches the other heroes talk and drink and laugh about things while he hides in the corner, too exhausted and heartbroken to put up the persona necessary to maintain conversation. No one seems to ask about him anyway or even care what he thinks despite the fact it’s his personal life that’s become the hottest topic in all of Japan. He wonders if this is how Icarus felt as he plummeted to the earth. Hawks had flown too close to your light and warmth and now he’s fallen from grace. He wonders if it’s true that Icarus laughed as he fell. If so he can empathize. As painful as this fall is, he would live it over and over if it meant he could catch even a glimpse of you again.

When Shoto comes to join him it’s literally the first genuine interaction he’s had all day. “You look like shit,” Shoto comments by way of greeting. “Thanks. Feel like it too,” Hawks replies. He doesn’t have to pretend with Shoto and for that he’s grateful. “Are you ok?” Shoto asks. “Even though I’ve always hated these things I was always so good at them,” Hawks starts in response. “I’d talk, drink, laugh just like everyone’s doing, be the center of attention, play the part of the charming number two hero. And look at me now. I’m so fucking anxious about what they’ll say about me, about her, about us and what happened that I can’t have a proper fucking conversation. I used to be on fire and now I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be and I’m just fading away. Without her I’m fading away. I’m just as pathetic as she said,” Keigo confesses and it’s a weight off but it also makes the hollow space behind his ribs where you used to live feel all the more prominent. “This right here is kind of pathetic,” Shoto starts, earning him a shocked almost laugh from the other man, “but you are not pathetic Hawks. I think (y/n) knows that, she’s just hurting. Rightfully so. The bullshit with the others in the agency will get better too.” “I don’t know about that one.” “You’re not the only one who’s done dumb or bad shit. Not by a long shot.” “Really?” “You know Iida?” Shoto asks, pointing to the man in question as he obliviously continues his conversation with one of the others present. “Yea. Your year at UA, stickler for the rules. What about him?” Hawks asks. “He chose his internship our first year with the sole intention of trying to hunt down and kill Stain to avenge his brother.” “Really? That guy?” “Yep. My dad isn’t so innocent either: quirk marriage, child abuse, oh the stories I could tell you.” “Jesus Christ.” “Exactly. Everyone has their own shit Hawks. This will pass and hopefully you and (y/n) can find your ways back to each other when it does.”

Shortly after Todoroki finishes speaking his phone rings and he frowns down in confusion when he notices it’s Bakugo calling him. “I didn’t think we had task force business today,” Shoto says as he answers the phone. “We don’t. Is Hawks there with you?” Bakugo asks, his tone betraying his worry. “Yea he is.” “Shit.” “What’s going on Bakugo?” “It’s about (y/n),” Bakugo admits and Shoto’s eyes widen. He casts a look at Hawks before finally deciding to drag the other man with him to an empty office on the floor they’re currently on. He locks the door behind them and then pops his phone on speaker. “Ok you’re on speaker with me and Hawks what’s going on with (y/n)?” Shoto asks, his voice remaining calm. “All Might fired her last night so she was supposed to come in this morning and collect her stuff except instead she pretty much just threw everything away. I came back to patrol and found out she’d left Midoriya and I little gifts on our desk which was weird, so I hit up her roommates and apparently she never went home after she swung by here. I thought she and Hawks may have run off together but if he’s with you...” Bakugo explains. “Maybe she’s just clearing her head or something,” Shoto suggests. “No way. The whole of Japan is gossiping about her right now, the last thing she’d want is to be out in public,” Bakugo quickly refutes. “Was there anything else off about your desks? Drawers opened?” Hawks asks. “Maybe, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Why?” Bakugo asks. “Your task force notes still there?” Hawks asks in lieu of an answer. Hawks and Shoto wait with baited breath as they hear the sound of Bakugo moving around and then opening a desk drawer. “Nope, they’re gone,” Bakugo finally reports back. “Thought so. (Y/n) wouldn’t just roll over and kiss her career goodbye, she’s probably trying to take out the terrorist cell herself and use it as leverage to get her job back,” Hawks deduces. “Alone? That’s a suicide mission,” Shoto says. “Hence the gifts on the desks,” Hawks replies grimly. “Most of our notes are over there with you guys though,” Bakugo points out. As if on cue an alarm starts blaring overhead warning of an intruder. “That’s gotta be her,” Hawks says. “I’m on my way, hold her there so we can talk some sense into that idiot,” Bakugo tells them before promptly hanging up the phone.

Hawks has to give credit where credit is due. As foolhardy as your plan is, it’s incredibly well executed. As a former member of the guest list, you would’ve known everyone would be occupied with the cocktail party on one of the lower floors, far away from where the files you need are. The elevators will take forever with so many people trying to all get upstairs which only leaves the stairs, which are marginally better but still relatively slow. You must have spent most of the night planning this out. That thought fills Hawks with a certain amount of dread. You’re probably emotional and sleep deprived on your way to take on an entire villain group yourself all in a desperate bid to save your career. It almost sounds ludicrous. Yet, as Hawks races to the top floor in hopes of catching you, all he can think of is something you’d once told him during happier times, late at night as you two were wrapped up in each other:

“Honestly Kei? I’d rather die a hero than live long enough to prove those stupid reporters right about me.”

Author’s Note: Does this still count as a double update if I’m posting the second one after midnight 💀 anyway I can’t believe how quickly I was able to get this chapter out. The image of Hawks standing in the corner of a massive company party feeling like a shell of himself is actually a large part of what sold me on writing this fic for him. The song this chapter correlates to just felt so right for his character that I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. I thought about waiting to post this until later tomorrow today? but I’m ✨impatient✨ so instead y’all get it now

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

#hopelesspf #hawks #wing hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #cw suicide mention #tw suicide mention

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spacesuitsforemergency · 4 years

Text

I Hate Myself for Loving You

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You and Roy Harper hated each other, ever since you met. Who knew a dog and an 8 year old would make you realize your true feelings for him.

Pairing: Roy Harper x Barton! Reader

A/N: Scott and Clint’s friendship inspired by Paul Rudd and Jeremy Renners friendship. I’m really happy and proud of how this came out.

“I really don’t see the point in training with them again.” You mumble as your dad practically drags you down a hallway.

“It’s good exposure to others’ styles!” Your dad, the one and only Clint Barton, A.K.A the mighty Avenger Hawkeye, insists. “Besides, Oliver’s a great archer, and Roy and Artemis have different styles than you.”

“Roy and Artemis have sticks up their asses.” You roll your eyes.

“Be nice.” He scolds as you finally reach a large, metal door. “Use your manners, don’t kill anyone. And ask before you take any food.”

“Dad, that rules more directed at you.” You poke his chest.

“Nope, remember when we got invited to Wakanda last weekend?” He reminded.

“They really should put up a sign that says ‘reserved for royalty’.” You shrugged.

You tap your foot impatiently while your dad puts in the code, and it flashes red. He grins nervously at you and tries it again, punching the dial pad when it’s wrong again.

“Having technical difficulties, are we?” You tease him.

“No!” He pouts. “Ollie must’ve given me the wrong code. Let me call him, this will all be resolved.”

You lean against the wall and yawn as your dad talks to Oliver on the phone, then punches in another code. This time it lights up green, and you’re let in.

You follow your dad inside, peering around. You hadn’t been to this facility before, they had come to yours before now. It was a cave of some sorts, but definitely technologically advanced. You see a few heroes your age you recognized from the news, all still in their costumes. Your eyes land on Roy Harper, the most infuriating man on the face of the planet.

“Oh great. You again?” He sneers down at you.

You glare at him and start to charge at him, but your dad ruins your fun and grabs you. You try to pry him off and kick him, but he doesn’t budge. Roy gives you a smug grin that you wished you could wipe off of his stupid face, and you notice the other two archers next to him.

“Sorry about her.” Your dad laughs awkwardly. “She’s a little...aggressive today.”

“I am not aggressive!” You finally kick him in the shin and he drops you, clutching it in pain.

“You are so grounded for that!” Your dad snaps.

“Clint, nice to see you made it past the door.” Oliver chuckled. “And Y/N, please excuse Roy’s comment. He also has some...behavioral issues.” Oliver narrows his eyes at the boy.

“I was just saying.” He shrugs.

“Can we get on with this, please?” Artemis crossed her arms in annoyance from behind Oliver.

“Yes, we should. Follow us.” Oliver says.

Your dad and Oliver strike up conversation and start nerding out over...whatever. You didn’t pay attention, your focus fixated on Roy.

