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solis-angelus · 2 years

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We were too close to the stars

Title: taken from the song Reflections by the Neighbourhood. it's one of my all time favourite songs and I just can't get enough of it

Summary: Sirius misses his brother. Regulus wishes he had another choice.

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1k

Trigger warnings: slight mentions of blood, death etc (emphasis on slight. I tried to keep this as trigger free as possible)

Beta read by the lovely @screamingfae . Thank you <3

A/N: ok this is my first time posting a fic. I don't know anything about writing oh god. This is for the 300 followers writing challenge hosted by @lonely-dead-poets (sorry if it's bad). I took up the (familial) dialogue prompt "You can tell me anything, you know that, right? I won't judge you."

There's a lil poetry idk if it can even be called that. Also, there's slight fluff, along with all the angst.. to balance it a little ig? There's prongsfoot (otp or brotp- it's the reader's choice). K, here we go-

November 2nd, 1975

Late autumn air silently whistled through the grounds of Hogwarts, in little sighs, telling a strange tale of a time much better once. Weaving in and out, gently gliding over the long grass, silently stirring in agreement, by the Black lake. It rustled softly passing by the last of the yellowed leaves, as if reassuring the castle's inhabitants of some faint light of a time far way, amidst the dark and foreboding future.

Maybe in another life..

The future, that hung heavy in the air of Hogwarts, like fog after a cold December night.

Sirius Black sat by the Quidditch Pitch, his legs perched against the benches below, on the very top of one of the many stands.

The sun had already begun to set, team practice ending over an hour ago, yet Sirius found himself unable to move from his current position. It was starting to get cold, and the warm fire of the common room suddenly felt very appealing. But something seemed to hold him back.

So, wrapping his arms tightly around himself, he stayed where he was, silver rings glinting off his pale fingers, beneath the soft moonlight, his thoughts wandering between people, loved and unloved, places known and unknown, and the upcoming war that he knew he eventually had to fight in.

Maybe in another life...

If he hadn't been so engrossed in his thoughts, Sirius maybe would've, out of the corner of his eye, spotted a figure walking towards the Quidditch Pitch through the shadows. However, as the figure approached, he seemed to take notice of it and squinting closely, he could make out a Gryffindor uniform. Sirius was shrouded in the dark, in a way that prevented him from being seen at a glance from the grounds below.

He was, therefore, obviously surprised when the figure promptly started climbing up the stands, walking towards him.

"How did you find me?" Sirius mused, as the bespectacled figure of James Potter, tousle haired and cheeks flushed, huffed and sat down beside him.

"Saw you at practice today, figured you'd be here. It's your favourite place afterall," the other boy replied.

Sirius smiled to himself, despite the foreboding thoughts running through his mind a few moments ago.

Maybe in another life, where we weren't as broken..

"Why didn't you return to the common room earlier? Peter and I brought Butterbeer and snacks," he said, passing Sirius a bottle of the delectable drink, while opening one for himself.

"Didn't feel like it" he replied, taking a small sip and immediately feeling warmth spread through his body.

James took another gulp, and blew out a breath, it smelt like pumpkin pie, Sirius noted. They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

This was one of the very special things they had in their friendship, the times spent together were never awkward, and Sirius was really grateful for that. Given his present condition of mind, he really could use some peace and quiet to be honest, however unlike him that sounded.

After a few minutes of silence however, James spoke up, "What are you thinking about?"

Sirius contemplated telling him for a minute, after all James was his best friend; he had known Sirius at both his best and worst of times.

After moving in with James into his parents' house last year, his health, both physical and mental, to say the least, had significantly improved. Euphemia Potter had made sure of that. Ofcourse, none of it would've been possible in the first place without James' insistence to escape that hellhole.

It was in one of these twilight moments, when he actually thought about how much James had done for him, and his heart couldn't help but feel lucky.

The hazel eyed boy, looked over to him, with eyes filled with nothing but sincerity, he silently took hold of Sirius' freezing hand.

"You can tell me anything, you know that, right? I won't judge you."

Sirius sighed, he knew that if there was anyone he could openly talk to about the ongoings of his mind, it would be James.

And so he told him. Tilting his head, he looked up towards the greying November night sky.

"Regulus."

Maybe in another life, where we weren't as broken, I'd see the light, the life you held in your eyes.

Hesitancy laced his voice. His brother was a sore topic Sirius had tried his best to avoid his thoughts from spinning into. But something in his bestfriend's soft eyes and concerned voice made him spill everything present in his mind. As always.

James drew in a breath.

"I–" sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm scared for him."

James laced his fingers through the younger boy's, tightening his grip just a little at his confession, a silent gesture of comfort.

Sirius took in a breath, steadying himself, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do– or rather, what I can do to be honest- I haven't even seen him since the last–" closing his eyes, he tried again, this time finishing in a whisper, "since the last summer."

The picture of a dark haired, grey-eyed boy, resembling a somewhat identical younger version of him, almost unwillingly seemed to drift into his mind's eye. Except, unlike Sirius, this boy had dark sunken cheeks, with even darker shadows under his eyes, that appeared to mask an entire ocean underneath, or maybe it was a storm that was hidden.. waiting for the thunder to clash..

Maybe in another life, where we weren't as broken..

That was the last time he'd seen Reg. With a little trickle of blood, stark against his pale cheeks (result of one of Mother's dear old dark spells, the result of a failed attempt at defending his brother), as he'd stared at Sirius with those shocked, pleading, tear-streaked stormy grey eyes–

"Don't go–" he'd said– no, requested, "please.." A tear trickled down his cheek.

Regulus Black stared up from the Astronomy tower, sky dark against the wintry night, the little streaks of grey reflected in his glassy eyes.

Maybe in another life...

How he wished he could run away, he didn't want this, he didn't choose this– ..or maybe he did...

Almost sixteen, but far too young to die.

Maybe in another life...

He knew.

Once sworn loyal, there wasn't an escape. Once gone under, there was no way out.

His only regret, the choice not made..

The brightest star—

Regulus closed his eyes.

Dark black hair, shimmering under the summer sun; eyes so bright, he'd be blinded if he looked up, that infectious smile– Sirius.

The brightest star in the night sky.

"Run away with me." He'd said one night, looking up at the star-strewn summer sky. The night before everything fell apart...

"I can't–" Regulus had cried back.

How he wished...

Maybe in another life, where we weren't as broken, I'd see the light, the life with you at sunrise.

*********

#regulus black #james potter #sirius black #marauders fanfic #regulus black fanfic #marauders oneshot #reggie's 300 followers writing challenge #marauders fic rec #prongsfoot brotp #prongsfoot #the black brothers #padfoot and prongs #marauders #ash writes

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extravalgant · 3 years

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the seven main schools (+ astral & shadow) as flowers

NOTE: i did not dive too deep into researching for this and most of the information i got for this post i got from this site . please dont come after me if i get a meaning wrong IM TRYING MY BEST!!! moving on

this is going to be a LONG POST so sit tight

myth - clematis (also known as traveller’s joy, old man’s beard)

i chose clematis mainly for its meaning: representing artifice, ingenuity and mental beauty. i think part of being a conjurer means that the world is only as big as you make it, and part of it is utilizing your imagination to its fullest extent. mental beauty and ingenuity go hand in hand with being creative, but artifice, in this flower symbolism, means to be cunning or be deceitful. i also think this comes from cyrus drake also being your teacher, which means he would teach in a style that would want you to exploit the weaknesses of the creatures that you summon (that being, calling their true name) in order for them to do your bidding.

“Myth dwells between Fire and Ice, for that is where the shadows lie, and Myths are the shadowy forms of thought made real.”

storm - gladiolus (also known as a sword lily)

urgh.... storm was such a hard school to choose a flower for @_@ according to the wizard101 site storm is also based on creativity, but since we already had that sort of meaning attached to myth, i decided to go with the next best thing which is that gladiolus represents strength, strong character, honor and moral integrity. i feel like it’s pretty well known fact that storm is a hitting school, and a pretty well known one at that - their reputation as a power school is pervasive through all wizarding circles. i feel like this is also where a diviner’s sense of pride comes from - being able to one-hit ko enemies and brandish your power proudly.

amazingly enough, the wizard101 site also addresses this, saying that, “the Storm School will train its student wizards to do a lot of damage. Storm Wizards have the ability to unleash high amounts of damage from an early level, which is good, but they place too much emphasis on power, and therefore suffer in terms of accuracy.”

placing too much emphasis on power... very interesting indeed

death - papaver (poppy)

death was ALSO a super hard school to pick a flower for. i debated between the dracula, the poppy, and the spider lily before deciding to settle with the poppy. I chose poppies in particular because “Poppies have long been used as a symbol of sleep, peace, and death: Sleep because the opium extracted from them is a sedative, and death because of the common blood-red color of the red poppy in particular.” source

I FEEL AS IF THE SPIDER LILY WOULD HAVE BEEN TOO EASY OF A CHOICE but i wanted to encompass all the meanings that death has and has been associated with. some people associate death with peace (at being in a “”better place””), and some people sometimes to describe it as “sleeping” to a younger audience with no death awareness. also heres a nice little excerpt from the w101 site: “Death is about ending and closure. All things pass eventually, and time cannot be held back forever. Wizards devoted to Death Magic, known as Necromancers, understand this fact about everything around them and strive to face it without fear.”

ice - magnolia

as soon as i saw this flower and its description it was PERFECT for ice. magnolias represent longevity and perseverance, due to the fact that magnolias are believed to have existed even at the beginning of time. the ice schools main theme is about persistance - which is to say, that if you’re patient and determined, you will collect the fruits of your labor in the end.

the school page even says this, noting that “The Ice School will train its student wizards to take high amounts of damage and survive.” To thaumaturges, it is simply about surviving to see the end of the battle, and that’s what their play style involves. both magnolias and thaumaturges have that in common : persist and survive.

fire - ixora (also known as jungle flame, flame of the woods)

it was also hard choosing a plant for fire, seeing as so many plants can be described as “passionate” in a symbolic sense. it was between this and orange tulips, but i felt that both the names “jungle flame” and “flame of the woods” both fit fire’s theme. that being said, ixora’s represent passion - the core of fire’s development and description. it is the “bright, burning flame of raw emotion sweeping over everything.” (w101)

fire wizards mainly utilize damage over time spells, which reminds me that a frog boiling in a pot will leap immediately out of the water if its too hot, but will stay until it dies if the water’s temperature reaches steadily. while fire’s general message are that it may consume everything it touches, and how pyromancers are quick to anger and tempestuous, fire plays the longer game by slow roasting their enemies until it is too late for them.

balance - cosmos

when i saw this flower and its meanings there was literally no chance any other flower could compare omg

balance is described as finding the equality of everything and harmony. they are described as broad-minded, taught to be considerate of all things, as well as their own place in the world they live in. cosmos, in this case, represent order, peace, modesty and harmony -- all things which are important to a balance wizard. balance thrives in the company of others, simply because it was made in mind to help others in the heat of battle. “The Balance School will train its student wizards to be effective in group play.” (w101)

however as a result, they may appear as stand-offish and impassive, unable to choose a side or make a choice. such is life when you’re raised to consider all factors of every choice you make - every decision feels heavy.

life - achillea (also known as yarrow)

named after the greek hero achilles, legends would say that his soldiers would treat their wounds with this. source

i chose achillea for life simply for the fact that it represents healing and protection, as well as it being used it being a versatile plant used to treat a variety of maladies or sicknesses - it’s been used as a medicinal plant for a long time across the world.

life embodies “the spirit, the force of awareness and existence. It is about constant growth and movement.” (w101). theurgists are described as having simple pleasures in life, in revelling in the idea of the living, breathing, planet around you. it utilizes the song of creation, using it to weave life where there was none previously. it definitely has powerful roots in the canon storyline - i just wish it was utilized more through its play style.

(astral) star - aster (also known as starwort, frost flower)

ok i dont have a deep meaning for this im sorry . i mainly chose aster simply because “aster” is derived from the Greek word “astron”, which means “star”, and because of the shape of its flowers. pretty simple reason but ill try my best to do it justice

however, aster is represented by patience and elegance -- star magic may be a lesser form of sun magic, simply because it is meant to power yourself rather than your spells. i think theres something inherently elegant about an aura wrapping itself around your figure, bending to the whim of your spells, as it both enhances your health or your spells.

(astral) sun - datura (also known as devil’s trumpet)

Datura symbolizes power and caution. It is a powerful and deadly plant, but also a major religious and cultural symbol.

i chose datura’s for sun because sun is all about power -- datura is highly poisonous and very dangerous to be around. the main deal of the sun school is that they use spells to make their own stronger - it has the “power to endure, power to persevere, and power to change”. we don’t get much of a canon explanation for how sun magic works outside of battles, but i imagine that you have to be careful with sun magic, because as we know - absolute power corrupts absolutely. aint that neat

(astral) moon - protea

protea’s represent ingenuity, diversity, transformation and courage. a big part of moon magic is that it is all about change. changing your spells, your body, your thoughts -- it is symbolized by the moon because it goes through many changes (the tides, the phases of the moon, etc).

i feel as if moon magic might be one of the harder magics to master out of all the astral schools - the transformation into something else may not come as easy as star auras, or that it simply may be too hard on the caster in question, having to change their physical appearances and battle tactics to fit into a new one.

shadow - rhododendron

rhododendron’s represent temptation, caution and danger.

despite how pretty it looks, the stems, leaves, and flowers can be poisonous to humans and pets if ingested. i feel as if that describes shadow perfectly -- the pleasant sight of these pretty flowers is enough to entice a person (wizard) forward, but you must be careful with how you handle this plant, or else you will end up facing dire consequences. (backlash)

shadow magic as a whole can be very tempting to those who seek it -- offering power that scales above others. but it is an advanced magic, and those who seek to play with it often end up paying the price with their lives (in this case, morganthe was crushed underneath the weight of power that shadow gave her). shadow can give you an upper hand, however, if used right -- and the wizard, for the most part, is using it right.

shadow is mainly a cautionary tale of not playing with higher, advanced, magics with the wrong intentions.

#wizard101 #w101 #girl how do i even tag this #i just like to play around with meta xd #also these are just some of my opinions please dont come at me #however if you disagree id love to see a post or explanation in the comments >:333 #i simply love... flower language and assigning symbolic meanings to plants and flowers #this took so long to type up . please look at it . the fruits of my labors #long post #LETS HOPE I DIDNT FORGET A SCHOOL OMG #if someone already did a post like this i will die straight up

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rockyscactus · 3 years

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hello love! i just found your account and i must say i’m now a stan! i loved your ruel blurbs 😭 would you mind writing a little blurb about meeting ruel at a nye party and him crushing in you, and coco or his friends pushing him to go up to you and ask for your number? if not it’s okay! thank you 🧡

a/n: i luuuuuv this concept!! also it's kinda long and not proofread :)))

“Okay him”, your friend pointed to a random guy for the third time tonight.

“Stop trying to prostitute me off to random people. The clock strikes at midnight for sixty seconds. I think I can bask in my singleness for sixty seconds, I already do for 31536000 seconds a year”, you stated matter-of-factly.

“That was some quick math”, your friend’s boyfriend spoke, causing you all to let out laughs.

“Gotta keep track of the undying pain”, you dramatically held a hand over your heart. Your head immediately quirked up at the sound of offkey singing and you all followed the sound.

“Disgustingly terrible drunk karaoke? Best New Year’s party ever”, you spoke loudly over the terrible tune.

“Hey, that’s my friend you’re talking about”, a voice interjected.

You met a tall guy that stood next to you, your face feeling hot as you spoke, “Oh god, this is really embarrassing for me.”

“It’s laughable considering that I have no idea who the fuck that is”, he sneered as you let out the breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“Fuck”, you sighed, “Well in that case, I think we can come to the mutual agreement that they suck. Like really badly.”

He let out a chuckle, “Oh I bet you’re hardly any better.”

“Right back at ya”, you elbowed him.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking at you, “What’s your go to karaoke song? Preferably something that we can trade off in parts.”

You threw your head back with laughter, “Oh hell no. No, no, no!”

“Oh come on, Simon Cowell. For all I know, you’re tone deaf!”

“And I would prefer to keep that to myself. And if you think otherwise, it’s your funeral”, you pointed a finger at his chest.

He looked down at your finger on his chest, “Oooh, shiver me timbers”, he held up his hands in a mockingly placate manner.

Before you could think of a quick response, he was bobbing and weaving through the crowd to get to the DJ booth.

