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heart-of-the-morningstar · 2 months

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✨Pretty Boy✨

OOOOOHHHH BUDDY I'm excited to post this story! I'm not gonna ramble for this one, so please enjoy the ride 😉

(I'm a teeny bit late on posting this but better late than never!)

Summary: You find something peculiar in the walk-in closet...

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Warnings: smut, 18+, lingerie, mention of toys, oral (f receiving), collars, pegging

"Damn it! Where the hell is it?," you shouted in frustration. You should have looked for that dress before you hopped in the shower, things would have been way smoother. Now you stood in your walk-in closet with damp hair and adorning nothing but a towel that was wrapped tightly around your chest. You could have sworn you saw that purple sequence dress hanging in here last night! Where could it have gone? You rummaged around your closet for 10 minutes now, but you still came up empty handed! You stomped over to the last rack of hanging clothes closest to the back wall, scanning every article of clothing.

While pushing each dress from left to right that wasn't the one you were hoping to find, something had caught your eye. A small golden handle on the left side of the wooden wall with hinges on the right side. A door? You were in here so often, it's hard to imagine how you could have missed it! Tentatively, you reached out to grab the handle, curious as to what you would find. The small door slowly creaked open and...woah...

You blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing what you saw hanging in there. "Lingerie?," you mumbled to yourself. Well, it certainly wasn't yours, you never really cared to wear something like that yourself, and Lucifer never seemed to mind your decision either, thankfully. You pulled one of the hanging pieces from the rack to examine it closely. The design was elegant as far as lingerie was concerned. Black fabric with lacy red leaf designs on the breasts and stomach area with no coverage around either side of the abdomen.

It was cute...but who's was it? Perhaps it was Lucifer's ex-wife Lilith's? You weren't sure why she would leave it behind. Or why Lucifer would keep them. But the more you looked at the piece of clothing you held, that didn't seem right either. This was small, smaller than most lingerie you'd seen before. And from what you had seen from pictures, Lilith was not a small woman, far from it. She had to have been at least 7' ft. tall, she would never fit in something like this.

You continued to ponder this until you went back to explore the hidden closet. There were more items located at the very bottom that brought a sudden blush to you face. "Holy shit...," you mouthed, struggling to get your brain to process what you've just found. You felt like you just accidently stumbled into one of Hell's sex shops! Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, collars, bottles of lube and...was that a strap on? What the hell was this perverted closet?! It didn't make sense! Why was this here? Who did this stuff belong to? Why would Lucifer...?

Wait...Lucifer...

Oh! OH SHIT!

It finally clicked in your brain. This was never Lilith's. This was Lucifer's!

“Ok, ok, it’s ok, it’s fine,” you told yourself, “it’s…oh fuck me…”

You stood there dumbfounded, imagining him in the skimpy outfit you held in your hand. You saw him sprawled out in front of you on the bed, drool trailing down the side of his mouth. You saw his half- lidded eyes staring back at you as you hovered over him, his expression filled with need and lust. Your face suddenly felt hot. You were so lost in your fantasy that you didn’t hear the footsteps growing louder behind you.

“Honey?,” Lucifer called out, “are you ready to go? We’re gonna be late for-” he froze as soon as he turned the corner and saw you in your hypnotized state. You snapped your head towards him, holding him in place with your vacant stare. You both stood there wordlessly for a few seconds until Lucifer finally found his voice again.

“I-I…,” he stuttered, “I can explain.”

Oh, you would love to hear his explanation for this. But you quickly decided that you were going to have a little fun with him. Feigning annoyance, you folded your arms across your chest, still hanging on the piece of lingerie.

"And when exactly were you going to tell me about this, Lucifer?" you chastised, almost cracking a smile. "Or were you hoping that I wouldn't find this dirty little closet of yours?"

"Yes! I mean no! Th-that's not it!," he stumbled over his words. He was panicking. It was adorable watching his cheeks turn a shade of red you've never seen from him before. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down after the sudden heat spike he felt climb up his face. "Please, love, I'll tell you everything! I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know what you were going to think. I was going to tell you...eventually."