He was strutting ahead of you, head held high and that stupid smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes, glaring daggers at the back of his head.

“So what have you been up to?” Artemis asked you.

“Nothing much. I kicked Falcons ass last Friday though. That was fun.” You shrug.

“No way.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Um, yes way.” You playfully nudge her. “I’ve got in on video, I’ll show you after this torture session.”

“Are you two hens done clucking yet?” Roy asks, stopping at another room.

“Are you done being an asshat?” Artemis sassed back.

“Let’s watch the language, please?” Oliver sighs.

“What? I said hat.” She deadpans.

“Hawkeye and I will demonstrate, then how about we have a little competition?”

“Yeah, whichever one of you gets the most targets gets to...not run 50 laps!” Hawkeye announces.

“Well that’s stupid.” You scoff. “Don’t you know my stamina is not quite up to par lately?”

“Well maybe it would be if you woke up for training on time. Steve has been trying to tell you-“

“If the sun isn’t up, I’m not up.” You cross your arms.

“Oh, so you’re lazy as well as annoying?” Roy raised an eyebrow at you.

“I’m gonna-“ You lunge at him, but he ducks out of the way and you fall on your face.

“Ooh.” Everyone that saw that graceful move winced.

“Wow. So you’re lazy AND bad at aiming.” Roy tsked. “I don’t know if you understand the concept of an archer, but those are some essential attributes-WOAH!” He shrieks when you grab his ankle and tug him down. “Ouch!”

“That’s what you get for mouthing off again.” Oliver shakes his head as your dad pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Get up, losers. I’m ready to beat both of your asses.” Artemis hauls both of you up.

You and Roy glare at each other during the entire demonstration, not paying attention when the pro archers announce the rules and guidelines. You both race each other into the training room, and he growls when you beat him inside.

You bolt after each other as you jump through the course, shoving the other out of the way as you try to hit the target first. He laughs loudly when you miss the first one, then yelps when you shoot an arrow at him, grazing his hair.

“Hey, watch it! I just got it cut!” He whines as you shoot the target.

“Your precious hair is fine, I barely got it.” You rush ahead of him as he loads his bow, aiming for the target in front of you.

You quickly shot an arrow as his nearly hits the target, knocking it out of the way and hitting a bullseye. You turn to give him a cocky grin, yelling when he kicks you out from under your feet. He runs past you, but not before you grab his calf and bring him down with you once again.

“Idiots.” Artemis rolls her eyes as she stomps past the both of you, now wrestling each other on the floor.

You both watch with hopelessness as she hits the very last target, perfectly shooting the center. You groan and flop back down on the floor, dreading the laps you’d have to run. What was even worse, was that you had to run them with Roy. Stupid, arrogant, idiotic Roy Harper.

You had known the guy for exactly 3 weeks now, and you already hated him. You hated how he thought he was better than you. You hated how he smirked at you all smugly. You hated how he was actually really hot. He was buff and surprisingly a good shot. You will never say that though, his ego was clearly way too high for someone his height.

“Artemis, go treat yourself to some down time. You two ding dongs, get running!” Oliver shouts over to the two of you, still sprawled out on the ground.

Roy sighs as he gets up, and offers you a hand. You slap it away and get up yourself, and he raises his hands in surrender. You both get started on your laps, and on your 32nd one you’re about ready to pass out. You groan as you hold your head, feeling dizzy and faint.

“Can’t handle some light running?” Roy comes up behind you, grinning at first before he notices you’re sweating and your pupils are dilated. “Hey, are you okay?”

You respond by blacking out, and he quickly catches you in his arms. You drift in and out of consciousness as he yells for help, your dad and Dick Grayson rushing over to you. Your dad says something, but it’s echoey and indecipherable to you. Roy holds a water bottle to your mouth, helping you drink a few sips.

“...yo. Y/N, wake up.” Your dad lightly smacks your face. You blink a few times, slowly sitting up with Roy and Dicks help.

“That is the dumbest way to wake someone up.” You groan.

“You good?” He asked. “You didn’t drink enough water today, did you?”

“I had...some.” You mumble.

“Y/N!” He scolded.

“I got distracted!” You defend yourself. “It’s not my fault Lucky kept barking at me to take him for a walk!”

“You need to rehydrate yourself.” Dick says. “Your done with laps for the day.”

“Yes!” You grin as your dad helps you stand up. “Maybe I should be dehydrated more often.”

“No!” They all yell at you.

“Alright, Alright.” You mumble, trying to blink black spots out of your vision.

“I think we’re gonna head home.” Clint tells the others. “Thanks for helping her, Roy.”

“Sure.” He acted like it was nothing, but the voice in the back of his mind was telling him to worry and panic.

Roy watches as your dad leads you out of the cave, and he plops down onto the couch. He stared blankly at the tv, which was playing some horror movie Wally and Dick had put on.

He totally wasn’t worried about you at all! And he definitely didn’t freak out when he saw your eyes roll back in your head. His heart obviously didn’t drop when you passed out into his arms. He wasn’t concerned about your well being in the slightest. He hated you! You were annoying and you thought you were the better archer just because your dad was a famous Avenger.

“Dude, you good?”

“What?” His attention snapped back to reality, seeing Dick and Wally staring at him, Artemis, Megan and Kaldur snooping from the kitchen.

“Bro, what is wrong with you?” Wally laughed at him.

“Nothing!” Roy glared at his fellow red head.

“Your face is red, you’re sweating, and you’re bouncing your leg.” Dick blinked at him.

“He’s got the L word!” Wally sang, zipping over to Roy and slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“I don’t have time for this.” Artemis shook her head and left, Megan and Kaldur walking over.

“The L word?” Megan asked.

“Shut up, Wallace!” Roy hissed before he could even open his mouth.

“Dude, you’re crushing on Barton?” Dick snickered.

“Isn’t he a little old for you?” Megan asked.

“The other Barton.” Kaldur whispered to her.

“Ohhhh!” She said. “You guys didn’t know that?”

“You knew?” Wally asked.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dick asked.

“I do not have a crush on Y/N!” Roy stood up defensively. “You guys are stupid!”

“Roy and Y/N, sittin’ in a tree.” Wally sang, much to Roy’s annoyance.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Dick joined in, Kaldur chuckling and Megan just wondering what they were doing.

Roy rolled his eyes and stormed off, trying to block out their idiotic singing. He would deal with those punks later, but right now he had a lot of thinking to do.

•

“Wait, they’re coming here?” You trail behind your dad as he goes to the kitchen. “I thought only Uncle Scott and Cassie were gonna be here tonight!”

“Yes, for the football game, dear.” He sighs, patting your head teasingly. “I told you this last week. Now clean up the dog toys.”

“I get why Oliver’s coming, but why does Roy have to?” You complain, ignoring your dads order. “Can’t he watch it by himself? I would say with his friends but it’s hard to imagine he has any.”

“Y/N, he’s coming. And he’ll be here in 20 minutes, so pick up the damn toys.” He says, sternly this time.

You roll your eyes at him but oblige, picking up Lucky’s toys that he leaves everywhere. Once your done you rush to your room, making sure you look presentable.

Wait, why did you care? You hated Roy. He was an arrogant asshole, and a total dick. You hated how slick and charming he was, you hated his stupid smile and wanted to smack it off his face. His smile was dashing and gorgeous, but it made you furious. No, you didn’t really hate him. You hated how he made you feel. Vulnerable and...ew, giddy. You weren’t into all that lovey-dovey shit, no matter how many romcoms and chick flicks your father forced you to watch with him.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the doorbell ring, and you hear Cassie happily saying hi to Uncle Clint. You check your appearance one more time, before walking out.

“Y/N!” Cassie runs towards you and hugs your legs. “We brought chips and salsa!”

“You did?” You smile as you kneel down to hug her properly.

“Well, half a bag of chips and what’s left of Hope’s salsa.” Uncle Scott shrugs, holding said bag out of Lucky’s reach as he jumps up. “So I hear we’re meeting some fellow archers?”

“Yup, my friend Oliver and his old protege.” Your dad nods as he tosses Scott a can of beer, and tugs Lucky off of him. “And Y/N’s arch nemesis.”

“What’s an arch nemesis?” Cassie asked, her innocent eyes peering up at you.

“Nothing, Cass.” You ruffle her hair, and she just shrugs and wanders over to your dad. “Uncle Clint, do you have any paper? Daddy forgot it.”

