#SHADOW BARON WAS SUCH A GOOD FUCKING BOOK

[heyitskai2]

heard the word ‘Sable’ and opera house in the same sentence…… shaken

#the notorious sorcerer #siyon velo #SHADOW BARON WAS SUCH A GOOD FUCKING BOOK #davinia evans if ur seeing this #i love you

[bracketsoffear]

Presenting my complete list of Fake Statement Ideas (with some revisions since last time), part 1:

“Play Nice”: statement of Sid Phillips, regarding his childhood toys. (Toy Story, Stranger) Title references Woody's threat to Sid, and Woody is of course empowered by the Stranger in the form of creepy early CGI animation.

“Revelation”: statement of Warlock Dowling, regarding his atypical upbringing. (Good Omens, Spiral?) Title references the Book of Revelation; I'm not sure what Fear this one is since Warlock realizing even part of what was going on with Aziraphale and Crowley would be creepy as hell, but his caretakers aren't actually malicious. Feel free to comment in the notes.

“Seventeen”: statement of Veronica Sawyer, regarding the 1989 suicide epidemic of Westerberg High. (Heathers: The Musical, Desolation). Title comes from the song "Seventeen," and JD is sooo Desolation in his edgelordiness-turned-homicidal rampage.

“Special Effects”: statement of Alissa Denton, regarding the last performance of Misty Moore. (Dimension 20: The Unsleeping City, Stranger).

“Mantle of Whispers”: Statement of Agent Cuspin Clark, regarding a conspiracy of disappearances and doppelgängers. (Dimension 20: Fantasy High, Stranger). Title comes from one of Fig's former subclass abilities, which let her capture the shadows of the recently deceased and adopt their persona to impersonate them; Cuspin Clark is a character from FH: Junior Year investigating the disappearance of "Hilda Hilda" (one of Fig's aliases).

“Romance Partner”: Statement of Riz Gukgak, regarding the abnormality in his reflection. (Dimension 20: Fantasy High, Lonely) Title comes from Baron's self-proclaimed status as Riz's romance partner, and Baron is my beloved awful Lonely Avatar supreme.

“Skulk”: Statement of Steven, no surname given, regarding the creature he encountered during a caving expedition. (Minecraft, Dark) Skulk is the stuff that summons the Warden, who brings a magical aura of blindess with it as it hunts you through the Deep Dark to murder the shit out of you. Why the fuck did Warden lose so hard in the Dark bracket.

“The White Whale”: Statement of anonymous source, regarding how he murdered his stepfather. (The Mariner’s Revenge Song, Hunt/Buried)

“Danse Macabre”: Statement of Gog-Agog, regarding why you should be Gog-Agog too! (Kill Six Billion Demons, Corruption (and, for spoiler-y reasons, Vast)) Title comes from one of the recent strips, which reveals certain things about Gog-Agog's backstory, and also just generally fits her fucked up performance thing.

“Sugar and Spice”: Statement of Ruby, no surname given, regarding the stuffed toy she received from her grandmother. (Desolation, Mr. Hopp’s Playhouse) Title is a reference to Random Encounters' musical about the game.

“Treasure Hunt”: Statement of Stanley Yelnats, regarding his imprisonment in a correctionary boot camp. (Holes, Buried)

“Sickly Sweet”: Statement of Hans Ranstott regarding his sister’s protection of him. (Transformed: The Perils of the Frog Prince, Corruption) Fellas, is it Corruption to (attempt to) murder several people with poison in your misguided efforts to protect your brother, who then was about to finish the job by offing two children to prevent you from facing justice for your crimes?

“Shadow Puppet”: Statement of Lena Sabrewing, regarding her troubled relationship with her aunt. (Ducktales 2017, Web)

“Icarus”: Statement of Donald Duck, regarding his sister’s disappearance in space. (Ducktales 2017, Vast)

“Worldbreaker”: Statement of Gyro Gearloose, regarding a recurring problem with his creations. (Ducktales 2017, Extinction)

“Solemn Vow”: Statement of Twilight Sparkle, regarding her brother’s marriage. (MLP:FIM, Corruption)

“Urban Legend”: Statement of Emma-May Dixon, regarding the local tourist trap in Gravity Falls. (Gravity Falls, Stranger)

“See No Evil”: Statement of Tate McGucket, regarding his fear of memory loss. (Gravity Falls, Spiral)

“War Games”: Statement of Jack Merridew, regarding his time stranded on an island as a child. (Lord of the Flies, Slaughter)

“Dollhouse”: Statement of Coraline Jones, regarding what was behind a door in her new apartment. (Coraline, Stranger/Web)

“God Save the Queen”: Statement of Julie Jenkins, regarding the murders at her high school prom. (The Ballad of Sara Berry, Slaughter)

“Silent Assassin”: Statement of Pam Kingsley, regarding a string of inexplicable assassinations she reported on. (Hitman, Hunt) Title is the highest rating you can get at the end of the mission, after completing it with flawless stealth and little to no extraneous aggression--just go in, murder the target, and slip away undetected.

“God, That’s Good”: Statement of Tobias Ragg, regarding his employment in a meat pie shop. (Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, Flesh) Title comes from the Act 2 opener.

“Future Imperfect”: Statement of Arven Toro, regarding the results of his father’s research. (Pokemon Violet, Extinction)

“This Be The Verse”: Statement of Beatrice Baudelaire II, regarding her a series of unfortunate events her guardians experienced. (ASOUE, Desolation)

“Mayhem”: Statement of Marla Singer, regarding her boyfriend’s involvement in terrorism. (Fight Club, Desolation)

"Bunker": Statement of Henri Clément, regarding the creature he encountered on the Western Front. (Amnesia: The Bunker, Slaughter)

.

#asks #statement ideas

[dr-nero-is-god]

For the character ask game: Cypher 👀👀👀

Wooooo Cypher! Thanks for asking.

one aspect about them i love

He's not good, he's not nice, he's just right. (For a while.) And that's a fun thing to put in the hands of your antagonist.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them

I think Cypher is the ultimate Came Back Wrong guy in this series. When Wu Zhang died... Well! He just came back wrong. I would even hazard to say that he has big Adam vibes to Nero's Frankenstein—that Cypher himself is the first robot in the army he creates, the first in a series of sexless, violent animations that seek to be separate from the world at large. He sees himself as locked in an eternal battle with his creator. The main irony is, in fact, that in his former life he was capable of bearing children, and so it is in fact the son he sired in the former race of men who ends his life. Ah! But I just make Frankenstein parallels everywhere.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character

He doesn't believe in watching TV. He thinks it is just brainrot. He doesn't have a single favorite show to his name.

as well as

one character i love seeing them interact with

Laura, Shelby, and Lucy! I think there's something beautiful about the fact that, deep down, Cypher just hates kids and has reached a point in his life where he can just kill them because fuck them kids!!

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more

THE CONTESSA. It would have been a completely different series, but I would have enjoyed a book or two where Cypher and Maria are like, trying to take over the world with their shadow army and trying to kill Nero (cuz they hate him) while also trying to take one another out. If you've ever seen Chitty Chitty Bang Bang I feel like they would have incredible Baron and Baroness Bomburst energy.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character

Cypher doesn't know that it was actually Lao who initiated the processes for Wing to go to H.I.V.E. Lao hid it incredibly well (obviously, or our dear friend Lao would get #murdered), and Cypher blames Nero and Number One because he believes they were threatening him.

#cypher #evil asks #hive spoilers

[cupiscent]

………….oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck you.

Please know that I take your vehemence as a great compliment, while still being extremely sympathetic!

I repeat: it is a trilogy; I have plans; I am hammering book 3 into shape right now and enjoying being ridiculous while enacting my plans... 🤣 (My boys cannot do anything normally, sorry.)

P.S. Please do get hype for Anahid in Shadow Baron, she is fed up with being a good girl and is about to make it everyone's problem...

#ask and receive #notorious sorcerer #burnished city #writing #sometimes there is no greater compliment paid or received than a hearty fuck you

[jangofctts]

As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL

This had been a terrible idea. 

Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair. 

You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week. 

Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield. 

You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him. 

It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield. 

James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you… 

And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.

Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.      

Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”

The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”   

“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”

Bucky bristles. Whatever. 

It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality. 

He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you. 

He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?

                          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up. 

A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.  

But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting. 

“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”

“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“

“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”

You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”

You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.

“I got it, kid. Relax.”

Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.” 

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help. 

Or maybe it’s penance. 

Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting. 

Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.

Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.” 

His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…

You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.         

Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar. 

A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do. 

The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in. 

Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin. 

“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”

“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow. 

Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”

His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it. 

There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter. 

“Bucky?”

His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.              

“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”

“Sure thing, doll.” 

                            -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing. 

With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”

You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.  

Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder. 

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.” 

“I’m sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”

Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”

It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more. 

You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing— 

You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide. 

You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer. 

Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.   

When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.

You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”

His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”

Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.

Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”

It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”

Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat. 

What a way to go.    

With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more. 

You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”

While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.

“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”

Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you. 

Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.

“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs. 

“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”

Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject. 

“Shut up.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”

You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.   

It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.

Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”

No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger. 

Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.  

Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch. 

Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”   

There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.  

He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation. 

“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.

It's perfect. So fucking delicious. 

You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—

Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue. 

Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick. 

“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh. 

If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good. 

Cheeky bastard.  

“Get up here—“

You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.    

Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him. 

Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears. 

A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.” 

Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease. 

With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”

Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him. 

“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking. 

You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin. 

Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.  

You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam. 

Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor. 

You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear. 

You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”

Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch. 

Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.

He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”

Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”

You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”

Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?” 

You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.” 

Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”

#weLL here we are in a marvel hole kwejrkwejhr #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #the avengers x reader #my writing

[whatwedoonthehellsite]

Hey beasties

Sooo this is my brand new vampire blog,, I'll still post abt vamps on main (@helpimstuckinthewashingmachine) but this blog is like, dedicated to vampires!

I decided to make this after realising that vampires and vampire media bring me a lot of joy! It's an interest I am passionate about and would like to post and write more frequently about :)

I want to clarify that I've never watched Twilight 😶 but I have absorbed it through pop culture for a long time so I know the plot lol, I'm going to watch it soon :)

Vampire series and media I have watched include:

What we do in the shadows (2021 + 2014)

BBC Dracula

Kissable Lips

Vampire watchlist/readlist:

Twilight

Nosferatu

Dracula Daily

Fave vampires:

The whole wwdits 2021 gang including the baron

Viago + Deacon (wwdits 2014)

Marceline <3 (adventure time)

Ok even tho I've never watched twilight Robert Pattinson is a wonderfully weird man and I love him so Edward Cullen is on this list.

Other, non vampiric, interests:

Kpop (svt, skz, exo, txt etc)

Ace attorney

Some anime and manga series, mostly Saiki K and The Way Of The Househusband

Lolita fashion (Japanese fashion subculture)

Hatoful boyfriend

Linguistics and languages

Be warned! This is a pun-friendly blog, especially cheesy vampire puns. If you are someone who sighs dramatically at any pun then like, just block me idk. If u don't like me block me that's all I gotta say.

Dni under the cut <3

Dni:

Terfs, radfems, aphobes, homophones, transphobes, any kind of xenophobes, pedos and any gross ppl/bigots. I will block you without hesitation.

I am not a minor. Minors can interact I guess but keep that in mind, I'm not a creep dw I really do not care how old u are but if you were born in/after 2010 absolutely do not interact wtf. I'm gonna swear, I'm gonna thirst over vampires without hesitation. Like.... essentially its not a strict dni just know what ur getting into ok.

Fandoms I'd rather would not interact

Miraculous, or any fan of a show aimed at small children (esp paw patrol)

Dsmp

Agere (even sfw) or any kind of ddlg/kink/nfsw blogs

People who think the book Lolita is good

Marvel fans ur on thin fucking ice u can interact but not really

I really do not care for buffy, sorry. Or supernatural for that matter. In general superwholocks u guys are also on thin ice

Hetalia and aot/snk fans plsss dni 🤢

And if you think you're superior to other ppl bc of your interests and hold it over their heads to boost your ego, fuck you gtfo

#introduction #vampcore #vampire #vampire blog #vampire au #wwdits #intro post #get to know me

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 19

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader    Content: Language, possible errors, 

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 19: Mrs. Lupin

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

The rest of Valentine’s Day was spent with Y/N compiling a list in her head:

1. Avoid drinking anything the Marauders — actually, avoiding drinking anything around James to dodge their concoction of face and body-altering potions. When students at lunch and dinner drank from the pumpkin juice supply, more than several people who were already in relationships morphed into those they weren’t dating. Let’s just say that this prank wasn’t as uplifting and fun as the Marauders originally had in mind. Even the Bloody Baron told Peeves to spare them.

2. Make sure Lily didn’t drink anything around the Marauders — or anything around Marlene and Mary (who caught word from Peter of her supposed feelings). They were dying to know who caught her attention and bets were being placed.

3. James just wouldn’t shut the fuck up about Emmeline. She could even hear his voice: Whiskers! Did you see how pretty she looks? Woah, I can’t believe she agreed to be my girlfriend? I’m so lucky! She’s beautiful! Ugh — did you see her smile? Emmeline this, Emmeline that — it was even worse than his obsession with Quidditch. But, it was too endearing in a sickening, annoyingly charming way and she was happy that he seemed happy, so Y/N kept her lips sealed.

Remus suggested drowning him in the bottles of love potions littering the castle but Y/N thought differently. James already acted like what a love potion was rumoured to be like; he’d become unstoppable if he even caught a whiff.

4. Shockingly by the end of the day, Y/N’s bag was stuffed with cards and gifts — all filled with confessions. She rarely socialized with anyone but the girls and Marauders, so it came as a surprise.

5. And now found herself stuck in a very uncomfortable situation.

Relaxing in the lounge area by the library, James and Mary were casting spells, Lily and Y/N chatted while Remus aided Marlene, going over course material, however, her face scrunched up as she flicked through his notes.

“What does this mean,” Marlene asked after desperately trying to decipher his writing. She slid it over to him, pointing to a highlighted section. But before Remus could translate, Y/N peeked over.

“Um — Owl to Opera Glasses. This spell emits fleeting wispy white vapour from wand — point at owl — no sound will be produced.”

She sat back in her seat, snapping off a piece of chocolate before handing the rest over to Remus beside her. Everyone looked shocked.

“Erm — what?”

Mary sputtered, “How did you read that? It’s fucking scribble!”

“He’s got doctor writing.”

They waited for her to elaborate.

“My mom’s —” “MUM!” “— writing is horrid. I swear all doctor’s have awful handwriting. I spent so much time reading her medical jornals, scans, charts — to keep me busy. So comparing Remus’ writing to hers, it’s legible.”

None of them seemed to understand besides Lily and Mary. Y/N just dismissed the matter entirely, sliding back the parchment to Marlene as they went back to their quiet conversations.

“So,” Remus leant in, his head craned down to talk to her. “Doctor handwriting — I should flaunt that?”

She chuckled, “Might make you sound smarter, but you don’t need that.”

“You flatter me too much.”

“Humble, aren’t you?”

“I have to bully myself daily. Can’t let it get to my head, not like egomania over there.”

Ah yes, the thrilling saga of bullying James Potter.

But before she could add on, a shadow caught Remus’s eye before he nudged her. His head tilted over to the direction of a wall, littered with portraits and awards with Quidditch trophies. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”

A blond boy, young — was staring at her, blushing madly as his chest puffed out, determination trickled through every step as he neared.

Remus’ smile became impossibly large, dripping in amusement before snapping, gaining the table’s attention.

“Hi,” there was a nervous waver in his voice, but confidence in his stance. He was pale, amplifying the scarlet blush on his cheeks.

Damn, she knew what was about to happen and so did shit-eating grin Lupin.

“Hello… What’s your name.” Right, that was a good place to start. Her eyes wandered to his tie: a Ravenclaw.

“Gilderoy Lockhart,” he announced, going up to flick a strand of hair from his face, flashing her a pearly white smile. “I’m in first year.” In his small hands, he outstretched his arms holding a box of chocolates — identical to the one Remus received a few days ago along with a meticulously crafted letter.

“You’reveryprettysowillyoubemyValentine?”

James, Mary and Marlene let out an involuntary snort which had all of them leaning into one another to support themselves from toppling over. Lily had to cast Silencio over them. They turned their heads away from Gilderoy before barking out silent merriment. Remus was the complete opposite, thankfully, as he remained poised, face void but his lips quivered upwards.

“Um… right... well,” she stalled. Maybe she should get up, take the boy elsewhere to softly let him down. “Thank you, I appreciate it a lot. But er… I can’t accept your feelings. Thank you for telling me, though. I appreciate it.”

“What?! Why!” He demanded. His face turned a deeper shade of pink, now causing a scene.

She made eye contact with Lily, however, James’ hand hammered down on the table, startling them all. His two hands formed pointed tips, mimicking two people kissing as he repeated the motion, pointing to her and Remus. Mary took the opportunity to grab Lily’s wrist, flicking a reversal charm on all of them.

“She’s dating Lupin!” She shouted which caught the attention of a few onlookers. James tossed his head back, knuckles in his mouth and Lily’s brow rose high in a startled grimace.

“For a month now!” Marlene continued, her hand slapping down on her thigh.

Y/N was going to murder them.

She went to open her mouth to say — well, okay, she didn’t know what to say but Remus budded in, lifting his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder and pulled her in awkwardly. She instantly got the hint, bringing a hand and patted his chest stiffly while the group tried not to bellow. Even Lily’s facade was beginning to break, her hand shooting up to cover a growing smile.

There was never a boring day at Hogwarts.

But she was taking too long to answer. This would've been quick, easy, had not everyone else been around and especially if they hadn’t lied about her dating.

“I’m sorry but yes, we’ve been together for a little while now, haven’t we, darling?” said Remus, saving her from the hesitation. Y/N nodded, at least she didn’t need to give a reason now.

Remus’ lying was exceptional. There wasn’t even a flicker in his expressions aside from the involuntary dark blush that ran down his cheeks to his neck. Y/N couldn’t blame him, her face felt like it was on fire.

Gilderoy tried to play it off coolly but his shoulders slumped, looking absolutely dispirited. He meekly nodded, placing the box and letter on the table and sped off.

“Cougar L/N!” Marlene roared once he was out of earshot.

“You lot are ruthless!” She barked at them.

“I did nothing!”

“Lied to a poor boy!” Lily lectured sharply.

“And she went along with it!” “Because you —”

While everyone was now bickering or on the verge of tears, Remus peeled himself off of her and Y/N patted him once more.

“You’re welcome.”

She looked up at him, “Darling? Really?”

His eyes rolled, “Did you want me to call you a troll?”

“Got me there, thank you.”

His face softened at this, shoving her in a teasing way before seizing the small box of chocolates, cracking it open and handed her a piece.

“What?” he smirked, moving to open a book, flipping to his worn-out bookmark. He side-eyed her uncomfortable expression as she looked at the box. He recited her words, “Expensive chocolate is still expensive chocolate.”

“You’re a dick.”

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

February 17th, 1976

Y/N quickly learned that it was a mistake using the excuse that she and Lupin were dating because now the entire school believed it.

It spread like wildfire. Girls rejected by Remus shot her a hardened gaze, eyes scorned through her robes while other’s who confessed to Y/N avoided her completely. They would all gossip the moment they passed the hallways and she could feel their gaze.

“Lupin beat me to it!”

“— how long have they’ve been —”

“I’ve fancied him for two years! Two years and she suddenly just swoops in?!”

“Honestly, I thought she was with Potter.”

“She’s hot.” “He's fit!”

“— jealous of her —”

“Crikey — don’t they have anything else to talk about?” Remus said, turning away from the hall.

Remus disappeared for the past couple of days, only now hearing the commotion for the first time. He looked fairly pale, eyes red and tired — but not unusual. Y/N shrugged off the rumours and speculations before entering the hall, shouting to him to wait.

Many students stopped their gossiping for a moment to watch her pass before resuming. She marched up to her customary seat, her friends whistling at her.

“Where’s Remus L/N?”

“Mrs. Lupin!”

“Fuck off.”

She shoved snacks into her bag, hoarding enough food for the both of them and managed to grab a giant mug filled with coffee, making her way out of the hall with a few people loitering after her. James forcibly brought Sirius to his feet, Peter leaped over and Lily sprang up from Marlene, cutting her off while looping her arm with Y/N’s.

Mary elected to stay back, engrossed in a chat with Dorcas and Alice before quickly roping Marlene in. Nevertheless, she shouted once she saw the coffee mug, “That’s for Lupin, isn’t it?!”

“Don’t start… it’s just coffee.”

“Black coffee my arse!”

James ran up to her, tugging on her robes lightly, “Does this mean I should swap my Galleons to Lupin?”