"So let me get this straight," you replied as you sauntered your way over to him, making your way over to the shaken-up man. He backed away from you slowly until he hit the end of the vanity on the other side of the room, gripping it for dear life. Once you finally stood in front of him, you grabbed Lucifer by his tie and forced his face to be inches away from yours. He held his breath as you leaned in closer and closer until he could feel your hot breath on his lips. "You mean to tell me…,” you whispered, “that I could have been fucking you senseless in lingerie this entire time?!"

In that moment, Lucifer’s mind absolutely shattered. Did you say what he thinks you just said? He inhaled sharply after remembering how to breathe. “Y-You…I…th-this is…WHAT?,” he choked out.

“Did I stutter?,” you snickered. You closed the gap between you two and placed a searing kiss on his lips. Though hesitant at first, Lucifer couldn’t help but melt into you, his eyes fluttering shut, your tongues entangled in an elegant dance. You pulled away from him, much to Lucifer’s dismay and flashed him a lustful yet devious grin. “I’m sorry for acting like I was upset with you just now, Luci. That was a tad mean, I admit. In all honesty, it’s actually quite the opposite.”

Lucifer finally released his death grip on the vanity and stood up straight, adjusting his tie that you had loosened. “Th-That’s umm,” Lucifer swallowed hard, “that’s a relief to hear, darling. This is probably the best reaction I could have hoped for.” He flashed a nervous toothy smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think,” you smiled coyly, dropping the towel you had wrapped around your body and revealing your nakedness to a now wide-eyed and mouth agape Lucifer, “we can be a little late for dinner.”

You saw Lucifer swallow hard at the sight of you. “S-sweetheart,” he began,” I admire your eagerness, I really do! B-but we shouldn’t be late, it’s nearly impossible to get a reservation there and-”

Before he could finish making up excuses, you tossed the lingerie onto the vanity behind him and leaned forward to place your hands on either side of him, effectively trapping him against it. “You’re the King of Hell, Lucifer,” you retorted, “what are they going to do if we’re late, turn you away? Besides…” you took one of your hands and palmed the very apparent bulge in Lucifer’s suit pants, causing him to moan, “we really shouldn’t go out while you’re in this state, don’t you agree?”

Lucifer tried to steady his breathing as you continued to rub him through his pants which were now becoming extremely tight and uncomfortable. “It’s-mmph fuck…your fault,” was all he could manage.

You chuckled, loving the effect you had on him. Not to be outdone, one of Lucifer’s hands quickly slipped down between your wet folds, eliciting a surprise yelp from you. You removed your hand from his pants and gripped his shoulder for balance instead. “Well, well,” Lucifer hummed against you, “seems like I’m not the only one who’s needy right now.” He continued to tease your entrance with his fingers, your grip on his shoulder growing tighter with every passing second. But you refused to let him have the upper hand.

“So that’s how we’re gonna play this, huh?” You breathed against his neck.

“You started it, so don’t-HEY!” With one swift motion, you latched onto Lucifer’s hips and threw him over your shoulder while he tried to playfully squirm away from your grasp. You turned and marched your way over to the bed with a coy smile. “Damn it, let me go!,” Lucifer laughed, but the hold you had on him tightened even further. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry! Please put me down, love, I didn’t mean to-WOAH!” You gave him wish by tossing Lucifer onto the mattress beneath him.

“If you’re really sorry,” you teased as you hovered over him, “you’re gonna put that tongue of yours to good use.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, nodding his head vigorously. You chuckled at his eagerness to please you; it was always so endearing. “You know this is supposed to be a punishment, Luci,” you joked.

“Oh trust me, darling,” he smirked, “this will NEVER be a punishment for me.” With that, he grabbed ahold of your waist and forced your body forward, your dripping cunt now mere inches away his lips. You had no time to respond before you felt his tongue dart across your slit. A wanton moan escaped your lips as he worked his tongue around your clit, circling it with such vigor and passion. His hands dug into either side of your thighs, making sure you couldn’t move away from his ministrations. You couldn’t help but begin to grind your hips against his face, attempting to feel as much of him as possible.