Your friend and her boyfriend looked to you, overhearing the conversation. Your eyes widened as they fell into a fit of giggles. “Not funny”, you declared before chasing after the boy with the light brown hair.

“Here she is”, the guy handed you a mic before yanking you on to the stage, the familiar tone of Empire State of Mind by Alicia Keys playing. “Oh shit, okay this is the remix with Jay-Z and you’re doing Jay Z’s part!”

“Oh breaking your God crafted nose is gonna be so fucking satisfying”, you gritted through teeth.

He held the microphone away from him as he quickly replied, “I’m not really into blood-play, but I guess it’s something we can work out.”

You flicked him off before accepting your fate, “Yeah, I’m out that Brooklyn, now I’m down in Tribeca…”

“I’ve never heard of tone deaf rapping before, but you seem like the type to conquer the impossible”, the guy continued to mess with you as you walked off stage.

“Well if I would’ve known that I would be going on stage with Alicia Keys herself, I would have not put myself through that hell. But it’s a good thing you can sing, because comedy is definitely not your forte”, you quipped as your friend and her boyfriend charged toward you, gushing about your mediocre performance. Everything is amazing under the influence of alcohol.

Your friend let out a breathy laugh as she shook your shoulders, “We will not be leaving this behind us in the new year, trust me! That was everything I didn’t know I needed”, she gushed as she dragged you away from the guy and into the sea of people, leaving him to watch you disappear.

“Ruel, who the hell was that? That was so random but definitely the best performance of the night”, Ruel’s sister, Coco, approached her brother as he tried to find you in the crowd.

“Uh, I don’t fucking know. She was just like dragged away and well whatever”, he turned toward the kitchen.

“What? That’s it? Dude you’re gonna have to pull a rom-com move and find her. That could be your future wife and you’re just shrugging that shit off”, Coco’s friend yelled at him.

Coco nodded in agreement, “That’s what I’m saying! What’s her name?”

“I just said I don’t know”, he spoke with slight anger and anxiety, wondering if you really could have been someone to him.

“You’re so lucky you can sing, because I swear you’d just be roaming this earth aimlessly otherwise”, Coco rolled her eyes as they began searching through the crowd.

“Maybe he just left”, you shrugged, “Some people like to go party hopping on New Years”, you spoke loudly into the phone, your other hand held over your other ear to block out the noise.

You could hear your friend’s exasperated groan through the other side of the phone, “You have been given a Wattpad storyline and you’re rejecting it. You deserve no votes!”

“I’m hanging up now, see you guys at 12:01”, you cooed into the phone before ending the call.

In the back of your mind, you regretted letting your friend just whisk you away without another word. If he was actually going to be a part of your life, you had completely missed it.

You tried to suppress the thought as you moved toward the karaoke stage, reading the clock behind them that read 11:57. At least you could ring in your new year with a drunken offkey rendition of Take Care by Drake.

“Oh this is disgustingly terrible.”

“Well, I’m kinda tone-deaf so I have no business trying to be Simon Cowell”, you shrugged, biting back your grin. The universe was on your fucking side.

“I definitely think you have a rap career ahead of you though”, he was beaming from ear to ear as you turned to face him.

You exposed your smile, locking eyes with him, “I have to say, I was really disappointed that I never got your name. I’m Y/N by the way,” you asserted.

“Oh you broke my heart when you allowed yourself to be whisked away, Y/N”, he held an emphasis on your name

Neither of you had even heard the crowd around you chant out the countdown before you heard, “Happy New Year”, being yelled out left and right.

“Please tell me that you’re not socially tone deaf and are picking up on the fact that I really wanna kiss you right now”, your nameless duet partner spoke.

“Asshole”, you rolled your eyes as you leaned in and allowed your lips to melt on to his.

“It’s actually Ruel”, he spoke the second you pulled away.

#writing #imagines #ruel #ruel van dijk #ruel van dijk imagine #ruel van dijk edits #ruel blurb #ruel imagines #ruel one shot #ruel van dijk blurb #ruel van dijk one shot #ruel x reader #ruel van dijk x reader

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queer-as-used-by-tolkien · 3 years

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Storyline Study: Bangar and Almorra

This is a rewritten form of the juicy parts of this post that I foolishly left under a readmore. (This isn't all of it; there are some buried insights that didn't fit so well into the structure of this version.)

Inspired by @allergy-sufferer-emo-wandererr's Bangar-centric PMV of the song Rains of Castamere.

"And who are you," the proud lord said, "that I must bow so low?"

"Only a cat of a different coat. That's all the truth I know. In a coat of gold, or a coat of red, a lion still has claws. And mine are long and sharp, my lord, as long and sharp as yours."

And so he spoke... and so he spoke, that lord of Castamere. But now the rains weep o'er his halls, with no one there to hear. Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls. And not a soul to hear.

This song is about a lord and an underling; it draws lines between ranks and classes. A very Bangar song, but there's a hint of Almorra in it, too - the gladium-turned-hero, estranged from her people first by custom, then by choice.

One of my favorite aspects of this story is how strikingly little we, the Commander, have to do with it. This story started before many of our Commanders were even born, such as how Almorra and Bangar met, what their relationship was like, whether Almorra's unnamed daughter is also Bangar's, and when they broke up; several parts of it occurred right in front of us without our realizing - your first Vigil mission addresses Ajax, and even a few key parts of it during Bound by Blood were only accidentally overheard by the Commander. And, of course, there is the fact that we would never even know anything if it weren't for our eavesdropping through Ryland's memories. We are simply not relevant. It's not our story.

I think this is appropriate. There are stories in Tyria we will never know in their entirety; this makes the world feel more real, that we have these untold stories reaching into the murky past, connecting us with history.

Back to the song; a lot of my insights are drawn from wondering if the song would fit them, and a few stumbles I made along the way. It drew out the similarities and differences in a very striking way.

First, I wondered if the song could be mostly about Almorra and less about Bangar, since the pmv felt... not exactly connected right. (No offense.)

In this incarnation, it would be about Almorra, a new gladium, being rejected by her culture (presumably, specifically Bangar) and going off to found the Vigil. Except that the song ends in loneliness; and despite Almorra's death and even Jhavi's line that no warrior should have to die alone, it just didn't feel like it fit properly.

Contrasted to the song, this made me realize that the stories of Almorra and Bangar are similar, but in a way that they contrasted each other as a sort of emphasis.

Almorra's story began with loneliness when she lost her warband, but then she grew - she founded the Vigil, she was an open-minded leader who was, ultimately, willing to join the Pact, and later be part of the extended Pact that killed Kralkatorrik. That's where her story was supposed to end; at the pinnacle of her victory - not just that she'd defeated Kralkatorrik, but also that she'd found new allies after the loss of her warband. And she proved that she wasn't just in it for revenge, she wasn't just a bitter fighter who was simply desperate to avenge her companions - she was a true warrior. She kept fighting. She was praised as a hero upon her return to Ascalon, but she brushed off the fakes who dumped her when she was alone (a brilliant lesson in itself about true friendship), and went to continue her life's work - and at the time? At that specific moment, she was going to bring life and hope to her soldiers - her people - telling them of Kralkatorrik's defeat. Almorra Soulkeeper is an awe-inspiring influence and role model, and it's a disgusting shame that Bangar did what he did. But that, I think, was a masterfully contrived symbol that Anet used to contrast their stories.

Bangar was an Imperator. He was a powerful fighter, a masterful influencer (first time I laid eyes on him I pegged him as a politician, and he did not disappoint), and the mentor of the best rising star of the Blood Legion. But his story is one of losing - he lost Rytlock who knows when, he lost Almorra at some point, he lost Ajax in the PS, and then we have the start of IBS when he took all who would, and went into the Shiverpeaks to hunt a dragon. There, he murdered Almorra, supposedly his fire and blood, which may have been what started Ryland's fall. And then, despite his claims of doing everything for the charr, he started a civil war that nearly wiped out the charr, turned a good chunk of them into Icebrood, and all for nothing - Jormag passed over him. To add insult to injury, he lost his last ally - Ryland. Bangar's story ends in a cage, locked in silence, with half of his interactions with other people being solely so that Aurene or the Commander (and even Crecia) could request an audience with Jormag, who has even taken his voice from him.

These stories are polar opposites. To illustrate Bangar's fall, he murders Almorra, the opposing story of success. Almorra achieved what she wanted with Kralkatorrik; Bangar failed utterly with Jormag. Almorra and Bangar's stories spiral together (I'm kind of picturing the spiral helix at the end of HoT), but they are separate and vastly different and both go in different directions. Despite their endings being similar - ending in loneliness - Bangar's story derives in part from his inability to keep Almorra with him after she becomes independent of him. IBS is the climax, the disaster, the desperation and failed hope, the resounding end to Bangar's story. But for Almorra, it was just an annoying epilogue. She'd already lived her story - without him - and emerged victorious.

These two stories are startling in the way they contrast and orbit each other. The Icebrood Saga starts when both are at the height of their power - Almorra has the Vigil and even all of the Pact behind her, she has the Commander, she even has the support of the charr for having killed Kralkatorrik. Bangar, a highly-respected Imperator, is a great uniter - he has brought the four Legions together and managed to have them cooperate peacefully in a celebration. Their positions are nearly equal. The tension arises when Almorra and Bangar still don't see eye-to-eye. There is a disconnect between their core values.

The song is about a lord and a subordinate (I imagine a lowly peasant). This is Bangar, highly respected and powerful, and Almorra, the exiled gladium. The song illustrates the lord's pride versus the peasant's declaration that "my claws are as long and sharp as yours" - or Bangar's pride versus Almorra's individuality, Bangar's army versus Almorra's influence. The song is remarkably simple and short; but the two actors in this story have weaved a dance of opposition and contrast - yin-yang, and light-and-dark.

It is a masterfully plotted echo, a pre-type, a sort of thematic foreshadowing of the opposing but twinned forces of Jormag and Primordus.

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tansypoisoning · 4 years

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Scrappy Doo

You got in trouble often, and it showed. Worse than every bruise and cut, though, was your front door neighbor’s concern. He didn’t know you; he was too busy to know you. You wished he would stop pretending he cared so you could move on with your life in peace, and never have to deal with intrusive thoughts of what it would be like to have a room in his heart.

Me, writing fluff? More likely than you think (and yet not that likely). This is my entry for @jtargaryen18‘s “30 Days of Chris” I’m just trying to branch out a little, and since J’s fics tend to end up being really sweet even if they don’t start that way… Well, I thought I’d go for some sweetness too. Ended up calling out myself in this xD. Anyway, I would appreciate if you guys let me know if you think this is okay. Don’t judge the name too harshly please xD

Fandoms: MCU

Genre: Fluff? Hurt/Comfort? Things you wouldn’t expect from me, I guess.

Ships: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3166

Warnings: Mentions of violence and injury, some blood, non-graphic descriptions of wound dressing

The bits of bandage and specks of blood in the sink were piling up worryingly fast. You had looked at them to take your eyes and mind of the gash in your arm, but you reckoned you should’ve just closed them.

“One of these days you’re going to lose your head,” The woman in front of you grumbled as she weaved needle and thread through your flesh “and I’m not going to put you back together, I swear.”

You tried to tell her ‘If anyone could it’s you, Molly’, but the stiff thrown pillow stolen from her couch so you’d have something to bite muddled the words to the point none of them were recognizable.

You ground your teeth on the linen with every new puncture, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter like a lifeline. It hurt, but you’d be okay. You’d been through worse. Your love of hiking, parkour, urban exploration, political activism and doing good recklessly (emphasis on the reckless bit), meant you often found yourself beaten and bruised and wounded and just fucked up in general, but it was all worth it. Just last week you’d rescued a woman’s purse! Molly didn’t share your enthusiasm.

“I should really charge you for this,” she complained. She said it every time you showed at her doorstep, and every time she would put you back together free of charge.

Nick by nick, all your wounds were dressed and you were good to go. You dropped the pillowcase in the washing machine before making your way to the door.

“Seriously, you gotta start being more careful.” Your friend called. “I get that you can’t always help it, but…. jumping on a rusty ladder, are you kidding me?”

“I can’t make any promises!” You smiled sheepishly and she rolled her eyes “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate it.”

She sighed, but her lips curled upwards nonetheless “Yeah, I know. I expect to see you again in a week.”

“You know I’ll visit regardless!”

“Hopefully not bleeding!” She yelled just as you turned around to jog back to your apartment complex just across the street. The walk was familiar, if a little uncomfortable. Your bruised legs hurt as you climbed up the stairs, but you were smiling all the way.

You had just shoved the key in the lock when the door across from your place opened, and someone behind you sighed.

“Again?”

You whirled around on the balls of your feet, arms raised in preparation to salute the other person on the hall with you.

“Hello, captain!” You greeted cheerfully, resting your hand against your forehead.

Captain America’s look of disappointment could make just about everyone wilt, and you weren’t the exception. In fact, maybe you were even weaker to it than the average person.

“What happened this time?” He asked.

“Urban exploration,” you said, your voice losing a considerable amount of volume and enthusiasm “I was on some ladders when they broke down.”

The lines of his forehead deepened. No, this wasn’t disappointment; it was concern. That was somehow worse.

Who the hell was he to be concerned about you? He didn’t know you; he was too busy to know you.

“I’m okay, though. Nothing broken or anything.”

“You got stitches.”

You shrugged. “Stitches, schmeeches.”

He didn’t find it amusing. “And you’re still going on these expeditions alone.”

“Well, who else am I gonna do them with?” Most of your friends lived too far away, and the ones who lived near had no interest in your little misadventures.

Steve didn’t answer. He likely didn’t have an answer, but he also didn’t have the decency to wipe that look of faux worry off his face.

“And how are your expeditions on the culture going?” You used his silence to direct the conversation to a more pleasant topic.

You didn’t know much about Captain America – he didn’t really let himself be known – but living across from him had given you some insight on his life. Given he’d been stuck on ice for seventy years, it was no wonder he’d needed help to acclimate to the radically different world he had woken up in. He got used to the social and political changes with surprising ease, and it didn’t take him long to acquire a passable understanding of current technology. What he struggled with was pop culture.

You had been his media dealer for a few months now, supplying him with an endless stream of movies, series and music (some of which of questionable legality, but he didn’t need to know that). He had told you of his difficulty finding some of the things people had urged him to look into, and you offered to help him with that. You used the opportunity to introduce him to some things that you liked, because it was always nice to have another person to talk to about these things.

“It’s been going,” he said, and you were happy to see his expression softening “slowly, but it’s been going. Thank you for the Prince songs, by the way.”

“You’re so welcome,” you answered with a grin. He had initially given priority to media other people had suggested to him, but he’d been getting around to your things in the last two months or so “Have you watched Mr. Rogers Neighborhood yet?”

“Not yet.”

“You really should. Fred Rogers might be the one person who beats Steve Rogers at the whole ‘being a good human being’ thing.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m putting it off,” he smiled, but it was short-lived as he stopped to clear his throat. “I gotta go now.”

“Okay,” you nodded and stepped back to press your back against the wall. The hall was almost too small for the two of you. “Gotta rush to save the World, huh?”

“Something like that,” he said as he moved toward the stairs, but he turned back to you as he reached the railing. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You recoiled at his words. “Sure.” You answered stiffly, then rushed to open your door before he could say anything else. You didn’t need this. This fake concern, those empty words… You much preferred hostility, that was at least less confusing, less painful.

It really was stupid of you to nurture such a silly crush. Steve was just your front door neighbor. The sooner you accepted that, the better.

Molly wasn’t home, and she wasn’t picking up her phone. Where the fuck was she? It’s not like she had an obligation to help you out, yes, but… She always did help, and now she had to pick the worst possible moment to go M.IA.

The walk up to your apartment was familiar and painful. You were worried about your right arm; it wouldn’t move, and whenever you tried to touch it, it hurt. Could it be broken? You hoped not, but if anyone could be sure, that person was Molly. And she always picked up.

Your key was in your backpack, so you had to take it off before you could open your door. You tried to be quiet, but when the strap brushed your injured arm you couldn’t help but yelp.

Your neighbor’s door opened instantly, and at such a speed you felt the air in the room being rearranged. Steve’s gasp behind you only made you feel worse.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” you sniffed “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.” There was a pause and then a hand was at your right arm, squeezing it as if to turn you around. You were loathe to show any weakness in front of him, but it hurt too much. You howled, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes, and Steve let go. He walked around you, coming to stand in front of you. He didn’t look angry at all, just deeply concerned.