Y/N shrugged him off, stomping over to Remus waiting by the door. She handed him the mug, glancing back in hopes of Celeste: no letter from her mother, again. She sighed before hauling the rest of the group to Kettleburn's classroom. This time, empty but always open for students to come and go. Even a sign was plastered on the entrance: Hold a Niffler if feeling down! (BEWARE of theft).

“Sneaking off like this is going to fuel more rumours,” said Lily, settling her things down on the desks beside her.

“Sorry Whiskers — Moony!”

Remus cracked his fingers, a long breathy sigh trickled from him slowly. “We should mitch lessons today — let it cool down for a bit.”

“Mitch?”

“Skip classes —”

“Moony is possibly the worst prefect in Hogwarts History — he deserves a gold star for it,” chuckled Peter.

Sirius grinned and the two made brief eye contact but neither looked away until James’ voice rang out again. It made Y/N's skin go warm.

“Mate’s going for a record.”

Sirius went to scratch the back of his neck, his head turning down to fiddle with his rings out of habit. “Maybe they’ll put him in the next printed copies of

Hogwarts: A History.” 

Remus rolled his eyes, fixing his posture to sit straighter. “Ungrateful gits. All I hear are three wannabe detention attendees. You ought to be thanking me. With what you pull, I could easily give you two years worth of ‘em.”

A collective sigh went around from the boys who seemed to bow their heads in mutual respect. They grouped and drawled, “Thank you, Moonyyy!”

Lily turned to her, “I’m sorry, but you’re not skipping.”

Her voice automatically switched at the mention of class; it went strict and firm and eerily sounded like Professor McGonagall which had Y/N double down.

Once the bell rang, Sirius quickly walked up to her, taking the place of Lily.

“Fine, we’ll keep the Puffskein in my dorm.”

She considered him for a moment. “I’ll visit daily.”

“Jolly.”

He sped up, hooking an arm around James’ shoulders as they headed to Potions. Y/N's eyes followed him, unable to look away and her heart dropped.

━━━━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━━━━

“The Draught of Peace is a potion that often comes up on the Ordinary Wizarding Level. As you know from review, it calms anxiety and high levels of agitation. It’s been used to calm students who are too stressed with NEWT exams.

“And today,” Slughorn says, trying to look cheerful but failing — looking far too stiff and forced, “ We'll attempt to brew it.”

Lily sat up bolt-straight, eager to soak in new information. Instead of sitting with Lily today, she took a seat in between Remus and James, Lily with Snape.

“The instructions are up on the board, if you have any questions, ask away. Be warned though; be too heavy-handed — mix too fast and you’ll end up with a potion that would make the consumer fall into an irreversible sleep.

“You will be graded on your progress once finished.” He flicked his wand, opening all of the student’s textbooks to an ingredients page, unlocked the cupboard and turned back, “You have until the end of the class, begin my pupils!”

“Sluggys lookin’ pretty sluggishly today,” whispered Lily as they met briefly while collecting their ingredients.

Slughorn did look a little down. His face and voice were desolate, missing its happy chiper.

“Whiskers, I have everything already, don’t worry about it!” James beckoned.

The potion, in her opinion, wasn’t as hard as she predicted it to be. She was doing quite well, better than Lily and Remus which gave her a small sense of pride.

“So, Prongs, when are we going to get to meet Emmeline?”

James didn’t look up from his fiddly potion, too engaged but there was a small grin on his face. “We’re trying to take it slow —” “Pfft,” interjected Remus, “James Potter and slow — in a relationship? Doubt it. Did your Veela powers run out?”

“Hey! I like her and I don’t want her to run off or feel pressured.”

“Ah, what a gentleman, isn’t he Lupin?”

“Quite.”

James shook his head, “You shouldn’t be talking. Shouldn’t you lovebirds be on a date yoursel — Merlin! Moony don’t do that!”

Remus flicked his wand before a handful of leftover powdered moonstone fell on top of James’ head, giving him an iridescent appearance.

Y/N ignored them, stirring clockwise, then counterclockwise, simmering the heat down to the perfect level for seven minutes, then added in two drops of syrup of hellebore. A shimmery silver mist stemmed from her cauldron. A satisfied smirk settled it’s way on her face before scanning the class. Nobody else, besides Remus and Snape who’d been adding their finishing touches, was done.

Just as James was about to finish his perfectly brewed potion, a small beam was directed at his cauldron, ruining the entire potion as it sputtered multicoloured sparks. He tried to prod at the flames at the base of the cauldron, trying to cool it down but it was already too late. It soon became a thick, muddy concrete mixture.

“What the fuck? You guys saw that, right?!”

They had indeed seen a spell hit his cauldron. Their heads whipped around in search. With only ten minutes left and James’ grades about to drop, they all panicked slightly. If his marks were to drop below a certain level, James would be in jeopardy of losing his Quidditch title as captain and be forced to step down, focusing more on the OWLs.

Remus spotted them first: “It’s Snape.”

“How do you know?”

He didn’t respond, leaving them to follow his line of vision to look. Snape wore a horrible smirk, going as far as to wink at James. His perfectly brewed potion shimmered in the light before whirling around to talk to Lily.

“Fucking Snivellus,” James muttered tensley.

“Alright, in five minutes, I’ll be coming around to look at your potions! Be ready to present them.” Slughorn announced.

Remus sighed. “Prongs, just take mine — I’ll take yours. My grades are high enough but if yours drop —”

“No Moony,” he stated firmly. “I’m not going to let you go down with me.”

Distracted, Snape blushing like a fool to Lily and the boys fighting over Remus’ endeavour at being noble, Y/N swished her wand, levitating Jame’s cauldron and directed it over to Snape. She bewitched a temporary invisibility charm, switching them, before levitating Snape's back to James. Now, in front of James was a flawlessly brewed Draught of Peace.

“James, take my help —” “I said no you wanker!”

Slughorn was making rounds around the classroom, but Snape beckoned him over to his shared table with Lily, confident as he sent a nasty look to them.

“Evans, looking good! Perfectly brewed — I’ll add an extra point on your mark.” The praise did not go unnoticed as her chest puffed with pride, her head turning and locked eyes with Y/N, a large smile on her face.

Nice! Y/N mouthed, a thumb sticking upwards.

“Now lets — Severus!” exclaimed Slughorn, flashes of surprise shot through him, “What happened? This is so unlike you.”

The Slytherins in the class all looked up — scratch that — everyone in the class snapped their heads towards him; Snape had never once messed up a potion. They watched as Snape’s face fell from his smug smirk as a black stemming, multicoloured, cloud of smoke puffed in the air, making the surrounding students cough.

“Sir — I swear it was fine moments ago, I don’t know what happened! It must’ve —”

Their professor sighed, a very disappointed look crossed his face before shaking his head.

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Snape. Accidents happen. Evanesco.”

The contents, including the puff of smoke, vanished, leaving Snape to gape around. Lily touched his shoulder, rubbing her hand up and down and began murmuring into his ear.

But before Slughorn could go to another group, Y/N raised her hand, flagging him down while the rest of the class was still paying attention. “Professor! We would like for you to clear us, please!”

“Whiskers, what are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

“Look at what she did with your cauldron,” Remus mumbled, his eyes darting to her.

Complete surprise and utter awe replaced his face as Slughorn let out an excited squeal. His hands clapped together. “Everyone should take a page from Potter, L/N and Lupin. I’ve never seen such great work for this potion! Amazing you three! Ten points for Gryffindor.”

Their heads whipped towards her, Remus just smiled while James stared wide-eyed.

“You love to underestimate me.”

#sbtmas #Harry Potter #harry potter series #harry potter fanfiction #HP #HP series #hp marauders #hp angst #severus snape #James Potter #Sirius Black #remus and sirius #young!sirius black #young!sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #love triangle #the marauders #the marauders imagine #Marauders #marauders era #harry potter marauders #young marauders #fanfiction #reader insert #marauders fanfiction #hp fluff

[punk-rock-unicorn]

The Library

Fandom: MCU

Pairings: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

Summary: Bucky and Sam take a pit stop in London before going to Madripoor. Bucky does not trust any line Zemo has on a fence. To bad you are not the better option.

A/N: My first Tumblr post and my first attempt at a reader/you centered story. Hopefully, it is good. May make a sequel to this. For right now it will just stay Teen for Sexual Tension.

--------------------

"Where are we even going?" Sam asked as he trailed after Bucky. Their unwelcome tag along followed at their heels. His coat fitting the rainy city more than Sam's own clothes as they walked. The neighborhood they were in was filled with tall buildings and the city of London was confusing. Bucky scowled but did not respond just yet. His eyes glued to his phone as he looked at it. He dodged a man who did not even glance at the odd group. Or seemed to notice the terrorist following at their heels. "Seriously man where are we...?" Sam asked annoyed as his hand reached out to grab Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky turned around with a glare directed at the other man. His eyes slipping to Zemo who only looked around the British city curiously. "I swore it was somewhere near here," he said and looked around the dreary city that had a slight drizzle of rain falling from the city. "I know we are close," he added before turning around and continuing walking. Sam looked at his back before shifting his eyes to Zemo who only did a tilt to his head.

"Seriously Bucky!" He called as he walked after him. He ignored the man following him as well as he could. At this point they were just using him for his jet. Though what Bucky wanted in London was anyone's guess. "What the fuck are you looking for?" Sam asked with an almost yell.

"Not a what," Bucky called over his shoulder. "A who." The tall man swore as he looked around the buildings that all looked the same.

"Wouldn't happen to be looking for me would you?" A slight British accented voice called before stepping out of an alleyway towards the three. The three men tensed and looked towards the person coming out of the shadows. A simple black jacket and trousers all they had on.

"Had to make it hard to find you didn't you?" Bucky called after calling your name. You had watched the boys since they entered the neighborhood curious on their location and where they needed to go. Not that it was that hard to figure out considering Bucky had texted you while you were gone. You smirked at the man and stepped closer with your hands in your pockets.

"Good to see you, Bucky," you greeted and your eyes slipped to the other two. One you knew from your adventure on the battlefield against Thanos. "Sam Wilson," you said and nodded to him with a smile. The second man you recognized as well but for a totally different reason. "Is there a reason Helmut Zemo is wandering around London free from prison?" You asked the two with a raised eyebrow.

"Bucky did it," Sam said simply with the same energy of a sibling tattling to their mother. Your eyes met the terrorist's eyes curiously. He had brown eyes and a beautiful face. His outfit was also stylish and the fur on his collar unique enough.

"Technically, he did that himself," Bucky muttered under his breath with a shrug. You released a sigh and rubbed at your face. "Can you bring us inside?" He asked you and you sighed.

"Fine," you said and looked around the street. It was empty and you walked a couple feet forward to face a nondescript building. With a flash of gold glyphs and a rippling of air the building unlocked. Sam and Bucky did not look surprised but Zemo did. You smirked at him. "Welcome to the London Sanctum of Magic," you said as you entered the building with the rich and warm interior. "Please touch nothing. I am the only Sorceress here at this time."

With that you led them to a nice sitting room with comfy couches. The interior was very British and almost ancient in design. You had always hated it growing up honestly. It felt too stuffy but now it was fine. Not that you had time to bitch about interior decorating choices. "So can I interest any of you gentleman in a cup of tea?" You asked and smiled at the group as they sat in the chairs provided.

Bucky and Sam sitting on one love seat while Zemo sat in an arm chair. "No," Bucky said before anyone else could. You saw Zemo open his mouth to say something but shut it at a glare from Bucky. "We need your help," he added with a scowl. His eyes glaring at Zemo who said nothing. Though he was looking at you curiously.

"Sorry I am not a psychiatrist," you said with a sarcastic smile. "Have you tried the place three blocks away? They have amazing biscuits." Bucky and Sam glared at you though it lacked any true heat. The criminal mastermind terrorist however chuckled under his breath. His eyes were deviously interesting you had to say. Something about him drew the eye. Or maybe it had been a long time where your only interaction was either Doctor Strange, Wong, or young initiates.

"We need to go to Madripoor," Bucky explained and you barely withheld your snort at the mention of that horrible place. "You mentioned that you had a line on someone."

"What and Daddy Warbucks can't help you?" You groused as you stared at the three. You sat on the arm of one chair and you watched a smirk curl the man's face.

"Well I could always be your dad-" he started to say when Sam exclaimed loudly in disgust. You threw your head back with a laugh. It had been a long time since you could have this much fun verbally sparring with someone.

"Now is not the time!" Sam cried out with a sneer. You snorted and looked at all three. "You have seen the news right? The Flag Smashers. They have super soldiers. We need to find who supplied the formula." Sam was trying to beseech to your desire to save others. Too bad he was barking up the wrong tree.

"Mate," you answered with a scoff. "I am a sorceress. My job is to protect this Sanctum, train initiates, protect artifacts, and listen to the Sorcerer Supreme, which you are not. I have no reason to care about some terrorists. No offense." You looked at Zemo and shrugged. He answered with a tight lipped smile.

"We just need your contact's information in case his line falls through," Bucky said as he tried to get between you and Sam. You met Bucky's eyes and glared as he gave you an almost puppy dog look. Damn him. You sighed and ran your hand through your hair.

"Fine," you hissed and stood up. "But it will have to wait till tomorrow. I'll send a message and hopefully get a response. Let me go get my phone. Bloody hell. I hate heroes." You grumbled and moved out of the sitting room. "Library is that way and kitchen that way," you said poking your head back in. "If the book looks ancient and probably bound in human skin do not touch it. Be right back."

----------

You grumbled and stared at the sent text before stepping back downstairs. You threw your jacket over a table in the library before stepping into the room. "Machiavelli," you heard a voice call as a gloved finger ran over the backs. "Epictetus, and some good classics here." You turned around to see the Baron of Sokovia pretty much fingering the spine of the books. "Do you actually have books bound in skin?" He asked and you smirked at him.

"Probably," you said with a laugh. "My parents always warned me about them. Most of our more important books are in the other part of the library." You stepped closer to the man who had a good lead on you height wise. "You can read anything you want here," you added with a dismissive shrug. "Most of it is in English. Figure that won't be a problem. Even got some Harry Potter somewhere."

His eyebrow raised and you snickered before sitting on the top of the table and watched him. His own coat was off and showed a turtleneck that fit him nicely. At least he was pleasant to look at even if the two Avengers wanted your help. "A little on the nose is it not?" He asked and you chuckled before your hands moved. A steaming cup of tea now rested in your hands while the tray sat behind you with another cup. "Two sugars, please," he said as he glanced back. A book about the Marquis de Sade in his hands. Philosophy of the Bedroom probably. You added the amount requested before handing him a cup. A breath going over your own before you sipped the rich taste.

He set the book back in its proper place and took a sip of the tea. Brown eyes met your own and you never thought tea drinking would almost turn you on. You could see his tongue on the edge of the cup and you licked your lips before sipping your own tea again. Almost burnt your tongue this time. "Which is your favorite classic?" He asked as he set the cup down. His arm sliding next to your side just so before he placed it on the saucer. Your eyes went to him and down to his wet lips. You wanted to lick the tea off of them and do some other naughty things to him.

"Would have to go with the Count of Monte Cristo," You answered with a grin at him. He pulled back with the gracefullness of an emphereal spirit. You almost wanted to grab his arm and pull him back. "Where are Thing One and Thing Two?" You asked as his back faced you. You could see a smirk twist his face before he went over more books. Skipping classics and philosophy to go to other sections. You watched him go as you looked him up and down. He had a nice body you had to say.

"Oh?" He asked and stepped back with a book. "And what about this?" You were sipping your cup of tea when the title was clearly shown. Fifty Shades of Grey. You choked on your tea at the look on his face.

"That is not mine!" You called out as you tried to clear the tea from your windpipe. You did not even think there was an erotica section in the library. You were trying to figure out where it came from when you smelled his cologne wash over you. Your eyes peeking up at him as you stayed in your spot against this table. His grin was salacious and dripping sin. The book was in his hands as he reached for his cup of tea again.

A smirk on his handsome face as those gloved fingers ghosted across your side. You saw his leg step close in between yours from how you were sitting. Bloody hell you wanted nothing more than for him to take you against the table. Or at least kiss you. How long had it been since you could snog anyone? "Charming snake," you hissed to him though your lips twisted in a smile.

"Why do you want to taste my forked tongue?" He teased as his lips ran over your own. You felt them tingle and you could feel your control failing as you met his eyes.

"Would rather have you taste me, love," you teased as your fingers ran over his chest. He had some nice muscles and you giggled as you heard a growl leave his throat. His lips pressed against you and you could almost taste a mix of tea and wine as you bunched up his shirt. Before you could even deepen the kiss or taste his forked tongue the library door slammed open.

"Oh come on!" A voice shouted. "Really?!"

Part 2

@joyfulinternettraitor

#helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #helmut zemo x you #simping #writing prompt #zemo x reader #sugar daddy zemo

[fandomwriterstuff]

Traumtänzer (Pt. 2)

Rated T

German Translations:

Mein Gott - My God

Der Herr de Ringe - The Lord of the Rings

Il Principe - The Prince

Part 1

Part 3

“So… He went back in time to meet up with a woman he kissed once and who was happily married with children?” You asked skeptically. That didn’t sound like the Steven you’d known. But then again, you hadn’t known him all that well.

“It’s confusing, but that’s the gist of it,” Sam interjected, taking a sip of his tea. The four of you were getting cozy in your living room, though it was a bit small. Sam and James shared the couch and you and the Baron found yourselves in arm chairs.

“Why are you so willing to stick your neck out for him?” James asked, looking for more information.

“He,” you paused. How much should you say? “He helped me out when I had nothing,” you shrugged and looked down into your empty teacup. Chamomile had always been a favorite of yours.

“That explains why you owe him a favor, but you’re really going out of your way. You know we’re harboring a criminal,” James nodded towards the Baron. You squinted your eyes at him, wondering if he could be trusted.

“He kept my secret… He found out my background and he didn’t turn me over to the authorities or insist I go get tested on,” you could tell you’d piqued their attention with that one. It was true, what you’d been thinking before. You didn’t tell anyone about your background, but Wanda had seen you and told Steven, and he helped you get off the grid. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” the Baron finally spoke up. “But we’re not in a place to be helping SHIELD out considering the circumstances, so we have no real reason to turn you over.” You accepted his answer with a frown. It wasn’t a lot but he was right.

“I knew the Maximoffs when they worked for HYDRA because my parents were secretly HYDRA agents,” you looked down into the teacup again, fighting the tensing of your muscles and the urge to run. “They sent me in to be experimented on by the-” You lost the word for scepter. Damn it all. “The thing, you know.” You rolled your eyes and growled, swearing in Sokovian. The Baron smirked at that. “ The scepter, god what’s the fucking word,” you mumbled in Sokovian. You knew James and Sam wouldn’t understand but the Baron was Sokovian and should be helping you out. “ Help a girl out,” you pleaded in Sokovian, and you could tell he was holding back a laugh.

“The scepter?” He added in English.

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “They experimented on me with the scepter!” You were so excited to have found the correct word, you didn’t notice the silence or meaningful glances James and Sam sent each other. “So I got some cool powers, they ran a lot of tests, terrible time,” You continued quickly, wanting to get this part over with. “Steven knew this, and helped me get off the grid. I owe him more than a favor, I owe him my freedom, my life,” you said emphatically.

“So you’re HYDRA?” James asked, tensing up. You glared over at him.

“I do not associate myself with Nazis, James,” you were cold, but this was a tough topic. “I was forcibly experimented on for years, and you think I would willingly associate myself with them? You should know better.”

He had the self-awareness to look a little ashamed, though you couldn’t care less. You didn’t need his shame or his pity.

After a brief pause, you sighed. “You can stay here for a little bit. Where are you going next?”

“Madripoor,” the Baron answered smoothly, and you choked on your own spit.

“ Mein Gott,” you mumbled. “Why on Earth would you want to go there?”

“We have business there,” he said, noncommittal. You raised your eyebrows, so it was top secret. Interesting. You stared at each other for a moment, unsure where your next words would lead you. You didn’t want to push too far but your curiosity was burning.

“I suppose I will prepare dinner,” you finally said after losing a staring contest with a criminal.

It was an uneventful night. You prepared food and you all ate in silence. It was only later when you were sitting in the living room reading Der Herr der Ringe that things got weird. James was sharpening a knife while Sam fiddled with some electronics. The Baron was reading your copy of Il Principe quietly.

“ What is your superpower, then? Wanda has her mind tricks and Pietro had his speed,” the Baron was speaking in quiet Sokovian, though he didn’t even glance up from his book. You noticed James side-eye him, but he left it for the moment.

“ I hardly think I should tell you,” you huffed. He raised a single eyebrow, still looking down at the book.