“So g-good for me, Luci,” you staggered, “ffffuuuuck, s-such a good boy for me.”

Your words only seemed to make Lucifer pick up his speed, humming against your slick. His forked tongue darted in and out of you at a relentless pace, his own erection all but forgotten at this point. He was more lost in your pleasure and your intoxicating taste to worry about the almost unbearable tightness in his pants. You felt yourself reaching your peak. No matter how many times Lucifer goes down on you, you knew you’d never last long. He knew exactly what he was doing and he took pride in it. That knot forming in your stomach was on the verge of snapping at any moment.

“FUCK LUCIFER,” you moaned, “FUCKFUCKFUCK!” You forgot how to breathe as your orgasm hit you, your walls clenching around nothing as Lucifer lapped up your juices and helped prolong your high. You caught your breath once your body began to relax again. You shifted your body downwards so you could see Lucifer’s face again, now freshly adorned with your release. He flashed you an innocent looking grin, making you smirk and roll your eyes. You gave him a quick peck on his lips, tasting the faintest hint of yourself on them.

“Good boy,” you praised him, a small whimper escaping Lucifer’s throat. “Go change for me,” you tossed your head to side, indicating to the clothing you left on the vanity. Lucifer’s face flushed a deep shade of red, nodding his head wordlessly. “I’ll be right back, love.”

You made your way off the bed and walked over back to the walk-in closet, stopping at your now new favorite section. You grabbed the strap on and placed it around your waist, adjusting the harness to make sure it was snug against your body. The appendage itself wasn't overly large, around the standard 6 inches. It was perfect for both of you though, who knows how long it's been since Lucifer's done this. You wanted to take things slowly. You grabbed a bottle of lube and were about to leave when you something else in that small cupboard caught your eye. You reached down and grabbed it, wanting to complete his little ensemble. You hid the object behind your back so Lucifer couldn't see it at first.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out of the closet once more. You scanned the bedroom in front of you until your eyes landed on him. His back was towards you, sitting on the opposite edge of the bed, seemingly gripping the sheets below him. You could sense that he was nervous. And if you were being honest, you were too. But tonight you we're going to take care of him, he more than deserved it.

"Luci?," you called out sweetly. Lucifer sat up straight when he heard his name, looking over his shoulder and giving you a faint smile. You slowly moved towards him, your breathing becoming shakier. He stood up from his seated position, hands clenched at his sides when you stopped in front of him. There was no way to hide the flush of your cheeks when you saw him in his lingerie for the first time.

Breathtaking.

The minimal clothing hugged his body so well, and the black and red coloring made his pale skin pop. You couldn't stop staring, and he noticed. He looked away from you, feeling embarrassed, as if he were on display. You took your free hand and placed in under his chin, turning his head and gazing into his lovely yellow eyes. "You look absolutely stunning, Luci. So beautiful..." you trailed off, placing a small kiss on his forehead. Lucifer couldn't help but bury his face in his hands from your words of affection.

"Can you turn around for me, baby? I have one last thing for you," you asked. Lucifer did as you asked, exhaling a deep breath. You took the object you had in the hand behind your back and wrapped it around his neck. A deep red collar with beautiful golden patters and swirls embroidered onto it. Sewn into the front in large cursive letters spelled the words "Pretty Boy". Lucifer turned around and faced you again, lifting his hand to grab his newly embellished neck. "It suits you, my pretty boy," you cooed, palming his cheek and gently rubbing your thumb against his soft skin. You could make out the tiniest of tears forming in your lover's eyes as he leaned into your touch.

"Are you ready?," you asked sweetly.

"Yes," he whispered against your hand.

"We're going to take our time, alright?," you soothed. "If at any time you want to stop, tell me and we'll be done, no questions asked. You promise?"

"I promise," he smiled.

"That's my good boy," you approved. "How do you want to do this; on your back or on your hands and knees? Whatever you want."

Lucifer swallowed hard. "B-Back, please. Wanna see you."

"I was hoping you'd say that" you chuckled. "Lay down for me."