Great. You didn’t need this shit on top of everything else.

“Steve, let me get into my home.”

“Where’s Molly?”

“I don’t know,” you whined. It was getting harder and harder to keep the little composure you still had “Please let me in, Steve.”

“I’m taking you to the hospital.” His voice brooked no arguments, and something about it was too much for you.

You broke down with one sob, then several more, and the look on Steve’s face only grew more worried. “I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“I’m paying,” he said, and you were about to tell him no, but he didn’t give you the chance: “This is serious. You can’t wait this out. I’m taking you and I’m paying for it. Do you need me to carry you or can you walk on your own?”

You wiped at your tears with your good hand and nodded. “Yeah, I can walk.”

You followed Steve out of the building, pausing ever-so-often. Steve would wait for you whenever you did, not once complaining or frowning. He helped you into his car and buckled you in.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” He asked once he’d settled in the driver’s seat.

“I don’t want to.”

He took a deep breath as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t press the issue. You didn’t want to talk about the incident, but you didn’t know what else to talk about, so you kept quiet. Steve didn’t speak much either, occasionally asking you for updates on your state, but otherwise letting the radio do the speaking for you. The songs playing were ones you’d recommended to him, you noticed.

The trip to the hospital was longer than the waiting in the lobby, and thankfully that wasn’t very long. Steve remained outside while you were being patched up. You were glad for it. Having to explain your wounds to the staff was already bad enough, you didn’t need him to hear it as well.

You left the hospital in bandages and with a cast on your right arm. Despite the weight of the plaster, you felt a hundred times lighter, knowing you’d gotten the care you needed for free. Steve didn’t share your enthusiasm. He sighed when he saw you walk out of the room, and you felt your smile slip just a little.

The two of you were quiet when you entered the car. Steve drove in absolute silence for about two minutes before you thought to thank him – and you really were thankful, but thanking him almost seemed a waste. He looked so frustrated, just like everyone else when it came to you. Reckless, hasty, imprudent, you should just know your limits and not go past them. You should just stop doing the things that made you happy and the things you felt were needed because you would get scratched in the protest. That’s what everyone said. You couldn't imagine a super-human who put his life in graver danger every day being any more understanding.

You were about to bite the bullet and thank him, but Steve opened his mouth before you could: “You’re kind of like Scrappy Doo.”

“What?” All your previous feelings of goodwill vanished from you like the air in a popped balloon.

“I started watching some of the cartoons you-”

“I’m surprised you’re even here if I’m such a burden.”

It was his turn to look incensed. “What are you talking about?”

“Scrappy Doo. Am I seriously that much of an annoyance to you?”

“No!” He took his eyes from the road for a brief moment to direct them at you. “I was making a reference. Isn’t that what people like to do nowadays?”

“You compared me to a character everyone hates.”

“I don’t. And I don’t know why anyone would.”

“That’s not-” Your words didn’t come to you as fluidly as you would like them to. “It doesn’t matter. He’s an annoyance and only ever makes things worse.”

“Is that what you think of yourself?”

“No, that’s just what everyone else thinks of me.”

You looked at the rear view mirror to see him frowning. “Who told you that?”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” Of course he didn’t. If you were a nuisance to normal people, imagine how pathetic you must’ve seemed to someone as strong as Steve.

“I-” Whatever he was going to say he interrupted with a shake of his head and a sigh. “I shouldn’t say you remind me of Scrappy Doo. Rather… you remind me of me.”

It was your turn to frown. “You?”

“Before I was recruited for the serum program, I used to be very small. Short, frail… that didn’t stop me from getting in trouble whenever I saw injustice. I thought it was wrong to let bullies go unchallenged, even though I knew I couldn’t win. I always had to get rescued, but I kept doing it because I knew it was the right thing to do.”

“And then you got jacked and that helped a lot.”

He laughed. “I’m way better at doing helping out nowadays, but even so… I don’t think you’re an annoyance. I worry about you because I used to get in the same sort of trouble. I ask you to be careful because I’m afraid you won’t come back home one day.”

Your heart leaped in your chest, and then you remembered you had been there before. That wouldn't be the first time someone pretended to care for you on a personal level, then abandoned you when it wasn’t convenient anymore.

“You don’t really know me, Steve. I get if you’re worried about me just like you’re worried about everyone else, but I would rather… It feels fake, you know? Like you’re just helping me because I’m right there, and if one day I didn’t come home you’d just go on worrying about everyone else.”

“No, I-” He started, then cut himself off to huff. “I can’t talk about this while I’m driving. Hold on.”

You were quiet as Steve turned into a side street, darker and quiet than the one you were on. He looked around until he found a place to park, and then turned to you once the engine was off and the key was out of the ignition.

“I do care about everyone. If I was neighbors with someone else and they got hurt as often as you, I would worry and I would help them however I could, but I wouldn't feel the same way I feel about you. If you suddenly didn’t come back I- Why would you think I don’t care?”

“I just don’t see why you would. We only talk when we meet in the hallway, and you don’t look at the things I reccomend you, because you never talk about it.”

“I was watching Scooby Doo when you showed up.” Steve said, and there was an edge of frustration to his voice “Whenever I’m home I’m looking at the things you gave me. I don’t have as much time to learn about the things you like as I wish I had. I don’t have as much time and energy to know you as I wish I did. And you-” He stopped himself and shook his head. “Nevermind. I don’t want to do this when you’re injured.”

“No, tell me.” You and Steve were finally conversing rather than exchanging pleasantries. Now that you were being honest with each other, you didn’t think you could go back to how things were before. “I told you I wanted honesty. And whatever it is you’ve got to say, I bet won’t hurt more than this fucking thing.” And you pointed at your injured am.

He hesitated. He looked back and forth from you to the windshield, then swallowed hard before proceeding. “You put up a wall. I couldn't get you to talk to me about your injuries for months, and every time I ask you to be careful, you brush it off. It’s like you don’t want me to know anything about you.”

You considered his words for a second, then your own feelings for a moment longer. You couldn’t pretend it was just because you didn’t want to be a burden. “This is going to sound weird, but I’m scared I can’t trust you?” You turn to him. His brows are scrunched together, and he almost looks to be in pain. “I know, right? If you can’t trust Captain America, who are you gonna trust?” Your chuckle sounded hollow to your years.

Steve shook his head as his right hand moved from the wheel to latch onto your left wrist. His hold was gentle, and you knew you could pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t want to. “I thought you disliked me.”

His words sent a shock through you. Dislike him? How could he think that when the truth was the exact opposite? Then it dawned on you that you really had avoided him. Whenever he tried to get you to open up you deterred his efforts, like you really didn’t like him, like you didn’t want to know him. You did, you just… You were just afraid of what could happen if you let him in too deep.

“That’s funny.” You said, even though it wasn’t. “I was so scared you wouldn't like me, or you would stop liking me, that I didn’t even give you the chance to do that.”

He was quick to respond: “No. I could’ve talked about different things-”

“It wouldn’t have worked.” You said. The words came to you easily, products of an epiphany rather than a thought. They’re not a product of your own reason, rather a universal truth. “It’s not your job to chip at my barriers. I was avoiding you, I was fighting this. Why would you keep pushing if I gave nothing back?”

“I don’t know why you put up walls.” Steve’s fingers skimmed against your skin. Was he still afraid his touch wasn’t welcome? “You must have your reasons, and I’m not going to ask them. I want to be someone you can trust, but I can’t make you trust me. Do you think… Do you think we could make this work? I’d like to get to know you, if you’re okay with that.”

You pulled your hand from his. His shoulders slumped, but he looked up when you entwined your fingers with his. His surprise was evident, and behind it, subtler, there was something else. You didn’t know what it was, but something in his expression sent your heart fluttering.

“I would like that too.” You said, smiling at the same time he did. “And you can let me know when you’re free so we can watch some series together, and you can explain to me how the hell you don’t hate Scrappy Doo.”

He laughs and squeezes your fingers in his. His touch is reassuring, and you feel nostalgic. You remember your childhood bedroom, and being snug under covers while a hand ran through your hair. Safe. That was the last time you had felt this safe.

#30DaysofChris2020 #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #mine

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raevenlywrites · 3 years

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The Ties That Bind 5 of ???

Prepping my guards to meet Zane was one thing; prepping myself...

I drew a deep breath, focusing on the way it filled my lungs, expanded my chest. Breathing this way mirrored the beat of my golden hawk’s wings, and did much to calm me. It was too great a show of nerves to display in my avian court, but out here, in the dark, with only my three fellow co-conspirators to see me--

It still felt like too much, but I was about to willingly approach Zane Cobriana, with his sister’s signet ring in my hand.

I’m afraid everything I have to offer you will be somewhat bloodstained.

Zane’s words had a way of replaying in my mind, again and again. He had a beautiful voice, rich in tones and timbre, and put to good effect. It was clear he was a man who was accustomed to addressing people, and to having those people listen. When I spoke to my generals, it was with a muddled mix of bargaining, pleading, and command I wasn’t certain would be heeded. When Zane ordered his people to back down, had they listened? Had that party Cadmia and her flight found in the woods really been an ambush? And if it had, was it with or without their monarch’s blessing?

And what would happen to them when their rulers finally returned?

Because for Zane to be waiting here, at this farmhouse on the edges of our respective territories, he must not have returned home to the serpiente palace yet. No, he had come straight to me, on Elanor’s wings, to deliver this engagement ring.

I think I could learn to love you, Danica, impossible as it seems.

Serpents love pretty things too, did you know that my lady?

I knew I was beautiful, with a finely crafted body colored in all shades of gold. The clothes my clever Elanor devised for me walked the perfect line between elegance and functionality, beauty and modesty. And Zane hadn’t been shy about admiring what her handiwork put on display--but was that enough? He’d suggested we both keep our own lovers; had he meant it? And in what possible capacity? The indolent serpiente might accept a figurehead queen while another woman grew round with their next prince--whether of Zane’s own get or his sister’s--but if I were to attempt such a thing? How would it even be done? An alastair’s oaths were some of the most binding of our peoples--and spoken from a royal tongue in the heart of Hawk’s Keep, even more so. I might literally lose some of my powers as queen if I became forsworn.

Of course, if we were no longer at war, my powers would no longer be needed on the battlefield.

But the gift to soothe and lightly heal with song was too important to be parted with. The Shardae sang strength to more than just soldiers--when there were more of us, we sang at every birth, every wedding, every sickbed, every funeral.

One for sorrow, two for mirth, three for a wedding, four for a birth...

“My lady?”

Elanor lightly touched my shoulder, startling me. The three of them had clearly felt the magic of my promise to them as future queen, and had doubtless been giving me the space to commune with my powers. But Elanor was right; the night was wearing on. And Zane was waiting. - The scene in the farmhouse was almost too surreal for belief.

Zane Cobriana, Arami of the serpiente, was serving as a yarn swift.

Hands held a careful width apart, he held the strands that Elanor’s aunt was quickly winding onto the noddy. It was clear she was working with a swiftness, but just as clear that it wasn’t from unease. It looked for all the world that she was simply trying to free him up from his woolen prison, so that he could attend to his proper duties as a monarch.

Zane looked as if his duties as a yarn horse were just as a pressing, and was giving the threads his complete attention, even as he sat relaxed in chair and chatted with the weaving women.

“And so the siblings chased each other across the sky, Kain pounding after his sister Kaya, who kept spilling fire as she ran, painting the sky with light, and earning outraged shouts from her brother with each drop spilled-- hold.”

That last was for his guard, the white viper from the camps. I almost surprised to find just the pair of them, instead of the entire entourage, but I was not surprised that this was the guard who stayed with her prince.

I’m sure you don’t expect me to come to you as pure as the driven snow either.

His guard could have been carved of ice, for all her hard strength and cold beauty. She’d gone from indolently bored against one wall to trembling bow-taunt just behind him. Her fingers hovered near her thighs, and the pair of knives strapped there. Her perfectly white hair bristled around her, like a cat making itself large in the face of threat.

Or like a magician raising power.

“I said hold, Adelina. You are not to strike someone who wears a Cobriana ring.”

Her gaze flicked to my hands, which were empty of jewelry and half-raised as one approached a wild animal. In fact it was Elanor who had carried the ring; I had not yet dared take it back from her. I wondered if that detail would prove to be a terrible oversight. Zane’s words had a similar of formality to the oath’s I exchanged with my people.

But Adelina’s gaze went from me to my two Ravens, with their full kit of armor and weaponry.

“My Arami--“

“Don’t, Addie. We’re all just here to talk.”

We were hardly just hear to talk, especially given his comments about the Cobriana ring. But Adelina dropped into what I could assume was a soldier’s parade rest, and I felt the men behind me release their own ready tension.

Of course, that didn’t stop them from flanking me as I stepped farther into the room.

I watched Adelina flinch, and felt us all react to her reaction. I bit back a weary sigh. How were we supposed to get anything done if all our attentions were on each other’s actions.

“Gentleman, he rode all this way to continue our peace talks.” I put heavy emphasis on the word “peace”. “Kindly stop treating this kitchen as a battlefield. Aunties Lyssia, thank you for opening your home to us. Arami Zane, thank you for coming to continue our talks. I am sorry the circumstances of them have been so inconvenient.”

Zane rose from his seat to give a smooth bow--though he never took his eyes off my guards as he did so.

“Good evening, Danica. Our dear aunties have been excellent hosts--and I’ve admired their works on our dancers.”

I blinked at that, caught utterly off guard. I know Elanor had mentioned trading food for fine cloth, but still. It had startled me--and from the look in Zane’s eyes, I couldn’t help but feel it had been meant to.

Suddenly, I was much less nervous. I was tired of being discounted, ignored, placated, and now made fun of? I was Tuuli Thea, and marriage to him or not, I would be queen, and I would be treated as such.

“Ladies Lyssa, is there somewhere I might talk to Zane in private?”

The protests all rose at once, reminding me too much of Mistari hall. I drew on the power of my voice to raise it above all the rest.

“I am Danica Shadae, heir to the Tuuli Thea. The only person in the room who is even remotely qualified to argue with me is Zane Cobriana himself. And as I believe he intends to propose marriage to me, it is within my right to demand a little privacy for this intimate moment.”

I admit to enjoying the shocked silence that followed. The look on Adelina’s face, however, made my blood run as cold as the icy fury in her winter blue eyes.

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @writinginslowmotion @apollon-arium @raenawrites @adventuresofacreesty

#raev does fic #hawksong fic #kiesha'ra fanfic #the ties that bind #Hawksong #the kiesha'ra #zane cobriana #danica shardae #andreios

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writing-by-candlelight · 3 years

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My (hopeful) Update Schedule that I will try to stick to:

Monday: Every time i hope its Sugar, but for the length of existence its always been Salt

Tuesday: Mindlink

Wednesday: Random unfinished story of the following x x x x

Thursday: TUA watches the show, TUA watches the show take 2

Friday: Smiles are Lies of Omission and mine is Fractured Glass

Saturday: Eternal Kingdom: A Black Family Memoir, Written by Sirius Orion Black III

Sunday: Flipping Pages, Flipping Time

Take this with a grain of Salt, I am a mood writer and may ot write anything at all some weeks.

Summaries:

Every time i hope its Sugar, but for the length of existence its always been Salt:

Every year Hogwarts uses her magic to send out letters to the broken, the bruised, the fractured, the scratched, the hurt.She gathers her damaged children in her arms, sends them letters shortly past midnight on their first day, and has them gather in the depths of her bosom. The Room of Requirement.Harry receives one such letter and joins this group of defeated souls. There he meets a Dead-eyed Malfoy, Splintered Parkinson, Selectively mute Edgecomb, Demolished Pucey, Wrecked Carrow twins, a Diggory in Denial, and a Weasley that is barely holding onto sanity with his newfound creature blood. They talk in a mockery of Group Therapy, gossip, play games, watch movies, and try to heal together.Who knows? Maybe they'll slaughter a Riddle along the way?

Basically I pull all the kids I think are abused and make them go to group therapy

Mindlink:

An accident connects the minds of 3 boys in a way that alters history. But when magic gives, magic must take. One becomes Mute. One becomes Blind. One becomes Deaf. Having to rely on each other, they must set differences aside to even survive, let alone defeat Voldemort.

After Fred experiments on a potion and blows up part of the great hall; Percy, Draco, and Harry are linked and can read each others minds. As a consequence they have to rely on each other as Percy is deaf, Draco is mute, and Harry is blind.