“ Indulge a poor curious man,” he finally looked up and caught you in his gaze. You felt pulled towards him, like his fluent Sokovian was a homing beacon and you just wanted to be near him. It was dangerous, but you hadn’t spoken Sokovian in ages, nobody here knew it and it was becoming a dead language.

“ They called me a dreamwalker,” you whispered in your native language. “ I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you frowned at yourself. You couldn’t trust him. But he was right, who was he going to tell? Alerting the authorities to you would also alert the authorities to him. You kept eye contact with him this time, tilting your head.

“ Tell me, Maus. How does dreamwalking work?”

“ I-”

“English please,” Sam groaned. You pursed your lips and made a quick decision to lie to him. He would have no such issues alerting the authorities. He was an Avenger.

“I was simply telling the Baron about my book. Der Herr der Ringe. The Lord of the Rings,” you replied smoothly.

“What’s so interesting about it?” James asked, this time genuinely curious. Though what was more curious was the small smile the Baron was giving you. You felt your cheeks burn at the attention and tried to hide it by glancing back down at your book.

“It’s the follow on to The Hobbit and follows the third age of Middle Earth,” you began, but James’ jaw had dropped.

“There was a sequel to the Hobbit and you didn’t tell me,” he glared at Sam, who only raised his hands placatingly.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were so into fantasy,” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“It’s actually three books,” you added. “Not just a sequel.”

“Oh man,” James shook his head. “I have been missing out. Is Gandalf still in it?”

You nodded, smiling. The previous topic was forgotten, you started telling him about the movies and how they helped you learn English.

All throughout the evening though, the Baron was glancing at you, trying to figure you out. You were sure he was curious about your powers, though you were sort of afraid to tell him. At the same time… It would be such a relief to talk to somebody about it.

You retired early after setting up the pull out couch and allowing the three men to figure out where they would sleep. They agreed that Sam and James would share the couch and the Baron would take the single bed in the guest room. Their explanation was that they’d be closest to the door if he tried to escape. You couldn’t sleep though, images from your past running through your mind.

It was nearing four when you simply decided to get up, make some tea, grab your book, and return to your room.

However, when you got to the kitchen, the Baron was sitting quietly at the table in the dark sipping on some tea.

“ Good morning,” you whispered in Sokovian, trying not to wake the men in the next room over. The Baron tilted his head towards you and smiled softly, the dark shadowed his face but you could see his features fine. You’d always preferred the night time and the darkness that came with it.

“ Couldn’t sleep? ” He replied in the same language. It must be nice for him to be able to speak it again, just like it was for her.

“ No,” you sighed. “ My mind was racing. And on top of that I’m not used to having guests.”

“You’re uncomfortable being vulnerable around us?” He asked softly, but you shook your head.

“ That’s not it.  I don’t want to accidentally walk into one of your dreams. I’m out of practice.”

He nodded sagely, it would make sense. You seemed like a polite girl and you likely wouldn’t want to intrude.

“ Tea? I made extra,” he gestured towards the teapot where steam was still rising and you smiled, smelling the chamomile.

“ Thank you,” you murmured and poured yourself a cup before sitting down at the table with him. “ You couldn’t sleep either?”

“Too much to do and plan,” he replied with a shrug of one shoulder. “ Will you tell me about your powers?”

You sighed, resigned, and nodded.

“ I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I can walk through dreams and change them. It works for daydreams too, when people are in ‘the zone,’”  you explained. “ Though it’s harder then, when people are awake.”

I can also project my thoughts into other people’s minds you spoke this time directly in his head and his eyebrows shot up.

I haven’t figured out how to read minds per se, but I’m hoping I can learn.

“ Fascinating. Absolutely sensational,” you blinked and blushed at the praise, hoping he wouldn’t notice in the dark room. “ You’re incredible, Maus. Is there anything you can’t do?” He chuckled and you ducked your head, looking up at him through your lashes with a small smile. “ Oh, that’s not all, is it?” He wondered, a slow smile spreading on his face when you nodded your agreement.

“ It’s new… I have only developed it since my time in this flat. But just as I can project my thoughts, I can project my body. Sort of like teleporting,”  you murmured, smiling again when he looked at you, astounded.

“ You truly are wonderful,” he praised you again, this time noting your reaction. You spoke with him for a little while after that about the places you’d teleported to, but you found you’d drifted off when you ‘awoke’ in the dreamscape.

It looked like a forest, this place that your mind conjured. In the forest were many trees and shrubs but also little glimmering puddles. Those were the dreams. You walked as if in a trance, sometimes you had no control in the dreamscape. The puddle nearest to you was dark and murky, you were frightened and your chest tightened up, but you couldn’t hold back as you dipped your toes in and were immersed in the dream.

It was dark. It was always dark at first. But then there was a light and a voice.

You searched and walked around, looking for it, but you regretted entering this… this… this nightmare.

It was James as the Winter Soldier on a dark, cold night. You watched the scene as if in slow motion, and screamed as he killed his friend and his wife.

He jerked back to look at you, noticing you for the first time, and stalked towards you.

“You’re next,” he growled at you, but you scrambled backwards, trying to find your way out of the dream. You tried to conjure something to snap him out of it. You could usually do whatever you wanted, so you changed the scenery. You were on a hot beach, white sand beneath our bare feet, and the Winter Soldier kept stalking towards you.

“Let me out!” you screamed at him. “Let me out!”

You gasped and fell from your chair, and the Baron shot up to catch you.

“ Maus? Are you alright?” his arms were warm around you as you shook off the last of the terror. You were afraid of dying in a dream. You weren’t sure if you’d wake up.

“What the fuck?” James growled from the door frame, rumpled and angry.

“I am sorry,” you choked out. “I did not mean-”

“Stay out of my head,” he cut you off and retreated to the couch, where Sam sat, confused.

“ You might want to stay out of his dreams,” the Baron whispered, arms still caging you in, but you appreciated the strength as tears pricked at your eyes. You hated when people raised their voices.

“ I can’t always control it. I couldn’t get out,” you choked on the words. You huffed a ragged breath and righted yourself, finally pulling away from the Baron. “ I’ll start breakfast,” you mumbled and turned away from him so he couldn’t see the few tears you allowed to fall from fear and apprehension.

Masterlist

#baron zemo #zemo x reader #zemo x you #helmut zemo #bucky barnes #sam wilson #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author

[centipedall]

Mister Lincoln, I presume?

Charlie Smith walked to the edge of the small cliff and looked at the old stone bridge. The thing was older than most of the city’s buildings, and the tales surrounding it were the subject of today’s investigation. It was a seven-foot drop from the cliff down onto the beach peppered with broken bottles, shards of metal, and probably tetanus. She looked downwards and sighed. What she had to do for a good picture. Charlie sat down at the edge before scooting herself off into the spiky pit of disease.

The cliff bent inwards from the top, forming a rather spacious pit that formed one of the city’s biggest populations of homeless. Of course, the sharp bits were more prominent inside than out- partly from the wind blowing in, and partly from the denizens themselves. Also scattered along the floor was Fourth of July apparel. The people, like the ground, were weirdly patriotic. A man was dressed in a tattered tank-top, with flag-patterned socks and a star-and-striped top hat. A woman had a large white winter coat over her bare chest emblazoned with the words “Uncle Sam Wants You!” and a grimacing eagle on the back. Another (almost completely naked) person had a flag wrapped around their head like a turban, and a lot of pennies and flag patches in a circle on the floor around them.

Charlie figured that these people were the best to talk with about the bridge. After all, some of them had spent half a century here. They should have some great stories. Unfortunately, no one looked like they wanted to illuminate her. Well, a couple twenties (provided by the website, of course) should fix that.

“Hey! Any of y’all want some easy money? You just gotta answer me a few questions ‘bout that bridge.” Charlie drawled.

Most of the people glared at her. A few went so far as to give her the middle finger. One old man whispered some unfortunate words under his breath. All in all, it was a tough crowd.

“I’ll help out, ma’am. There’s actually some pretty interesting stuff on the underside. Come on, walk with me.” The nude in the turban stood up and started walking. This was met with a chorus of displeasure.

“Jesus, Rick, don’t be an asshole.”

“Boo!”

“Don’t come crying to me when She gets mad.”

Charlie started to follow this Rick guy, but she felt someone grab her arm. A young man looked up at her. He opened and closed his mouth several times before actually speaking.

“Uh, miss, you sh-should, uh, take this. I-I’m s-sorry for bothering you. Please don’t be mad.” The kid held a penny out in front of her. Charlie wrested her arm from his grip and walked away.

“No! Wait, uh, oh g-god, I’m so sorry for y-y-yelling. Please, miss. P-please take it.” The kid seemed to be on the verge of crying.

“Alright, guy. Don’t get mad, okay? See? I’m taking the penny.” She slowly took it from him and put it in her pocket. She took a few steps back, then rushed to Rick, who was standing almost under the bridge.

“So, Rick, what’s so special? I don’t see anything money-worthy.”

“Oh, you can only see it directly underneath the bridge. Come on, follow me.” The man disappeared into the shadows under the bridge.

Charlie hesitated for a moment before following him.

The first thing Charlie noticed was the strange feeling. It was like cold metal was constantly running up and down between all of her muscles. The second thing she noticed was that everything around was dark, although she could still see things in a couple foot radius. Rick stood next to her, and he was hard to look at. In fact, anything that wasn’t obscured by darkness was uncomfortable to see. It was like every color was subtly altered in a way that hurt her eyes. She felt like she had spent the whole morning inside, only coming out at noon.

Squinting her eyes, Charlie said, “Rick? What’s happening? Are- are you seeing this?” She started to back away from him.

He laughed and said, “Pretty interesting, right?” The chuckling abruptly stopped, followed by an alert, “Wait, stay. She’s almost here.”

After the sentence ended, a scraping, metallic noise emanated from in front of them. It was a horrendous sound, like thousands of nails scraping along the marble floor. The noise got closer and closer, until Charlie wanted to collapse with her hands over her ears. Then, it encircled them, the noise buffeting Charlie from all angles. Finally, it ended in front of them. And the solemn copper face of Abraham Lincoln- top hat and all- emerged from the shadows.

As the rest of his upper body revealed itself, Charlie busted out laughing. Jesus. All that tension just for some guy in a Lincoln suit? She would’ve been angry about the waste of time, but this was just too good of a punchline.

“Ok friend. Thanks for the laugh, but you’re not getting the money. If you’ll excuse me, I gotta go find someone else who’ll gimme a better story. Unless you and your buddy got some good folklore?”

“Lincoln” continued to come out of the darkness. The head rose up to a good eight feet above the ground, and the massive copper chest showed. The arms seemed to be around six feet long. Against the relatively proportionate head and chest, they made quite the impact. The bottom of its chin dropped out, revealing a toothless mouth of wet gums and a long tongue. Drool dripped onto the floor.

“What… Is… How…” Charlie stammered, before coalescing her thoughts into “The fuck?”

“Here you go, madame.” Rick said, before tossing one of the flag patches to the thing.

“Excellent. And what is your payment, miss?” The copper behemoth’s voice was high and feminine, and seemed to emanate from its tongue.

“Payment? What do you mean? Wait, Rick, where are you going?”

“See ya, ma’am.” He chuckled to himself and walked out of the shadows.

Charlie started to follow him, but Lincoln swerved in front of her with surprising speed. One of the arms drifted towards her, causing Charlie to backpedal.

“Stay now. I need payment. An egg or a strip of clothing, perhaps.” The eyes of the statue stared a good couple of feet above her.

Oh god, an egg? Like, a breakfast egg or the other kind? Charlie shuddered and felt bile building in her throat. She quickly tore a piece off her shirt. “Here. Here you go. Can I go?”

“No, I don’t want your second skin! I want your clothing!”

“But… this is… what?” Charlie’s voice trailed off.

“Shall I have to keep you until you produce an egg? For shame, to be unprepared. And may I say, you are not showing much deference towards your first Lord.” The thing sounded a little offended in a patronizing way. “He did create your beautiful country. Um-Air-Ika, yes?”

“I’m… sorry? Are you talking about George Washington?”

“Bah! I won’t fall for your tricks! That man was merely a pretender to the first Lord’s throne! Alas, him and his barons had to usurp Abraham's palace with their spiteful treachery! Thankfully, his twin Carver threw him out- with the help of my Hypogaean siblings. Truthfully, the Court had their own plans for that day. I do thank them for implanting Kenny. He did good with reaching our brothers of the Æther. If only they could pull him down from the moon, his barony would start behaving, I tell you that!” The thing snapped out of her tirade and tittered. “How now brown cow, you won’t get me distracted so easily!”

“What are you talking about?” Charlie had lost all fear to the onset of confusion.

“Enfantés these days! Here, let me show you!” It retracted into the darkness for a moment, only to come back with a thick, tattered book between its hands.

“Peer, and become educated!” It shouted… pridefully?

Charlie walked up to the book. It was covered in dried mud, and had many pages torn out. The thing pointed to a page with pictures of the presidents, with their time in office printed under each picture.

“See? Now, this book caters to the Pretender, so it shows him first. However, we all know that Lord Lincoln was the first one. And here. Kenny on the moon, and his barons below him.” It pointed to JFK before gesturing at the presidents that came after him.

Then, it flipped through the pages, first showing her a picture of Benjamin Franklin, then one of an astronaut- probably Armstrong. “Look! I have exclusive pictures of the Pretender’s chief wizard- you know, the one who invented the Frenchman-Powered Juggernaut and bifocals. What a shame he killed Tesla. Now that man, he was an excellent ambassador and wizard. His death ray was just charming! Ooh! I also have a picture of Kenny taken during his exile on the moon! Oh, how sad it is.”

Suddenly, the thing dropped the book. “Wait, I forgot to show you my style! Oh, look upon it, how beautiful it is!”

The thing quickly moved, becoming much closer to Charlie’s body. Then, it curved around her. Charlie saw that, instead of legs, it had a long, thick, wet, ophidian tail that reminded her of intestines. Stuck to the tail were thousands of pennies, almost covering it. The tail went off into the darkness, with no signs of stopping.

“Yeah, that’s, uh, nice, I guess. I like how it’s… covered in pennies?”

“I prefer the term eggs. It’s scientifically accurate. Slang absolutely disgusts me.”

“I’m sorry? Did you say eggs? Wait a second, wait a second.” Charlie dug in her pockets for pennies. She only found one, and showed it to the creature.

“Is this good?”

“Oh, how delightful! Here, give it to me!” Lincoln stretched out a hand.

Charlie tentatively dropped it in its palm, and asked, “So, I can go now, right?”

“Oh yes, dearie, you can leave.”

Charlie started to walk away, then stopped and looked back at the creature. “Actually, one more thing. What would’ve happened if I didn’t give you my pen- uh, egg?”

“Well, dear, I would’ve just kept talking to you until you birthed one! Or I became impatient and retrieved one from within you. I don’t know where they are stored, so I might’ve had to root around in there for a while.”

Charlie paled, took a few steps, and was back out of the shadows. She shuddered as her body returned to normal, then quickly strode towards the encampment. Rick was gonna get a piece of her mind.

“Hey Rick, you asshole!” She yelled. The man walked away from his spot and looked at her.

“Why did you leave me in there? And what was that?”

“We aren’t sure, ma’am. And you said you wanted a story.” He gave her a big, goofy, genuine grin. Oh.

“I’m sorry for yelling, Rick. I thought you were being… well, whatever. But that thing was dangerous. I could’ve died.”

“Don’t worry ma’am. We were gonna go in with some iron if you weren’t out in a bit.”

“Iron? What does that do?” She asked.

“Haven’t you ever heard the stories?” He looked at her with incredulity.

“Uh, I guess not. Listen, I have to go. How can I get out of here?” She said.

“It’s on the other side of the bridge!” He smiled.

“Oh fuck me.”

When Charlie got home, she quickly wrote up the story. Rick wasn’t wrong. It was certainly interesting. Her boss loved it too. He was going to put it in the fiction section, but he was proud of her for expanding into fiction. In fact, he wanted her to write more!

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, the story was pulled back and scrapped. Her boss told her they had no control over it, and gave her some money in condolence. Meanwhile, the bridge was quickly and quietly dismantled over the course of a night. When the next heavy rain came down, thousands of pennies were washed down the riverbed. As well as the copper head of Abraham Lincoln, pierced with iron.

#city slickers #da collector.....

[localminstrel]

Medieval SKZ ! Where their crush being noble and they being from another class.

Warnings: basically almost all the reactions are sad, slave!Changbin (but no describe of any specific treatment)

Tag: gender neutral reader

Words: 2 100

Notes : First of all, i wanted to say that keeping it gender neutral with all the codes from the medieval and the noble class was EXTREMELY difficult. Also, i’m sorry if this too short, i try to write just a reaction and not a scenario ^^’’. But if you want some of them to be develop into an entire scenario, feel free to ask (being gender neutral or another gender, i don’t mind) !

Notes 2: sorry for the typos and grammar issues, I try to fix it but grammar is always my biggest flaw in languages! (even in my mother tongue).

Gifs credit to owners !

Chan :

Chan can’t but always looks at you from the training field, while you walks pass the walkway above, between the two towers, wearing your royalty outfit. You are the child of the ruling king and queen and he is just a knight in the army, maybe the highest one, so the chief, but compared to you, just a knight. He was training to be a knight from an early age and used to see you grown as well, because you are around the same age.

But you never looked at him. You never look down the walkway. This day, as always, he just sighs and refocus on the young knights to form when you walked out of his sight.

Minho

Minho loves to be the center of the attention, getting hundred of amazed looks and cheers. He loves to wear colorful clothes and being the troubadour of the court. The king, your father, was really nice to him and paid him also to teach you some poetry. So he’s very happy with his life, getting to spend hours with you, just talking about art and get to admire how smart you are.

But the shadow were still here: the fact that he’s just miles away from your class – you’re gonna be the future monarch for god’s sake – and the throne next to you never gonna be filled with him.

But the tragedy doesn’t stop here: he was just happy to be your friend and sees you everyday but he can’t do that anymore. Because one day, during one of your lessons, you kiss him and for a second, he was happy. He was happy for a couple of weeks being your secret lover but your father finds out and he gave him the choice: be killed or leave. So Minho goes on the roads again, never forgetting that one day, he had the attention of the most important person to him: you.

Changbin

Changbin believed he never gonna knew love in his life. Being a slave for his entire life, sold away from his parents at 6 and buy by your family at 16, he just believed everyone told him: that he was nothing. But you came into his life, child of a duke and duchess. Your family was rude to Changbin but you was the only one who care about him. You fighted your father several times to give him at least a room (with the minimal but a bench and a roof) and a proper meal by day (you managed to sneak and give him more food).

You basically save his life and his mental health. The amount of his love for you was only equal to the amount of despair he have because he knew he never could love you like you deserved.

Hyunjin

Everyone knows Hyunjin in the city: he was the town crier’s son, the bright kid who follow his father everywhere and helping him at his job. Hyunjin thinks his father was the best at his job and when he finally be able to do it on his own, he tried to be the best too.

One day, he sees you, the second child of the king and queen, looking at him with bright eyes, surrounded by your guards and servants, while he reads his text. He was starstruck, it’s was love at first sight. But he can’t approached you, the guards make it very clear. So everyday, he continues to do his job loud and louder, so he hopes you can hear him from your arrowslit.

But sooner or later, a news he needs to communicate break his heart: your in-coming wedding.

Jisung

At a young age, Jisung was always outside the bar his father hold. He knew the streets of the town by heart and everyone loves him. So when one day, he runs into you and collapsed into the ground, he can but ask himself who the fuck a little kid he never see are running at night without looking.

“_Hey, who are you and what are you doing in my town?”

Like the little boy he is, he believes he rules the city.

You look at him, scared, little scratches on your hands. But it was too late to say something because before Jisung can think about running away, a bunch a guards appears from the closest alley and a man wearing a long coat emerged from the armors.

“_Your Royal Highness! You need to stop escaped from the castle! I’m going to punish you!”

Jisung saw you glaring furiously at him before being pulled always by your chaperon. Chaperon who just throw at him a haughty look before turning away with the guards.

This wasn’t the last time Jisung saw you. You was the fourth child of the king and queen and you don’t give a fuck about your statutes so you’re running away almost every month, time to prepare a new plan. So you two end up being friends because you love to refer at yourself of the ‘street’s kids’”. You discovered everything together: the first hangover in his father’s basement, the first tobacco with the herbalist’s son… also the first kiss and the first time. But the reality makes up for you when you turns the age for marriage. Being the fourth child, you don’t have a high place in the hierarchy but you can be used for diplomatic reasons with the neighborhoods.

Your father knew your love for escaping, so he trapped you in the castle and make the public announcement of your wedding. Jisung was devastating. For some weeks, he was a mess, doesn’t know if you are lying to him or if you are trapped. He must knew. He must knew a royalty kid never gonna be with him forever, him, the son of a bartender.