“Of course we do, come on.” Your dad leads her to the laundry room, which is in the back of the kitchen.

You notice your Uncle Scott grinning at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. That was never a good sign.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing.” He takes a sip of beer.

“Scott...” you warn.

“You don’t actually hate this guy, do you?” He asks.

“No, I do.” You shake your head. “He’s inferior in every sense of the word.”

“Mmmmhmmmm.” He pursed his lips, that evil glint never leaving his eyes.

“Uncle Scott!”

“Fine! Okay, I’ll drop it.” He chuckled in amusement.

It’s silent for a few moments.

“Is he cute?”

“Scott!”

Then the doorbell rings, and dread washes over you. You suddenly get a little anxious, now nervous about how the night was gonna go. Your Uncle Scott goes to the living room and turns on the tv, peaking over the edge of the couch as you open the door.

“Wassup, man?” Your dad shouts from the kitchen.

“Wassup, dude?” Oliver walks past you, Roy awkwardly following behind.

You shut the door and begin the usual glaring match with Roy, but quickly drop it when your dad carries pizza boxes to the living room, Oliver behind him with soda, beer and chips. Lucky runs over when he smells new people, immediately jumping up on Roy in excitement. Roy lets the dog sniff his hands, but jumps back when he barks at him.

“Ha! Even the dog doesn’t like you!” You laugh at him.

“Oh, haha, very funny.” He says sarcastically as he nudges Lucky away from him with his foot.

“Lucky, come on, boy.” You giggle, taking pity on Roy and pulling your dog away from him, then pat his head. “Good boy, protect us from the scary man.”

“Wow, you’re just so funny tonight.” Roy says dryly, despite the grin on his face. He goes to join the guys on the couch, while you lead Cassie and Lucky to the dining room.

Your dining room is connected to the kitchen and entryway, giving you a view of the back of the couch and the tv. You listen to Cassie as she draws and tells you about her dads latest adventure. Your eyes keep drifting to Roy, even though you can only see the back of his head, and part of his face when he occasionally turns to talk.

“Who’s he?” Cassie whispers to you, even though they would never hear anything you said over their cheering, complaining and hollering.

“That’s Roy.” You tell her. “I work with him sometimes.”

“Is he your partner?” She asks. “Like Daddy and Hope?”

“Kind of, Yeah.” You nod. “Well, actually, exactly.”

“So is he your boyfriend?” She asks innocently, and you nearly choke on your soda.

“Um, I guess not exactly. No, he’s not my boyfriend.” You shake your head, clearing your throat of soda.

“Really? But you looked at him like Hope looks at my daddy.” She says.

“What? When?” You ask. You feel sort of ridiculous, defending yourself against an 8 year old, who barely understood the concept of love in the first place.

“At the door. When Lucky attacked him.” She giggled, reaching down to pet the dog, who’s laying under her chair and staring up at you to beg for food. “Hope looks at daddy like that all the time.”

“Does she, now?” You raise an eyebrow, tossing Lucky the rest of your pizza crust.

“Yup.” She nodded, turning back to her drawing.

You look back over to the guys, smiling in amusement when your dad and Oliver cheer, Roy and Uncle Scott groaning. Roy stands up, grabbing empty pizza boxes and soda cans. You quickly turn back to Cassie as he makes his way over, pretending to have been listening to her the whole time. Lucky growled as he got closer, but you ordered the dog to ‘stay’, and thankfully he did. You didn’t need to deal with your dog biting Roy or anything.

Roy tried not to look at you as he passes, he has to remain inconspicuous. He steals a few glances while he stuffs the pizza boxes into the trash, smiling softly as you laugh at one of Cassie’s stories. He’s surprised you’re so good with kids, since all he knows is your guys’ little rivalry attitudes. It’s actually really cute, your kind and gentle smile makes his heart skip a beat.

You look over at him when you realize he’s been standing there for a few more seconds than he needed to, making eye contact with him. It takes a moment for him to realize he had been caught, clearing his throat and quickly rushing back to the couch, keeping an eye on the growling retriever. You turn back to Cassie and you both giggle. Even the little 8 year old understood what just happened.

“What’s so funny, back there?” Scott turns around to see his daughter and non-biological niece grinning at the back of Roy’s head.

“Nothing.” You both sing, and you turn to signal Cassie to be quiet. You both giggle again when Scott stares at the two of you in confusion.

After the game is over you say goodbye to Cassie and Uncle Scott, then start to clean up. Your dad and Oliver are still chatting away, so it was looking like Roy would also be staying for awhile, since Ollie was his ride.

“Need help?” He asked after he got bored of listening to the two men talk about physics and shit.

“Uh, I guess.” You shrug as you pick up the drawings Cassie made, then gather all the blank paper. “Just grab the trash from the living room, I’ve got this covered.”

“Cool.” He nodded, before doing as you told.

You both clean everything up quickly, then it’s awkward silence again as your mentors blab on and on about arrows, coffee and hero business. Lucky is on the couch, watching the both of you over the back of it. It’s actually quite funny, his eyes fixed on Roy, which made him uncomfortable that a dog was giving him a death glare.

“We have a dart board and pool table in the basement.” You suggest after awhile. “Little competition?”

“Anything’s better than listening to the two grandpas over there talk about taxes.” He agrees.

“Hey! We are very interesting people!” Oliver snaps playfully.

“No killing each other! I’m not driving anyone to the hospital if you decide you throw a dart at the others face!” Your dad shouts as you lead Roy to the basement door.

“I promise!” You call over your shoulder as Lucky barrels over, running downstairs before you can grab him.

“Oh great.” Roy mumbles as you shut the door and take the lead. “Is your dog gonna jump me as soon as I get down there?”

“Lucky’s harmless, you big baby.” You tease, flicking the light on and seeing Lucky had claimed his spot on the couch.

Your basement was pretty big, you and your dad had turned it into, essentially, a man cave. You had a bigger tv down here, and a smaller couch. On the other side of the room there was a pool table and a display rack, where you kept bows and arrows that were either your dads old ones or collectibles. On the other side of the room there was a stereo system that lined the wall, which sat on top of shelves of CDs, vinyls, and mixtapes. The carpet was a hideous red, which your dad insisted looked good. Yeah, maybe in the olden days, pops. Lastly, across from the pool table was a dart board mounted to the wall, Robin Hood: Men in Tights posters on either side (which Scott has gotten as a joke).

“Dang, cool place.” Roy said as he looked around the large room.

“Thanks. It’s mostly my dads stuff from the 80s.” You say. “Y’know how adults are about that stuff.”

“Oh yeah.” He nods.

“Now, ready to get your ass beat?” You grin, picking up the box of darts.

You play 3 games of darts, to which he won and made fun of you over. You had started up the stereo, playing your dads 80s rock mixtape to fill the moments of silence. Then you began to play pool, making quips and laughing if the other missed.

You watched as he lined up his cue, lips pursing and eyes narrowing in concentration. You watch his muscles flex as he prepares, catching yourself totally checking him out. You blush to yourself, thankful he was too focused on beating you to notice.

“Yeah, good luck winning now.” He says cockily as he straightens back up, smirking down at you smugly.

“Thanks.” You flick his nose, before lining your cue up.

You carefully calculate how this will end, grinning when you find the perfect angle. You cheer in victory as you pot the 8 ball, winning the game. He throws down the cue, as you gloat to him. You drop the cue as if dropping a mic, singing that you won in his face.

“Alright, I get it.” He pouts, despite the amused smile making its way to his face.

“So who has the better aim? Who’s better than you? That’s right. Me.” You boast, playfully shoving his chest as Joan Jett starts singing from the stereo speakers.

“You know, you should learn when to shut up.” He growls under his breath.

“Excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow.

Your eyes widen when he pulls you forward, crashing his lips into yours. You stiffen at first, completely stunned. You quickly get over it though, grabbing the sides of his face to bring him farther down to you.

He backs you up, then taps the back of your thigh to silently signal you to jump. You hop up onto the pool table, making it so he doesn’t have to lean down so far to kiss you. One of his hands is tangled in your hair, the other squeezing your thigh as you wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands move from his face down his torso, your hands sliding up his shirt and pressing against his abs. You part your lips to deepen the kiss, both of your tongues fighting for dominance. You feel him smirk into the kiss when he wins, but you don’t feel the need to particularly care in the moment.