TUA watches the show:

The Hargreeves siblings are 19. Luther has just been experimented on. Vanya has just started her book. Klaus has just gotten out of rehab. And now they are transported to a room to watch a show. A show about their lives.

What it says on the tin, but we love and respect Luther in this household.

TUA watches the show take 2:

Breakfast was as it had been for the last 13 years of their lives. Orange juice and oatmeal during the week; pancakes, eggs, and bacon on sundays. Arguments would break out and they would laugh, their father was never there after all. This breakfast a letter appeared from thin air. Now they would watch their dysfunctional adult selves, and have to try to prevent the trauma of their future.

Same as above but as children 3 days before Five disappears, we still love and respect Luther and Klaus is sober.

Smiles are Lies of Omission and mine is Fractured Glass:

At first glance Hogwarts seems to bubble with happiness, its aura of contentment weaving through the towers and tunnels and stairwells like a complex tapestry. And while the building and its grounds may be a safe-haven for many a student, the fact remains that they need a millenia old castle to keep them safe in the first place.Once Hogwarts stood as a mighty protector from witch hunts. But times have changed, and so have the needs of the children. They no longer need protection from the outside - they need protection from their friends, their families, and even themselves.Yet Hogwarts, no matter how magnificent and loving and sentient, is only a castle made from smooth and spiderwebbed stone. But after a century of hard work - and the extra power the ambient magic of visiting schoolchildren grants her - she has finally gained enough power to manifest a body.And just in time for the generation that needs her love the most.

A soul song fic (if you haven't read those please do) where everyone's secrets get aired in the form of songs with projected memories! Draco is abused and also genderfluid! Blaise is insane! Fred and George are NOT the same person! *gasps and shock all around*

Eternal Kingdom: A Black Family Memoir; Written by Sirius Orion Black III:

Sirius Black. The Last of the Black Family. They are seen as warped and evil and mad. Sirius won't let them die that way. He may dislike their views. But this was his family. And he is the last.

Sirius, as last of the Black family, wanders around part of Grimmauld place that he sealed off (the entirety of the mansion, because you cannot convince me that the Ancient and most noble house of black lived in a townhouse) as he writes the family memoir. Though he didn't agree with their views they are family and he wont let them go down is history as pure evil.

Flipping Pages, Flipping Time:

During the Winter Solstice of 1930, before world war II and the creation of the oath, two groups of heroes fall into the olympian throne room. One group are immortal heroes of old. Pulled from their whereabouts in 1930, they are there to learn about the future. The other group are heroes of the future, the strongest demigods to date. They are there to prevent anything like their lives from happening again. (I tried to write more powerful and less cartoonish versions of the gods, closer to my interpretation of mythology. But something about Zeus and Athena always gets by blood boiling. And I always favor Dionysus. You'll have to deal with it.)

A Percy Jackson reads the books fic with emphasis on the trauma and sadness and without the copy-paste jokes every fic seems to have (this is not a bash i love those fics). Serious!Apollo, ExtremelyPowerful!Dionysus, Warrior!Aphrodite and many more!!!! Why are their future selves so strange, and what is wrong with Hermes!!!

#percy jackson #harry potter #sirius black #regulus black #fanfiction #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves

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artanogon · 4 years

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a list of Skandian festivals, part two, featuring me being even saltier

fuck flanagan. canon doesn’t exist here and the Skandians deserve better in terms of their nation development beyond “it’s cold. they have ships. they’re clumsy loud jerks and keep slaves. okay yeah they have like one lame dance sometime in the year that will never be expanded on ever.” miss me with that shit bro, I’m here to make a wholesome, well-rounded society

as per before, long post below the cut.

June/July: Haymaking Festival

As it says on the tin, a festival about turning grass into hay

It basically turns what would normally be a tedious job for the farmers into a village-wide day of fun

It's about late June/early July and the farmers bring in loads of freshly harvested straw and grass to Hallasholm

They dry it in the sun, collect it into bales, bundle it up and store it (I really don’t know how haymaking works)

If someone’s lucky enough to find a flower in the hay they’re sorting through, they get a kiss from a sweetheart of their choice

There are loads of sunflowers everywhere at the festival and generally, children and women will weave crowns of pearlwort for each other

The decoration is, of course, lots of flowers and hay, as well as carved pieces of art made by Hallasholm residents

A couple of Hal’s smaller woodworking sculptures have been put up before

Music keeps going all throughout the day and there's a lot of emphasis on enjoying fresh summer food, flowers and the bounty of nature

It’s also an opportunity for people to bring food and show off their cooking skills

There’s more emphasis on eating the fresh plants and such than the meat they serve at most festivals

But of course there’s still lots of meat, they are Skandians after all

They have a lot of dances from mid to late afternoon and oftentimes do some painting in the village square as well (think like the kingdom festival from Tangled, a little bit)

Couples don’t really announce anything like engagements but there is a tradition to shove newly married couples into a haystack together

There’s a specific “marriage haystack” at each festival

It’s a metaphor for “rolling in the hay” because we only know bad jokes here

October-November: Winternights

Over a period of 3 days

Last two days are full of vast festivals, dances, self-indulgence and fun-- think like Mardi Gras and Carnivale

Celebrates the last few days of sunlight and trade before winter comes

However, it is mostly a time of honouring the dead and keeping away mystical forces

Celebrates those who have died with honour, recent pyres are lit and a family who has lost a loved one will toss a lit torch into the sea

The first day of Winternights (i.e, October 31st) is when all the last food from the harvest is brought in

Lots of families will preserve the food on this day

Spring/summer animals are hunted, stored and served up at the village centre

A lot of people choose to spend this day at home with family, praying, preparing for winter and making tributes to the dead or lost

The emphasis is on appreciating those still with you and remembering those that aren’t

A lot of families will gather around the fire and tell stories

People burn myrrh, birch bark, mint and other herbs associated with the safe return of the dead

There’s often a gathering towards the end of the day in the village square, but it is subdued for a Skandian gathering

No dances, but lots of stories and big bonfires

The next two days, people gather outside during all the remaining daylight and have as much fun as they can

It’s common for the Oberjarl to host a large party in their hall during the second night

People stay up the whole night

The third day, people gather in the village square for song and dance but everyone goes back to their homes as soon as the sun starts to set

Everyone locks and barricades their doors once it goes dark out

Some people paint their doors with magic ointments or animal blood to placate the creatures so their families will be left alone

Dark creatures come out and roam at this time, fae and all sorts of creatures that will take humans

Lovers stay together

Mothers keep their children close

No one is outside, save for those who have magic blood within them

Scryers and medicine men will sit outside and watch the magic happen

Scryers will sit among barrows and read the stars, waiting for visions to come to them

Medicine men harvest the very magic from the air

Some dark magicians have performed spirit communication and necromancy during this time

Late December: Yule/Solstice

Related to the Skadian’s pagan-esque religion

Before the festival starts there’s sort of a group chant to welcome in the return of spring and ask for a bountiful year, at which time any courting couples are supposed to come up and ask for blessings for their upcoming marriage

Giant bonfires are lit at the centre of the village, surrounded by feasting tables with large casks of cider and mead beside them

The area is decorated with pine boughs, lots of torches/candles, plenty of light-- often dried red flowers and berries

Sometimes children will make lanterns and gardens

They burn a lot of fragrant incense

Married and courting couples dance a traditional dance that’s very fast and lively, designed to proclaim courtships and/or ask for a renewal of vitality and another year of happiness together

The focus of the festival is on noise and dance and driving away bad spirits in the coming year

Some offerings to the gods are made but it’s generally not a huge focus as the gods are not a primary object of prayer and worship in Skandian society

Most of the day is spent at home with family, they light candles in the living rooms and exchange presents, often they sing together

There are a few traditional Skandian songs about home and the gods that are usually sung

Sometimes neighbours will gather for their own little meal and get together before the feast

Oftentimes at a gathering, someone will bring a cake that has a gold coin hidden inside it— whoever finds it is supposed to be lucky in love and fortune that year

Most families have a Yule altar that they gather at, each person is supposed to light a candle and burn a sprig of sage to start anew for the year

Sage is supposed to purify, ward off evil spirits, and keep away bad luck

#tbh i love these ones #i like winternight's vibes in particular #but i'm gonna stop preening over myself now #and get back to fixing canon #ranger’s apprentice #brotherband #brotherband chronicles #skandian festivals #i'm thinking about tackling something like religion at a later point #ra worldbuilding

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webcricket · 5 years

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This is Us

Pairing: CastielXReader Word Count: 818 Summary: Oh, I do love a drabble-length dollop of seraphim fluff to start off the week! Throw in some very mild emotional hurt/comfort and the evolution of love through a tale of hand holding and this girl is goo.

< < < > > >

The first time your hand sought his, a warmth of solace weaving into the spaces between his fingers, squeezing to banish any gaps and with them the surge of self-doubt overwhelming him for a split-second decision made to save your lives at the expense of losing a one-of-a-kind relic needed for an apocalypse-averting plan - a decision that Dean, captain of team There must be another way! except when he’s not the one making the life or death call, vehemently disagreed with in redirected fume of frustration by berating the angel into sulking backseat silence on the return drive to the bunker despite you and Sam both coming to his defense - Castiel wasn’t certain how to react.

Sullen blues slanting to you, seeing your bruised chin tilted to wearily peer at a world awash in dusk light speeding beyond the Impala’s window, then following the blood-spattered flap of collar and shoulder seam of denim down the torn sleeve to the digits slotted together upon his knee - fitted as if they were specifically created to entwine thus and doing so was natural - he did not withdraw, but rather ceded the limb to your claim on it, limply yielding to the great unknown emotion stirred by your tempering touch.

His palm echoed your heat thereafter, longing evermore, and especially in your presence, to reconnect to its source; although, uncertainty seemed perpetually to arise to check the impulse of his reach.

The second time you soothed the seraph with the simple sensation of your skin against his own occurred in the emotionally amped aftermath of Dean nearly succumbing to a supernatural wound. Grace powerless to heal his friend, Castiel - echoes of Sam’s tear-rasped exclamation of, “What do you mean it’s not working?” so deafening in his mind as to subdue any sense of relief - burdened himself with blame for the close call.

Beer bottles dripping in condensation clinking in a round of drinks celebrating a witch-assisted win in the wake of Dean’s recovery thanks to Rowena’s aid, the angel retreated to the recesses of his room to escape, rather than embrace, the rowdy reminder of his failure.

You found him there, his defeated figure folded on the mattress edge, trench coat carelessly crumpled on the floor at his feet, arms loosely crossed in his lap and looking thoroughly crestfallen judging by the unfocused glaze of frowning features. Stooping to lift the coat, shaking out the wrinkles, you laid it across the desk chair before sinking onto the bed beside him with a small bounce.

Palm smoothing across the immovable mountains of tenseness seizing his shoulders, the other clasping over his coiled fists, the squirming insistence of probing fingers freeing one for the taking, you pulled him flush against the comforting curves of your body; hugging him firmly to soft flesh rising and falling with the melodically reassuring rhythm of life moving in and out of your lungs, you said nothing, simply sat, silently pressing his palm so as to show him he wasn’t alone.

So close, all else dissipated - the room and his worries - as he surrendered to the sweetness of your scent and the welcoming song of your soul humming through him as a sensation of coming home to a place you’ve never been before, but where you never feel lost.

The third time your hands reunited, you stood roadside, stranded - the angel’s gold Continental steaming, sputtering, and likely suffering a blown gasket - in the starlight beneath a deeply purpled canopy of twinkling sky somewhere in rural Pennsylvania.

Side by side, gazes upturned from the endless black highway to the infinite stretch of Milky Way, breaths mingling misty before you, the warmth of summer waning in the coolness of the mid-September night, icy knuckles bumping in the harvest-laden breeze, your fingers brushed and braided together, not to signify solicitude or seek out a sense of peace when peace was so beautifully laid bare above, but as an anchor for two beings too long orbiting each other in the spinning void of the universe whose colliding of gravity this time spoke of, “You. Me. Us.”

Focus fixed on the beacon of Orion’s belt arcing above, words dissolving in tiny cloudbursts before you, you observed in whispered confession, “No matter what happens, where we are or where we go, I’ve always felt like this,” you flexed your fingers, reinforcing the grip for emphasis, “is where I belong.”

His tender blue gaze, warm and wide, settled palpably on you. He hoped - but had never dared to dream - his fondness for you might be returned.

A quiver of gladness caressing his lips, creases of joy skirting shining eyes, he returned his look heavenward; fingers twitching to tell you he understood your meaning in the same manner you always seem to understand him, he said, smile softening the usual gravelly depth of his tone, “I feel it too.”

< < < > > >

Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @roxy-davenport @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @dont-trust-humanity @afanofmanystuffs @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @kdfrqqg @xdifsx @moon-and-stars-cas @mandilion76 @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @gray-avidan @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @jessikared97 @let-the-imaginationflow @warriorqueen1991 @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @hisnameisboobear @kristendanwayne @fuschiarulerinthebluebox @coolpencilpie @jenabean75 @alisonkenway @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @passionghost @ladyofletters67 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @samael-has-arrived @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jaylarkson @pixiedusts @spookysculderfiles @laqueus-ludovicus @missjenniferb @lexininja @jessiekay2010 @skrratata @rhiannonj79 @calicat79

#castiiel imagine #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel fluff #spn imagine #spn x reader #castielxreader #reader x castiel #castiel #you x castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #castiel drabble #castiel reader insert #cricket writes cas

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meditativeyoga · 4 years

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Yoga for Healthy Aging: Enhance Agility to Prevent Fractures

Agility is the ability to removal conveniently with a collection of positions while you remain well balanced and also in control. Some everyday circumstances that need dexterity are entering as well as from a car (particularly the rear of a two-door!) and standing up as well as down from the flooring. Typically speed is called for in addition to sychronisation, such as when you stroll down a crowded city sidewalk (have you ever been to New york city City?) or scoop up a sphere that's rolling along the ground.

For those of you who play sporting activities, such as tennis, basketball, as well as soccer, maintaining dexterity will boost your efficiency. Keeping dexterity additionally assists avoid falls, a severe-- often serious-- problem for older people.

Being nimble as well as collaborated requires a mix of a variety of physical and psychological skills. Firstly, to relocate effortlessly, you require all three of the various other crucial skills that you're already working with: toughness, flexibility and also balance. Likewise, to stay upright as you relocate from one position to an additional, the exact same postural reflexes that help you stabilize upright in fixed positions additionally help you stay upright when you're removaling from one setting to another.

Exteroception and Proprioception

The ability to earn coordinated, specific activities comes from integrating the three essential physical abilities with understanding where you remain in space. Exteroception, the capability to feel exactly what is communicating with the outside of your body, and also proprioception, the ability to inform where one body part remains in relationship to an additional, both allow you to maintain your equilibrium in a static placement. These very same detects allow you to preserve your equilibrium and also sense of where your body is in area as you relocate from one position to another, so both are as essential for dexterity as they are for balance.

Vision, Hearing, and Touch

Whether you are strolling down a crowded pathway throughout lunch hour, hiking a mountain path, or doing Sunlight Salutations in a crowded classroom, you additionally require your eyes, ears, and also sense of touch to tell you where you remain in space, and to offer you with information about feasible obstacles as well as your connection to them. Is that someone riding a skateboard behind me? Is that unsafe rock in the center of path over there? Should I go back a bit so I don't hit that individual alongside me when I bring my arms out to the sides? Or-- oops-- did I currently do it?

Focus

Unless you're doing a collection of movements that have actually ended up being automatic, your ability to focus as you relocate from one position to an additional is an extremely essential aspect of agility. Coming to be sidetracked could toss you off equilibrium or create you to encounter a challenge. Allow's claim you're at a songs celebration weaving your way with the challenge program of other individuals looking for excellent area-- blankets, chairs, and colders established by individuals already dug in, and toddlers bolting off in arbitrary directions. If you quit looking where you're going or taking notice of where your feet were taking you, simply imagine!

And also for a regular set of movements, such as Sun Salutations, some amount of psychological emphasis is needed, as full interruption creates you to lose track of where you are or unexpectedly find yourself doing the incorrect point (been there, done that).

Speed

For those times when you have to respond rapidly in addition to with collaborated activity, your stamina is specifically crucial. Because the fast-twitch muscle mass fibers in your muscle mass impact the rate and also volatility of your contraction, strong muscular tissues supply you with both power as well as rate. But relocating with speed often will also prepare you for those situations when being dexterous ways reacting rapidly. Additionally, a healthy somatic nerve system-- the component of your nerve system that provides you with voluntary control of your body motions-- is necessary for quick, coordinated feedbacks to your ask for movement. When you assume, "advance ideal foot," you desire rapid results!