But after 3 weeks, he heard your code on his window and saw you, covered in dirty water and mud, a little bundle on your shoulders and a smile on your face.

“_ I think it’s time for us to go”.

Felix

Felix loves cooking and he was really happy that he’s finally be accept in your family’s castle, the home of the duke and duchess. Well, he’s not the chief yet, just a clerk but he have a good room and a good salary.

At first, he don’t like you, way before seeing you before he always heard how picky you are towards your foods and pissed all the cooks around. Well, especially the new ones because the old knows you and were just used to it.

One night, Felix was cleaning the kitchen alone after a huge banquet and he heard sound behind the closed door before someone opens it. Leaning on the floor with water and duster, he just popped behind a counter and you almost scream at him in fear, almost blow up the candle you have in your hands.

“_What are you doing here? The kitchen’s close.

_ I know but… I… I’m a little bit hungry and…

_ Sorry, I can’t do anything for you, I’m not allowed. Please get back to your room.

_ What? You don’t know who I am?

_No? Should I?

_ Well… I’m like the heir of this castle.”

Felix opens his eyes and freeze.

“_ Oh! Oh… Your Grace, I’m… I’m sorry… I-

_ Haha, calm down! No need, you’re doing your job”.

You end up talking during a long time this night and Felix learns your love for food. You show him some dishes and when you’re talking more and more about your passion, he can’t but develop a crush on you.

Unfortunately, he knows his crush never gonna be mutual, as he sees you smiling around with you childhood friend, some child of an another duke.

Seungmin

Seungmin loves to be a monk, to be on every road, talking to different people, sleeping in a bunch of various places. But he have one rule: never stay in a place too long. Why? Because in the boy’s history is his biggest regret: you. In some random village, he falls for you, the child of a really high merchant. You was so kind and so dedicated to others than the crush was irremediable. He never knows if you feel the same way as him because your interactions were simply professional and because your family doesn’t like him.

Not because he was a bad person but just because he was a monk, a wealth-less person, always walking on bare foots with shady clothes. And their reputation thing was high, so he left.

Jeongin

Jeongin comes from a serf’s family and you were the child of the baron and baroness who ruled the land.

His crush on you was no immediate but slow burn. Working on cereal field, he sees you everyday on the road, in a luxurious cart, going to the local town to see if there were new books in the library. The first times, he just thinks that rich people got really a lot of time to play. But in the few months, he used to saw several things that contribute to his crush: your smile, your laugh, the day you help some old woman who was falling, the day you give some extra gold to a very young kid, the day you give your servant a book as a birthday gift…

He can just watch them for a long distance but he sees how your heart was big. And seeing this everyday makes him happy and almost died when you smiles at him one day.

//////

Notes: I’m so sorry, some of them are so sad ;;;;

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #medieval!straykids #medieval au #chan reactions #changbin reactions #minho reactions #jisung reactions #hyunjin reactions #seungmin reactions #felix reactions #jeongin reactions

[miss-m-calling]

Chocolate Box 2021 letter

Dear writer,

Hello and thank you for writing for me!

I’m Miss_M on AO3. For all requests, I am asking for fic.

My requests this year are: American Gods (TV), The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV), Starred Up (2013 movie), Witchblade (TV), and Бeсa ǀ Besa (TV)

General likes:

-pre-canon, canon, post-canon, canon-divergent, and missing-scene stories

-character-driven as well as plot-driven stories

-fics which mix humor and angst/serious business (when this fits the canon)

-characters at work and play

-group dynamics, family dynamics (including constructed families), professional partnerships, friendships, alliances, rivalries, intimate couples (new lovers/first times as well as long-term/established couples), UST-ridden couples who are not just UST-ridden but connected in other ways too

-irony, snark, humor, angst -- all arising from the characters rather than the plot crowbaring it in

-linear, non-linear, and 5+1 stories

-hopeful endings, happy endings, bittersweet endings, “everything is awful but you’re here and maybe I don’t entirely hate that” endings

-worldbuilding

-spiky characters who keep their jagged edges and spikiness in adversity as well as when their lives are going well, square-peg-in-round-hole characters, tough characters with (maybe not so well) hidden vulnerabilities, characters who are their own worst enemies, characters who manage to get over themselves when the occasion calls for it, characters with conflicting values which may or may not be reconciled/resolved, characters who treat each other with respect and as equals even if they hate/annoy/can’t stand/love to dislike each other, characters who may not be exactly friends and may well irritate one another but manage to rub along to get the job done and maybe even grow to care about one another (much to their surprise/reluctance/discomfort), characters who just cannot get along with each other or find common ground

-workplace stories (this can mean anything from an actual workplace/casefic/procedural setting to anything that revolves around the canon world in which the characters live) in which the characters get to be competent

Shippy and smutty likes:

-(where it fits the characters) banter

-competitiveness or antagonism shading into attraction (this tension need not be resolved)

-”oh god why did it have to be you what did I do to deserve this“

-”come here and say it to my face/do that again/kiss me, you motherfucker”

-bickering yet loving couples

-characters who are serious about their romantic interests

-characters who think they are much better at flirtation than they actually are

-characters forced to work together only to prove much more compatible than they initially assumed

-fics which mix an exploration of characters’ professional and everyday lives with shipping

-characters who are incompatible in some important way (they are ideological enemies, cop and criminal, spies from opposite sides, or there has been betrayal!!!), and while they love and/or want each other, they’re not willing to change sides or abandon/compromise their identity/beliefs for the other’s benefit

-I don’t know how better to phrase this than: smut which fits the characters; how does their canon dynamics spill over into hubba hubba stuff?

-sexual scenarios that subvert expectations a little and surprise the characters themselves

-sexual scenarios that contain an element of competition or antagonism

-"this is a bad idea but we’re going for it hammer and tongs”

-not wanting to admit feelings or show vulnerability except oops it happens anyway, whether the characters acknowledge it or not

-characters getting way more into the sex or being more affected by it than they thought they would

-quick and intense sex, slow and intense sex, rough yet willing sex (when it fits the characters), unexpectedly emotional and/or tender sex

-masturbation while thinking of the other half of the ship (or not wanting to think about them only oops there they are in the fantasy!)

-first time sex

-established relationship, we-know-each-other-so-well sex

-”we’ve both wanted this and now we both know it so here we go diving in headfirst” sex

-for het and/or slash, oral, vaginal, anal incl. pegging, manual (ifyouknowwhatImean) -- all is good. You can go as veiled or as explicit as you like, but please avoid excessive medical jargon – I don’t find a lot of mention of “penis” or “clit” sexy.

Ship/smut DNWs:

MPREG, A/B/O, knotting D/s, formalized BDSM, painful sex, hard kinks (holding someone down playfully, hair pulling and such like, the odd spank are a-OK) scat, watersports knife/gun/blood play incest deaging/infantilization, mommy/daddy kink under-16yos in sexual situations humiliation body distortion/horror (feeding/weight kink, come inflation, vore, etc.) unrequested ships/pairings soulmates and soul marks pregnancy and children (can be mentioned if canon, just don’t make the whole fic about them) wedding setting/theme secondary characters shipping the main pair like it’s their job xeno, tentacles, bestiality noncon/dubcon

Other DNWs:

torture and abuse (this and noncon/dubcon can be mentioned, but please don’t dwell on it in loving detail or subject any of my requested characters to it) descriptions of vomit, shit, and piss (”He pissed up against a tree” and the like is fine), toilet humor lots of gore/blood (mention it, yes; lovingly describe it, no), cannibalism, serious illness or injury character bashing genderswap/genderbent characters, characters as kids/young teens issuefic, gender/sexuality/race/ethnicity/religion/ability/identity headcanons death of requested characters hopeless, unrelenting gloom/angst/horror RL holiday setting/theme, RL religions as a major theme (invented fictional holidays and rituals are fine) reference to RL current events 1st and 2nd person POV unrequested crossovers or fusions AUs which have nothing to do with canon fic written in lapslock

FANDOMS:

American Gods (TV)

Laura Moon/Mad Sweeney

I ship it. Yes I do. They had me at “gimme-my-coin-dead-wife”-flicks-him-into-wall. The snarky road trip was the best thing I never knew I wanted until it happened, and I adored every second of it, not to mention the upped shippiness in S2. They’re both such assholes and so fascinating, even if they start to mellow toward each other a bit, and all the gods/magic/resurrection stuff swirling around them begs to be explored further. Also I love love love how their dynamic is about equal parts spikiness, pathos, and humor (they’re funny! and the canon doesn’t shy away from putting them in ludicrous situations), and it weaves seamlessly between those three. Plus she’s half his size yet can and does beat him up with literally one finger, and then there’s the angst of he having killed her, feeling really guilty about it, and then bringing her back. And the way that their New Orleans adventure makes clear they have feelings for each other but neither wants to admit it. And and and… yeah, I just love them.

Even if some of my prompts are about stuff that’s addressed or hinted at in canon, feel free to diverge – canon divergences and canon-adjacent stories are my jam, as are missing scenes and post-canon stories! Also, I’ve read the book, so feel free to riff on that if you want.

Canon-specific DNWs: Laura as Essie or Sweeney's wife's reincarnation/descendant or lots of comparing her to them, Sweeney staying dead, any S3 spoilers.

Exception to blanket DNW about blood/gore/bodily fluids: describing the physical decay of the living undead (undead? there but for the grace of magic coins dead?) is fine!

Prompts:

-Laura discovers (how? you decide!) that Sweeney gave her back the coin after their accident – whatever happens next, some punching may be involved.

-Wednesday’s big war finally comes, and “don’t you dare die on me [again], you asshole” is a line either Sweeney or Laura (or both) might say to each other.

-Laura asked “What does Wednesday have to lose?” and the answer is…? (Yes, give me that sweet poetic justice. One possibility, though not remotely the only one, but as of S2E3 Laura is technically a god-killer...) Or later when she straight-up says she’s going to kill Wednesday, but is warned to bring power with her when she does, how does that work? How else might she damage Wednesday or ruin his plans, just in case she can’t actually kill him?

-At the end of S2, Laura hoists Sweeney’s dead body over her shoulders and strides off, seemingly leaving Cairo, Shadow, and all of it behind. Tell me what happens then – does she use Baron Samedi’s potion to bring him back, and whose is the blood filled with love she uses (does she still bleed? You could get creative here, worldbuilding is also my jam)? Does her/his coin play a part – and how come the coin still “powers” Laura despite Sweeney’s death? Does she bring him back another way, maybe figuring out how to keep herself around and be able to give Sweeney back his coin? Does he come back like she did, more undead than alive, or does his godhead, however depleted, help with that? That still leaves Laura to be fully resurrected too… Or does something completely out of left field happen – surprise me!

-Possible divergences from “Treasure of the Sun”: Sweeney manages to kill Wednesday, and then Laura rolls up, and then…? Or Laura rolls up and makes like Mama-Ji told her – destroys some motherfuckers? Or Sweeney gets killed temporarily but Laura brings him back, or brings herself back, or does something else with the Baron’s potion, and is Sweeney’s blood the one filled with love, or can we interpret voodoo spells in a non-literal way? Or what happens with Gungnir hidden in Sweeney’s hoard? And definitely how do they deal with each other once they meet up in Cairo, given how they parted in New Orleans?

-Or how about a wild divergence from the last several episodes of S2? Sweeney and Laura manage to settle their differences (ahem, more fucking, on this plane of reality, might help) and don’t part ways before leaving NOLA. Or they roll up in Cairo separately but at the same time, and confront Wednesday together, and neither of them die (or die more, in her case). Or they’re there together when the police nearly raid the house. Or they have Wednesday (the ultimate cause of Laura’s death) and Ibis (a death deity) and Bilquis (a love/death/life deity) on hand, surely they can concoct some kind of resurrection thingamajig for Laura, and if they have to twist some divine arms then so be it. Or or or…?

-Wednesday told that luckless cop that Sweeney had been against the big gods’ war from the start, and while Wednesday lies, what if Sweeney decided much sooner to say to hell with Grimnir and his war and his having Sweeney kill random people? I’m guessing Sweeney too drank three glasses of mead so he can’t back out without dire consequence – but he does have a fierce, dead woman in his corner.

-They go to some as-yet-unnamed old god (feel free to bring in whatever mythology you want) in order to bring Laura back to life. Between Sweeney’s mouth and temper, and Laura’s mouth and temper, it doesn’t go well. Now one or both of them are in big magical trouble with a pissed-off deity and have to get themselves/each other out of it. Speaking of other deities, I really enjoyed their brief canon interactions with Ostara, Anansi, and Mama-Ji, and I’d like to see more of that, especially Ostara’s polite yet over-it attitude, Anansi very obvious over-it attitude and his dramatic flair, or Mama-Ji being one of the few capable of giving Laura pause.

-All the petty, ridiculous ways in which Sweeney’s bad luck manifests itself make me laugh (can’t help it, won’t even try), and I’m down for more variations on that theme.

-Sweeney and Laura fighting together, like they did on Mr. Town’s train of torture. Whether it’s a bar fight of their own making, or the big gods’ war they find themselves embroiled in, or something else entirely.

-Things happen and Laura finds herself in the position to throw Sweeney under the bus but also help/save him, and while he knows it’s only karma (he did kill her way back when), he can still be pissed off about it – how do they navigate this?

-Related to that, the Baron said: “In death is her true love, but she betrays him also.” If that meant Sweeney, or can mean Sweeney in the future (I don’t like destiny-wills-it stories, and they’re definitely not there yet, but they could maybe get there at some future point, and even then It Would Be Complicated), was the betrayal Laura rejecting him after the loa ‘fuck them,’ or is it something that hasn’t happened yet, and if so, what?

-Laura gets fully alive again, but traces of her (un)dead state remain – what are they, how does she cope, what price did she/he/they have to pay for her resurrection, and how does their relationship change? I’d especially be curious how it would work if they’re already a sorta-maybe-item and then she’s alive again and it’s weird in a new way.

-For reasons I’ll leave up to you, Sweeney and Laura have to stay put in a single place for a while and end up essentially cohabiting, regardless of what their relationship is at that point. Take “cohabiting” as literally or as creatively as you want – in any case, I’m sure it will be marvelously disastrous and amazing. If the place they have to stay happens to be NOLA, all the better, I find everything about that city fascinating. Or, if you wanted to use book canon, Laura and Sweeney (rather than Shadow) are the ones who have to spend time living in Lakeside and deal with its creepy Norman Rockwell-ness and with Hinzelmann.

-Slight or major AU from the opening of “The Ways of the Dead”: Laura has hitchhiked with Sweeney instead of going off in a huff with Wednesday, or she otherwise gets to New Orleans sooner, and she and Sweeney tear up the town together. Maybe they even cross the paths of some loa and it doesn’t get all angsty. They were actually getting along nicely in those first couple of scenes in NOLA, only ribbing each other a little while still being their grouchy selves, before they got to Le Coq Noir. I wouldn’t have minded seeing some more of that.

-AU from the end of “The Ways of the Dead”: they still have their big fight (which was amazing as well as painful) or some variation thereof, but they don’t split up. (Maybe the reason is as mundane as Sweeney refusing to get left behind or they have a shared ride out of town, or maybe the more time passes the less Sweeney can afford to be far from his coin – or maybe the coin needs him close by to work at full capacity.) And then what?

-All the old gods hide their true appearance to an extent. A situation arises in which Laura sees Sweeney’s true, or at least old, self. Or Wednesday’s war ends in victory, meaning the old gods again get belief, worship, and sacrifices. How does Laura, the ultimate skeptic even when she’s on the other side of the mirror, react? How does this new knowledge and new reality change her opinion of/attitude to Sweeney? Or to flip that around, if Sweeney were again relevant and believed-in, would that actually change his bad attitude and fix his issues (my guess is it would be complicated)? On that note, Sweeney’s decline from Lugh to king to leprechaun was more sketched in than really explored in canon, ditto I didn’t really get why he couldn’t seem to remember his own history except in snatches (the curse that made him a bird/madman of the woods?) – I’d love to see more about it and his (not) dealing with it, or with a reversal of that decline. Eorann told him long ago to adapt and change with the times – but what does that mean after humpteen centuries in a rut and becoming used to always feeling angry and unappreciated?

-The power of names, since they never use each other’s in canon: for all his “dead wifeing,” there comes a time when Sweeney (has to) call her by her actual name, and that’s a tricky moment for them to navigate. Or, Mad Sweeney is not his actual name, and true names have great magical power and so must be kept secret; Laura discovers or learns his name, from someone else or from himself; what does she do with that knowledge? Or, Sweeney gets to say “cunt” in a situation (sexual or otherwise) where, not only does Laura not peel his lips from his gums, but she finds that she can’t object, even though she knows that he knows that he’s getting away with it.

-They’re both so complicated and contradictory and spiky, but they also start to care and rely on each other - and react really badly when they (think the other one) betrayed them. I would like to see those nuances explored some more and/or to see Laura and Sweeney get to a point where they trust each other and rely on each other, and know it and accept it, however difficult the getting there and being there may be for them.

-Sweeney and Laura get drunk and wake up married. Or some sex and/or blood resurrection spell results in basically an unbreakable marriage bond, whether it also secures resurrection or not. Or marrying the dead keeps them (sorta) alive. Or being married makes it possible for them to share magical/supernatural abilities. They’re both pissed about it, but secretly having to make it work may not be the worst thing that’s ever happened...

-My perfect AG spinoff would basically be Sweeney and Laura tooling around America, looking to get her resurrected (whether they succeed or not is up to you), stealing ever more ridiculous vehicles, arguing/fighting and having those pesky moments where vulnerability and genuineness creep in – and fucking. So yessiree I’d be down for porn, including “it’s technically necrophilia/zombiesex” porn, including a canon-divergent first time, or their second time, or all the later times after they had their first time in NOLA in canon.

-If you wanted to throw in some worldbuilding, maybe something exploring living death. Magical bargains. What kind of favor did Sweeney do for Ostara that would be worth her bringing someone back to life as repayment? What other powers might Sweeney have – or have left from when he was Lugh? How long can a dead wife keep going before she’s “soup”? What other superhuman abilities might dead!Laura have? Can the dead do magic? What even are the rules governing and the limits of different beings’ magical abilities? For example, why can’t Sweeney just take his coin back, or why does Laura gain super-strength as part of her undead package deal? Is the hoard in the same space as the behind-the-scenes accessed through the merry-go-round, or it’s a different place? Why does the coin seem to start to “run down” the longer Laura has it? Why did Wednesday need Laura to kill Argus when he killed Vulcan himself just fine? What happens with Gungnir now it’s in the hoard – can only Sweeney get to it, has it been transformed somehow (it’s now the treasure of the sun), etc.?

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (TV)

Lenny Bruce/Miriam “Midge” Maisel/Susie Myerson

Lenny Bruce & Miriam “Midge” Maisel & Susie Myerson

Lenny Bruce/Miriam “Midge” Maisel & Miriam “Midge” Maisel/Susie Myerson

I’m here for Midge’s adventures in the intoxicating, foul-mouthed, and often-frustrating world of comedy, so her dynamic with Susie and Lenny is where it’s at. Shippy or platonic, I just love the interactions between these three, and between every pair combination among them: Midge and Susie bantering and swearing and tits-upping even when they irritate each other, Midge and Lenny bringing the pathos as well as the humor, and Lenny and Susie both being hardened old pros with still a little glimmer of starry eyes. I am good with L/M/S or L&M&S or L/M & M/S – so, if you go the shippy route, either a V-shaped triad or hey, Susie (whom I absolutely read as gay) might find a way to be good with a full-on triangle… If you want to keep it platonic, True Companions all the way, always there for each other, even when they want to strangle each other. And as much as I like the comedy inherent in the characters, I also love that they’re all three, each in their own way, messed up people and dysfunctional to various degrees. So yeah, I just want Midge to hand the kids over to her parents, ditch Joel once and for all, marry (interpret that as literally or as loosely as you want) both Susie and Lenny, and for the three of them to ride off into the sunset to make comedy history.

Canon-specific DNWs: explicit sex (so nothing above M rating for sex), pairing any two as a / couple with the third as a & hanger-on, Lenny can still be his RL messed-up, drugged-up self – albeit the gentler version the show gives us – but I don’t want him dying if your fic is set in 1966 or after.

Prompts (most of these are from before S3 dropped, feel free to work with canon or diverge however you see fit -- I am all caught up with S3):

-Does Susie manage them both? Does Midge open for Lenny on tour? Does he open for her??? Or they become equal stars on the comedy circuit?