Lucifer quickly crawled back onto the bed and laid down flat on his back, his legs dangling over the edge. You grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and placed it underneath his head, doing your best to make him as comfortable as possible. You walked around to where his legs hung, grabbing the bottle of lube and placing some on your first two fingers. "Legs up," you told him, and he complied immediately. His ankles now rested on either of your shoulders as he looked at you with the neediest expression you've ever seen from him.

"Let's warm you up, love," you hummed, "just relax for me, okay?" Lucifer shut his eyes and took a few deep breaths in and out as you shifted the fabric out of the way from his entrance. It also wasn't lost on you that his cock had been straining against his clothes this whole time, you planned on giving it some much needed attention. Slowly, you placed your first finger against his hole, feeling his body jolt from the sensation.

"I'm alright!," Lucifer nearly shouted, making sure you didn't pull away from him, "just...surprised me is all! Please don't stop."

With a smile, you pushed your index finger inside of him, feeling the tightness squeezing around you. Lucifer bit his lip and released a guttural moan. You set a slow pace as you thrusted your finger in and out of him, feeling his muscles relaxing with every movement.

"M-more, please more," Lucifer babbled. It was impossible to ignore his pleading, so you complied by inserting your second finger into him, picking up your movements slightly. "Ssshhhiiitt..." you heard Lucifer curse as you separated your fingers inside of him, stretching him further. You stretched and pushed your fingers inside as far as you could; Lucifer was already becoming an incoherent mess. After a minute or two of your continued ministrations, you finally removed your fingers from him, causing Lucifer to whimper desperately.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," you praised. You took the bottle of lube once more and applied a generous amount to the strap. You lined up the tip up against his entrance, hearing Lucifer's breath hitch. "Ready, Luci?"

"Yes, please," he whispered almost inaudibly.

You pushed the tip into him as slowly as you could, stopping only halfway when you heard Lucifer nearly scream.

"Do you need me to stop?," you asked anxiously.

"No, no! It's...it's alright," he heaved, "j-just give me a minute, please. It burns somewhat, I kind of forgot about that part." You stayed motionless for about 30 seconds before you heard Lucifer give you the okay to start moving again. You shifted your hips to pull out of him and began to slowly sink back into him. Lucifer clawed at the sheets beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations you were giving him. After only a few more seconds, you had sheathed yourself inside of him as far as you could go. The noises Lucifer was making sent shivers straight down your spine; you wanted more.

"F-fuck..." Lucifer choked out, "Please...please move...n-need it...need you..." He was barely able to form a complete sentence anymore. Not wanting to deny him any longer, you started thrusting your strap in and out of him at a steady pace. The slapping of your skin against his echoed throughout the room, mixing with Lucifer's moans of pure ecstasy. Lucifer arched his back as each of your thrusts brushed against his prostrate. You reached down and pushed more of the fabric away, finally freeing his aching cock that was already leaking an excess amount of precum. You began to stoke him in tandem with your thrusts. Lucifer's eyes shot open from this new sensation he could feel all throughout his entire body, letting out a scream of pleasure.

Lucifer stared back at you as you continued to pound into him. You saw the tears welling up in his eyes, a smile of pure joy spread across his face. It was a feeling of pure bliss; a sense of euphoria had ripped through him. His heart was full. You were and are his everything. You leaned down closer to him, and with your free hand, interlaced your fingers with his own.

“You’re taking me so well, Luci,” you cooed, quickening your thrusts. “You look so pretty, my sweet boy.”

“Hnng, c-can’t…fuckfuckfuck, so c-close, please, don’t stop…gonna-FUCK…gonna cum…” Lucifer mewled. “L-Love you…love you so much, my angel, p-please…”

Your thrusts became erratic and you felt his cock twitching in your hand, ready to burst at the seams. “Love you more, Lucifer. Cum for me, baby, it’s alright. Let it all out for me.”