How Yoga Helps

A all-round yoga exercise technique that grows stamina, versatility, and balance will certainly additionally boost your agility. Yoga enables you to function directly on the control and also speed facets of agility with the following:

Dynamic Positions and also Circulation Sequences

Moving dynamically in as well as out of postures with your breath or between linked postures in flow series allows you to exercise fast, accurate activities. This boosts your total sychronisation, and works out the fast-twitch fibers that help in quick activities. The vast array of dynamic poses as well as circulation sequences that you could pick from (as well as the capacity to make up new ones!) provides you with sufficient irregularity to attend to practically all your muscles as well as to remain tested.

Static Poses

Moving in and out of static postures with accuracy aids enhance sychronisation. As well as making subtle adjustments to your placement while you're in a posture improves your capability to sense where you are in area and also improves fine motor control as you start to use hardly ever utilized muscles. The big repertoire of yoga presents plus their lots of variations indicates you could utilize virtually all your muscles-- in several means-- throughout a given week, instead simply doing the very same basic activities over and also over. To maintain your fast-twitch fibers, you can concentrate on strength-building methods in static presents, specifically standing positions and also poses that simulate rising as well as down. And exercising all types of equilibrium postures, specifically utilizing obstacle strategies such as varying the surface you exercise on and practicing standing positions with closed eyes, will certainly likewise aid maintain fast-twitch fibers in addition to postural reflexes.

Floor Poses

Getting up as well as down from the floor on a routine basis assists you maintain agility (and it's one of the important things you need agility for!). Just the act of including flooring poses to your technique is beneficial, even if you have to use assistance to obtain up as well as down.

Mindfulness

For all postures, practicing mindfully involves and also fine-tunes your detects. For vision, you use your eyes to validate your alignment. Are your feet uniformly aligned on the floor or is your foot truly transformed out? For hearing, you utilize your ears to note just how with dignity or awkwardly you ensure motions-- when you tip right into a brand-new placement, are you coming down gently or greatly? For your sense of touch, you could observe exactly how equally you are pressing into the floor or into a prop, and notification when one part of your body is touching another (sometimes that suggests you're doing the pose right as well as various other times-- oops!).

Nerve Health

To maintain rate, you can utilize your asana method to sustain the health of your somatic nervous system. Practicing a wide variety of postures and activity patterns will activate all those nerves often. Active poses will improve blood flow to your special sensory nerve receptors (the nerves that shuttle information back to the brain) and also extending presents will create space around your nerves. Ultimately, stabilizing presents and also flow series will help maintain your proprioceptors-- the nerves that allow you to notice where you remain in area-- healthy and balanced.

Mental Focus

Moving with flow series trains your mind as you return your emphasis time and again making quick, precise movements while keeping balance. You observe changing feelings-- the feeling of getting on or off equilibrium-- when peripheral thoughts take you away from your motions. On top of that, breath methods and meditation can enhance your mental emphasis as a whole, benefitting your equilibrium both inside and also outside the yoga room.

Cognitive Distraction

When you await more innovative obstacles, you can get ready for real-world circumstances by including cognitive diversion to your dexterity techniques. Although you can not throw a ball from hand to hand while you practice a circulation series, you can play music or talk radio, or have some family pets or kids-- look out!-- join you in the yoga room.

#asana #meditation #Yoga #yoga room

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rogers-sweatbands · 5 years

Text

what hogwarts houses the members of queen are in

A/N: oops this contains some hot takes (in my opinion) but this is what i wholeheartedly believe. enjoy !!!!!!!!!

Freddie: Gryffindor

okay this mans is 100% a gryffindor

like this should not be a surprise to anyone

first off, we all know that harry potter is 100% problematic and loses house points for them all the time

now imagine freddie

he would totally make gryffindor lose points on a daily basis just because he was being himself

gryffindors are also judgemental

and freddie is the king of the judgmental face

we all know this

it takes approximately three (3) minutes hanging out with a gryffindor before you get into some ~*trouble*~

freddie’s parties were def the same way, y’all

3 min in ?????? things got fucking insane

it’s hard to admit this, but without gryffindor, there wouldn’t be much of a story for hogwarts

because not much shit would go down

and hogwarts would be a whole lot safer

and the same is true for queen

like, without freddie, queen wouldn’t have much of a story either !!

moving into gryffindor qualities:

brave-

this honestly doesn’t need much of an explanation

an lgbtq+ icon

went through AIDS during the 80s (such a scary time)

did not give a single fuck about what anyone thought of him

is the actual definition of bravery

loyal-

not to be dramatic, but freddie would have died for any of the other boys

he loved them so fucking much

i hope they know that oof

although he had his moments, freddie was so loyal to all the guys and was/is so fucking amazing ugh

wise-

because of his life experience and different outlook on life, i feel like that made freddie so wise

he had all of these different perspectives compared to a lot of other people

and he would showcase these perspectives in his music

freddie was just so fucking amazing, my heart

i think freddie is muggle born

and he owns it !!!!

he is so proud of his heritage but is also so into the fact that he’s a wizard

freddie is the cutest gryffindor ever awwww

plus he’d look amazing in scarlet and gold

Brian: Ravenclaw

this choice should come as no surprise as brian harold may is a true and true ravenclaw

we’re going to start off with how ravenclaws are all so goddamn cool and intelligent ????? like wow, no one can top that shit

brian may is literally a rockstar and astrophysicist and that’s some hardcore ravenclaw energy right there

ravenclaws are also so hardcore interested in the universe

they nut for philosophical conversations and that sort of shit

look at luna lovegood for example

this girl always had the coolest and most interesting shit to say

she is also so fucking smart and no one really believed it for a hot minute and that makes me so angry

ravenclaws also have the ability to see past the surface of what’s in front of them

brian totally has the ability to see past the front that someone has so carefully put up and would get to know you for who you are

also, he looked up at the stars one day and saw them for so much more than glittery things in the sky

it sparked such a passion in him

ravenclaws also take friendship so fucking seriously

friendships are cherished so much within ravenclaw, sometimes even more than their cleverness

bringing up my girl luna again

we find out in deathly hallows that luna literally had decorated her room with portraits of her best friends in the entire world

and all of these paintings have a thin golden chain weaving around them to connect them that literally reads the words “friends” over and over

that’s some cute ass (and kind ass) shit right there

moving into ravenclaw qualities:

intelligence-

we all already know that this man is smart as shit

he has a fucking phd

(i’m repeating this for emphasis) a phd

in space dust !!!!!!!!!!

like this mans started his phd, went and became a member of one of the biggest bands of all time, and then literally went back and finished his phd

he is so smart it makes me want to cry

creativity-

what’s so amazing about bri’s creativity is that it all derives from how fucking smart he is

look at the songs he’s written... like, he’s a musical genius

and even on the songs he didn’t write, he was still super helpful with coming up with the guitar lines which is fucking sick as hell

they’re all so fucking good too

we stan a creative king

acceptance-

from a young age i think brian realized that his interests were probably a lot different than his peers

not only was he constantly thinking about the stars and what was going on in the universe, he also had such a passion for music

this prob led to him standing out from everyone else in a good way

and he had to come to terms with it

but boy did he bc look at him now, that rockin’ space man

tbh i see brian being a half-blood

because he’d have understanding of both the wizard and muggle worlds

something that would benefit his intelligence even further

the tea is that brian may is such a perfect ravenclaw it makes my heart hurt

Roger: Gryffindor

ok so we are starting this out with the fact that roger meddows taylor is in no way a slytherin

he is a gryffindor in the same way the weasley twins are gryffindors

they’re all so fucking cheeky (sorry for using british slang as an american, we just don’t have a term to perfectly embody what they all are)

rog is chaotic in a gryffindor way and not in a slytherin way

gryffindors literally die if the attention isn’t on them and that’s just the tea

they are always constantly throwing themselves into shit they have no reason to be involved in

this boy would literally throw hissy fits all the damn time and that is true gryffindor energy

HE LOCKED HIMSELF IN A CUPBOARD BECAUSE HE DID NOT GET HIS WAY FOR FUCKS SAKE

in summary, roger meddows taylor invented being the boy in the cupboard before harry potter

gryffindors are also a bit arrogant about the fact that they’re gryffindors

sorry, it’s the truth

and roger literally lives up his own asshole

which is really hot but besides the point

they also think their opinion is best

always

we’re bringing up i'm in love with my car again because this boy would not fucking let it go

tbh he prob thought that song deserved song of the year... lbr

gryffindors break the rules all the god damn fucking time and always get away with it

literally rog with anything

that boy probably could have killed a man and everyone would’ve been like ????? did u see something ?????? he’s got all my uwus, that sweet lil murder baby

also gryffindors are hella hot headed

“he would fly off the handle all the time” -brian may

he would throw televisions out the window

the literal definition of hot headed

moving into gryffindor qualities:

brave-

this boy gave literally zero (0) fucks about what anyone thought of him

his friends used to call him rainbow and he WENT WITH IT

toxic masculinity in reference to his wardrobe ????? not here !!!!!!!!!!!!

loyal-

despite all the fights he’d get into with the boys, he loved them so fucking much and could never imagine himself without them right there

like yeah, they disagreed a lot

a lot, a lot

but they’d always come back together in the end

cunning-

FIRST OF ALL, ROGER TAYLOR IS SO FUCKING SMART AND FUCK ALL OF Y’ALL WHO MAKE HIM SEEM LIKE THE DUMB MEMBER OF THE BAND

because he isn’t

ok tea, to be cunning, you gotta be smart

also, he could be quite cunning with the ladies & we all know this

like damn, that man could say “butterbeer” into my ear and i would probably cum

also rog is def skillful and used his cunningness to get what he wanted in the end

i'm in love with my car being the b-side of bo rhap ???? yeah, he played the band like a fucking harp

i think rog would be a pure-blood

prob because he can be so cocky (and most pure-bloods are seriously so cocky about the fact that they’re pure-bloods)

even harry could get cocky about it sorry but it’s the truth

also rog looks like a lion and gryffindors literally nut about lions

John: Slytherin

i’m going to start this by saying i know this is a hot take but john being a slytherin is seriously one thing i hold so close to my fucking heart. don’t @ me

we’re going to start off with the fact that even when he had his soft™ moments, he still exudes chaotic energy 100000% of the time

john is the most chaotic member of the band and he knows it too

as a slytherin, i can honestly say that we are literally the most chaotic people in the world

slytherins also exude big dick energy 10000% of the time

john is the perfect representation of this

his bde is seriously off the charts, holy fuck

slytherins will push you to succeed

this is because we have so much confidence

sometimes our confidence is confused for cockiness though, not all confidence is cocky !!!!!

guess what ??? that confidence we possess goes toward other people too !!

john ????? yeah we all know how supportive he was towards the other boys

seriously wants nothing more than for them to succeed

he still is that way

moving into slytherin qualities:

resourcefulness-

THIS MAN MADE HIS OWN FUCKING AMP?!?! LIKE, HE LITERALLY BUILT THAT SHIT ON HIS OWNNNN

he also loved to discuss how much he loves diy projects in written interviews (as a fun pastime of his)

lemme tell you, diy-ers are the most resourceful bitches ever

seriously, go speak to your local diy-er

they could probably make a refrigerator out of a toothpick, three thumbtacks, and a litter box

cunning-

this mans was known as the “shy” and “more reserved” member of queen (which we have all learned isn’t the fucking case)

he literally let himself slip under the public radar despite having such chaotic energy

he ran with that shy boy™ title and played us for so long

not that i'm mad but like, damn boi

ambition-

this bitch literally got an honors degree in electronics while queen was recording a fucking album

he literally sat his FINAL EXAMINATIONS WHILE RECORDING A DAMN FUCKING ALBUM

sorry but if that ain’t ambition idk what is

it’s also hella sexy he did that oops

fraternity-

john richard deacon, born the 19th of august 1951, embodies the definition of the word fraternity

he loved each of the other members of queen with his whole fucking heart

the definition of fraternity is “the state or feeling of friendship and mutual support within a group” and john literally did that

the tea is that i think john would be a pure-blood

but he wouldn’t be a dick about it

but like, he’s definitely a pure-blood

and slytherins are most commonly pure-bloods

which sucks because muggle borns and half-bloods are dope af

also, john could be such a sneaky snake, don’t test me

plus, you can’t be that fucking kinky (ya know, freaky deaky if you will) and not be a slytherin

sorry, i don’t make the rules.

in summary, john is a slytherin. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

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booksteaandarainyday · 5 years

Text

Waking Up The Devil

Summary:

A night out by himself leads Bucky Barnes to some rather...unexpected results. Will the girl he meets wake his inner devil? No descriptions of the female character (I hope?) I tried to make it easy to input input yourself without the use of Y/N or Y/HC etc. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own, Author’s note at the bottom!

18 and up please!

Rated M for sexual content and swearing.

Word Count: 4,600

***

11:55.

The clock on his phone flashed the time up at him as his notifications showed he had at least three unopened messages from his girl. Bucky scoffed into his tumbler of whiskey, his hair falling away from his face as he threw his head back, downing his shot in one gulp. He was vaguely aware of the pair of eyes watching the drop of alcohol still clinging to his lower lip, the heat he felt from that gaze growing hotter as his tongue darted out to suggestively lick it off. A sultry laugh echoed from behind him, followed by the click of a pair of heels approaching slowly.

Her hand landed softly on his right shoulder as she came to a stop next to him. Fighting his first instinct to shrug off the touch, he turned slowly to take in the gorgeous creature standing next to him with one eyebrow raised and her wine-colored lips upturned in a cocky smirk. He opened his mouth to say something-he wasn’t quite sure what- but the bartender interrupted to deposit a beer, an empty glass, and a nearly full bottle of Jack Daniels in front of her, and she thanked him by name. Bucky took the brief moment her intense eyes were off him to let his own wander lazily down her body.

She wore a pair of tall, black, heeled leather boots, adding a couple inches to her height, with tight, dark blue jeans tucked into them. Her jacket matched her boots, and her hair spilled around her shoulders in loose waves. When she lifted a hand to tuck a strand behind her ear, he saw that her nails were painted to match her lips. She finally turned away from the bartender (Don, Bucky internally corrected himself) and gave Bucky her full attention once again. He noted the tight, black Guns N’ Roses tank top that hugged her tits just right and played peek-a-boo with her belly button, showing off the jewel nestled there. He made his way back to her face, seeing how her dark eye makeup only added to her heavy gaze, giving her an even more seductive air.

“I,” he started to say, before she snatched his empty glass from where it still dangled from his fingers.

“We don’t have to do that,” she told him as she lifted the bottle of Jack, a generous amount of the amber liquid pouring from the spout and into his tumbler. She filled her own and handed his back, leaning close. “I know who you are,” she whispered in his ear. A smirk graced her lips as he accepted the offered drink and took a long draught. She put her back to the bar, leaning on her elbows, her chest pushed forward, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice the way it made her breasts strain against the thin fabric even more.

She drained her whiskey and traded the empty glass for the full beer leaving a ring of condensation on the dark, lacquered wood of the bar. Entranced, Bucky watched as she took a few long pulls, then lowered her beer back to the edge of the bar as she licked her lips to remove any lingering trace of foam and stepped forward, between his legs where he still perched on his stool. Her hands landed on each of his thighs as she brought her mouth up close to his ear, lips just barely grazing his skin. “You know, if you wanted a little company tonight…” She trailed off, pulling away from him and turning to saunter across the room, weaving expertly through the crowds of people almost like she was dancing, until she got to the screen attached to the wall that had taken the place of an older style jukebox.

Bucky gulped the last of his drink, all thoughts of the fight he’d had with his girlfriend erased as he stood to follow, fixating on the sway of her hips and admiring the way the snug denim cupped her ass. Be careful what you wish for, he thought.

An hour later, after they’d danced to some of her favorite classic rock songs and played two rounds of pool (after she’d beaten him at two rounds of pool), she sat delicately on his knee at a table closer to the music selection as they drank more whiskey and traded flirtations. Currently, she faced him, her elbow resting on his left shoulder, her head on her hand with his arm supporting her from behind. Her legs were crossed at the knee, and she nodded along as she listened to him speak.

He stopped talking, his eyes meeting hers and catching, before traveling down to her lips. Seeing his stare, she very deliberately pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth, biting down on it. An invitation, Bucky decided as he crossed the distance to bite that lip himself.