-Maybe Lenny joins Shy Baldwin’s tour, or they run into him while touring Europe or the US, or after Shy fires Midge, Midge and Susie cobble together a Midge-only tour of America and keep crossing Lenny’s own touring path, and they all tool around, and yes I would love as much period detail and geography porn as you can throw at me. And while Lenny and Midge have seen the world, Susie hasn’t – her reaction to different foods, languages, customs, landscapes would be spectacular to witness. Especially if “different” is someplace as close to New York as Jersey or Connecticut, or someplace as far away and different as, say, Japan.

-If they do go to Europe, somehow or other they also tour the Soviet Bloc. Cue culture clashes, getting followed (or thinking they’re being followed) by the secret police, getting hammered on vodka and herring and pickles, and then when they get back to the States, the Feds grill them. It’s all dead serious, and Midge and Lenny refuse to take it as seriously as they should, while Susie is trying but the whole thing is really pissing her off…

-Lenny’s burned out, and Midge is just getting started. This dissonance may or may not find some sort of resolution. One thing’s for sure: Susie has limited patience for both Lenny’s depression and Midge’s need to make everything pretty.

-Instead of going to Joel for a no-way-is-that-closure fling after the Steve Allen Show taping, Midge goes to have a drink or seven with the two people who have, in their own ways, always been there for her and never let her down.

-Midge goes on TV again, this time as the star: longer set, prime time slot, dressing room, the works. She’s dying of nerves. Lenny and Susie coach her through it.

-More radio work to make ends meet in between gigs: hilaribad period ads, hilaribad radio drama, running all over town to be on time, getting paid in all kinds of dubious merch…

-Midge and Susie head out west to make it big and stay with Lenny once they’re in Los Angeles, and it’s marvelous (ha ha) and disastrous in equal measure.

-More of Susie being the hypercompetent manager we saw especially in S3! (And please don’t dwell on her gambling problem, I was not a fan.)

-They all three get drunk, maybe with a hint of sadness if it’s the holidays (you can ignore my DNW about holidays, but please let that be just the background, not the lynchpin of the story) or someone’s birthday, and there’s a bar fight, running from the cops, eating greasy food at ass o’clock, and possibly kissing, not necessarily in that order.

-One or two or all three of them get arrested/have court appearances all over America and have to bail each other out, or find someone to bail them all out, or secure legal counsel – you get the drift. Or all three of them are trying to explain to a single lawyer what happened, talking over each other, the two pros not being able to resist landing zingers and Susie not being far behind, and the lawyer just getting more and more confused.

-They get in trouble some other way – offended patrons, surly management, shitty hotels, tour bus breaks down in the middle of Wyoming – and have to have each other’s backs because no one else will.

-Three-person road trip or tour, and only Susie knows how to drive. So Midge decides to learn, right then and there. And Lenny… Lenny may or may not be too lazy/hungover/lying about not knowing how. There’s supposed to be a rotation so everyone gets to stretch out on the back seat for equal lengths of time, but you know the system doesn’t work too well in practice. Also, they play games in the car to while away the time, and they do it their own way of course: I spy, cows on my side, yellow car, never have I ever, 20 questions, or riffing on whatever’s playing on the radio…

-They sit down to watch the moon landing (you can move it up a bit so it’s not happening a whole decade after S2) – by which I mean, Midge is all gung-ho about the moon landing, and Lenny and Susie are like whatever – and things don’t quite go to plan, but a good time is eventually had by all.

-It’s Yom Kippur again, and Midge wants to do the whole production: synagogue, breaking fast, the lot. Lenny and Susie would rather eat glass. Midge gets her way, of course. Does she decide to bring Susie and Lenny home to meet – or meet properly – her parents??? I bet Abe and Rose’s reactions would be something to see. (This too is an exception to my DNW about holiday settings – I just want stuff to get as crazy as it did the two times we saw Yom Kippur celebrated on the show, and for everything to still somehow turn out relatively OK.)

-Midge and Lenny have cheered each other up when the going got extra rough. I want for Susie to be especially down in the dumps – maybe her boozehound of a mother died and Susie took it worse than she does in canon, maybe some asshole told her she’s a shit manager and got her right in her insecurities – and Midge to rope Lenny into trying to cheer her up. And for Susie to fight them every step of the way but still be glad they care enough to try.

-Inspired by Susie’s brother looking just like her, by which I mean she and he and their sister look nothing alike, and by Lenny’s “she’s my mother” quip about Midge at the TV studio and then his “let me introduce my wife or maybe my sister” in Miami – Midge, Susie, and Lenny pretend to all be blood relatives, or mafiosi, or spies, or something else they’re not, while out in public, say in a restaurant. Just to be assholes and see how long they can keep it going before they break character or people figure them out, or call the cops, or something. There’s totally a bet on who corpses and breaks character first. Or, nice hotels ca. 1960 weren’t very big on letting unmarried couples, let alone threesomes stay in rooms together – pretending to be family might make that easier; forgetting what they’re meant to be to each other, or mixing up their backstories might make it harder. This could also work platonically, if they’re trying to save money by only getting one room, there only being one free room in the hotel, or for any other screwball reason you can invent.

-Lenny and Midge do a (comeback) tour of the Borscht Belt, and all the Steiner Mountain Resort guests (especially the gossipy old hens from the beauty salon) and staff go to see them – and heckle.

-Stuff happens and they end up performing at some hole in the wall place where no one knows who they are (or no one believes it’s really those people they’ve seen on TV) – tough crowd, but a good workout for the two comics, and if Susie gets to threaten to rip off someone’s head, all the better.

-Lenny and Midge honing their routines – and maybe developing a double act – and Susie being all “oh my fucking god, what the fuck!!! … They’re actually good. I’m so proud.”

-Sharing a bed with two other people is an ongoing project: who sleeps (or refuses to sleep) in the middle? Who gets up during the night and why? Who starfishes across most of the bed? Who snores, and how does this get handled? If alcohol or pot have happened, how does that affect the sleeping arrangements? Also, Susie and Lenny witness and react to Midge’s beauty routine, ‘nuff said. Or, for various reasons one person after another ends up decamping to another room/bed/couch, but it doesn’t help them get much sleep or even stay there very long (this is inspired by my love of Shirley Jackson and her short story/humorous essay “The Night We All Had Grippe”). If you prefer to keep it platonic, most of this would work if they’re just sharing a double bedroom on tour (I leave the reason for why Lenny is bunking with the women up to you).

Starred Up (2013 movie)

Oliver Baumer/Eric Love

Yes I do ship it, I do, I do!

Ahem. Don’t get me wrong, I liked what the movie did with the father-son relationship and its influence on both men’s character development – but I really wish they hadn’t got Oliver out of the action before the story’s climax (not like that!). The final denouement with Love father and Love son was great, as was the hint at the end that Eric learned something in anger-management group and has a support network that will help him a lot. But. I would have wanted to see more of the intriguing dynamic between Eric the intelligent, semi-feral, yet not-incorrigible, young thug and Oliver the educated, dedicated, kind yet aware of his own potential for violence (what was he on about with “I need to be here”?), slightly older counselor. They had me at Oliver’s “I want him” and Eric later telling his father that Oliver’s a better man than Love Sr. Also the not-flirting and the push-pull in the scene when Oliver picks up Eric from his cell - yowza!

Exception to blanket DNW: dubcon is a-okay! If you decide to go there, my preferred flavors of dubcon for this canon are: power differential makes it a bad idea but they do it anyway; “I know you want this”; “if the answer’s no/you’re only doing this for a dare or to prove a point, then why are you enjoying this so much [as am I]?”; no no yes a.k.a. starts as dubcon (or one of them thinks they’re dubconning the other), becomes enthusiastic consent. 

Also, if this is relevant or makes you nervous about writing for me, Eric would be 18-19, and Oliver is maybe 10-12 years older – and I like it!!! (The actors were 22 and 31 when the movie was made, FWIW.)

Prompts:

-I would love to see Oliver return to holding his group in prison, so the two of them can interact more, either in the movie’s immediate aftermath or years down the line, as it’s implied that Eric will be serving a long sentence. Give me more scenes from anger management or the ribald, honest, free-flowing conversations in group, either with the other men present (I liked Hassan and Tyrone especially, among the group members) or a one-on-one session.

-An oblique or open-but-undramatic admission/declaration that they both know there’s something there, even if they don’t know what to do with it. Or, one or both of them knows exactly what to do with it, and the push-pull that would result from that.

-Dirty talk: used for arousal, as a defense mechanism, as a form of flirtation. Eric using slurs to assert dominance, and Oliver not letting him hide behind profanity, when he can use colorful language to express emotion and/or sexual interest. There could definitely be some verbal taunting/flirting about who wants/is eager to do what or is good at doing something. There may be some sniping comments about logistics and (lack of) condoms and barebacking and what men get up to in prison. There probably wouldn’t be deep discussions about sexual identity.

-An emergency in the prison requires a lock-down, so Oliver gets temporarily stuck in Eric’s cell or another room with only Eric for company. Things get porny and/or emotional.

-Eric is eventually released (you can handwave this so it happens soon after the movie or have it happen years later) and crashes with Oliver while he adjusts to the outside world. You guessed it: things get porny and/or emotional.

-How do they get to the point where both can cross that line from friends/whatever the hell they are and become, to lovers? (There’s Eric’s personal history and general discomfort with vulnerability, plus all the ways prison sex can be or make things complicated, and if it helps, I headcanon Oliver as either gay or bi and at least somewhat closeted, at work especially.) Who initiates and “directs traffic”? How does their always-contentious dynamic shift during and after sex? Is the sex an isolated (series of) occasion(s), or a progression/escalation over multiple encounters (how would I love especially an escalating series of encounters, let me count the ways)? Eric might seem like the logical initiator and/or dominant partner as well as using the possibility of sex to manipulate and exert control, but then Oliver might (or might not!) surprise him and is definitely the one more in touch with himself as well as aware of his custodial duty toward the men in the group.

-At some point in their intimate relationship (probably not right at the start, and probably not in prison, though if you can make it happen in prison, more power to you!), Oliver decides he’s going to take his sweet time and make Eric fall absolutely apart with pleasure, while using dirty talk to both arouse and empower Eric to own his desires – by that point, Eric is in a place where he can let that happen and enjoy it, even if he still talks tough.

-Or how about this: Eric gets out, relationship happens or is in the process of being negotiated, and while physical intimacy is a whooooole neeeeeew woooorld, you know what else would be cool? Phone sex. Yep. Or even, Eric gets himself one of those secret prison burner phones (preferably hidden somewhere that’s not someone’s arse), and… phone sex after lights-out and lock-down. Maybe nothing (much) has happened physically (yet), so phone sex can be a building block to that or one facet of that deepening intimacy.

Witchblade (TV) Sara Pezzini/Danny Woo

Sara Pezzini & Danny Woo

I used to love this show back in the day, and loved it again in all its hokey gloriousness when I rewatched it recently. Sara figuring things out and being a principled badass, but maybe out of her depth with the Witchblade, and her dynamic with Danny, whether he's a ghost or alive, it’s all catnip to me. Sara is not extremely quippy, she has a job to do dammit! and don’t look at her vulnerable side, just don’t look at it!, and I love that about her (she’s much harsher in S1, after Danny’s death, than in S2); ditto that Danny is somewhat softer than she is, but still can hold his own thanksverymuch (well, when the plot doesn’t require him to get nabbed by bad guys) and has a bit of a deadpan snarker side too. I’d love something that plays around with their canon dynamic from either season, or uses canon as just a starting point. Gen is good, shippy (incl. porny) is good. Some of my prompts lean dark or horror-y, so don’t be shy about going there; I’d also enjoy a story in which the Witchblade itself ends up not being very significant (say, they start to investigate a possibly mystical case and then nope, plain murder). BTW I really like Conchobar too, so if you want to include him (that means also Conchobar Lives AUs), his relationship (current or past) with Sara, or his canonical death somehow, go for it!

Canon-specific DNWs: Irons and any version of Nottingham appearing (you can mention them if you need to).

Exception to blanket DNW: dubcon is fine (see first prompt).

Prompts:

-The Witchblade is more parasitic than symbiotic, and instead of Sara learning to control it, its feeding on Sara affects her more and more over time. Or, the visions and dreams ramp up into full-blown paranoia and/or disassociation. The Witchblade's POV, maybe (it is sentient)? Asking for help is the hardest thing for someone like Sara, but what are (more than) friends for? I’d also enjoy a dubcon scenario where Sara really shouldn’t be having sex when her head is all messed up by the Witchblade’s influence, but… well… they do. The Witchblade canonically enjoys violence and bloodshed perpetrated by its wearers, so it stands to reason that it might lower other inhibitions too.

-Witchblade v. mythological monsters. In S1, even with everything else that's going on, Sara absolutely scoffs at the possibility of vampires. So of course I want: Witchblade v. vampires! The scarier and more feral, the better. Or, it's implied that the Witchblade was forged from a meteorite, so it's basically an eldritch artefact from outer space. Yes, please lean all the way into the Lovecraftian tropes! (The moon is turning red, the Old Ones are back, it’s the end of the world as we know it, but Sara’s got her partner by her side.) Or something from Chinese mythology, so Danny can kick extra ass. Or, for a silly take on Chinese culture: Sara and Danny in the world of Big Trouble in Little China (another old fave of mine, the entire plot of which revolves around… a woman with green eyes and an unwanted connection to the supernatural).

-The Witchblade has a reputation for abandoning its wearers just when they need it the most. True to form, it slips off of Sara’s fist, leaving her and Danny to save themselves with good old-fashioned guns, fisticuffs, martial arts, and of course having each other’s back.

-More of the psychedelic-ness in many of Sara’s fight scenes, where now she’s a woman in a leather jacket with a gauntlet on her arm, now she’s a knight in armor! Now her opponent is human, now he’s a wolf-shaped spirit of evil and hatred! Playing around with the characters’ senses and perceptions – yes!

-Instead of seeing only Danny and needing him to play intermediary for Sara to talk to other ghosts, the Witchblade makes Sara see ghosts all over the place, and it's getting to her. Ghost!Danny may or may not help with that. Or, ghost!Danny is basically always around, whether Sara can see him or not. He manifests when Sara is masturbating, and you can't really feel guilty if the ghost of your dead partner whom you’ve always had a thing for helps you out, and anyway you’re probably going crazy and none of this is real, so it doesn’t count anyway... right?

-Case fic/stakeouts and banter. Flirting/ribbing/joshing to pass the long and stressful days at work.

-Quick and guilty sex because Danny's married. Slow and intense sex if handwave he's not married but “oh noes we’re partners, we shouldn’t be doing this, but somehow we keep doing it anyway.” Hooking up in the car. I've always headcanoned that they had a thing pre-canon which ended for Reasons, but they both kinda wish it hadn't, hence the hand kissing, and the “I can’t even touch you,” and the coffee bringing/stealing, etc. So feel free to play around with that.

-Undercover as married, undercover as a gangster and his moll (LOL at Sara as a moll, or have Sara as the gangster and Danny as her arm candy), undercover as “they think we’re fucking, better fake it real good for the people listening in, oops shit got real fast, careful don’t say each other’s real name or you’ll blow your cover.”

-More timey-wimey shenanigans with the Witchblade. Maybe it allows Sara to manipulate time more than once. Maybe she starts doing it way too often, throwing the continuum out of whack (something non-linear would be very interesting). Maybe she and/or Danny remember some or all of what happened in S1. Something about all the multiverse versions of them, possibly splitting off from a dramatic moment. Time loops and feelings are a combustible mix.

-Apart from the pretty obvious shippiness, what I like about S1 especially is how Sara rolls with the weirdness the Witchblade has brought into her life, instead of reaching for rational explanations. More of that (I can't think of a better way to put it), and double extra brownie points if alive!Danny figures out at least some of what's going on with Sara's bracelet and somehow gets in on the action. Maybe a Danny saves the day divergence? Or how about a loophole that allows a man close to the Witchblade's wearer to wield it temporarily, but There Is a Price to Pay.

Бeсa ǀ Besa (TV)

Dardan Berisha/Petrit Koci

Skënder Berisha & Petrit Koci

Teuta Berisha/Petrit Koci

Divna Dukić/Petrit Koci

Petrit Koci/Marija Perić

Petrit Koci/Uroš Perić

My longest of long-shot requests! If you already know and like this canon, yeeees come sit with me. If you don’t know it, here’s a quick intro: this is a crime drama, one 12-episode season so far, produced in Serbia and created by Tony Jordan of “Hustle” fame. Set in (and with a cast including actors from) several ex-Yugoslav states, the story follows three main characters: a Serbian family man and regular joe who accidentally kills the daughter of a major Kosovar Albanian crime boss in a car accident; said Albanian crime boss who coerces his daughter’s unwitting killer to start working for him as an assassin; and a half-Albanian, half-Serbian Interpol agent (Petrit Koci) who’s after the crime boss but starts investigating the regular joe turned assassin as well.

The show has a twisty plot, gritty and handsome visuals, excellent performances, and a great through-line of deconstructing Balkan machismo and patriarchal culture. All three of the main characters have an image of themselves as MEN who Provide and/or Take Care of Business and Put Family First, each in their own way, and all three end up compromising on all their principles by season’s end. The women in the show’s ‘verse sometimes become collateral damage but also assert themselves in unexpected ways, which is great. The title refers to the Albanian (but more broadly, Balkan) cultural concept that one’s promise/vow/word of honor has to be kept and carried out no matter what, at peril of losing face, dishonoring both oneself and one’s family, even death. This gets deconstructed five ways from Sunday too, and it is awesome.

If you glance at the pairings I’m requesting, I think you can guess who my favorite character is. :-) Koci is so committed to being the “good sheriff” and carrying out his professional duty regardless of whom he has to piss off along the way, but is also often quite ineffectual because the local police forces with which he has to cooperate tend to resent both his attitude and his ethnic background – not to mention that when everyone’s corrupt and compromised, the man who refuses to play the game makes lots of enemies. He’s also a real hard-ass who made a conscious choice long ago to have nothing in his life but his work, is a bit of a bastard, has a huge blind spot about gender which comes back to bite him, and ultimately is driven by a desire for personal vendetta more than an abstract commitment to justice (I love a character who is super focused on their goal and presents themselves as invulnerable, yet whose insecurities and traumas are always just beneath the surface of what drives them). And yes, by the end of the season he’s presented with a Faustian bargain and gets a huge target on his back. There’s a lot to unpack there!

I will eat up any local color you want to throw in. Ditto, the canon is super intense, but if you find a way to bring in some vintage Balkan pitch-black humor, I’m here for it. If you wanted to include some dialogue or phrases or hey write the whole fic in any variation of what used to be called Serbo-Croatian, I’m here for that with bells on! (Unless you’re writing smut – I just can’t with E-rated prose in Slavic languages, sorry.) Alas, I do not read Albanian, but if you want to include dialogue/phrases in it, go for it, so long as you tell me (in parentheses, in footnotes, whatever works) what’s going on.

Canon-specific DNW: soapboxing about Balkan history/conflicts/ethnic relations (the characters can clash about this, use stereotypes, etc. – I just don’t want the fic to be an excuse for the writer’s hot takes, ‘kay?)

Exceptions to blanket DNWs: RL current events being mentioned + dubcon *but* for M/F ships I want both characters to be motivated by anger/revenge/general existential bleakness/whathaveyou instead of or as well as lust, so just no M/f dubcon, please!

Prompts:

-Any of my requested pairings in any kind of casefic, either a divergence, something pre- or post-canon, or a side investigation spinning off from the canon’s central plot. Anything that requires Koci to again traipse all over former Yugoslavia, butt heads with everyone, interrogate people, and do that soft-spoken “you don’t want to give me what I want but you’ll do it anyway” thing he does along the way. 

-Something that requires Koci to use his knowledge of Albanian language and culture even more than in canon. I love how the canon depicts the existential discomfort of never fully fitting into – or being accepted by – either of the cultures/communities to which one has a connection, and how a person can become antagonistic and volatile as a result. Leaning into that would be wonderful.

-Koci has devoted his whole life to bringing down the Berisha clan. With the help or hindrance of any of the other requested characters, he finally gets his wish. Now what?

-Maybe the other character has to turn to Interpol for help/becomes a material witness/gets arrested/enters witness protection, or otherwise has to do teeth-clenched teamwork with Koci. For / pairings, the shippiness doesn’t have to be overt -- antagonism, barely finding common ground, something that reads more like gen or shippy gen than explicit shippiness is fine! If the relationship turns porny, the antagonism (I keep using that word because it fits!) and complicated dynamics and maybe a reluctant recognition that they’re not so different would perpetuate themselves in the porn too, and I’m here for it.

-A few words about the other characters and how they (could) fit with Koci:

Uroš Perić – the regular joe turned assassin, who gets multiple chances in the course of the show to seek Koci’s help and doesn’t because he gets in deep and wants to be the guy that protects his family and takes care of everything himself. I keep thinking back to their very first scene, when Koci gives Perić his calling card and tells him to get in touch, and Perić could have done that before he committed his first murder but… didn’t. And then at the end, there’s that huge spoiler setting up S2. Despite becoming a murderer several times over, Perić is a much softer character than Koci, but he doesn’t like getting pushed around either. How would they work together, how would they clash?