Suddenly he jerks back, and at first you think he changed his mind or you did something wrong. Then you see Lucky, who had woken up from his nap and seen what looked to him like Roy attacking you. He tugged at the hem of Roy’s jeans, effectively knocking him to the ground. You doubled over in laughter as your dog climbed on top of Roy, nipping at his arm, which he had held up to block his face.

“Are you just going to sit there or are you going to call off the hound?” He asks desperately, trying to push the large golden retriever off of him.

“Lucky! Lucky, down boy.” You wheeze from laughter, gesturing for the dog to come to you as you jump down from the pool table.

You continue to die of laughter as Lucky happily bounces over to you, Roy slowly getting up and brushing himself off. You pet your dog, laughing so hard you snort when Lucky growls at Roy.

“What is going on down there?” You hear Oliver shout down the steps.

“I told you no murdering each other!” Your dad reminds.

“I don’t think Lucky likes Roy!” You call up, trying to hold back your laughter, since your sides were starting to ache by now.

“Lucky! Come here, boy!” Your dad calls in his ‘puppy voice’. Lucky bolts up the stairs, probably hoping that meant more leftover pizza crusts.

“Roy! It’s time to go!” Oliver yells.

“I’ll be up in a minute!” Roy shouts to him, then turns to you.

“Are you okay?” You giggle at him.

“Fine.” He mumbles, making his way towards the stairs. “Uh, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” You nod, watching him head up the stairs. Then you rush after him and grab his hand. He turns back around and you tug him down by the collar of his shirt into another kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you so that your body was pressed against his.

“Roy!”

“I’m coming!” He breaks the kiss, yelling at his mentor, annoyance evident in his voice. He turns back to you, voice and expression softening. “How about I pick you up tomorrow? No interruptions.”

“Sounds great.” You smile up at him.

He gives you one last kiss, before going upstairs. You grin and giggle to yourself in happiness as soon as the door closes, then fall onto the couch. You grab your phone out of your pocket, excited to tell your Uncle Scott about the amazing night you just had, and the date confirmed for tomorrow.

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resident-normal-person · 4 years

Text

The Great Warriors & Olympian Gods

Zahard: Zeus; he’s the King.

Arie Hon: Artemis/Apollo; his family is said to have a brotherlike relationship with the Ari Family. Ares; he’s seemingly okay with his son Hoaquin becoming a demon and wreaking havoc.

Khun Eduan: Dionysus; he loves grapes and wine. Zeus; he uses thunder and ice and has alot of kids that he doesn’t pay attention to.

Ha Yurin: Ares; according to Yuri, she’s a pro at destroying things.

Tu Perie Tperie: Hermes; they were the first Light Bearer. Hephaestus; they’ve collaborated a lot with the Workshop.

Eurasia Blossom: Poseidon; she’s the most powerful Wave Controller of the Great Warriors. Demeter; she cared very much for her daughter, Eurasia Enne Zahard. Persephone(not an Olympian, I know, but hear me out); she has the appearance of a young child, has a first name and a sobriquet that relate to flowers.

Po Bidau Gustang: Athena; he founded the Research Association. Hephaestus; his family is strongly affiliated with the Workshop.

Hendo Lok Bloodmadder: Demeter; he kinda has lots of descendants to keep his lifespan. It’s like he sows seeds and lets them grow and they get “harvested” by the contract that gives him their lifespans.

Yeon Hana: Hestia; she uses flames and is said to be a virgin.

Ari Han: Artemis/Apollo; his family is said to have a brotherlike relationship with the Ari Family. Ares(with a twist); his family is pacifist.

Lo Po Bia Family Head: Artemis; he is the best Anima in the Tower.

Arlen Grace: Hera; was a love interest to the king actually got married to V. Aphrodite; she got along well with everyone.

V: Hades; because he’s dead(lol).

#tower of god #tog #king zahard #arie hon #khun eduan #ha yurin #tu perie tperie #eurasia blossom #po bidau gustang #hendo lok bloodmadder #yeon hana #ari han #lo po bia family head #arlen grace #v(tower of god)#great warriors(tower of god)#anyone wanna share their takes on this?#observations & inferences

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skyisover · 4 years

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it’s my life’s mission to get people into ghost since they’re my fave band so argue with me about these vibes:

daniil dankovsky - spirit

artemy burakh - from the pinnacle to the pit

clara - secular haze

andrey stamatin - zenith (the joke answer was kiss the go-goat but i’m not strong enough to say that honestly)

peter stamatin - pro memoria

grace - life eternal

bad grief - witch image

eva yan - mary on a cross

aglaya lilich - elizabeth

#i’ve gotten... at least five people into them thus far

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freethemages · 4 years

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DAI OC Tag

The wonderful @cerisiacos tagged me to do a sort of bio thing for my Inquisitor. :3 As I write this I am listening to the DAI soundtrack because of course

Name: Tristan Henry Trevelyan

Race and Class: Human Mage

Specialisation: Rift Mage. He likes to be competent in all forms of magic though and is a bit of a jack of all trades.

Age: 22 (at the Conclave) b. 10th Bloomingtide, 9:18 Dragon

Height: 6’0”

Family: Bann Arthur Trevelyan (father), Lady Philomena Trevelyan (mother) Arthur Lothias Trevelyan (brother, b. 9:12 Dragon), Asher David Trevelyan (brother, b. 9:13 Dragon), Lucille Catherine Trevelyan (sister, b. 9:16 Dragon)

Love Interest: Commander Cullen Rutherford

Personality/Traits: Kind and idealistic, bookish and impish, but fully capable of seriousness when he needs it. He wears his heart on his sleeve (except to his parents and brothers) and always tries to see the best in people, perhaps to a fault. A hopeless romantic, though before the conclave he never had a relationship. He was, however, rather promiscuous. He is bisexual. Protective of those who cannot protect themselves, feels immense responsibility. Dry sense of humour, witty and prone to sarcasm. May or may not me a way to guard himself. He is a fierce supporter of Mage rights, self-governance and freedom. And while for the most part his time at the Circle in Ostwick was comfortable, he still resents the institution.

Background: As the youngest child of Bann and Lady Trevelyan, Tristan was initially intended for the Templar Order, or at the very least, the Chantry. Fiercely close with his older sister Lucille, he was always a kind and sensitive boy. He didn’t get on particularly well with his brothers; they were very close in age and tended to have an heir of superiority about them. He loves them though, and they him. His father was/is a loving man, but often absent due to the commitments that came with his title- he liked to be very involved. His mother was less... attached to him. She was by no means hostile, though.

When Tristan’s magic manifested at age 11, everything changed. His brother Asher had him pinned to the ground and wouldn’t let him go. What had been a minor game of rough and tumble had suddenly got rather nasty. Tristan threw his brother half way across the lawn and into a tree with a burst of magical energy. He was fine, but it meant that Tristan could no longer stay with his family. He was sent to the Ostwick Circle of Magi. He remembers the sobs of Lucille when he was sent away very clearly to this day.

After some months, Tristan adjusted to circle life and proved to be a promising and capable student. He was far from an Enchanter’s dream apprentice, however. He had a proclivity for trouble; especially when he was protecting younger apprentices, as he so often felt the need to do. His friend Artemis was also a rather bad influence, when he came along.

As a noble, Tristan was afforded certain privileges, such as regular home visits, even as an Apprentice. His mother remained distant, more so than she used to be, on account of her superstitious fear of magic. Lucille remained his confidant, and she is to this day the only one with whom he maintains regular correspondence.

He often wonders at how different his life would have been had he not been a mage, and instead trained as a Templar. Despite what Thedas seems to say, he is very glad that his brother pushed too far that day.

Leadership Style and Preferences: fairness, mercy, punching upwards, pro-mage, peaceful where possible.

Favourite Companions (up to 3): Dorian Pavus, The Iron Bull, Varric Tethras

Least Favourite Companions (up to 3): Madame Vivienne De Fer

Mages or Templars?: Mages

Who Was Left In The Fade?: Warden Stroud

Who Rules Orlais?: Empress Celene and Briala

Favourite Advisor: Commander Cullen 😏 (excluding LI) Josephine, they’re close friends.

Hobbies: Chess, reading, arcane research, knife throwing, riding, caboodling with the noodle.

Familiar: Owl

Scars/Tattoos?: One scar, across his lowest left rib.

Favourite Flower: Crystal Grace

Favourite Stone Or Gem: Imperial Topaz (reminds him of Cullen)

Weaknesses: Fluffy hair, armour, blushes. He’s also a massive blusher himself. Perhaps too kind sometimes. Can be overcome by his emotions, especially if he hasn’t fully expressed them in a while.