But before their mouths met, she was gone. Pulled off his lap by a drunk college kid who really had no business being in a bar like this. With her arm caught in the guys grip, she stumbled a little on her high-heeled boots before catching her balance and sending a bewildered look Bucky’s direction.

He was already on his feet, holding out his left hand for her to take, which she did, with no hesitation at the metal that met her fingers. Her other arm, though, was still being held by the blond asshole still joking with his friends. “Pretty girl like this don’t need to settle for the Winter Soldier.”

In the corner of his mind, Bucky felt something stir. Something he’d come to accept as a part of himself since his recovery from the Winter Soldier Program. He took a deep breath.

“I’m not settling for anyone,” she bit out angrily, “Did you ever think that maybe some of us have no interest in fucking overcompensating little boys?”

Rage sparked in the blond idiot’s eyes before he gripped her upper arm even more tightly. “Fucking bitch! Do you have any idea who the fuck you’re talking to?” He raised his hand, intention clear as he stepped closer.

Bucky had been wrestling with himself, trying to keep his temper in check, keeping his hold on her hand gentle but firm as he calculated the distance between himself and the kid, making sure he could get her out of the way before any fists went flying. But as soon as the other guy lifted a hand to her, Bucky’s control snapped, and the cage he usually kept around the rougher, angrier part of himself was suddenly just...gone.

His flesh hand reached to grab the hand blondie still had on her arm and ripped it away, quickly spinning her behind him and letting her go, almost before his mind could process the move. The open palm the guy was going to use on her turned itself into a closed fist that made contact with Bucky’s mouth, splitting his lip. Bucky grinned at his target, blood in his teeth from the cut, and what he was sure was a feral look in his eyes. If you’re gonna bark, you better have a bite. “That’s your one,” he stated, holding up a single finger in emphasis. Then he was in the blonde guys face, metal hand holding him up against the wall, taking note that the guy’s friends had all scattered, leaving him to Bucky’s-no, The Winter Soldier’s-mercy.

“You’re about to meet a good friend of mine,” he said. And then his other hand landed a solid punch to the guy’s gut.

After a few minutes, it became clear the target of Bucky’s rage wasn’t going to put up much of a fight. So, Bucky dropped him, leaving him a crying mess on the floor of the bar, only slightly banged up. A little bloody, maybe, but Bucky had made certain he wasn’t gonna kill the dude. He turned to the woman he’d been defending and froze.

She was staring at him, lips parted to show her even, white teeth, chest heaving in excitement, pupils blown wide with lust as she’d watched his display. She reached for him as soon as he looked for her, and he seized her hand instantly, pulling her out the side door of the bar leading to the alley. In moments, he had her back pressed up against the cold bricks making up the exterior of the bar, her legs wrapped snugly around his waist as his right hand cupped her ass, his left around the back of her neck as he fused their mouths together. She buried her hands in the thickness of his hair, moaning as he kissed down her neck and- a little roughly- bit down on her pulse point. Swiftly, his head swung back up to capture her lips again, this time finally nibbling on her lower lip like he’d wanted all night.

She pulled away from him, breathing heavily from the lack of oxygen their kiss had caused, resting her head against the alley wall as she regarded him from half-lidded eyes, her hands coming to rest loosely around the back of his head, scratching lightly at the skin she found there. Then she leaned forward until they were nose to nose, just barely letting her lips brush his before snagging his lip in her teeth. “Take me home?” she asked, and though it sounded like a question, Bucky knew it was a demand.

He took a step back, letting her unravel her legs, and gently setting her on her feet. Then he led her to the shiny black motorcycle parked just ten feet away, where she climbed on expertly behind him, pressing close until he could feel her breasts against his back, her thighs tight against his, and her hands, wrapped around his stomach, traced patterns into his abdomen.

And they were off, speeding three blocks away to the apartment he knew would be empty. Girl, it’s gonna be one hell of a ride.

The next thing Bucky knew, he was inside his apartment being pressed against the door as a hot pair of lips was attacking his throat, peppering kisses anywhere they could reach. Her hands were fisted in his jacket, pulling him as close to her as she could while they were both still fully clothed, bringing them chest to chest. Bucky let his fingers wander down her sides, stroking and tickling as they went, until he bent forwards suddenly, getting a grip on the backs of her thighs and lifting her. Almost on instinct, her legs hitched themselves around his hips, and he supported her with one hand as his other helped peel the jacket from her shoulders.

When he heard the light thump of the soft leather hitting the entryway floor, he began walking forward, not bothering to turn on a light. Why should he when he knew the floorplan by heart? Her teeth tugged on his bottom lip once more, a sharp pain that she quickly followed with a soothing swipe of her tongue, and Bucky didn’t miss how she not-so-subtly shifted her hips against him. He felt his jeans growing more uncomfortable with each rotation of her pelvis, and with a quickness that even surprised him, he navigated the darkness of the apartment to his bedroom.

He kicked the door shut as soon as they were through, the sudden bang echoing through the room, and he moved until he felt the foot of the bed hit his knees. He reached for her legs, carefully unwinding them from around him, and tossing her to the bed, the squeal of protest she let out bringing a smirk to his face. Bucky maneuvered until he could reach the lamp sitting on the side table, flicking the switch. He wanted to see this.

She hadn’t sat up, instead choosing to recline comfortably, her hair spread out messily across his gray sheets. She raised her hand to her breast, cupping it firmly before releasing it, letting her fingers trace down her torso to the waistband of her jeans, expertly popping the button with just thumb and forefinger; the whole time she watched with lust-darkened eyes while he followed her movements with just his gaze. Slowly, she moved, rolling to her knees, crawling forward until she sat directly in front of his still-standing form, reaching for the button on his own jeans. The sound of his zipper coming down made him impossibly harder, and he let out a groan when she palmed him through his boxers. “Take off your jacket,” she reminded him in a low voice.

Bucky wanted to let out another moan. God, even her voice held the promise of sex, rough and demanding. His jeans hit his ankles.

As he slid his coat off himself, his cock jumped at the feel of her mouth, hot and wet, circling his tip, teasing him through his underwear, leaving a wet patch of fabric in her wake. He pulled his t-shirt off with one hand, the other going to stroke her hair as she teased him.

And tease him she did, her fingernails scratching around the elastic of his boxers before tugging them down, letting his erection spring free before she grasped him around the base, squeezing just tightly enough to knock the breath from his lungs. She lifted him, ducking her head as she licked a stripe up the underside of his dick, letting her tongue flit around the head. She looked up then, meeting his eyes as she let her mouth descend to lap gently at his balls, her hand firm around his shaft, pumping him slowly before she raised her head again and swallowed him to the hilt, her teeth carefully sheathed behind her lips.

Jesus, fuck. She was trying to kill him, there was no other explanation. He was lost in the feel of her lips forming a tight seal around him as her head bobbed and her tongue swirled around the sensitive ridge of his tip, and he unconsciously let his hand tangle further in her hair, getting enough of a grasp to guide her movements. Bucky’s eyes closed, his head thrown back in pleasure, as he relished in the gentle caress of her mouth, and for a few minutes, there was only the wet noise of soft sucking as her saliva built up around his shaft, his own labored breathing, and the occasional groan that worked its way from his chest as she led him nearer to the edge.

It wasn’t until she gently scraped her teeth along his member that he realized how close he was to losing it, and how he very much did not want to come in her mouth. His eyes popped open, and he tilted his chin forward to watch her, noting the way her eyes lit up in amusement, as though she knew she’d had him right on the verge. Can’t have that, he thought.

His grip on her hair had relaxed as she’d worked him. He strengthened it now in order to pull her face away from him, his gut clenching with arousal as he saw the line of drool still connecting his cock to her mouth, saw her lips shiny with a heady mixture of his precum and her spittle, and saw that line finally break as she flicked out her tongue to catch it. He let go of her hair, feeling her move away from him on the bed as he caught his breath and tamped down his desire for release.

While he focused on not coming so quickly- like a goddamned teenager, Barnes! Keep it together!- he heard two distinct thuds in the corner of his bedroom. Looking up made his breath catch in his throat. She was in the middle of stripping, still sideways on his bed, her boots thrown haphazardly to the floor (the thudding noises he’d heard), her shirt lay at the end of his duvet, and her jeans were shimmied to halfway down her thighs, back arched as she lay on his bed, freeing one gorgeous leg at a time, before her pants- and the socks that had peeled off with them- were tossed away, leaving her in only a black bra and matching lace panties.

What was it Sam had said to him once upon a time? Something about if a woman’s bra and panties matched, “You ain’t the one who decided to have sex that night, man.”

Why the fuck was he thinking about Sam right now?

She’d noticed his attention was back on her by this point, and she arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, seeming to ask what he was waiting for. But before he could make a move, she shifted up to her elbows, reaching behind herself to unclasp that bra and slowly slid the straps down her arms, letting one side dangle from the tip of her index finger for a second and letting it drop in a whisper of fabric. She returned to her prone position, this time spreading her legs and leaving her knees almost flat against the soft surface.

Her hands moved between her knees, stroking her way up both thighs, skirting around her most sensitive areas, instead playing with the lace that flirted with her hips. Bucky moved, kicking his boots off, his pants coming loose from where they’d gotten stuck around his ankles, and he raised one knee to his mattress, leaning forward until his face was only inches from her still-covered core for a better view.

And she smelled fucking amazing.

She re-adjusted, squirming, he thought, at the feel of his breath against her skin. Then she sank two fingers underneath the leg of her panties, pulling the fabric aside and leaving it. Bucky groaned. Her pussy fucking glistened with her desire, practically dripping onto his bed. He moved to taste her, stopping when he felt her gently press him back. He looked up, finding her propped on one hand, her other still on his shoulder.

Watch me, her eyes seemed to say, and she released her hold on him. He watched with rapt attention as she trailed a finger up her slit, gathering some of the moisture that had pooled there, and slid it up to circle around her clit. She moved languidly, in no hurry as she added a second finger and repeated the motion. From her opening to her clit, her digits went back and forth, spreading her arousal until even her inner thighs were slick with it. She dipped her first two fingers inside herself and raised them, wet and gleaming, to her mouth.

She wasted no time, sucking both fingers clean, and quickly going back to her clit, the circles she made becoming faster and tighter as she clenched her eyes shut and moaned her pleasure. Just when Bucky thought she would come, she looked down at him. “You can touch now.”

Thank fuck.

He dove forward, replacing her fingers with his own and wrapping one arm around a thigh to bring that perfect pussy closer to his mouth. She let out a groan when his two middle fingers fucked into her, her inner walls feeling like goddamned velvet fluttering around them. When he wrapped his lips around her little bundle of nerves and flicked it with his tongue, she cried out.

He timed the thrusts of his fingers perfectly with the suction on her clit, and when he felt her muscles clenching harder, he curled his fingers toward the front of her vagina and massaged the ridged area of swollen tissue he found there. Her hand shot to the back of his head, pressing him further into her cunt as she screamed her orgasm before abruptly letting go, falling boneless back to his bed, muscles quivering. He pulled his fingers out, pressing a light kiss to her clit, making her shake harder, and pulled a condom from the bed-side stand, ripping open the little foil packet and sliding it on in record time. He heard a faint rip as her panties tore from her body, little scraps of fabric fluttering down somewhere behind him.

He could still feel the aftershocks of her orgasm as his cock drove into her, each plunge of his hips harder than the last, the wet noise of their bodies meeting spurring him on. Bucky used both hands to lift her lower half into the air as she moaned beneath him, forcing her to meet him thrust for thrust, being sure to grind his pelvic bone into her clit every so often to make sure he got to hear the little wail of bliss she gave every time. He pulled out nearly all the way, relishing in how her breath expelled from her lungs every time his dick buried to the hilt.

Finally, he lowered her legs, covering her body with his as he bent his head to her breasts, tugging a nipple between his teeth and soothing it with a lap of his tongue. Perfect fuckin’ tits, too. Now able to move on her own, she rocked her hips to keep their bodies joined together as he fucked her like that, hard and fast.

When she fell into her second release, crying his name, Bucky followed, spilling into the condom as he roared his pleasure to the ceiling.

With the condom discarded into the trash bin, he gathered her nearly asleep form into his arms, situating the both of them beneath the soft blanket. She nestled closer into his chest, murmuring something unintelligible as she drifted off.

Satisfied and tired from the events of his long day, Bucky closed his eyes and followed her into a sleep free of dreams.

The sun woke him the next morning. He didn’t have anywhere to be, so he stretched contentedly, basking in the warm light coming from his window. When his arms met nothing but empty bed, he sat up, looking for any sign of where she’d gone.

Her clothes were absent from his floor. No boots, no bra- hell, even the scraps of lace from her ruined panties were missing.

Bucky flipped back his covers, stalking to his dresser for a pair of clean boxers, noting that his dirty clothes from the night before still lingered messily as he tugged the underwear up and opened the bedroom door. Immediately, the scent of coffee assailed his nose, and he followed the aroma through the living room and into his kitchen.

There she sat, coffee in her favorite mug, with an open bag of cinnamon donuts next to her as she read on her iPad, wearing what he was pretty sure was his Led Zeppelin t-shirt, the hem hitting her nearly at her knees. Without looking up she called cheerfully, “Morning, baby,” and she lifted her mug to take a sip of the still hot coffee. He grinned as he shuffled forward in his bare feet to wrap an arm around her shoulders in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to her sleep-messy hair.

“Morning, darlin’,” he said, his voice still a little rough from disuse. He moved to slip into the chair across from her at the kitchen table, coffee fixed just the way he liked it already waiting for him. Snagging a donut from the bag, he bit into it, cinnamon powder sticking to his lips as he chewed, observing the home they’d made together. Photos of them adorning the walls, her favorite books on the shelves next to his. A basket sat just outside their private laundry room with her clothes from the previous evening right on top, and if he turned toward the front door, he would see her boots placed neatly on the mat, right next to his running shoes. The jacket they’d left in the hall hung from it’s proper hook.

She cleared her throat, bringing him from his thoughts, and he focused on her. She’d washed her face at some point between the time he’d fallen asleep and woken up this morning, bare skin devoid of any makeup, save a hint of mascara still smudged underneath her lower lashes. “I’m sorry we argued last night.” Her gaze remained fixed on the dark wood of the kitchen table, fingers absently tracing a small scratch in the stain. “I know it isn’t your fault you get picked for those kinds of missions.” He was silent for a moment, watching as she began to worry at the scratch with her nail, still not looking at him. Reaching out, he caught her hand before she could deepen the indent.

“I’m sorry, too,” he told her. “I never should have said you were smothering.” Bucky brought his other hand to her chin, tilting her head up so he could look her in the eyes. “The fact that you worry about me like you do means you care. And before I had you, no one else but Steve gave a shit if something happened to me. I’m sorry if I made you feel like your feelings weren’t important.” He could see the tears begin to well up, so he stood and held his arms open as he went to her. She was up and burrowed in his chest instantly, and he rocked her gently from side to side, one hand stroking her hair, one rubbing circles in her back.

“Your whole team loves you, James, you know that?” Her voice was quiet as her tears finally calmed. He didn’t speak, just gave a small nod of his head in answer as they continued to sway.

After a few more calm moments, he chuckled a little. “You know,” he started, “after that fight, I didn’t think you would actually go through with last night.” She pulled back slightly from the embrace, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief as she rolled her eyes.

“Really? You didn’t think I would take an opportunity to wear those boots again?” Bucky laughed at her question, a smile stretching wide across his face.

“Not what I meant, doll,” he reminded her.

She gave a cheeky smirk. “I know,” she replied. “But you know, it wasn’t exactly what I expected to happen when you asked me to re-enact the first time we met.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him suggestively, bringing her left hand around to drum her fingers on his chest, and pointedly eyeballing it before giving him a serious look.

Bucky chuckled again, unwinding his arms from her body, pushing her shoulders gently until she sat back in her chair. He made a trip back to their bedroom and returned to sit on both knees in between her legs. He sat the small, velvet box on the table next to her elbow and clasped her waist.

“How did you know?” he asked.

She scoffed, incredulity written across her face. “You ought to know better than to try and sneak something past certain red-haired spies.”

Bucky dropped his head, groaning. “Natasha.”

“Natasha,” she confirmed, stroking his cheek with light touches until he could lift his head again. He was sure his face was tinged pink with his embarrassment at having forgotten his super-spy friend.