Marija Perić – Uroš’s Croatian wife, who has the thankless role of being married to the guy who’s keeping her in the dark about major plot developments, but makes up for it with how she reacts to the hints she gets of Uroš’s continuing troubles as well as getting on Koci’s radar. She’s scared and out of her depth, but she’s also angry and, yep, antagonistic when she thinks Interpol is harassing her for no reason. I love the scene where Koci interrogates her and she lashes out and won’t give him an inch even when he blindsides her with evidence of her husband’s activities – more of that kind of thing, please! Or what if she decided to protect herself and her kids by cooperating with Interpol, or maybe thought she could help Uroš by turning on him?

Divna Dukić – Koci’s Interpol colleague and maybe the only character that likes him. Their dynamic is both very professionally respectful and yet… “flirtatious” may be too strong a word. They pretty obviously have a little thing for each other but choose not to act on it for a whole mess of reasons (he’s an emotional disaster area, she has enough on her plate as a single mom with a shitty ex, they work together). Also, I have a theory that Divna, while seeming loyal, may take her marching orders from one of the criminal elements or maybe from the more corrupt parts of Interpol or the Serbian police. I would love any or all of that to get explored more.

Dardan Berisha – the grieving crime boss and main target of Koci’s obsession (even though it was actually Dardan’s old uncle Skënder who had Koci’s father killed decades earlier). They’re both such hard, intense men, in part because they’ve had to be, and the narrative sets them up as mirror images of each other (while Uroš Perić is more a study in how someone becomes hard when circumstances push them to it). Yet while their conflict underpins the whole show, they rarely share a scene. Put them together more; let them fight or y’know *waggles eyebrows*.

Teuta Berisha – Dardan’s wife, who first loses her daughter, and by the end of the season her family is totally blown to smithereens, in part because of how she chooses to assert her agency within the super-patriarchal context in which she lives. She was ambivalent about her marriage before we meet her, and I love how canon events bring out her anger, grief, and quiet steeliness. Also, that moment at her daughter’s funeral when Koci gives her his condolences really hit me – they know they are enemies, but there’s that moment of standoffish respect between them. What if somehow they had to work together? Or what if she took over as the head of either the Berisha or the Sokoli clan (or both!)? A divergence from the end or any part of S1 would be very welcome.

Skënder Berisha -- Dardan’s uncle who still wields enormous influence in the Berisha clan and was behind the assassination of Koci’s father decades earlier. I only want this as a & pairing, but the character dynamic is still one of difficult shared history, knee-jerk antagonism, goading humor, not being at all intimidated by each other, and yet recognizing something familiar in each other. One of my favorite scenes from the whole show is their conversation at the hospital, in which they cover both present troubles and the past. Skënder is one of the few characters who can and does consistently run rings around Koci, and I want more of that as much as I want the tables turned.

#chocolate box 2021 #chocolate box fic exchange #dear author letter

[moonaft]

The Killing Frost - Review

I usually wait for my library to have a copy before reading the latest book. Not this time.

Honestly, this is more of a live blog than a review.

Spoilers up to The Killing Frost and June 2020 for the Patreon stories.

Before I begin, I want to mention that I have physical copies of only some of the books. These are Rosemary and Rue, One Salt Sea, The Winter Long, The Brightest Fell. As of yesterday, I count the Kindle copy of The Killing Frost in that number and will pick up a physical copy eventually. Everything else I borrow from the library, which are usually always available. This series is something I keep re-reading because there’s something new every time I read.

“It doesn’t matter what I wear to the wedding, we both know it’s going to be completely covered in blood before we reach ‘I do’“ and we’re off to a wonderful start. I’m so glad Toby has become genre-savvy. She can now anticipate and plan for being covered in blood. That’s character development.

“My name is October Daye because my mother should never have been allowed to name her own children.” No, your name is October Daye because Eira wanted children named thematically after their parents and the Torquills went for all the months of the year. You can blame September for that one. Or I suppose August is older than January, so blame Simon.

Interesting that she’s accepted that one day she’ll burn out the rest of her humanity.

“Now I live in a house that I own free and clear, thank to Sylvester” Does he still pay property taxes on it, or is that Toby? Does Sylvester have an accountant, and if so, are they fae or human?

Toby, you could definitely get married at the courthouse and then do a fae wedding. They won’t recognize the mortal one but you can still say you’re married. Do Tybalt have any form of human id? I guess they could magic something up and confuse the attendant.

Hi Karen! Something I forgot for my “Open Question” post - why does Stacy have two Seer daughters when Seers have been nearly extinct for centuries?

How’s that for a plot hook? Your seer niece lets you know what you’re doing and with whom. Easy.

After everything Toby’s been through, she has a right to be paranoid when someone knocks at the door after Karen’s done warning her.

Could still be a trap. Negative points for not confirming with Tybalt first.

His date idea is very romantic, I will give him that.

Does Tybalt even have a last name? I don’t remember if he does.

It’s always fun to recognize people before the narrator mentions them by name. Hi Patrick and Dianda! This isn’t suspicious at all.

Does Dianda use the same wheelchair whenever she’s on land? If so, where do they store it? Or do they haul it with them? Is there a storage unit filled with Undersea fae stuff?

Patrick, this isn’t weird at all. You’re digging for something. Given that the summary says Toby needs to invite her legal father to her wedding, I assume you’re trying to make sure he’s there.

I’m not convinced Simon’s trying to wake up Evening. He doesn’t like her, and if losing his way home made him forget August even exists, I’m not sure he’d return to Evening given a chance.

And there’s the actual kicker - by not inviting Simon, Toby allows his boss to claim offense. Evening claiming offense on his behalf is a very very bad thing, and that’s why it’s important he’s there. I am certain Patrick’s parents weren’t at his wedding, but they probably washed their hands of him when they heard who he was marrying. And their liege probably didn’t care about a landless Baron in another Kingdom, so there was no consequence.

The Luidaeg did tell Toby she has to find Simon - along with two other tasks. What happened to those?

Looks like Patrick does have the broad strokes of the plots of The Winter Long and The Brightest Fell - given how much Toby doesn’t tell people, I wasn’t sure. She didn’t tell him about Poppy prior to the Ducky of Ships, after all.

Patrick and Dianda do want him back - looks like I might right that he goes to Saltmist when this all clears up. And they really want him to divorce Amandine, which, yeah. That marriage is not a good one. I firmly believe that if they do divorce, both Toby and August would declare for Simon.

“Bring him home” from Les Mis starts playing. It’s interesting that Dianda is the one telling Toby this.

“You and Tybalt have been banking on my ignorance throughout this whole process, and now your reward is that you have to go with me to look for Simon Torquill, and Tybalt can’t come” I love how she rolls with it. This would have been unheard of in The Winter Long. 

“And yes, I actually wanted him to be there when I did that, if it was even remotely possible.” Aww. It’s a shame her relationship with Sylvester is deteriorating at the same time her relationship with Simon is growing, but it is growing.

I assume Spike, being fae, is also functionally immortal and won’t die of old age.

“I hardly wind up ambushed and alone at all these days.” True, thanks to your ever growing cast of rotating characters.

I love Toby’s continued roasting of Evening and Amandine.

If Evening’s been in the Mists for a thousand years and also popped for Tam Lin in Scotland 500 years ago, how is she getting back and forth between the two? Though she convince Torin to take Saltmist when she was asleep, so maybe she’s just been dreamwalking.

Hi Marcia! What weird things are you going to do this book that no one’s going to pick up on?

Dean and Quentin are cute together.

Wait, this means Toby needs to invite Amandine to her wedding. Fuck.

It’s the Summer Roads key again.

Right, Ceres could do it too. And Toby’s actually thinking of the consequences of her actions.

Quentin will be a force of reckoning on the High King’s throne.

Hi Etienne! You could totally go visit Toby whenever you want.

Randomly appearing magic door - technically, the knowe could bring them directly to the Moon Garden if it wanted to. It wants to bring them to this door, and let them know something’s going on.

Blood for the blood door? Toby has a right to Shadowed Hills, and the knowe knows and likes her. Maybe this is a way of helping with her eventual claim?

“Cool. Good to know. We’re all going to be eaten by weird magic flowers.” “Let’s face it, this isn’t much of a surprise.”

It’s Raysel’s bed/coffin. Given that they’re looking for Evening, I don’t like the parallels to Raysel’s Firstborn. 

Neither Evening nor Simon have an interest in Raysel, but Sylvester doesn’t know that.

I love October’s speech to Sylvester about Rayseline.

It would likely be good for Raysel to spend a year with Toby at her house. She can meet Toby’s teens and live without her parents for a while. Might be awkward when Dean shows up but that’s a conversation they need to have.

Interesting that Raysel’s magic changes - did she get more of her father’s scent?

Summer Roads key is weird, and definitely more plot related than it appears. Given that it’s currently a MacGuffin to get to Evening, that’s pretty powerful.

What is this weird black bubble.

Shit, May got impaled.

So this is where Simon stored Luna and Raysel for 14 years. I personally wouldn’t anchor a formless void holding a Blodynbryd off the Rose Road where she has power, but it ‘worked out’ I suppose.

Toby’s headache is concerning me. I wonder if she’s doing the impossible without knowing it, and that’s what’s causing the magical backlash.

How did Luna and Raysel escape the bubble? There’s been no indication that someone found them, so perhaps they found Simon’s door.

Toby’s talking to Maeve as roses. How is she doing this? Why is Maeve (or part of Maeve?) part of the Rose Road? Didn’t the Luidaeg and Toby turn onto Annis’s Roads at some point during The Winter Long? Did they transition from the Summer Roads part of the Rose Roads into the Winter Roads? Is that even a thing? Why does the Summer Key allow them access to it?

Reviewing TWL again, the Luidaeg used the Key to open Annis’s forgotten road to take a shortcut to Shadowed Hills. Then Luna used the Key to open a Rose Road to Evening. The Key, which “belonged to [Luna’s] grandmother”. Unspecified grandmother. Maybe it’s not a Summer Roads Key afterall.

Roses are the thing that connects all three Branches - Maeve has them, Eira has them, Amandine has them.

Unrelated to the current plot, I think Raysel would be great with flowers. It’s implied that when a mixed blood uses a hope chest to pick one bloodline, they keep something from the missing bloodline. Tybalt’s niece Cailin (Daoine Sidhe/Cait Sidhe -> Cait Sidhe) is extraordinarily good with illusions and can’t shapeshift. August is relatively good with illusions (enough to bind Quentin) and kept her red hair and yellow eyes.

And Maeve (or a representative?) listens to Toby. Wow.

Quentin has strong and unflattering opinions about Evening’s forest scene. I love how the characters feel focusing on the small details. They’ve accepted the impossible and have moved beyond it.

Interesting that there’s no scent of roses before finding Evening’s clearing. Another open question: why does Evening also get apples in addition to roses and snow? What causes the shift between roses+snow and roses+apples? 

And why doesn’t anyone but the Luidaeg recognize that apples are also Evening’s? 

“I wish I’d met Simon and Sylvester’s parents... it doesn’t make sense.” “Most Daoine Sidhe I’ve known have something floral about their magic. Simon doesn’t” Does his mulled cider not count? Fruit isn’t floral? I want to know Septimius’s magic scents as well, because I’m pretty sure Simon got the apple cider from him, via his own mother aka Evening’s daughter Fómhar. The October Daye wiki is failing me on some of these names.

Please let her know that the twins were once changelings this book. Please.

May, I’m sorry you have a literal hole in your body, but I live for magical theory.I need moar.

Hello, Sleeping Beauty. Also, Simon is rather good at archery and I don’t know why that doesn’t come up more often. 

Simon is not looking well. He’s also doing some bizarre leaps of conversation -

October: We came here to look for you.

Simon: Where’s Oleander? 

No one brought up Oleander? I get that the spell is doing weird things to his mind, maybe it’s skipping. 

"who seemed to have stolen most of his memory of who he’d been”

Jossed on him not seeking out Evening, but kinda confirmed on the reason why: he doesn’t give a reason why he’s working with Evening. The spell’s not working as well as it did on August - he is definitely getting confused, if only briefly. 

Is that why he didn’t show up during Night and Silence or The Unkindest Tide? He was stuck in the clearing? What has he been eating? Is he still wearing the same clothes he was in for The Winter Long and The Brightest Fell? 

October: Hey, you can wait here for a hundred years, we just need you to take a trip to see the Luidaeg. It’ll be super quick.

Toby, I love you. 

AND HE REMEMBERS PATRICK. Enough to stand down, at least. But he think’s Patrick’s dead? Oh no no no. Did he think that for most of the last century? This keeps getting sadder. 

At least he’s not hurting May and Quentin. 

I don’t think he sent the Doppelganger in Rosemary and Rue, pretty sure that was Devin. 

He doesn’t remember the events of TBF, interesting. 

Fucking hell, that was too easy. I should have seen it would be too easy. And he thinks Amandine modified Toby’s memory?

I guess May doesn’t need to worry about infection. 

Helpful pixies! Glad to see more of them. Toby better deliver that dinner soon. 

“Also to be fair, the terrible disaster was usually either my fault or happening to me” True words, Toby. 

Hi Walther and Cassie! 

HI Luidaeg!

If her debts are currently balanced, then she did work off the other two from The Unkindest Tide. 

Yeah, pretty sure Simon hasn’t broken the Law yet. 

Emotionally mature Toby strikes again. She’s been so this entire book. The amount of difficult conversations so far is pretty large. 

This focus on Stacy not wanting her kids to date is interesting, unless it’s a red herring. And she grew up with Toby in Shadowed Hills. Not Firstborn, I won’t guess one of the Three - Marianne? But she was fully grown back during the earthquake. Did her fae grandparents have a human partner like Simon and Sylvester’s parents, and her fae parent was also a changeling? They moved away after their child died because they couldn’t deal with the grief? A hope chest moving her blood? How old was October when she met Stacy?

Hi Arden!

Recap time with the Luidaeg. 

A solution with Dianda and Patrick? If he goes and lives in Saltmist, he’s far from people who want to harm him. 

If Simon’s so good at using other people’s blood, then potentially he could use Amandine/August/Toby’s blood to be a poor man’s Dóchas Sidhe. For healing, maybe?

‘Her husband could only hear the ones who belonged to him” - huh, interesting tidbit about Oberon. 

Torquill lore! Finally revealed to Toby!

Off to Goldengreen. Return of the water trauma for Toby, boo. 

Oh my god she’s an otter. So cute! Yes, everyone should be an otter. Bite her, Toby. Do it. 

Marcia! Does Marcia not know that Simon exists as a separate person from Sylvester? Acacia at least understood that Simon wasn’t Sylvester, even if she didn’t get the concept of twins. I’m not surprised she survived Simon’s spells - Evening seemed to completely ignore her in TWL. And Firstborns tend to get mind whammed if they think about her for too long. More evidence for the Titania theory (or Maeve, if she’s in multiple pieces).

That many spells can’t be good. 

I am not surprised that Toby asked how to give Simon her way home. This family has a tendency to pass around debts. 

Also, now would be a good time to call Tybalt. Might be faster than driving to Half Moon Bay. I guess the plan is to steal a Selkie skin and swim to Saltmist since Goldengreen was a bust? But yeah, he’s probably not up to date with TUK if he’s been stuck in the clearing for a year. 

“evil hot potato” good phrase. This stinks a little of self-sabotage.

Diva did need to be shifted, interesting. 

Simon wouldn’t have gotten away with it, there’s nothing natural about a boy eating 6+ bowls of soup, especially if he kept doing it past when he’s physical ill. Poor Quentin.

Interesting that Simon’s not trying to cause harm. His superpowered spells are doing a terrific amount of damage, but nothing that can’t technically be reversed if they have the power to do so. Even Quentin was harmed only because he couldn’t stop eating, and that wasn’t Simon’s intention. 

Dean admittedly is not have a good day. Neither is Quentin. 

Simon under the Luidaeg’s curse is surprisingly self-reflective. I wasn’t expecting that.

Fuck off, Evening.

I didn’t think we’d get the reason behind why the Luidaeg couldn’t lie in this book, that’s nice.

Go Toby, tear this bitch down.

It is interesting that of the three daughters of Titania we’ve met, each one follows a different school of magic. Guess it shows that schools of magic don’t always follow blood.

Evening has been dreamwalking. Stronger when she’s sleeping? Can’t keep her asleep, can’t keep her awake. Can they turn her into a stone?

Confirmation: Titania was banished, and I assume only Oberon could do that.

“Lady, let alone” Maybe in the first blood changing dream, with her father who I think was actually Oberon? I don’t remember.

Tybalt and Walther also aren’t having good days.

I don’t get what Toby’s figured out.

“Rolling emergency that is your ongoing existence” Love it.

Dean’s day is getting better.

There goes the hot potato. I appreciate that Simon’s first action is to get the Luidaeg to reverse it and I’m sure Tybalt isn’t far behind.

Simon’s spending a good portion of the book confused.

Toby just coughed up a pigeon. I can’t determine if that’s weirder than the Luidaeg pulling it out of her chest.

“None of my enemies are remotely that powerful” I’m pretty sure there won’t be a book where Toby travels back in time, but just imagine what a book that would be. And Simon’s mulled cider is back, nice. And confused again.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Thornton?? OBERON???

Is his name a play on ‘root and thorn’?

Did he make himself human so Janet could fall in love with him as human? He’s expecting her.

Her name was suppose to be Almandine? And she doesn’t count as home to Toby, no wonder.

She got Oberon lost in Annwn and then pulled him out again. What the fuck.

Confused man remains confused. “He looked like a man who’d just lost everything” Something tells me that isn’t because he’s meeting his father-in-law/a physical god. Did Evening tell him something about Oberon’s return that hasn’t been revealed yet?

Lots of people get to come home today. This is great.

Time to get status reports. Toby is calm in crisis, as long as no one’s actively trying to kill her.

Let the Luidaeg and her father catch up. Wow. I didn’t expect they’d find Oberon with more books left to go.

Toby owes Walther far more than just one pizza - get that boy home and let him sleep.

Way too tired to consider how the car got there. Is it only one day since the Cat in the Rafters? Is this book taking place over the course of a single day? How long were they on the Rose Roads? Everyone needs sleep and food.

I do appreciate Simon taking responsibility for his actions and while apologizing doesn’t fix anything, it is the right thing to do. Toby hasn’t had a chance to tell him about her meeting with Patrick and Dianda, has she? He assumes he’ll be elfshot.

Not that his opinion matters on the Toby/Tybalt relationship, but I like how he’s being supportive.

Get married in the courthouse Toby, The fae won’t recognize it but it takes pressure off the wedding in Toronto so when that goes south, you are still married. Take May, Jazz, Quentin, Raj and whoever else you can grab at short notice.

Good on Toby for checking in on Tybalt and having a difficult conversation.

Back to Goldengreen. Do let Marcia hit Simon, let her do that. Once again, no one remembers that Marcia’s survived things a thin blooded changeling shouldn’t. And Simon doesn’t want to face Patrick and Dianda. It’s been over a hundred years since he last saw them. I wonder how much of the time he thought they were dead?

Changing people into trees can at least be reversed. There’s going to be trauma, but it’s better that everyone in Goldengreen was a tree or toadstool then dead.

“We have access to Oberon now, we can ask him for more Laws if you think we need them.” Oh god. I love this entire chapter, the dialogue is great and too numerous to quote.

And Simon, Patrick, and Dianda aren’t saying anything. Thank you for taking charge of this scene, Toby, otherwise nothing’s going to get done.

“Not that we’re going to get a honeymoon, since someone is inevitably going to try to  murder or abduct us” If you say it and plan for it, it might not happen.

Toby’s little interjection to Dean, the pro-mammal conversation, this chapter is pure good.

Can Simon say Eira’s name now? It choked in his throat during TWL.

Are they really getting into the Janet thing now?

Side-stepped that conversation. Simon definitely wasn’t expecting his best friend and wife to convince to divorce his wife, and then have his step-daughter and her fiance agree as well.

OT3! OT3! Oh man, I didn’t expect this and I love it so much! OT3! Do it! Also, Dean’s day just got weirder.

OT3!

“hey, kiddo we want to open our marriage and include the man who just turned you into a tree” so many difficult conversations to have.

Oh my fucking god, this is everything I could have wanted and didn’t know to ask for.

Wedding time? IS IT WEDDING TIME? “My mother’s divorce proceedings” THAT WORKS TOO.

Glad Toby is still carrying her knife even to this. She’s going to be wearing it to her own wedding.