Ooh this was fun, and I’m happy to have more development for my wishful self insert OC.

Thank you again Michéle for this wonderful tag idea!

I tag @margesimpsonkin @factorykat and @jchb32273 and anybody else who feels like it!

#tagged #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #OC #Tristan Trevelyan #about #mage #Inquisitor #Inquisitor Trevelyan #bio #player character #this was so fun #sorry it took so long to actually do #dai #my oc #cullen x m!trevelyan #background #character #character development

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vivienncs · 5 years

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❧ make sure you KISS your fist before you PUNCH me in the face ❧

❝ Forgiveness is a war between the head and the heart and my body is a battleground. This is how it ends. I'm built of speed but nobody ever taught me how to back down. I wouldn't know how to outrun a war. ❞

BRIANNE TJU? No, that’s actually VIVIENNE ‘VIV’ CHANG from the NEXT GENERATION ERA. You know, the child of CHO CHANG and NICO TEJA? Only 21 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as an INDEPENDENT CURSEBREAKER and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as a CIS WOMAN and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be CRITICAL, ABRASIVE, and UNFORGIVING but also DAUNTLESS, UNSTOPPABLE, and QUICK-WITTED. — &&. ( JANE, NZT, SHE/HER, 22. )

hellooooo this is jane

viv’s pinterest is here!!! ( she also has a smaller section HERE in my general quantum leap board )

viv is mostly a chaotic competitive

this is the girl who decided to try in her classes bc some asshole annoyed her and she decided the appropriate response was to beat him at everything he loves so

anyway it worked out! she found the academic half of her nerdjock truth and ended up taking way too many fucking newts and owls

her history of magic project in sixth year was about how the founders are fake/fables (the real people still existed probs but certainly the names and traits make more sense as fables and anyway surnames didn’t exist like that at the time and she has a lot of points and i bet someone tells her it’s a dumb idea so she devotes herself to it as her history of magic project) so get ready for her to tell u about that if she remotely values ur academic opinions/thoughts

tiny™

like 4′11″

maybe she’s hit 5′0″ now that she’s twenty one (good grief) but chances are no... also wouldn’t make a difference anyway —- she’d be an inch closer to some people and still over a foot shorter than her bf

she was a chaser for gryffindor from a young age, and until she was in sixth year, she’d really intended on playing professionally and had been involved in the sport from her youth, playing in younger leagues and being part of professional youth teams during her hogwarts years. it’s something she’s still v passionate about, but what it really comes down to is that when she was having her academic careers meeting in fifth year, she realised: there were other things she equally wanted to do with her life. before that moment, it had never really been framed that way, like there was anything else she cared enough about to do for the rest of her life, that there was anything else she was good enough to do, but after that meeting and during the months following, she really came to understand that while her notable speed and physicality would always be things she connected to, she truly loved history and academia, and the theory of magic (as well as the practical execution of curses / unravelling them), and something about combining those aspects with her determined and dauntless spirit set her on track for cursebreaking (independently —- we aren’t here for destroying magics of antiquity and other cultures for capitalism n banks y’all)

don’t fuck w her gals

will break ur nose and not apologise

will help lily bury a body if need be

cho is younger child of weisheng chang, who was brother to jia chang, mother to marlene mckinnon —- marlene and cho were cousins, except marls died when cho was a baby, rip (jia was younger and had her children when she was young, whereas weisheng had them later in life, and cho was his younger child). seeing as jia’s estrangement from their family was due to their parents and weisheng had no beef with her, they reconnected properly a few years before the mckinnons died (except now marlene is alive again, adult!cho’s popped out of existence, and viv’s now got a teenage mother who doesn’t know her and also her mother’s dead war hero of a cousin. it’s a Time™ aight)

in fourth, year she once paid the quidditch commentator a galleon to call al “prefect potter” during an entire game and her defence to her mother was “listen he likes it and anyway it’s re-establishing his authority and reminding all the youths which one he is, as if they could forget a walking mountain”

(she does call him prefect potter)

v ride or die

loves dogs and magical creatures, hates birds and cats

just…. she’s tiny but believe she will fling herself at u if need be

an aries!! god no wonder she’s so competitive

SUUUUUPER into types of magic and magical knowledge like girl took way too many owls just bc she’s so fascinated in the nature of magic and how it can be used and magic from other cultures bc of how magical linguistics work and it definitely fed into her becoming a cursebreaker

v loyal friend but also highkey has excellent side eye for when ur being a dumbass

loves sugar quills and chaos

tends to take her time on some issues bc logically she sees pros and cons from both sides but when she makes an Emotional Decision™ on it, she’ll stand by it. until then, it’s mostly deliberating from a logical standpoint, which is prone to change with new info (things like joining the order tho are like… in her opinion, there’s nothing to debate with that?? like, that was the obvious right choice, it’s not something less clear cut)

dropped herbology and astronomy so fuckin quick after fifth year —- she liked neville a lot, but herbology is just not her cup of tea

stans viktor krum so fuckin hard

she has wanted connections that i will Think About More And Post but i have to send my ass to sleep asap

[ parental death tw ] her mum raised her by herself at first and then reconnected with her dad but he died when viv was about ten [ end parental death tw ]

scottish (always lived in glasgow area)

“swearing in a scottish accent is patriotic, minerva”

recalcitrant, reckless, harsh, impatient, unforgiving, highly critical, abrasive, sharp-tongued, blunt, not... super comforting

but also: loyal, ferocious, tough, determined, dauntless, quick-witted, unflinching, clever, dedicated, wry, perceptive, protective

currently dating al potter, timeline tbd (but recent-ish), lives w lily potter

travelled a bit/was in and out of the uk during her training but is Firmly Back Now other than any work trip she may have

re: time clash —- oof. ooooof. ok. well, not thrilled that her mother has, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. she realises that the cho currently around is literally her mother, but also she very much isn’t, and it’s a weird situation. trying to be there for her though, and also marlene & other mckinnons who have popped up, though from what she’s heard abt the mckinnon side of marlene’s family, she’s not super inclined to be welcoming (touched on in marls’ bio, but seeing as that’s only linked in discord bc her intro is still drafted for now, tl;dr is that the mckinnon grandparents were racist, mostly in the like... ‘i voted for obama!! how can i be racist, even w all these microaggressions??’ sorta way, though there were a few more Explicit Incidents). still, having her family around is weird, but it’s far, far from the worst of it all.

really interested in the actual logistics of the timeclash and is someone who is thinking abt the logical progressions that can occur from here, but also —- in line w being unforgiving, she’s... in theory, she does agree with the idea that you can’t punish someone for something they haven’t done yet. but she looks at people like theodore nott & peter pettigrew & that just burns away, and all the theory and thoughts go out the fucking window and she wants to step on them and grind them to dust with her heel.

character parallels: holly short (artemis fowl), maya hart (gmw), elizabeth swann (potc), zoë nightshade (pjo), leia organa (star wars), thalia grace (pjo), kat stratford (10 things i hate about you), patty (she’s out of my league), xena (xena warrior princess), paris geller (gilmore girls), isabelle lightwood (the shadowhunter chronicles), hands holloway (accepted), drainpipe edwards (vinyl 2012), james rhodes (marvel), and apparently fuckin’ legolas greenleaf lmfaaaaaaao [ many of these r from charactour so... watch me add some as actual ones come to mind, probably ]

#quantum intro #i feel like i'm missing things but?? i want one intro up at least dfgjldjal #it was gonna be marlene's but i'll try finish hers after work tomorrow #maybe ronan's too but his is like... a fucking Lot #emotionally speaking #parental death tw

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jasontoddssuper · 7 months

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Rose and Kyle are such good love interests for Jason and vice versa and i'm sick and tired of people leaving them out when it comes to potential s/os for him just because they're poc.Yes,i am saying it's because of racism because why else would the same ones who do this say he 'has a thing for redheads'(We all know you mean white people and y'all only include Kory because Rhato completely took away her black features)and shipping him with Tim be a million times more popular if it wasn't?