“Well, darlin’,” he clapped his palms to her bare thighs and squeezed gently, causing her to brighten with the smile she reserved only for him. “Secret’s out. So what do you say?” He flicked the ring box with one finger without looking away from her.

Her expression turned mischievous, eyes crinkling mirthfully and lips upturned with trouble.

“You know, the night we met, we fucked at that bar.”

Bucky just grinned.

Damn, he loved this woman.

Author’s Note:

This is based off a Hinder song of the same title, but I wanted it to follow the flow of the song without actually having all the lyrics right there. I recommend giving it a listen! Did you guys fall for my little mind trick with the girlfriend/cheating thing? Let me know what you think. I live for the comments. xoxo

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x original female character #because you are original damn it #shameless smut

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quilloftheclouds · 5 years

Text

Find the Word Tag (Part 2)

GOSH THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR SO LONG I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT IT AHH

I was actually tagged in this game… 9? Times? I’m posting five sets of the words here, but you can find the other four sets of words at this link!

Challenged by; @bookenders @alternativeforensicscientist @ardawyn, @livvywrites and @marlettwrites to find the words unaware, eternity, lost, wonder, bark, glove, swish, clear, edge, cold, tear, pretty, arch, shadow, queen, salt, bright, soft, bold, and daring! Ahhhh gosh that is a lot. o-o

I challenge; @lordkingsmith @dove-actually @ardaaman and @re-writing-h to find the words carry, hidden, call, and dust! Have fun if you want, I’d love to see what you find!

Beware unedited writing and random scenes with no context ahead!

Unaware (Oi this is a sorta spoilery one, but it’s the only instance of the word so I guess... why not?)

The sentences weren’t written with exclamation points, but the emphasis in her expression of it revealed the break in her calm. None of this had any effect on Phoenix, however. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table. Her chin propped up on her folded fingers. Her head cocked with her classic smirk.

“Well now, ain’t it true that a siren’s song leaves a sailor unaware of its source?”

Eternity

Nope!

Lost

I glanced away. Directly into the hazel eyes of the captain. She received my panic with an impassive expression, the lightest tinge of disappointment visible in her gaze. Her uniform was completely pristine despite the clothes being soaked through with water. She idly fixed one of her gloves as she glanced towards Rose.

“Get her below deck.”

I blinked, lost in a daze. Thunder crashed through the skies behind me. The captain wasn’t unfamiliar anymore.

Wonder

My attention drifted off at a distant shout of outrage, some scuffle or another occurring down the road a fair ways. Seemed some little rascal had gotten herself caught; a young girl, her purplish red dress and pale scarf flowing wildly as she ran, was chased out of a building by a much taller figure, probably the town’s butcher by the blood splattered apron they wore and the cleaver they waved furiously above their head. I chuckled, Wonder what the lass did to get ‘em all flustered like th--

“Phoenix,” Io said, interrupting my thoughts.

“I, uh--Aye, captain?” I narrowed my eyes in confusion as the butcher from earlier seemed to calm immediately, lowering their cleaver in an almost trance-like manner to simply walk back into their shop.

Bark

“H-hey!” The exclamation drew my eyes to the side in concurrence with a scuffle of sound. Wysote had freed himself from the boy’s grasp, weaving through the crowd attempting to recapture him to dart down the hatch with a swift bark.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be right back!” Io rolled her eyes at the crew’s rush after him, sheathing her sword.

“Leave it be. It’s not going to do anything.” That is what you believe.

Glove

“Aye, but what does that have to do wi--” A gunshot cut his words.

The captain was still. As if time had lagged, he slowly tipped back, his lifeless body finally slamming into the deck with a startling thud. The impact rattled the small ship’s planks and rigging.

Wysote released a whimper, the rest of those present struck silent.

“You must not have heard the news.” Io smoothly twirled the pistol in her glove before slotting it into its sheath, as though nothing of note had just occurred. “You’re out of business.”

Swish

The older lady tilted her head. “Oh, come now dear, you look like you haven’t eaten in centuries!” Dione winced, sighing before signing a few things towards the girl. Allison acknowledged this with a tired expression.

“She says she can’t eat. Something about giving it to the mutt,” she conveyed, Dione’s displeased reaction indicating those weren’t exactly her words. “Or, well… Not a mutt, I guess.” Dione still wasn’t amused. Ms. Atkins cocked an eyebrow questioningly, but nodded slowly, her apron swishing across the floor.

Clear (+ Tear)

My hand instinctively flew to my chest, where a long gash should’ve extended across my body, sealing my fate to Davy Jones’ locker. There was nothing there except for a tear in my blouse. My skin was clear of scars and bruises, other than long healed wounds from the far past.

I should’ve been dead. Why wasn’t I dead!?

Edge

“The lady that has been chasing me, for the past two months, has been doing so only because--...” I paused as I noted movement from the side. ‘Dione’ brought two loose fists up to her cheeks, splaying her fingers openly before making a gesture like she was pulling two strings from the edges of her mouth, her expression mildly amused. Her dog chuffed, his version of laughter. I didn’t find the joke quite so funny. “I am not.”

The woman glanced up at me, her thief’s eyes narrowing questioningly.

I sniffed, glaring as I repeated, “I’m not.” Phoenix tilted her head, befuddled by our exchange.

“Yer not… what? I din’t say anythin’...?”

“Wasn’t talking to you. She called me a hissy cat. I’m not.”

Cold

“Captain Io...” The man’s slow drawl carried the same highfalutin attitude as his sleazy face. He cocked his head, his sneer widening. “So, the rumors are true, then, aye?”

My captain acknowledged his comment with an impassive expression, her hazel eyes cold. She was completely unfazed, unlike me, by his overflowing ego.

Pretty

“A lot. At least, accordin’ to rumors.” George hesitated, avoiding my gaze. “There’s also one sayin’ she’s actually a sea witch. I know those ones’re common and pretty fake, but from personal dealin’s… I dunno, I just get a bad feelin’ ‘bout her.” I winced, remembering the piercing green of the woman’s gaze and the dark cloak that she wore. ‘Sea witch’ seemed a fairly apt description, now that I thought of it. “I’d be careful ‘round her, if I were you.”

Arch

Doesn’t seem to be one!

Shadow

With enough luck, the dock would be straight to the land. With enough luck, I wouldn’t have to look up at all. But I knew that was asking for a lot.

“Hey.” I glanced up as a shadow fell over me. The sailor was exceedingly familiar. Rose. She gave me a wide smile, cocking her head. “You planning your great escape, now?” I scowled.

Queen

None!

Salt

I pushed myself to my feet, stiff and off balance. Stretching my arms up over my head, I yawned loudly, tilting my head to get rid of the crick in my neck. My clothes were damp, soaking wet from where I had lain on the sand, encrusted with salt and grit. I tried my best to wipe it off, without too much luck. I didn’t even bother with my dreads.

“When I said me hair needed a wash, with seawater ain’t what I meant,” I grumbled, still groggy.

Bright

I took another gulp of air, watching the clouds above me slide from side to side in the frame created by the railing. Climbing the ropes hadn’t been too difficult, even with the swaying motion. I was high up now, and from here, reality was a distant thought. It was just the wood around me and the bright blue sky above. The sound of the wind blocked out anything else.

Soft

“Yer not one fer details, are ye?” Normally I would glare, or snap back. That’s what I always did. But this had been an exhausting, aggravating mess of a day, and I felt sick and on the verge of collapsing. I dropped to the cabin’s floor, my back leaning against her bed. My energy was gone.

“... I don’t know.” She lifted an eyebrow. I was too tired to try and decipher the meaning behind the concern in her dark gaze, so I avoided looking at her. Her tone was soft.

“Ye don’t know... what?”

Bold

Instead, the woman pulled out a little leatherbound journal from her cloak alongside a fancy dip pen, scrawling something into its pages. She replaced the pen, raising that hand to cover the left half of her face. She emphasized the motion by pointing towards it with the spine of her book.

Half of a face covered. She was referring to Celestine. I narrowed my eyes further.

She moved the hand to her chest, her fingers splayed at her collarbone.

Okay. Herself.

The journal opened to a page with four large letters bolded into the paper:

‘Help’

Daring

Annnndddd, none for this one!

Anyways have some fun with some more snippets~

#one siren's soul #oss #writing #find the word tag #siren's snippets #it's so long ahhhh #colin #phoenix #dione #celestine #io #rose #also like #tons of sort of spoilers #and a lot of passages that i already shared but #they aligned well #tag game

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robronsecretsanta · 5 years

Photo

Under Atmospheric Haze, Just Some Stratospheric Strays

Aaron and Robert spend their Christmas Eve-Eve together at Leeds’ German Market.

Merry Christmas, @aarondingel 🎄

All it took was some gentle persuasion. Well, if you can call a quick fumble in-between meetings and a sex sated, raspy grunt of “suppose I’ll have to say yes now, won’t I?!?,” persuasion.

It doesn’t take much for Aaron to give in to Robert’s extroverted propositions. Especially when he’s flashing that famous winning smile with Aaron’s sparkly, satisfied eyes reflecting right back. The same was happening, now. 50ft in the air in the centre of Leeds. High on overpriced German beer, frankfurters in a bun too big to even fit your mouth round, fancy festivities, and a pre-snog in the back row of the Everyman Cinema like lovesick teens - because of course, on Robert’s agenda, it had to be the place with the plush, leather seats and a hefty price.

“You’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, haven’t you?” Robert proudly pried, slightly turning to the side where his spent husband had his red hood covered head leaning against his shoulder.

Although he’s already wrapped a new novelty jumper for Aaron to open on the morning of the 25th and is internally screaming with giddiness just thinking about it, Robert had insisted he wore the Santa hoodie for the occasion. It carries bittersweet memories but it’s also a damn good garb in the name of all things Christmas and it’s no use stuck at the back of the wardrobe kept safe and collecting dust.

(Robert also sussed Aaron had clung to that hoodie as a way for him to privately recollect and draw comfort from it for a year straight, and that brought him double the bubble of warmth and contentment.)

“How did you guess?!”

Aaron met his eyes with an undeniable smirk painted on his face. There was no getting past this one.

“Hmm, not sure. Could be the fact I’ve not seen you this relaxed in a long time. Or could be your competitive streak I had the pleasure of witnessing during a game of ruthless Hook A Duck with a ten year old kid.”

That earned Robert a light slap to the stomach followed by Aaron cuddling inches closer, one hand let loose and the other nestling against his husband’s knee. Robert’s teasing always ended up being more endearing than insulting, that he can vouch for.

Aaron chose to overlook a witty remark back and that had a lot to do with Robert reciprocating his hand movement with a gentle thumb rub. He swore he lost control of a steady heartbeat in that standstill second. After all these years and marriage signed on paper, it still feels like the first time. It still feels so right he can’t focus on anything but the way their tips touch, the solid connection moulding his senses, the overbearing scent he’s grown to harmoniously depend on.

“Yeah, alright, it’s been nice.” He opted for a flippant eye roll and a blasé attitude. “Summat different innit?! Better than being at home dealing with teen problems and dodgy business when we should actually be prepping for our first Christmas in our family home in two days time.”

Miles better in fact. It’d been the most carefree and genuinely chipper he’d felt in weeks. Yeah, okay, walking hand in hand with zero inhibitions around a crowded winter village full of fairy lights and wooden stalls, finished with a cosy indoor log fire retreat reeking of stale ale and a ride on the big wheel, had been a whole lot of light fun and a boost to the ole spirit system - both the festive and the self-credibility kind - but he wasn’t gonna let Robert know that. He didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt and make his self righteous ego any bigger than it already was.

A soft stare and a lopsided smile was what Aaron was faced with when he lifted his head back up. Robert’s eyes had always been Aaron’s uttermost favourite feature for as long as he can remember - the mesmerising sapphire sea green shade setting his soul alive, stamping on his beating heart and rapid pulse - and now, beneath the electric hues of purple and muted lustre shadows, he recalled the intoxicating thrill washing through him when he first realised there was no other visual he’d rather wake up to for the rest of his life.

“Remind me to bring you back here next year,” Robert simpered with a hint of unabashed adoration flashed across his entire face, bringing Aaron out of his brief daydream. “If it’s gonna bring out this soppy side of you I’m already booking the taxi.”

“Shut up,” Aaron scoffed. Failing to hide the spreading flush of his cheeks even in the now moonlit sky.

“No, I’m serious. I’m glad you agreed to it, in the end,” Robert’s voice lowered and his expression earnest. “It’s rare we get to spend proper quality time together now. What with you running the scrapyard whilst I con Graham for all he’s worth. Plus, it’s our first Christmas as a married couple so we’ve gotta start it the right way.”

A mediocre market filled with tacky mementos, sickly sweet air pollution, and rowdy groups of work do gatherings wasn’t the imagined idea of the most high class, romantic Christmas Eve-Eve celebratory date. It wasn’t exhilarating but it worked, because he had Robert beside him. Robert with his windswept hair and goofy grin and gangling limbs and ability to make anywhere feel like home.

“Yeah,” Aaron delicately whispered.

To an outsider, the audible silence weaved between them could be misjudged as awkward but to them, it was laced with meaning. Responsive words weren’t always needed. Especially here, in their own intimate bubble; both metaphorically and legitimately. (They were lucky to bag a carriage of their own on a hustled and bustled Sunday.)

This moment here, so placid they were able to drown out the rest of the world as though they were the only two to exist; even above the noise of jingling bells, booming kids, and classic renditions of songs, was worth its weight in gold.

“So, family home, ey?” Robert’s the first one to break the quiet; nudging Aaron and raising his brows with a light chuckle as though his brain’s been overriding with deep thoughts and he’s attempting to disguise it. “Never thought I’d get to hear that.” Yeah, he definitely had.

“Mad innit?!” Aaron met his eyes for the second time. “Bit different compared to last year.”

“What, when I embarrassed myself in front of an entire pub and then almost met my fate in the hands of a car bumper?”

Aaron didn’t answer, again. Just shook his head frivolously. He knew it probably still affected Robert. He knew he still reacted sensitively and this was a chance for him to momentarily mull over the weight of the situation. How it played a pivotal part to where they are currently, in the here and now.

“You know, I was thinking. Maybe we’d be able to bring our own family here one day. Use the little ones as an excuse to have a go of the swings and the carousel without looking deranged.”

That cheeky demeanour with a hint of hushed emotion had returned. Robert tended to change the subject once he’d evaluated and moved along the lines of his thought pattern. Only now Aaron was the one to be stirred. A shudder travelling down his spine all the way to the forefront of his mind where he instantaneously imagined Robert holding the waist of their toddler, faces radiating with infectious glee and laughter as they waved to the video camera Aaron was holding. Protecting and nurturing, just like the brilliant dad he’d seen him grow to be.

“Maybe. But first can we just savour the peace and quiet whilst we still have it.”

“Good idea. As long as you can admit I most definitely made the best decision of having a night here and I was right to convince you all along.” Robert really wasn’t going to let this one go.

Aaron still wasn’t going to profess the truth, but he was right. Tonight had been a dream. A dream that had somehow converted to real life. Real life he’d have never panned out for himself. The PDA. The gorgeous husband. The aimless yet wholeheartedly significant conversation. The state of serenity and security allowing him to let loose and lap up the jovial atmosphere. The plans for the future. The man he desired and was unconditionally devoted to, returning that with twice the emphasis; looking at him like the stars had gravitated towards his entire being. Having everything he ever needed, right here.

Robert drew Aaron even further towards him so their proximity had reached its pinnacle. Aaron couldn’t help but notice just how perfectly well their bodies fit together as he leaned into the arm wrapped around his shoulder. Their bonded torsos was like a moth to a flame. Like a drug he couldn’t ever get enough of.

“Maybe I can convince you to spill with a trip upstairs when we get home,” Robert was still rambling on in the depths of defeat.

That caught Aaron’s attention, an unavoidable lip bite and a blood rush to the top of his skull right down to his toes, but he still wasn’t giving in.

“You really are a stubborn git, you know that?” Robert accentuated every last syllable. “Good job I love you.”

And with a puckered kiss to his temple, a smooth thumb running over his knuckles, Aaron breathed a sigh of ease with a soft snigger. “I love you too, idiot.”

Maybe, just maybe, he could get used to every Christmas being as traditional and timeless as this.

#robron #robron secret santa #robron fanfiction #emmerdale #emmerdaleedit #aarondingel

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momestuck · 5 years

Text

Let’s read Hiveswap Friendsim... volume 17!