I still can’t believe Simon’s the one calling for the divorce but good for him. Prior to this, I assumed it would be Amandine insisting on it. I assume the news got to Sylvester and Luna and I would love to know what Sylvester thinks of this.

Hadn’t realized Evening got Quentin fostered to Shadowed Hills because she wanted to marry him and become High Queen.

Fuck off, Amandine. Poor August. Raj gets one line in this book :(

And now it’s confirmed public knowledge that Amandine’s Firstborn.

Called Toby declaring for Simon, and I love how fierce she’s picturing her human father during this.

Also, I firmly believe if August hadn’t disappeared and Amandine still married Jonathan Daye (and Patrick and Dianda hadn’t convinced Simon to divorce her), Simon would have been a part of that. And if Amandine hadn’t told him and just brought October home one day, he would have helped Toby still see her own father.

Patrick and Dianda have gotten him to sleep and eat, good. He wasn’t looking well a couple chapters (a week?) ago.

He’s still trying to protect August to make choosing Amandine easier. I still think she’s choosing him.

CALLED IT.

Hi Oberon! Nobody recognizes you, that’s interesting. And you can calm everyone in the crowd. So you have some power.

“You have no descendant line to stand for you” Is that why Eria’s focused on breeding pure blood Daoine Sidhe? She gets power from everyone who declares for her? My current theory is that she wants to be the true Queen of Faerie, get rid of the Three and rule by herself.

Surprise wedding! Five minutes after Simon got divorced! I love this OT3 so damn much.

Dean, Peter and Toby all agree, August doesn’t say no. Toby has two new step-parents and two step-brothers? I honestly can’t think of Dianda as Toby’s step-mother. She’s Toby’s punchy friend and also the women who married Toby’s step-father/ fae legal father.

Peter’s the one who probably going to spend the most time with Simon, given that he’s still an enemy in Goldengreen. Is August moving down to the Undersea? She can’t stay in the tower anymore. Maybe she can crash at Toby’s or Shadowed Hills or Tamed Lightning if she doesn’t want to stay underwater. Has she seen January since she got home? Or maybe stay at Muir Woods.

I would love to see the dynamics of this new family. And the conversations of the OT3 in the past week.

I’m glad to see Simon and August out of Amandine’s grasp. She was abusive.

Wait, Toby doesn’t need to invite Amandine to her wedding because they’re not legally related anymore. Excellent.

Really wondering how the news is taken at Shadowed Hills.

What a great book. What wonderful surprises. I couldn’t have asked for more. No one died. Lots of trauma from super powered compulsion and shapeshifting to deal with but honestly, things are better for a lot of people.

To me, it feels like Simon’s story has mostly closed. He can rest and be happy with his spouses in Saltmist, and pop up whenever Toby needs info about Evening’s plan or blood magic, like Walther does for alchemist solutions. Staying mostly out of the line of fire. Good for him. I was so concerned he would die as a result of resolving his story.

Review of Shine in Pearl to follow.

#october daye #october daye spoilers

[inspector-montoya-fox]

let’s talk about the themes of the Sly games

Sly Cooper and the Thievius Raccoonus (2002):

Paris: this might not be the game’s main theme but it’s the theme that is most omnipresent. Paris is the glue that connects everything together. it immediately has such an impact on the player, even though it’s just the tutorial and the gang’s base of operations. Sly being a thief but also living in Paris just sounds so right, like it’s the way it should be. it fits. 

The Thievius Raccoonus: this is the main theme and what provides the game with its premise. it’s the book that needs to be glued back together and its importance is highlighted throughout. almost every level has a page included so we’re constantly reminded of its significance. the skills we earn by retrieving the main ancestors’ pages elevate the gameplay and force the player to respect it. other than that it’s a clever way to spotlight the ancestors and establish that Sly does come from a long line of thieves.

Family: this doesn’t need much explaining but i’ll do it anyway. we start off with Sly’s parents getting killed and him landing at an orphanage where he creates a new family for himself with Bentley and Murray. you’ve got 3 different types of family: (A) Connor and Sly’s mom getting murdered and Sly’s aim to avenge them, (B) Bentley and Murray being true brothers when Sly was left with no one (i’m tearing up), and (C) the ancestors, which are explored more in-depth through the theme of The Thievius Raccoonus. Family as a theme explores Sly’s motivations and drive, even though Connor’s role is minor, especially in comparison to his role in Sly 3

Morality: Sly 1 is rudimental in its gameplay. it was a little game with a big promise at the time it was released, hoping to serve Sony and the Playstation 2 with a worthy mascot and an even worthier title. but right off the bat the player is bombarded with a shit-ton of lore about the world Sly lives in and how he operates. we immediately find out he’s an antihero, an honourable thief who has a code of conduct. this comes into stark contrast with the game’s villains who are basically filthy crooks. thief takes down thieves and the theme of Morality is SP’s attempt to make the player distinguish between good criminal and bad criminal. Morality as a theme is spotlighted immensely in Cold Heart of Hate when Sly saves Carmelita because he truly is the good guy, but also when it’s revealed that what’s been keeping Clockwerk alive all these years is the lack of morals and the hatred. the game establishes Morality as the outlining theme of the entire series, placing Sly on a pedestal because he’s honourable. morals trump hatred, so fuck off Clockwerk (even though ‘perfection has no age’ might be one of the coolest lines in the game lol)

Sly 2: Band of Thieves (2004):

Paris: this is the theme from the first game but on steroids. like make it x10. when you take the plot of Sly 2 and boil down to its core, it turns out to be a full-on race against time to save Paris. it provides both a nod to the first game and a sense of closure at the end: the game begins in Paris and ends in Paris. It’s both a setting and a catalyst, and it is absolutely brilliant in the game. you spend most of the game globetrotting, away from home but as soon as you find out ClockLa is on her way to unleash her psychotic brain waves and turn the city evil, you find yourself at the edge of your seat, caring more about Paris than anything else. it’s omnipresent and powerful and i don’t know why but i love it.

Spice: if you wanna be my lover. here’s an amazing replacement for drug trafficking as a plot device in a children’s game: spice. the spice trail is what pushes the narrative forward but also gives the gang something to face before the pieces fall into place and the larger scale of things is revealed. before ClockLa steals the show, spice is the main antagonist in the game. it brings the villains together, leads the gang from one location to another, provides some memorable missions and obstacles (Spice in the Sky and a raged, spice-infused Murray). but it’s not to say that it fades away in the long-run. Spice is actually the subtle thread that connects the episodes together but also is significant to the final master plan of hypnotising Paris.

Deception: obvious one here. Neyla pretending to be an ally is the major example. we’ve got the Contessa pretending to be loyal to Interpol, we’ve got Arpeggio seemingly being the mastermind behind everything (which he kinda was until he wasn’t), we’ve got the whole evil plot reveal on the spice, we’ve got Neyla ripping off Arpeggio on her journey to become the most well-written villain in video-game history. lots going on here. overall great theme. on a wider scale (and i’ve touched on this before in some recent posts) we’ve got SP deceiving the player into thinking the plot is all laid out at Rajan’s ball until it all turns to shit and nothing goes as expected. Appearance V Reality is a sub-theme that pops up when Bentley fights Jean Bison and Bison constantly underestimates Bentley until the turtle fucking blows his lights out. it’s not an instance of Deception per se, but it’s worth mentioning

The Past: Clockwerk’s return makes this a theme instead of a motif. before ‘saving Paris’ becomes the main objective, it’s Sly’s determination to prevent Clockwerk’s revamping that kicks off the game’s events. the events of Sly 1 play a pivotal role here as they lay the groundwork for the plot of Sly 2. it’s not just Sly 2: The Sequel. with its own set of characters and an intricate story it becomes its very own thing. but Clockwerk is the link that connects everything.

Morality: this one sneaks up on you in the game’s second half and just bites you right in the ass when you least expect it. Contessa, who until her boss-fight seems to be just another selfish spider bitch witch, manifests into this advocate for Sly’s inner demons through simple dialogue. fucking brilliant. ‘You’re an ignorant child playing dress-up in his father’s legacy’ (in my opinion, the best line in the entire series) kicks it all off. and then the theme becomes obviously present throughout. it explores the fine line that Sly walks between robin hood and scumbag thief, it shows how the villains are down-right criminals who want to benefit from their crimes, it cracks black and white into a million pieces because in a single game there are like a million layers of good and evil: Barkley at the very top as the authoritarian white, Carmelita as a sympathetic cop who tries to grasp onto her own code of ethics while occasionally running with the thieves, Sly and the gang as antiheroes, the villains as... villains, and Neyla as the embodiment of satan. it’s a scale and the game spotlights this. i had a different bullet point for Justice but i think it falls under Morality. basically, Carmelita’s story arc in Sly 2 deals with blurring her views a bit and re-defining justice

Sly 3: Honour Among Thieves (2005):

Ancestry (Cooper Vault): this is what the game is all about, or at least the premise. after stitching the cottdamn book back together by the end of the first game, Sly 2 doesn’t give any attention to the Thievius Raccoonus. in fact, Sly 2 exists on a completely different plane, using its amazing plot to elevate itself away from the lore of the first game. ancestry is rarely mentioned. flashforward to Sly 3, where SP takes us back to the mythos for a new caper involving a new reveal: the Cooper Vault. what we thought we knew about the ancestors is thrown out the window to pave the way for this mystical place where the Coopers buried their secrets and their loot. i’d like to point out that the theme of Ancestry is great and all but SP does a shitty job in spreading it throughout the game. whilst recruiting the new gang members we often forget why we’re doing so and it’s not until the last episode of the game that we get the fulfilment of the theme’s promise. it’s also worth mentioning that the theme pops up in A Cold Alliance when Tsao is comparing himself to Sly and he speaks of his ancestors but we somehow get the feeling that his ancestors were all colossal jerks like him and had absolutely 0 honour

Family: this is not the same as Ancestry. the new gang members could have very well been distant with each other if not for the adventures that made them bond. Bentley’s fascination with the Guru, Murray being the Guru’s apprentice, Bentley falling for Penelope, Penelope and Panda King helping Murray with the van, Panda King and Sly working alongside each other to kill vampire mantises and the Crusher. these are all moments that helped sell the ‘group of thieves’ aspect of the game. but Family also explores the bond of the original trio and how, even when they face their differences (Bentley and Murray living in the shadow of Sly), they can still make it through, even stronger than before. other references here might include: Panda King and Jing King, Dimitri and the Lousteau diving legacy, Dr. M and McSweeney being Conner’s “sidekicks”

Honour: this replaces the theme of Morality from the previous two games as the situations the characters face allude to honour (doing what’s right for the greater good) rather than morality (black and white, good vs evil). what i mean by that is SP making an effort to distinguish why Sly is a different thief and ultimately an antihero. this was sorta explored in the previous games by having Sly put an end to the villains’ various operations but the overall plot overshadowed those instances. Sly 3 on the other hand fully explores the theme of Honour by including the word in the title and having the gang save the day in every episode. stopping harm to the environment (polluting the Venice canals, destroying the Australian outback), helping Penelope come to terms with her inner demons by encouraging her to drop the facade of the Black Baron, saving Jing King from forced marriage, etc. the theme also ties into the theme of Redemption (below) but what i’d really like to point out is that Carmelita gets in on it as well. i can’t think of a more honourable moment than when she finally, after 3 games, puts the petty cop bullshit aside and comes to Kaine Island with her squad to save Sly from Dr. M. she makes Sly’s battle her own and doesn’t give up, showing up at the very end to save him from Dr. M’s horrific boss-fight (ugh)

Deception: although not as major as in Sly 2, i’ve said this time and time again: Flight of Fancy perfectly encapsulates the theme of Deception. Penelope dressing up as the Black Baron is not the only instance of deception. you’ve got Bentley and Penelope blowing their online avatars out of proportion, you’ve got Dimitri who was initially a villain finally turning sides, you’ve got an episode card full of sunshine and bright blue and gold fonts for a hub that’s all gloomy rainclouds. beyond Flight of Fancy, i can think of a few more instances: some Shakespearian shenanigans when Carmelita disguises herself as Jing King, or when the gang doesn’t reveal their Dead Men Tell No Tales plan to the player and we’re left thinking that Sly is going to get eaten by sharks

Redemption (Choices): speaks for itself, really. this one ties in with Honour and is a sub-theme, maybe a motif. we’ve got Murray’s desire to redeem himself for feeling guilty over Bentley’s accident. we’ve got Dimitri and the Panda King joining the gang after previously being villains in the series, and eventually redeeming themselves through helping with the heist. we’ve got Penelope redeeming herself as the Black Baron by joining the gang. i also named it Choices because these characters chose to redeem themselves. Choices are all over the game, whether its the lack of free will or the sacrifice characters make: Jing King isn’t in a position to choose whether or not she gets married during her capture, Sly sacrifices his cane at the very beginning of the game to save Bentley and then jumps in front of Dr. M’s shot to save Carmelita (!!!)

Closure: or the lack of, smh. SP’s trilogy comes to a close and therefore the theme has to exist even if the game doesn’t provide the player with mass satisfaction. Sly finally gets together with Carmelita, Bentley finally gets over his fear and self-doubt and lives the good life (with Penelope), Murray kicks off his racing career, and we get happy-ever-afters for the rest of the gang as well

#ya boi is FAMISHED #this beats any sly essay i've ever written #i'm exhausted bye #sly cooper #sly MF COOPER BITCHES

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: In The Dark, I Heard Your Voice

---

He felt the throat under his hand dry and crack and almost too suddenly for something so powerful disparate and break into itself, leaving him clutching onto only the faded flakes of dust as the form of the so called Loa of Criminals broke apart of itself as the spirit's power drained and flooded through him with the same ferocity of Baron Kriminel had raged at him in his last breaths. What is dead should never die, but as the shadow slowly lowered his hand and brushed the dust from his fingers, he couldn’t help but feel the rush of power and fury that this one - this final one - made the perfect choice to bring back the one who’d already died twice already.

His skin felt like it was too small, too frail, too human to hold all of him in now as he moved away from the pile of ash that had once been the Haitian spirit-god more feared and powerful than even that Samedi guy that she had babbled about from some book or other at him once. Taking something tied to her as the last one felt somewhat fitting. He could only hope his body would retain him long enough and that he was not too late.

It had taken him two months, the two long and desolate months since she didn’t come home for Grey to get to this point, and he couldn’t help the dark twist of his gut thinking that maybe it was going to be just too late to save her as she had been and instead he’d be saving a different form of her. He hoped deep inside that she might still be as she always was, but to him it didn’t matter. Grey needed her back. However that might be.

Something tickled his cheek and lifting a hand as he smoked away and reappeared near the no-longer iron guarded cemetery, the shadow looked in surprise at the thick black ooze that coated his finger tips as he pulled his hand away from the trickling substance. Blinking his eyes repeatedly, Grey clenched his fists feeling the dripping begin down his other cheek as well as he surveyed the mausoleum door with interest before the sound of a cough came from behind him.

“Did you bring it?” “You sure don’t look well, loverboy. Are you sure you should be doing this?” “I asked you a question.” “So you did. Well, you’re in luck - I managed to borrow this little thing while Sam was asleep-” “You didn’t get permission?”

There was a feminine laugh as the blonde haired demon approached him, her hands cradling the long, elegant weapon with care as she walked. It was a gun that neither of them had ever thought they would hold and one that would cause each of them to freeze in terror if they had ever been on the other end of the barrel. Ruby turned it over in her hands almost reverently as she reached his side, a finger stroking along the long, black barrel like its very existence was seducing her.

“Don’t worry, shadowman, I left a little note of where the boys will find it - and if you’d like to get a move on before they get here?” “Just a second-” “You want to wait another hour for her? Aren’t we on a bit of a dead line here, loverboy? Don’t want her all black and crispy-”

“You’ll stop talking if you know what’s good for you, Ruby.” The words were growled out in an instant, the same instant his shadow stretched and snapped in place holding the demon where she was and from disappearing if she felt contrary at any moment. Grey’s eyes snapped onto hers, the bright blue of her meatsuits wide in surprise before relaxing into her usual cocky resolve meeting his own inky darkness so similar but also wholly different from the blackness they were just talking about, before he jerked his hand out to grasp the Colt from the demon’s hands. “How’s this supposed to work, anyways?” The idea of using such a human passage into the depths of Hell was strange, but since Crowley’s dethronement, the ease of movement between the planes had closed to those without their known ways out.

“Gun in the whole, you should know all about sticking things in holes, right?” “Ruby..” “Oh relax, we’ll get in there easy peasy. No one has watched this passage since the Winchester’s cracked it open and shot Azazel with that very gun.” “Well isn’t that comforting-” “It should be. I could have taken you one of my ways, but they are a lot less fun and a lot more bloody than this method.”

The shadow nodded his head at that, and stepped forward towards the entry to the Hell - dragging the demon along by her shadow as he did so, with a sigh. Grey reached out and slid the barrel of the gun into the perfectly sized gap and as he heard the telltale rumble of an old, muscle car pulling up behind them, he twisted the handle and pushed inwards the heavy stone doorway before moving forward, demon in tow, before the stone slid shut behind them with a sense of finality

---

Hell was somehow exactly the same and so much worse than he remembered it all in one. Perhaps it was because each soul they passed with a demon working them over in particularly heinous torture like flaying or burning or icing or a combination of all three or some equally bloody dismemberment and disembowelment brought with it a mix of horror at questioning if this one would be her, followed immediately by an equally terrifying realization that it wasn’t and she was still out there somewhere, still strapped and having much the same happening to her if not the cold thought that perhaps he would find her on the other end of the knife by the time he reached her. Each rack they passed had a different human at different stages of decay and blackening, their voices so loud in his ears but he strained and failed to hear the one and only voice he cared about.

They’d passed only a few handfuls of souls before he heard the sucking in of breath from the demon beside him as they approached the next rack - shadowy eyes darting across to the blonde beside him before turning to look ahead again at the disgusted look upon her face. His own twisted into much the same as he took in the sight before him, before like an iron knife through the spine he felt the white hot rage at what he was seeing and the realization that this was considered an element of torture in this place. That that may have happened or may be happening to his quarry. If he hadn’t already been intending to save her, he was now. And stepping forward - one hand outstretched and grasping the back of the demon working over the human under them’s head - he drained until all there was left covering the screaming soul was dust.

That established the new pattern of their search - every single demon that the pair came across was obliterated in seconds before they could even realize that they were in any danger or could make any sort of struggle like the humans they tore into in more ways than Grey had ever thought they would. It seemed like hours, maybe even days, that he stalked the passages and paths of Hell searching and searching and finding nothing of his prize. If he hadn’t already been leaking, he would have by now with the sheer number of demons he had put an end to; and if he had bothered to notice how uncomfortable the blonde beside him was becoming, he might have noticed the inky dark shadows dripping and slipping out from him with every step - the dark trail of his own shadow growing behind him and smoke trickling out from him as he moved and the veins under his skin becoming more prominent with the black darkness of shadows underneath the pale color.

Ruby remained silent for the most part - something Grey took to be to do with her own distaste for the place or desire not to bring attention to herself any time soon, or perhaps it was something else as her lips twitched on occasion as one demon or another would turn to stare at her for the briefest second before the shadow had drained them of their very existence - until it seemed like they were never going to find his desire and he’d begun being nastier to the last few demons they’d destroyed. “Okay, okay, fine...”

“What-?” “Fine, I’ll stop it and get the ball really rolling.” “What the fuck do you mean, Ruby?” “Oh be quiet loverboy. I hate this stuff more than you do, I just wanted to see how much we could take out before you decided to call him yourself.”

Her words were like ice down his spine, bringing out a shudder at the idea that she was suggesting what he thought she was. “Call who, Ruby?” Grey’s voice was laced with venom and danger as he hissed the words out, eyes pulling away from the newly-made pile of nothing that had been a demon peeling some soul of an elderly man’s eyes with a vegetable peeler, to fix straight onto the now shrugging demon with all the fire of the very place they were standing. “I asked you a question-”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” The blonde replied snappily, clenching her hands carefully to the sides of her hips as Ruby took a small step back from him. He was somewhat impressed to see she managed to stop the flinch when he disappeared and reappeared right in front of her, hands grasping onto her upper arms forcefully. “You know who you need to call, loverboy. Your dear old friend-”

“I had called him, you bitch.” “Really?” “Of course I did. The moment the angel said she- the moment I knew where she was, I called for him. Repeatedly.” “And he never came to you? Not even to offer a little comfort? Hmmm, I wonder what he could have been busy with.” “Stop speaking in riddles before I drain you too-”

“Fine. Call him now and you should get the help you need. But I am done assisting this murder quest, I’ve seen enough of those worthless little torturers burnt up, I’ve had my fun.” The demon rolled her eyes with more attitude than someone being held in his grip should have done, however the way she returned his look with an almost earnest and hopeful look made the shadow release his fingers from her arms, before she was gone immediately.