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punkeropercyjackson · 2 months

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It's canon that Jason Todd can only be attracted to people who're willing to stand up to him and hates the idea of sex without love and i feel someone needs to tell the DC fandom that

#not a diss at softer people who simp for jason i'm one of them or ones who smut him up respectfully i do too even if not in the same way!#i'm looking at people who act like jason likes being mean to his partner but gets pissed at reciprocation(he loves bickering as flirting)#or is a h*rndog exclusively into fucking and shallow taste(he's canonically a v!rgin and his gfs are a butch a wasian woman and a black one #you guys' standards in men are so LOOOOOOW stop dragging him DOOOOOOOOON he's literally as high up there as percy jackson #jason todd #pro jason todd #black jason todd #latino jason todd #afrolatino jason supremacy #trans jason todd #autistic jason todd #jayeddie #eddie bloomberg #jayrose #rose wilson #jaytemis #artemis grace #jaykyle #kyle rayner #jaydana #dana harlowe #anti batcest #anti slade wilson #anti black mask #antijayroy #roy harper #antijaykory #koriand'r #x black!reader #summerposting

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flazedahub · 2 years

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Burlseque Brunch: Down the Rabbit Hole

Article by Artemis Seven, photography by Daniel Evans

If you’re going to go down the rabbit hole, there’s no better time than 11am on a Sunday. Time may just be a construct, but so is brunch, and the last time I got a side of boob with the concept of linear time I was too young to know a darker time was coming.

Burlesque Brunch answers the existential question:

“I suppose I ought to eat or drink something or other; but the great question is ‘What?’( —Chapter 4, The Rabbit Sends in a Little Bill) & with a mimosa or OJ on arrival, a delicious High Tea courtesy of Capital Roast and a range of entertainment from performances to games -you will be free of that choice. As someone who panics and invariably parks across two spots if there’s more than one car spot available (don’t worry, I fix it you sneaky narc) I appreciate a beautiful display of High Tea sweets on each table, and distractions on stage for me to weasel away 6 of the same one when no one is looking. PS. Dietary requirements can be allocated for!

Let me speak to you about the food - an arguably vital part of brunch. The selection of sweet treats appeared straight out of a Wonderland garden party . Macarons are a crowd favourite, but my favourite was the tiny cheesecakes. Perhaps miniature cheesecakes are normal high tea fare but I chose to imagine I was Alice having made the mistake of growing too large just before a dinner party.

Let me give you another pro social tip - nestled in Flazeda Hub, it’s the perfect outing to mix your extroverted & introverted mates - whether you’re looking forward to your conversation being interrupted by dancing or your dancing being interrupted by conversation - you will get your wish. There are no losers at Burlesque Brunch - just winners suddenly assailed by glitz, glamour, flesh and absurdity. Plus, there’s a feather tree in the corner so you’re guaranteed to leave with a set of selfies that say “I’m busier being less busy than you”, which is the ultimate flex in these trying times.

It’s also a perfect opportunity to invite your burlesque-virgin mate or family member with optimal time to coach them in between acts. There’s bingo, song snippet games, trivia - and if you find it awakens something within you there’s a full roster of dance classes right there at Flazeda Hub. It’s time to convert your Grandma into a Grandmilf, and Flazeda can help you*

And of course whether you like your poison poisonous or virginal, Bastian behind the bar knows how to whip up the kind of drink that had me internally screaming like Rebelle’s Red Queen “DWINK DWINK”. Instead, I went for a gin and tonic which I requested as an “angry drunk water” because I am a brat who routinely replaces vocabulary in my own head to feel a sense of power (I’m too shy to jaywalk, so I need this power trip). Bastian understood my request, which is a testament once again to their Bar Butch glory.

Now, let us discuss the acts -

CHESHIRE CAT

Rebelle Velveteen began as Alice - bouncy and cute and adorable and surrounded in a halo of blonde curls, and giving in to a giant piece of cake, the 2nd thing on the stage screaming “Eat me”. Transforming into the Cheshire cat upon snacking, she had us all on board for a day of brunching in Wonderland. Cheeky and enlivening, it was the perfect start to the day and made us all weirdly attracted to the Cheshire cat.

TIME FOR TEA

As is customary at a Burlesque Brunch, tea was spilled, from a giant teabag onto Jazida herself. Frankly, we all could’ve used a shower after watching Jazida balance a full cup of tea - ON HER HEAD- all while remaining entirely graceful. It was a bitter pill to swallow as someone who manages to spill any hot beverage placed in my hands but if a bitter pill comes with a side of tassel twirling I’ll take it no questions asked. Bonus backstage moment - Jazida did not have a towel backstage and so ended up tea-staining a white sheet to get dry like some kind of dramatic Grecian goddess.

THE MARCH HARE

Then it was my turn - The March Hare. The March Hare knows how to brunch, as evidenced by their philosophy of setting the bar low and setting your indulgence levels high :

“"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly. "I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't take more." "You mean you can't take less," said the Hatter: "It's very easy to take more than nothing." — (1865 Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, ch.7)

And take more than nothing I did, stealing away a plate of treats during my act as an “offering” to the March Hare, unofficial brunch deity. My thievery aside - with a trap remix, scythe arms and a hare’s head that steals your soul through it’s eyeballs - it was an important reminder that brunch is SERIOUS BUSINESS.

LYRA

Jazida then took us through the rabbit hole itself, curling around the lyra hoop like her body had forgotten to adhere to the rules of normal human limitations. If you’ve always wished you could have brunch with your therapist, and perhaps that your therapist did slightly more body hypnosis therapy (Look into my LINES, they’d say, turning into a spiral) I’d say this is a pretty good substitute. Do you have any idea how good it feels to freely chow down on brunch while watching someone doing the ab equivalent of a marathon??? Given that Jazida’s brand new solo show Exotic Hynotica comes out FEB (CHECK DATES) I find myself SUSPICIOUS of this act. So suspicious I must watch the recording on repeat.

RED QUEEN

The Red queen famously claimed “It is better to be feared than loved”, but Rebelle’s Red queen never has to choose. Dripping in rhinestoned red, we were gasping at the beauty, long limbs and curves like the stripes of danger on a snake - and then gasping at her effortless recline on a BED OF NAILS. Rebelle’s red queen was so natural I found myself side-eyeing her backstage later. Was she going to shank us with a hair pin? Drink our blood? And would I say “Thankyou” or “Thanks your highness” when she did? I have survived but I do feel like a little bitch any time I sit on a normal chair now.

To wrap the festivities, a Very Merry Unbirthday was had with surprises for each guest and sadly, I had to leave the brilliantly lit and sound-scaped Hub (shoutout to Cherry Bomb who never misses the perfect sound effect).

The whole team at Flazeda Hub is glorious and a testament to owner Jazida’s efforts to create a creative hub that invites everyone to be their most decadent, debaucherous self.

If that sounds good to you - Burlesque Brunch is returning on Sunday the 23rd of January - with a Rocky Horror theme. Tickets are available now on the Flazeda Hub webstore, so make sure you get your mates together for next-level daytime debauchery.

*Not an official slogan, but I am campaigning every day.

#burlesque #burlesque brunch #brunch #high tea #live performers #Flazeda Hub #Flazeda

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urvashiela-blog · 5 years

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Affordable IVF Cost in Neelkanth Hospital Gurgaon | Dr

Affordable IVF Cost in Neelkanth Hospital Gurgaon

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universallyladybear · 5 years

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birdsinsidethebells · 5 years

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Find Your Goddess Archetype

http://goddess-power.com/index.htm

My Results: Artemis and Hestia

A Brief Psychological Overview of Artemis

Artemis - Possesses an introverted and independent temperament (polar opposite to Athena) - represents the goddess of Nature - concerned with matters of the outdoors, animals, environmental protection, women’s communities - she is practical, adventurous, athletic and preferring solitude. She symbolizes regenerative Earth power over all living things. Both Artemis and Athena bore arms as protectress goddesses. Historically, Artemis was born quickly by her mother, Leto. However, due to a curse from Hera, Artemis was the one who, immediately following her own birth, assisted her mother’s delivery of her brother in a long and difficult labor. She became known as the patroness of childbirth. Artemis, armed with bow and arrow, possesses the power to inflict plagues and death, or to heal. She is known as the protectress of little children, baby animals and, yet, she also loves the hunt. Artemis is one of the ‘virgin’ androgynous goddesses. Due to her well-integrated masculine energy and independence, Artemis does not possess much need for a man to complete her. Her awareness is focused. A predominately Artemis type woman may enjoy a companion who will work alongside her, sharing her practical pursuits - parallel relatedness in shared activities, yet, each one retaining their strong and distinct identities in their fairly separate lives. They may come together enjoying a deep, intuitive connection with minimal ‘chatter’. Artemis, the goddess, was known to shun men.