The penultimate volume. Let’s sacrifice a few more timelines to the great tapestry of fate that we’re weaving. Or more likely, Doc Scratch is weaving.

This time, “Of Teen and Tech, Acerbic”.

One more jade, and one more indigo. I think at this point we have a pretty even spread across the non-Sea Troll blood colours.

Daraya

I thought there was a TV show of this name, but apparently it’s ‘Daria’. This troll and that Daria seem to have a similar attitude, judging by the image. As for ‘Daraya’, it refers to a handful of places, notably Darayya in Syria, which was apparently the site of a massacre seven years ago during the civil war. Oof.

Daraya is the final troll written by Cee. L. Kyle, creator of prior memorable trolls Bronya, Zebruh, Remele and Lynera. I guess Cee likes writing jades.

Anyway, Daraya’s route begins as a few have in recent episodes - the protag feeling lethargic and listless, too tired to make friends.

We end up in a cerulean neighbourhood. There are some pointed lines...

When this game wants to, it really skewers its targets.

Anyway, the music kicks in as we realise Elwurd (the huge lesbian) texted us to invite us to a party. A bunch of other trolls seem to be showing up as well...

The track this time is called “trollkind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. to obtain something, something of equal value must be lost. that is alchemys first law of equivalent exchange. in those days, we really believed that to be the worlds one and only truth”. No prizes for guessing who decided to name a song after an extended quote from Fullmetal Alchemist.

There’s some more emphasis on how artificial our friendship feelings are...

Anyway, as we approach the party, we spot Daraya, busy looking very goffick.

She’s not thrilled to see us. Of course we’d be friends with Elwurd, she says grumpily.

Now in Befriend Mode, we do our best to mimic her whole ‘disaffected slouch’. Apparently being vaguely cynical and depressed is pleasing to Daraya. She seems to like Elwurd though...

Lesbians, I swear...

I swear...

Anyway, we learn that Daraya has snuck out of the caverns - though she’s not as restricted as little Wanshi. She whines about Bronya’s ‘cloister rules’. But hey, she met Elwurd through Bronya...

We blather about how the caves aren’t so bad, and namedrop some other jades we know. Daraya is not impressed.

Anyway, she’s not invited. So our first choice is to tell her to go home or invite her in.

Let’s let her in, because the other way doesn’t seem to go anywhere interesting.

Bronya isn’t the only troll we know at this party. Chahut apparently hasn’t yet shipped out off planet, and she shows up too.

Chahut makes some remarks about how fascinating she finds jadebloods... or ‘greenies’ as she puts it. She makes a murder joke about whether Daraya is really jade or not.

Yes, that’s exactly how I’d put it. Definitely.

After that brief brush with death, Daraya gets other ideas.

Mmhmm. As we head off, Daraya suggests we have a reputation for being ‘unconventional, weird and rebellious’. That’s certainly one way to describe ‘being a clueless alien pathologically addicted to making friends’.

Ahahaha nicely done.

Unfortunately we don’t have a lot of edgy rebellious ideas tonight.

I’m in favour of being a hoodlum.

Lots of new backgrounds in this episode. Somewhat different style too...

Apparently these are by Phil Gibson.

We ask Daraya how she’s doing. Her answer: not well.

Daraya says some dangerously radical stuff about how everything sucks for everyone but the highbloods... and maybe them too. We get a callback to the joke from last time...

Ha.

The narrator refuses to comment on that. That’s a good call, I think.

Daraya continues to complain. As a jadeblood, she’s not going to have to go into space, but life in the caverns tending to matters of social reproduction. We commiserate, which she appreciates.

We raise an eyebrow at the mention of Lynera. Danara assures us that she hates her - and not in a romantic way! (“or well...”)

At that point, we run into Tyzias. Just the person to take Daraya’s alienation and dissatisfaction and forge it into a revolutionary will, right?

Luckily, protag has the same idea. Which is no doubt why Tyzias was written into the plot at this point.

The well known “goth to anarchist” pipeline, right?

There’s a brief allusion to the weird shift that happened with Fozzer - a vague memory of a different Fozzer. “But why did you remember that guy?” indeed.

Tyzias tries to give a Daraya a little pep talk against hopelessness... Daraya is not particularly persuaded.

God I know that utterly depressing feel. What can one troll do, indeed?

Tyzias answers it the challenge.

She’s not wrong.

Daraya is not exactly being won over, but the protag does manage to get her to chill a bit and keep the conversation going. Tyzias has more real shit to say.

Daraya challenges her - is it just about making herself feel better, if there’s no realistic hope of real change? Tyzias says... in some way, it is. And the protag chimes in - that doesn’t make it less effective, at whatever little it is achieving.

At the end of this, I’m gonna try and make a list like... troll I would most want to be friends with in real life, and least, favourite route and so on. Spoilers: Tyzias would be the friend I’d want to make.

Tyzias points out like... what the hell else are they gonna do? Daraya finally admits she’s got a point.

And... having secured a friendship between not just us and Daraya, but us and Tyzias... we reach the end of the arc.

Let’s go fuck shit up. By which we mean, read law books. I guess!

That was nice. I fully support this lesbian goth and her budding revolutionary consciousness.

God I’m predictable.

Unfortunately, finding the friendship route here means it’s all downhill from here.

If we tell her to go home instead of bringing her to the party...

strut pod encasements!

That was predictably short.

OK, now for the non-phoned in side branch.

She does have an idea, it turns out. We hop into our (now quite low on fuel) car, and head off to a ruined city somewhere near the thriving one we’re living in.

Ooh. I wonder what we’ll find?

We make our way to an abandoned mall to go urbexing. Fuck, I love reading about urbex. Too much of a shut-in to have ever actually tried it.

We end up in a food court with the roof caved in. It’s apparently cool as hell. Alas, it’s not illustrated.

I’m not sure which rebellion this would be associated with. That of the Signless, or some other?

Ah, that narrows it down. The Signless rebellion, then. In which case... Alternian malls are really built to last!

We comment on the strangeness of the absence of adults, but this upsets Daraya.

Apparently, as an adult, she’ll be cloistered off on her own somewhere, and forbidden to contribute genes to the slurry. Huh.

To be honest, it’s a wonder that most other trolls are so cheery. Daraya’s attitude seems like the sensible one on this planet.

Daraya says some real shit about the existential dread she’s living with, the paralysing hopelessness of having no future to speak of.

Hey Daraya, do you fancy this copy of Baedan I happen to have on hand?

make total destroy etc. etc.

Anyway, at this point... Daraya somehow manages to set the mall on fire by throwing a mall at a cooker.

And... the narrator has no choice but to leave, as Daraya lets herself burn in the centre of the mall, one of the few places she cared about.

God, this episode was a bit real lol.

It’s not wrong though. Leftist theory certainly hasn’t cured my depression (lol), but it has given me some perspective to put it in a context where it can be managed, I guess. Something to work towards, no matter how futile it may be, in this fucking hell world that created me.

In the words of 2B... “Everything that lives is designed to end. We are perpetually trapped in a never-ending cycle of life and death. Is this a curse? Some kind of punishment? I often think about the god who blessed us with this cryptic puzzle... and wonder if I will ever get the chance to kill him.”

Let’s look to the struggle within the cycle. What else is there?

Nihkee

So now for...

Nihkee. She stronk. Keep your pants on, lesbians.

Nihkee is the creation of David Turbull, who previously made Tegiri (weeb) and Tirona (baby lawyer). Her theme, appropriately bombastic, is another James Roach piece with a long name: “lmao i still dont know if it’s nicky or nike (like the shoe, not like... the name mike)”. Make of that what you will.

This episode opens in media res - at a sporting arena. How did we get here?

We seem to be watching some kind of cage fight. Knowing trolls, I imagine it will be a lethal one.

Apparently we’re attending to Amisia. She bemoans the ‘boorishness’ of the purplebloods.

This seems to be the troll equivalent of pro-wrestling, rather than, say, MMA. However, injuries are a lot more common. We learn that Amisia won us tickets in a raffle, and invited us to this ‘Display of Muscular Theatre’.

We are watching The Huntress (olive) fight Cullpitz (purple). The narration mentions that Cullpitz is bizarrely un-clowny.

The fights are, naturally, rigged by hemospectrum. The narration notes that The Huntress seems to be deliberately holding back to avoid inciting the crowd. Amisia, however, is excited for the next competitor: Nihkee Moolah of course, who - Amisia claims - has never lost a fight.

Cullpitz wins the fight, and causes The Huntress a likely permanent injury. The protag feels sick enough to have to step away. But as we leave, we get drawn into a conversation with a violetblood (seadweller). He promises money (nah), fame (no thank you) and at last, friendship. And the deal is sealed.

Unfortunately, Nihkee’s opponent is dead. Which means... he wants us to take their place. Having an alien will make big money for the ring.

Let me guess: the choice is gonna be to refuse this terrible plan or go with it.

Maybe, but not yet...

We meet Nihkee, in the middle of working out. Some of these trolls are dressed more for MMA than pro-wrestling but who knows.

There’s a meta joke in the narration.

She is not best pleased with the showrunner for interrupting her prep. Though, I get the impression it’s all in the spirit of showtrollship.

Sure are some muscles. I’m not entirely sure what the [()] typing quirk is menat to represent exactly. Probably not a yonic symbol?

It’s worth noting at this point that all of my knowledge of professional wrestling comes from reading the TVTropes pages a couple of times. If you’re curious, it’s an impressively comprehensive discussion of wrestling terminology and the various dynamics involved in its production.

Kayfabe is the way wrestlers pretend in their media appearances that pro-wrestling competitions are not mostly scripted athletic performances with exaggerated personas, but genuine fights between real people who actually act like their stage characters. Now all the fans fully understand that wrestling is fake (but still fun), it’s not taken as seriously, but apparently it was a huge deal back in the 70s. Give the article a read, it’s fascinating.

Nihkee is not particularly impressed by the suggestion of performing with us.

We protest. At length.

We get the first choice: are we ready for a BUTT CLENCHING, FLESH ABRADING, KNUCKLE BLISTERING, MUSCLE RIPPLING, SMACKDOWN FROM UPTOWN?

Of course we fucking are.

She gives us guidelines for the show. Basically: follow her storyline. “The alien invader challenges me in an exhibition match to TOPPLE the MIGHTIARCHY.” We struggle, but eventually...

...PREVAILS AGAIN!

(I guess to convey suitable drama, a lot of Nihkee’s dialogue is split between multiple dialogue boxes, which makes it a little hard to take screenshots.)

We ask if we’ll die. She assures us no - unless we’re especially weak. But even then...

Well, that’s a great reason to die. Sign me up.

Secondly, an “exhibition match” means we will not be challenging each other for positions on the “flexeladder” - otherwise we’d have to wrestle nude, like at the “Intergalactic Trollympics”. I’d count that as a blessing.

We bring up the question of face and heel. You can read about these on tvtropes, but the narrator does a pretty good job of explaining.

In troll society, of course, the traits we’d ascribe to a ‘heel’ are valorised. So we’re just going to get crushed under her heel. Indeed.

Time for the match. The showrunner does the announcement for Nihkee.

In a clear allusion to good old Equius, Nihkee’s entrance is accompanied by a shower of thrown glasses of milk from the fans.

And opposing her whole deal is...

“Some messed up lowblood alien”. Huh, usually when I go into an arena fight in games I’m the “mysterious stranger”. Who could have seen this coming?

Ah, that’s what fate was working towards this whole time! Thanks, Doc Scratch, for your dedication to the cause of wrestling.

So, naturally, we’re playing the foreigner. Here to prove our superiority to trollkind. TVTropes naturally has an article on this: the Foreign Wrestling Heel. We’re going by the book here.

We put up a good bit of bravado. But are we prepared to face, Nihkee demands, her...

OK, you got me. I’m laughing out loud again.

The protagonist puts up a pretty good show, it seems like - barely dodging Nihkee’s attacks in a suitably dramatic fashion. We bleed, but the narration suggests that under the stage lights, the trolls will take it as ordinary ‘rust’ blood and not ‘mutant’ red. We hope.

Nihkee invites us to attack with appropriate pomp. But we...

...don’t do that, not directly. We springboard off the edge of the cage in “a classic clothesline manoeuvre”... and get knocked the fuck out.

But we haven’t reached our second decision point yet, so that can’t be the end of us. Hopefully we gave the trolls what they wanted.

Do we even have a fourth wall anymore?

Anyway, this turns out to be Nihkee’s hive. She is not impressed at our ring performance - getting knocked out by our own attack. Well, that’s fair.

Training montage incoming?

Hell yes. (She calls everyone sister, including the announcer guy, in case you’re wondering if that’s an implicit gendering of the protag.)

She’s brought us to her BRAWNISEUM. As we can see in the illustration... it’s pretty much made for Space Marines to train at.

After her speech about our indomitable will and potential, she invites us to ASCEND with her.

Hell yeah. Let’s [S] ASCEND together!

Of course we fucking take it.

We start with the acid treadmill. (The acid doesn’t seem to be depicted.) She turns it up... a bit fast.

We manage to run at 12 miles per hour - which is about bronze level good. Apparently all the machines rate us by blood colour. While the low end of the hemospectrum gets the badass psychic powers, the high end gets the physical strength, it seems. There’s more jokes about how great our legs are - they merit a cerulean!

All the while, Nihkee ‘encourages’ us in a way that’s gendered in the opposite way that things usually are on Earth.

After half an hour of that, she gives us a protein shake... except it’s not a protein shake but ‘gatorade mixed with milk’. Amazing.

Then we get tested for ‘pressure resistance’ in a soft iron maiden. Apparently that’s olive level.

The overall verdict?

Hooray.

We do more of this - including getting chased by a literal toothy monster. By the time we finally collapse...

She’s impressed by our commitment - our “strength of heart and soul”. And our great appreciation for the MOST RIGHTEOUS OF PURSUITS... earns us the recognition of “workout friend”.

And that rounds out the arc. Presumably after some more of this, the narrator will be due for a return to the ring.

Go us!

Easy arc to find the right answers in, evidently. Now to see what happens if we hesitate.

First of all, before the match...

We can’t watch as she pulls out lowblood challengers from the audience and smashes their faces into the spikes. Oh, trolls. We get treated to an image of this, too.

Mmm, indeed.

Now, if we hesitate later before the workout session...

She dismisses us - unworthy of her gifts, unwilling to reach our full potential.

She tells us to get out of her sight. The narration steps in to make another meta joke (that’s like three this arc?)

We get a fake out fade to black and the first note of the end card music... but then!

...GET RIIII(...)IIIPPPPPED! In our own way.

D --> Hmm, 100k at this e%tremely subtle reference.

Anyway, that someone turns out to be... Stelsa! And Tyzias, who happens to be present. There’s a brief discussion of a fast food service called ‘door smash’, and Stelsa’s love of scheduling. They’re cute together.

But let’s get down to business... to defeat...

...our own flimsiness.

Stelsa’s into it.

Then we hang with her and Tyzias for a bit. We suggest Tyzias might consider energy drinks.

This arc then extends over... a long time!

Multiple weeks! And the training seems to be going well...

It’s almost as if ‘drill sergeant’ isn’t the ideal demeanour for a coach after all.

But as we go to show off our progress to Nihkee, the question of this being a non-canon branch leads us to hesitate.

So we decide to ‘blitz our chakras’ to try and work this out. We put on some ocean noises (which leads to a change in the soundtrack! soft music starts playing, seguing into the menu music) and... start imagining some metaphors.

In our reverie, we slip beneath the surface of the river.

Things get kind of meta. I’m just gonna take a bunch of screenshots because this seems... important.

The images of failed branches, all these catastrophes, blur together on top of each other.

We are implored to ‘find our river’. And we find the two branches of the current route... one sounding much more inviting than the other.

Then things get REALLY meta.

And then we get the rest of the arc in some kind of summary form, all in this... letterboxed? That’s not the right word, but whatever... all in this view. Nihkee is not pleased to see us. We come up with the idea of sneaking in.

It does not seem to end well.

She chases us on one leg and we escape by getting her run over by a train. But she becomes a cyborg coming to chase us down, terminator-like. Yeah, seriously.

NIHKEEBORG spends a year hunting us across the wilderness. And eventually... she catches us. We die.

And coming out of the meditation, we decide... not to do that. We just go to Stelsa’s house instead, and let Nihkee be.

Oof.

God, you never know what you’re going to stumble onto in this game. That was amazing.

Next time: FINAL CHAPTER.

#momestuck #lets read hiveswap friendsim

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