---

After Ruby’s departure, Grey returned to the same process without any additional thought to her jabs and words for some time. All he could see was the torment happening around him and all he could hear was the screams and laughter of anyone and everyone other than the one he truly wanted. Every soul that wasn’t hers was another soul that kept her from him, every demon that wasn’t her was another demon keeping her at bay and doing unspeakable things to her in his mind as he made his way deeper and deeper into the bowels of Hell itself.

Occasionally he would see a demon coming the opposite direction to him, headed towards and along the passages to wherever they were needed - but as he drained more and more, and felt the terror turn into burning rage at every failed attempt to find her, he noticed these demons turning and fleeing in quicker and quicker steps. Perhaps it was the anger rolling off of him. Perhaps it was the thick dark smoke that slowly leaked from his fingers, eyes and very pores themselves. Perhaps it was the way the passages behind him appeared to disappear into a darkness of shadows that did not match any part of Hell that he had seen, or that any of those little demons would have seen. Perhaps that had been the only reason the blonde one could stay with him so long - her familiarity of walking in the dark passages no one else dared venture through that were now forming themselves behind his very footsteps. Regardless, those that fled, he did not see again, and with the twist of his stomach, Grey realized he may never get to catch a hold of them to punish for whatever had been done to her by them or their kind.

Stroking his fingers along the side of the hallways, Grey barely recognized him when the next demon appeared before him with an almost amused smirk. He was simply another demon, due to be drained and discarded on the shadow’s path towards his desire, and Grey found himself reaching a hand out to do just that before the Scottish accent broke through the cloud of rage and fear he was stuck in. “Well now, haven’t you been busy darlin.”

“What are you doing here.” Grey growled the words out in response as he blinked his inky, shadowy eyes a few times before they focused upon the demon. “Get the fuck out of my way Crowley, I have things to do.”

“Oh yes, I can see that. Things like kill a quarter of the torturers in Hell, very important that.” “They are foul-” “That they are, but they do have a job to do, and you are keeping them from that.” “You had gotten rid of them when you were King, Crowley, they are unnecessary. I have things to do, please get lost.”

“Ah yes, don’t let me stop you-” The Scottish demon responded, taking a step to the side as if to let Grey pass by, before unexpectedly falling into step with the other as the shadow began his pilgrimage towards her. “Are you having any luck?”

“Luck with what?” “Oh you know... things.” “Well, I didn’t want you here at all, so I guess thus far I am not having a lucky streak at all.” “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you, love.”

“And why would that be?” Grey replied, stepping towards the next rack and grasping the torturer’s hand as he drew back the cleaver that it looked like he was chopping razor thin slices of the human’s arm apart with into sheets of soul - before the draining had the demon dropping into a pile on the floor and the cleaver clattering sharply straight down onto the floor beneath them. This one barely felt like anything more than a drop in the ocean of the amount of power that the shadow had been absorbing in this mission. And it barely felt like anything to Grey as he moved past the now staring demon as he continued his search and dripping smoke behind him. “What exactly shouldn’t I be so sure of?”

“Why, your luck is about to change, darling, if you would only ask for what you need.” Crowley’s lips were curled up into a smirk as he fell into step beside the other as if unaffected by Grey’s very presence and impact - however the shadow knew better, feeling the unsettled emotions and almost undercurrent of concern and fear radiating through the demon as they proceeded forward. It was nothing compared to the actual disinterest and unconcerned emotions that had filled the shadow’s previous travelling companion, but it was interesting to feel the concern from the demon - as it even felt genuine and very strong. “So, are you going to ask me, love, or are you going to struggle on looking for her in all the wrong places?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” “Why - it means it has been twenty years down here for her by now, darling. What makes you think she is still on a rack?” “She wouldn’t give in that quickly.” “Perhaps, perhaps not. And even if she had given in - what makes you think she’s still here with these filthy black eyed torturing pieces of shit?”

That froze the shadow abruptly as the idea washed over him, the smoke oozing out of him swirling around him as if a comforting blanket wrapping him away from the concept of her having already lost the fight against torture. Shaking that thought from his head, the second half of the demon’s words sunk in, and quick as a flash, his forearm was pressed sharply against the trachea of the demon and pressing him up against the wall of the hallway with force that the shadow had never once used on the demon, force from his own hatred and rage, and from the swaths of monsters and demons he had absorbed in preparation, from the power of the Vodou god he had drained to nothing, from the power of the demons he had stopped in their tracks and denied Hell of. There was a tense second as he pressed harshly that Grey thought perhaps he would end up popping the demon’s head off from his body like popping a champagne cork from a bottle, which he thought would be so fitting for the lover of fine things beneath his arm, before the demon vanished with a gasp.

“That was so unkind, love, and here I was offering to take you to her.” Crowley’s voice was somewhat hoarse as he rubbed at his neck gently when he reappeared several feet down the hallway, eyes fixed upon the swirling shadows and smoke that surrounded the monster. “If anyone knew where she was, it would be me.”

Grey practically felt his heart stop at that, his mouth suddenly dry and aching at the idea of asking the King of the Crossroads for assistance but also at the idea he would be taken to her right away if he simply asked. Fixing the other with a look, the shadow took a short step forward, and clenched and uncleched his fists before speaking. “Do you know where she is, Crowley?”

“I do indeed. And I can do you one better than telling you where she is.” The demon’s face broke into a smile that would have unsettled him if he wasn’t already thinking three steps ahead to finally laying eyes upon her again.

---

“It’s unfortunate timing for you to be here now, we were just picking up for the School Reunion time of year, you know. We’re very busy and I’d be loathe to lose her.” Crowley remarked to himself, his tone was conversational however Grey was barely listening to a word after the cold reality that Crowley had taken them to the Crossroads section of Hell from all the red eyed demons they had passed, and if Jo was in this part of Hell - then he had been too late. There could be no other explanation for it. He was too late to save her soul from becoming blackened and darkened like it had; however shaking that thought away as the shadow was guided along a long hallway towards a set of double doors with a golden plaque above stating ‘Waiting Room #3 - Continental USA’ , Grey focused purely on the fact he was going to save her from this place regardless. That he was one set of doors away from her. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do going back to how it was without her work. Such an efficient little thing, Jo really has been so helpful, she has been so good at getting me to relax among other things.”

It took a second for the words to sink in before the shadow found himself growling deep in his throat at the very thoughts the demon’s words brought up, unwilling and unable to think or consider any truth to them until he got to lay eyes on her. That was the only thing that mattered right then, getting to her and getting her from this place - and now, especially away from any other demons after what he had seen of the torture of Hell and the words from the so-called King of the Crossroads.

Stalking forward, Grey shoved open the double doors with a loud bang as he moved through the doorway - blackness filling the void behind him as his eyes darted across each and every face of the black clad demons sitting in straight lines along the walls of the room - their red eyes flashed and staring at him in what he could feel wafting off of them as surprise and fear in equal measure. Every one of those faces was wrong. There were a few blondes, but none had the same panes of her face, the same mullish set of her chin or the gentle curves of her lips, none had the soft blonde waves to match her own golden locks he had missed so badly. None had the gentle curves of her neck and shoulders, and none had that special something he would always be able to see in her. None had her sunshine smile or that laugh that made his stomach lurch.

But someone did - as as he stepped further into the space, he heard it. That laugh, loud and carefree and entirely uniquely Jo, coming from somewhere right in front of him.

Grey took another step, eyes looking at a small duo of demons with their black cocktail dresses and their backs to him that the sound was coming from, before the shorter brunette of the pair shifted slightly and it was like staring straight into the sun. She was there alright, Crowley hadn’t lied and that much was all the shadow needed to know as he stumbled forward over his own feet towards her with a loud squeak of his shoe soles upon the floor beneath him, but all he could focus on was the light of her before him like he’d never seen her before.

Jo was right there, and she was laughing as if she was in their kitchen back at home joking about some thing or other and not as if she was in Hell itself. Jo was right there, and she was smiling and batted at the brunette’s arm with that megawatt smile of her’s and appeared to be making some joke about something as if it was Jo and Harry teasing one another over some movie reference gone wrong. Jo was right there, and she raised a hand to push her hair back and scratch at her neck like she had picked up from him when she wasn’t sure of herself. Jo was right there, and he was still several feet away.

“Jo..” Grey felt his throat closing up as he breathed the word out, taking another step forward as his control on his emotions and the tight lid on his power began to break at the very sight of her. She was there, and she was happy in a way he’d never considered she might have the chance to be before he came for her, and then she was looking straight back at him with those big brown eyes he knew so well and not a sign at all she was anything but his Jo and the last shred of control snapped like a rubber band.

That didn’t matter though as while his edges appeared to blur with the sheer amount of darkness and smoke bleeding out of him, there was the sound of bare feet on stone as in a swirling trail of grey and silk fabric and the flow of golden hair streaming out behind her, she was making her way at break neck speed to him. He didn’t even see the dress draped off of her and swallowing her in such a way he had never seen before, he didn’t even notice the way her skin was peeking through so many intricately cut flashes of the dress, he didn’t even notice even more importantly how each flash of skin showed no signs of the marks that had only added to her beauty in his eyes or the way her neck was simply a smooth expanse with no scarring or marks to be seen. All he saw was the warmth radiating out of her smile with every step forward.

And then she was in his arms, his own wrapped around her waist as hers were flung around his neck, and then her sweet lips on his practically drinking one another in. Her fingers stroked over his cheeks, smearing the dark coagulated smoke there over his skin and as she tilted her head slightly across her own skin. His hands gripped a hold of her tightly as if afraid the moment he let go she would be gone from him again, and there was a long and drawn out moment before they finally released one another’s mouths and he found himself setting her back down on her own feet; one hand reaching towards her hair and pushing the locks back from her face in wonder.

“Jo, you’re-” “I’m fine, hun, I’m absolutely fine.” “But you’ve been here-” “I know, but I’m good. I promise. I’m still... I’m still me, hun.”

Grey found himself mapping her cheekbones so carefully with his thumbs as he stared at her face, searching the depths of her eyes and her energy for any sign that she was any different than the way she had been when she had kissed him goodbye two months ago for her hunt. When she had said she loved him and would be back in a week, and that she’d call in two days time and never did. That she had changed at all from that moment.

“I’m still me, Grey.” Jo’s voice was so soft and hoarse and desperate in the same moment, and at the utterance of his name the shadow let out a gasp and dropped to his knees in front of her.

He wrapped his arms around her hips tightly, face pressed into the soft folds of her dress and hands gripping tightly onto the soft skin of her back as he let out another gasping cry as she bent over him in a veil of blonde hair and gentle shushing. Grey felt the prick of tears at her being there, and as he breathed in heavily, the smell of vanilla wafted over him like he had been missing ever since she drove away from their little home.

It was the last straw, and sobbing into her as her hands rand through his hair softly and gently and soothingly, neither of them cared for the spectacle or the sight of the inky darkness swallowing them whole in their own little light of one another as the blonde said quietly, like a refrain from a prayer only she knew. “I knew you were comin’ for me. Comin’ to take me home.”

---

#fic #au stories #greypov

[realitv]

what do you think of season 2 and do you hate it and do you wish you could purge it from your memory

@revoide also asked: w…what did you think of s2, claire?@itsnotpatsy also asked: Will you talk to us about why you hate season 2. I’m here. I’m doing this. Open the floodgates.@capitolhosted give me your opinion on season 2 👀

THANK YOU. hello and welcome to tumblr user hdtvtits full on fucking critique of the fuckshit hellshow that is, was and remains season two. i’m going to first talk about this from a technical and writing standpoint. the writing, in short, was shit. absolute shit. from episode one there was an unpleasant offness to the way the characters spoke and interacted. like the writers had written each line individually and mashed it together. you could… feel the writers writing these characters. nothing flowed correctly. there’d be one solid sequence an episode (the old gods behind the stage, shadow and his mother, sam!!!, just about everything anansi says except you know that One Scene) that would carry you through with how beautifully it was written, and then some fucking character would open their mouth and the dialogue would be so fucking awful that you’d physically cringe. every time mr. town spoke and interrupted the beautiful writing that shadow and his mother had i’d feel like fucking rose on the door telling jack ‘COME BACK…. .COME BACK’. it was gruelling to get through. in addition to the shitty character writing, all of the nuance (laura my sweet girl what did they do to you????? they keep beating her cheating on shadow but that horse is dead and falling apart yall can stop any fucking time now.) has been taken from these characters and characters with a high amount of nuance such as sweeney and laura were respectively reduced to comic relief and a blunt axe hacking at wood. and speaking of those two – i don’t enjoy getting abusive fucking dynamics shoved down my throat but sure let’s push sweeney and laura together let’s just fucking do that why don’t you.also, nothing happened. nothing happened this season. no plot advancements were made. the war still hasn’t really started, we got the spear and then sweeney said ‘fuck it’ and made it vanish. nothing’s happened. we’re finally going to lakeside in season fucking three. no progress was made and it just felt slow and plodding and awful. furthermore, deviation from the book is good! but. it has to be meaningful and expand the world in a meaningful way. what occured this season was lazy (the dwarves subplot), not meaningful, and a shitload of lore they introduced (re: the new gods) was contradictory and senseless. 

writing aside, this season had a lot to say on social issues (as did season one), but instead of landing in satire or giving us actual meaningful commentary, this season was actively racist, misogynistic, islamphobic, homophobic and antisemitic. was season one perfect? no. shadow’s lynching and the way sweeney treated salim wasn’t great and should never have happened. i’ll never excuse fuller for that. it should never be excused and should actively be critiqued. but the issues in this season were so pervasive and constant that the entire season deserves to be critiqued and quite honestly raked over the fucking hot coals. tw for: hate crimes, lynching, racism, n*zis, islamphobia, sexual assault(?), white-washing and homophobic slurs below. 

this season had yet another lynching. another lynching for the sake of having a lynching just like season one. and of course it pertains to shadow. and of course they have to show it constantly. it’s not necessary. it never should be necessary. what purpose is there showing a black man getting lynched over and over and over again? shock value? are you playing a very real threat and worry (in addition to being a historical atrocity) for fucking shock value? the needless scenes of white police brutality against black youth for shock value? a scene which i might add leads in to some disgusting implied black on black violence wherein anansi insinuates ibis is killing these young black men for sacrificial purposes. shadow himself was pretty much reduced to a sex object this season. while he is a passive and non aggressive character in the book, he’s not a fucking piece of furniture like the writers desperately want to turn him into. he was objectified as eye candy in a shirtless torture scene filled with wires and clips and a lot of flexing. you know what happened to the last show ricky was in that did that? he fucking left it. then after he was… possibly sexually assaulted by bastet? (he never consents and she tells him to ‘just let it happen’ whereas in the book it’s a little more… clear that he is an active participant), camera just had to give us an ass shot. he had no meaningful character development this season and really seemed to exist as a sideline character. where was his story arc? why couldn’t they have devoted an entire episode to his back story? oh, right. because the writers saw him as eye candy. baron samedi was also treated as just eye candy and there to quite literally fuck laura in a drug induced orgy (as that plot thread had no climax) so. you know. yeah, keep objectifying black men.there was also colourism this season. it’s established in the show that the egyptian and african gods are dark skinned black people. which is amazing, and great, and i wish the show would figure out how to light them all properly but i digress. bastet showed up in a dream sequence and i thought she was very light at first (she is described in the books as dark) but it turns out she’s not even a black actress she’s pakistani. all right! ALL RIGHT!  let’s not forget they had julian richings playing iktomi, a first nations god! JULIAN IS WHITE. they covered him in war paint and thought we wouldn’t notice. and let’s talk about social (new media) media. i think the concept could have been super cool. it could have been interesting and a really interesting reflection of what social media is capable of and is doing to us. but. the show operates under the belief and makes it clear media and new media are the same character. herein lies… a lot of issues. season one media stated that they would nuke the whole of korea as a sacrifice to odin. new media is korean. was that ever addressed? no. why the fuck would it be that would require a second of critical thinking from the writers. furthermore, when media was phoned in prior to new media’s introduction, it took place in the back stage. media chose to present themselves as white news casters. technical boy then tells media ‘put on a face you’re comfortable with and get out here.’ which. doesn’t sit well with me but ok. got that? cool. let’s go on.from the second she is introduced with harajuku girl aesthetics (and she’s dressed like a fucking loli schoolgirl and is always dressed like a loli + a cut crease to hide her monolid which ha ha real nice guys) she’s just sexualised. constantly. all the time. her first major act as a character with only 3 minutes of screen time at that point? A FUCKING TENTACLE PORN SCENE WITH A SUBHUMAN MONSTER. OH, YES. THEY REALLY WENT THERE. so you know. that’s fucking disgusting. she’s literally given cat ears at some point and a goddamn kitty anime face. every time that character comes on screen she’s either written as a sex object or completely and painfully oblivious; not to mention her powers depend on technical boy (who she hit on prior to the tentacle porn scene for bandwidth purposes as the upgrade somehow made new media weaker bc i guess a young asian woman is weaker than an older white person and new media is only considered ‘powerful’ after she fucks to survive), so. you know. fucks to survive i guess. not to mention she has no personality (and it’s not kayhun’s fault. she’s a good actress; the writers just don’t give a fuck) because the writers only wrote this character to fill in for media and it shows. she’s a prop to them. she’s literally a prop and it is fucking disgusting. and oh, did i mention that the new gods are allegory for the assimilation of immigrants in america? what are they trying to say here? new media was also portrayed through a highly misogynistic lens. so were… all of the women this season who are constantly sexualised in just about every scene and bastet just existed to fuck so. constantly. bilquis at least escaped this as she’s always had her own agency but the others? not so much. laura goes on a drug trip orgy, new medis fucks to sruvive, maman brigitte was here just for fucking and so was bastet. mama moon was exempt because as we know, moms do not fuck. in addition to laura’s character being just stripped, it’s clear the writers just hate her and wanted us to hate her too. fuller for all his flaws made her a hate-love character with a lot of depth and even though she did shitty, shitty things, she wasn’t there for us to hate. this season, she was there for us to hate, and after sitting through a disgusting line from wednesday where he says he’s had his hand shoved up her skirt to grab at her or some shit (wednesday is nasty but he’s supposed to sugar coat his shit this was just straight up sexually violent), they just keep… on. and on. and on. that she’s evil, and that she, like every other fucking woman, is original sin and dirty and immoral. i’m tired. i’m over it. and the islamphobia this season. there’s a scene with salim and wednesday and the djnn where they… attack his (salim’s) religion? i can’t remember the specifics but it was something about ‘his god’ and ‘one god’. and how he should worship wednesday instead because he was ‘a god’. just absolutely shitting on salim for being muslim and following its teachings. it didn’t… feel or sit right with me and after talking about it with the s2 support server we all agreed that it was pretty icky and a senseless attack on salim, a muslim character. let’s not forget the homophobia. it’s clear that the writers are uncomfortable writing lgbtq relationships. it took all eight episodes for salim and the djinn to kiss/touch. they’ve fucked, mind you. in season one they had an intense sequence that was very well done. this season? they were together the whole time but not only did they not touch at all (not even hand holding), but the djinn is a fucking asshole to salim constantly (let’s not forget the religion bashing) right up until he finally kisses him again. salim, you deserve better. dump him. salim was also a punching back for some spicy spicy homophobia. wednesday doesn’t even want them in the back seat together because he’s ‘afraid they’ll fuck’ or something in his car, and in e7 they literally bring salim in so sweeney can call him a pillow biter and the fucking f-slur to his face. thank you, writers. really nice. and last. but not least. the nazis. first of all, why? just why? the way e6 was constructed it could have just as easily been a mob since it’s 1920s america but no. let’s just have full on nazis in fucking nazi uniforms with the swasticas on their arms walking around. i get it. you want to comment that neo-nazis use norse imagery. you don’t do that by having odin sell thor to the fucking nazis and when columbia goes ‘hey those are uh nazis’ odin then responds with ‘they are sheep and my son is their shepherd’. what in the fuck. odin and thor are nazis now, and then you have the nerve to put odin in LOU REED’S JACKET. i really want the writers to stop and ask themselves ‘does this need nazis’. no. no it did not. you really don’t need them unless you want to play up genocide (which u know. of course was never addressed thor was just sad they wanted him to lose to a german body builder what the fuck man) for shock value. you’re literally just putting nazis in there and acting like it’s no big deal, having odin an active and willing participant, and then putting him into a jewish man’s clothing. eat my fucking ass.all and all fuck this season and fuck the writers and fuck starz the end.

#ask to tag // #HEY I'M TIRED #shedevvil #📺❝ THE SCREEN HAS ALL THE ANSWERS ! ( answered. ) #📺❝ BLOWS A KISS TO THE TV: FOR THE MASS MEDIA ( ooc. )