The Ancient Olympian Goddesses - A Deeper Look

Artemis - represents the feminine archetype of Nature & the Wilds -virgin, pure, primitive - of wild places - Mother of Creatures. The function of virgins was to dispense the Mother’s grace to heal, to prophesy, to perform sacred dances, and wail for the dead. Artemis' image at Ephesus depicts a torso covered with breasts conveying her as the fertile nurturer of all living things. She was also the Huntress, killer/destroyer of the very creatures she brought forth - demonstrating the light and dark side of the goddess.

Psychologically, Artemis belongs to the category of‘virgin’ goddess - self-directed, autonomous, focused consciousness.

· To the Romans, Artemis was known as Diana

· Her ‘masculine’ energy can be deeply transformed or sublimated in highly creative ways.

· Androgynous nature - containing both feminine and masculine energies - complete, whole in and of herself - her true relationship is with herself

· Androgynous energy contained within converts to visions, mystical experiences, and a deep, enduring compassion for all of Nature

· Lover of animals and the serenity found in Nature, on the one hand, and, destroyer on the other, Artemis-goddess leads the nocturnal hunt deep in the forest

· Similar to Athena, psychologically - youthful, boyish, independent, strong, autonomous, energetic, born with strong masculine qualities in her nature and, particularly for Artemis, an intense love of freedom.

· Disposed to gender-role confusion

· Solitary nature teaching her self-sufficiency & independence - prophesy, poetry, music, magic and healing

· Artemis women allow Nature to frequently replace human relations - requiring solitary retreat whereby the ego is free from external stimulation.

· Artemis women find that the non-stop presence of others hinders her presence to herself, therefore, requiring retreat into the solitude of natural world and offering reconnection to her inner self.

· Many Artemis women, who would prefer living closer to Nature, are displaced in cities

· Disinclined by their true nature toward role of wife/motherhood or for the values of conventional society - Artemis types may prefer companionship of women who share her sense of presence of self and self-sufficiency

Mythological History

· Artemis’ mother was Leto, a nature deity who bore Artemis without pain. Artemis’ father was Zeus.

· Artemis, directly following her own birth - a newborn, herself, Artemis assisted as midwife to her mother, Leto, throughout a very difficult birth to her twin brother, Apollo. Artemis was subsequently considered a goddess of childbirth.

· Artemis, the protectress, on many occasions ‘rescued’ her own mother.

· At Ephesus, Artemis was worshiped as the many-breasted Great Mother.

· Classic Greek historians, on the other hand, depict her as a virgin who never mothers a child of her own, shunning men and living in the forest on the fringe of the inhabited world.

· Artemis - the patroness of midwives - Mother of Birth and of Death/Huntress and taker of life - representing both the Light and the Dark side of the goddess’ nature.

· Artemis, who is every bit as beautiful as Aphrodite, makes sacred - solitude, natural and primitive living - she is not flattered by or interested in male suitors.

· Artemis severely punishes any man who lays eyes on her naked body - she turned one spying man into a deer and his hunting dogs, no longer recognizing him, tore him apart.

· Artemis possesses deep sympathy for the Earth and all its living beings and employs the role of protectress - she is enraged by the exploitation of nature and powerless creatures.

· Artemis is Apollo’s twin sister - Dionysus is the dark brother of Apollo.

· Artemis may have, early on, prior to later Greek patriarchal manipulation, been the Great Mother, triple in her power as Maiden, Mother and Crone. Artemis may likely be one of the oldest of all the Greek goddesses - belonging to the most ancient layer of human memory.

Challenges Facing Artemis

· She tends to avoid her vulnerability in relation to others - hiding her emotional needs, even to herself.

· Artemis tends toward emotional distancing - difficulty trusting relationship.

· Growth for Artemis type woman is in developing her less conscious, human relationship side of herself.

· Artemis type needs rewarding and challenging goals toward which to strive, if Artemis is unable to find fulfilling self-expression in her life she will feel increasingly frustrated and depressed.

Artemis’ Dark Side

Primitive power of her bloodlust, ‘righteous rage’ - Artemis woman’s task is to confront her ‘inner wild boar’ - while sacrificing her ‘righteous and avenging’ goddess. She does this by humbly accepting her own flaws and mistakes as a human woman, compassionate with herself, first, then she may hold compassion towards others.

Artemis’ Wound

Self-esteem issues involving intimate relationship resulting from early isolation from other girls and, later, sense of rejection/exclusion by boys.

Artemis’ Gifts

Ability to focus, set goals and reach them; autonomy/independence, ability to develop meaningful connection with other women.

Artemis’ Personality

As a Child and Adolescent:

· Strong, tom-boyish body, keenly instinctual connection with her body.

· She rejects the culturally prescribed behavior & interests of little girls as charming and compliant pleasers - may be criticized for appearing unfeminine.

· Athletic, competitive, persevering

· She may have her own horse, or at least love to ride horses.

· She is an animal lover, determined to become a veterinarian.

· She loves the woods-exploring plants, forests, streams, wild creatures, an adventurer.

As an Adult Woman:

• Strong adolescent persona persists even as an adult

• Non-traditional in her interests and approach to life

• Usually chooses her field of work as a result of her passion - sportswoman, biologist, veterinarian, geologist, environmental advocate, healer, herbologist, shaman or other solitary professions

• Holds feminist views and sisterly affiliations with other women

• Sexual expression leans more toward recreational sport or excitement of a new experience more so than for emotional intimacy - In later life sexuality shifts to following her interests which possess personal meaning to her

• A woman in whom Artemis archetype predominates will require a good degree of freedom and independence. Like her Athenian sister, she needs to direct her own life in a way that gives her personal fulfillment/accomplishment rather than by meeting the expectations of others.

• She needs Nature; if she does not adequately feed herself good doses of the ‘natural’ world, she will find herself feeling out-of-sorts, irritable or depressed.

• As a mother, if she chooses this path, she is most likely fiercely protective of her children’s well-being while giving them plenty of freedom to experience

Historic females embodying the Artemis archetype: Hildegard of Bingen - a healer, poet, musician and visionary (1100’s C.E.), Juliana of Norwich - writer who penned “God is our Mother”- in an attempt to refocus Christian awareness of her day back toward the valuation of Mother earth and the body (1300’s C.E.).

Modern day Artemis types: Jane Goodall, animal researcher/scientist studying chimpanzees in Tanzania for over 30 years. She also combines international animal advocacy and environment; Georgia O’Keefe - modern artist embracing nature and combining feminine sexuality in her artwork; Peggy Callahan, wolf biologist - wildlife conservation & management; Mary Jo Casalena, wild turkey biologist, studying and managing migrating birds. Billie Jean King, retired U.S. tennis pro of the late ’60’s and ’70’s.

A Brief Psychological Overview of Hestia

Hestia - Possesses an introverted temperament and is focused on her inner, spiritual world. Hestia is an archetype of inner centeredness. She was known to be mild mannered, upstanding, charitable, as well as a protector. She is the least known of the Olympian goddesses primarily because she never takes part in any disputes or wars. She minds her own business amidst a family of goddesses and gods who engage in ‘high drama’. Similarly to Athena and Artemis, she resists the amorous advances of men, therefore, placing her in the ‘virgin’goddess category. Her energy is impersonal and detached. Her awareness is focused. Different than Persephone who seeks to please others, Hestia’s focus is for herself. She is grounded and her life has meaning. Unlike Athena and Artemis, Hestia did not venture out to explore the world or wilderness; she remained inside, contained within the hearth. The goddess, Hestia did not take a partner. A Hestia-type woman, today, may prefer to live a more solitary life or live within a community of like-minded, spiritual ‘sisters.’

The Ancient Olympian Goddesses - A Deeper Look

Hestia - is the goddess of the hearth - she symbolized the household fire - the flame burning in the hearth. The hearth in each home was the central place around which family members gathered. When a family member left their home to begin a new family, a parcel of fire was taken from the family home to begin the new home fire - symbolizing the continuity of family through the perpetual flame. Each town center also had its communal hearth where the public fire was maintained. The fire of the Hestia, meaning hearth, was also used in sacrifices, and, therefore, taking on a sacred character to its citizens. Hestia is an archetype of inner centeredness/inner wisdom

Psychologically, Hestia belongs to the category of‘virgin’goddess. She is independent, autonomous and, focused on her inner spiritual world, she is not seeking a relationship with a man to complete her. Her energy is impersonal and detached. Her awareness is focused.

• To the Romans she was known as Vesta

• Hestia was a fire divinity

• Hestia was the first born of the second generation of Olympian goddesses and gods - her parents were Cronos (god of Earth & Time) and Rhea

• Hestia was swallowed by her father, Cronos, at birth.

• Hestia’s province was that of protecting the home, family and also the city

• She was believed to dwell in the inner part of every house and to preside over all sacrifices - her presence made both home and temple hearths holy

• A perpetually burning flame were features of her sanctuary - Hestia’s presence was felt in the living flame at the center of the home, temple and city

• Temples of Hestia were characterized by their circular form, embracing the notion of centricity in the earth as well as the universe - her symbol is the Circle

• Hestia was nearly raped by a lesser known divinity at a festival - he was unsuccessful

• Hestia’s dignity and her rights as the eldest were recognized; however, she took little advantage of her position and played a very minor role in Olympian drama

• Both the gods Poseidon and Apollo requested her hand in marriage - she turned them down

• Hestia turned to her brother, Zeus, in order to put an end to the unwanted male attention toward her - she vowed to remain a virgin for ever - Zeus accepted her vow

• Hestia was not represented in human form neither by sculptors nor painters

• Instead of marriage, Hestia was offered a seat in the midst of the celestial dwelling-place and receives the richest part of sacrifices

• Hestia is visualized as a stately yet not intimidating figure; she is pretty yet not beautiful.

• She is kindly yet distant - she possesses the ability to love impartially

• Her demeanor is modest and gentle

• She is self-sufficient and self-directed - inner focused

Challenges facing Hestia

The majority of modern-day women are missing sufficient Hestia archetype within them. As an archetype of inner centeredness/wisdom, Hestia archetype does not exhibit reactionary behavior. This archetype is not interested in being out in the world - rather, self-contained within herself

• Hestia archetype flourishes in a spiritual community - particularly meditative

• Hestia shares her archetype with vestal virgins and nuns who give up their personal identity/their names and strive toward self-less-ness - a life dedicated to service

• Possible difficulties for a Hestia-type woman in today’s world - presenting herself as a ‘non-entity’, in other words - she has no desire to stand out, and not as a result of her own family or cultural conditioning, rather, by her own conscious choice.

• Hestia type lacks assertiveness - she will not speak up - she is out of place in this modern, fast-paced, competitive world

• Hestia type needs to develop an effective ‘persona’ - a social adaptation aiding her in interacting and in getting along in the world when circumstances require

• Hestia type, due to her introverted nature, tends to be undemonstrative with her feelings toward others even though she may care for them

• Hestia’s caring is impersonal, detached - her challenge may be to let those close to her know that she cares

• Hestia types appear to lack outer ambition - she is a home-body and tends to the hearth/the needs of the home

Hestia’s Dark Side

• Hestia appears to be the only goddess without an apparent dark side - she avoided the drama of her ‘family’ - refused to get ‘in-the-middle’ of their issues, remains calm, grounded, centered, and maintains focus on her own personal meaning

• One way of thinking of Hestia’s dark side - if we think, metaphorically- her resisting the advances made on her by both Apollo (God of Sun = intellect, logical reasoning) and Poseidon (God of Sea = the unconscious, emotion) - If Hestia is seduced by these aspects:

• Seduced by the need for logical reasoning, she will feel compelled to dismiss her keen intuition because she is unable to ‘logically explain herself’.

• Seduced by the unconscious, she runs the risk of becoming overwhelmed with psychic influences and/or emotional situations that keep her off balance.

Hestia’s Wound

• In modern societies, particularly in the United States, modern woman has forfeited, for a variety of reasons, the prerogative of tending home and hearth - maintaining the home fire.

• Hestia’s wound is more about the fact that she has little place to exist in this society with the current social values on consumerism-‘having more’, ‘gotta-have-it’ - which requires increased work hours to enable increased spending, therefore, creating increasingly frantic lifestyle as a result

• Modern women who are less assertive and less intellectual often feel, inwardly, second-rate in our fast-paced, competitive society. A woman exhibiting a quiet presence, following her own internal (rather than externally exhibited) spirituality is, at best, misunderstood and viewed “quirky”, or a “loner”

• Hestia experiences her wound when she is measured and judged by others’ outer-focused, tangible standards of success, accomplishment, or marital status.

Hestia’s Gift

• Hestia type woman is able to enjoy her solitude - not just ‘here’ and ‘there’ whenever she can ‘grab a moment’ - but, truly enjoying her own being, consistently - she is notinterested in ‘keeping busy’ - she does notenjoy ‘background noise’ to keep her company

• Hestia exhibited an inner strength which rendered Aphrodite unsuccessful in seducing or persuading any love/eros desire in Hestia - Hestia has strength to resistall that takes her away from her own center

• Hestia offers the gift of ritual-making, a powerful, affirming psychological method of honoring

Hestia’s Personality

As a Child and Adolescent:

• Hestia child tends to be quiet, compliant; however, on her own she enjoys self-directed play, exhibiting the beginnings of her own self-sufficiency

• Hestia child may simply withdraw to her room in the midst of difficulty in her family life

• She may feel isolated and alienated in her family because she feels so different from them - and, she is different

• She may be labeled as ‘shy’ by others; however, this is an example of other people misunderstanding her true nature

• As a teen she tends to steer clear of the social dramas of her peers. She may be perceived as a non-participant on the periphery of school life and activities, or, she may have one or two friends who share her more introverted, sensitive nature.

As an Adult Woman:

• In our modern culture, Hestia archetype is not predominant for the majority of women. Most women have other goddess archetypes predominant, yet some women may have hints of Hestia in their make-up. Other women may wish to cultivate Hestia qualities within themselves

• Hestia type woman has a quiet, inner presence. She is detached in her relation to others, and she is unattached to any need for possessions, outcomes, status or power. She is free from the bind to external circumstances as her attachment to an identity is unimportant

• Hestia types seek quiet tranquility

• Hestia type is drawn to incorporating ritual, to meditation and to other reflective spiritual practices into her daily life

• Hestia type focuses on her own inner experience/feelings - she is inwardly connected

• Hestia type is keenly in touch with and connected to her personal values - with this knowledge, she lives her life by choosing that which is personally meaningful to her. She does not lose her center by pleasing others in ways that gratify ego/seeking acceptance

• Hestia, as keeper of the hearth, goes about her tasks in a calm, centered, focused manner - whether she is sweeping or doing laundry, she is fully engaged, focusing on her task at hand - like a meditation - and not at all concerned about the clock or what she will be doing next. She experiences a timeless calm in the midst of her immediate tasks

• Hestia types are ‘background’ women - she doesn’t stand out; she appears anonymous. However, her presence is feltby others creating an atmosphere of tranquilorder

• Meaningis a key point in a Hestia woman’s life - what she does, who she is with reflect the meaning she holds of value

• Hestia type is not drawn into gossip and she isn’t interested in intellectual discourse

• Hestia type is a good listener, she shows compassion in her detached manner

• Because Hestia type appears to lack the driving outer ambition of her Athena and Artemis sisters, and since she doesn’t value power as her Hera sister, she may more than likely have a traditional, uninspiring job. She may feel unclear regarding her career direction.

• Sexuality is not of key importance in a primarily Hestia type woman; however, she enjoys the experience when it occurs

• A Hestia type who is married may appear to be in a traditional wife role, however, a truly Hestia woman maintains her inner autonomy and does not require a man in order to feel emotionally fulfilled

• A woman in whom Hestia archetype predominates is often a single woman who lives differently from the conventions of society. Her family or married friends who subscribe to “normal” lives may ‘pity’ her aloneness. However, it is often the unconscious fearof alone-ness - lonelinesswithin the individualthat creates the presumptionthat the Hestia woman is unhappy or pitiable.

• A Hestia woman has cultivated a rich inner life and, therefore, has faced the challenge of human aloneness.

• A Hestia woman has cultivated positive aspects of the ‘Recluse’ - an independent and creative woman, she craves solitude which offers her the sacred space in which she makes contact with her deepest self - the place where she meets spirit.

Historic females embodying the Hestia archetype: As has been previously stated, Hestia type women do not stand out. I read about the widowed Marcella, in the 11th century C.E., who chose to live an ascetic disciplined life in her own home with her mother. She also instructed her aristocratic female friends. Domnina, 15th century C.E., lived in a hut in her mother’s garden following ascetic discipline. Macrina, 10th century C.E. never married and never left her mother. She led an ascetic life at home living with her mother for some years, after which time her mother freed herself of her worldly responsibilities. Then, the two women along with their female attendants created a communal ascetic life, together.

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