With a few more sharp thrusts of your hips, his orgasm had knocked the wind of of his lungs. Strings of his hot seed burst out of him, ruining his lovely outfit and spilling over your hand. Your thrusts and stroking had slowed as you helped him ride out his high. Lucifer was left a breathless mess beneath you. You hummed as you licked your hand clean of Lucifer’s mess, savoring its taste. You inched your way out of him gently, locking your hands around his ankles and letting his legs sway freely off the bed once again. After stepping out of the strap, you went and picked up the towel you had left on the floor over by the vanity. You patted down on Lucifer's stomach, wiping away the remains of his orgasm. Crawling up beside him, you outstretched your arms and brought him flush against your chest.

"You did so well, Luci," you murmured against his ear, "are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Lucifer shifted himself so he could face you. His eyes seemed to shimmer when he looked into yours, his expression was soft and serene. "All I'll ever need is you, my dear. Thank you...for this. For everything. I love you...more than anything."

You leaned into each other, your lips crashing together as if it would be the last time. But you knew it wouldn't. You'd always be there for him, just as he would for you. You pulled away and brushed his fallen hair away from his face.

"I guess we missed our reservation," you joked.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm absolutely famished," Lucifer laughed. "I should probably go change again, huh?"

"Yes, go get your suit!" Before he could sit up, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, placing his forehead against your own. "But leave the lingerie on underneath. I'm going to want dessert after our meal."

~~~~

⬆️ God reading my Lucifer smut fics live reaction

I got a lot of explaining to do when I meet Gigachad St. Peter after I leave this corporal realm.

Tag list: @kermitdafroggy, @luc1fersducky, @orbitinglumps, @bigfatbimbo, @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis, @lilzebeth, @bbootyyyshaker9000

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #my writing #god this took longer than intended #i beat my word count record tho!#this image of luci is my fav btw lol #enjoy you nasty peeps #love ya!

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kquil · 9 months

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JAMES POTTER | JOINT SCHEDULE

request. : Hey can you do some more ice hockey player James imagines? I love them sm! —@prongsbandit

sum. : you booked the university's ice rink to practice your routine for an upcoming competition but so did the university's ice hockey team, whose captain screwed up the timings

g. : fluff ; modern au ; ice hockey player james ; figure skater reader ; shy reader ; university au ; jock james potter ; supportive figure skating coach ; supportive hockey team

length : 1.6k

In preparation for an upcoming figure skating competition, you were dedicated to getting in as much practice as possible. Thankfully, you were able to book the university ice rink for two months in the lead up to the competition. Your regular practice sessions were every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for five in the late afternoon until seven. It was a bit excessive but you wanted to win. Many of your friends view you as someone sweet and docile but also hard working and quite the perfectionist. What they don’t realise is how competitive you can be behind the scenes. Everytime you cancel plans, you usually excuse yourself with the ‘I’m busy’ reasoning that your close friends readily accept, believing that you were working through papers and research articles for uni classes when, in actuality, you were spending time in the rink.

Today, you had brought with you your portable stereo to go through the routine with the music over and over again, gradually perfecting the appearance of your more grandiose moves as well as the sequence of your steps on the ice. It felt good being at this stage of your development, the entirety of your routine has been choreographed already and had been revised by your coach, who suggested some minor changes but approved it overall — you knew what you were doing, it was just the case of perfecting things now, something you were talented at and even enjoyed.

The main focus for today’s session was the polishing of the big jumps and ambitious spins of your routine. It was a little tiresome and you don’t believe you’d be able to cover all of them for this session but you never really expected to in the first place. Your only saving grace was that you had some time to apply light makeup earlier in celebration for the new figure skating set you were gifted by your parents. It was an all black set that paired a sleek skort with a long sleeved turtle neck top that had lacing to decorate the open back and thumb holes in the sleeves as the hem reached half way up your palms. You liked feeling pretty in practices, it always helped to encourage your self-confidence so there was always a little spike in your performance. The praises of your supervising coach was all you needed to confirm this fact.

“Brilliant, my girl! Again!” Vera sang her high praises from the stands and helped you control the music whenever you wanted to repeat a particular part of the choreo. For this routine, you had settled for something more elegant and based the choreography around the ‘Waltz of the Flowers’ by Tchaikovsky. The soundtrack made you miss the time you did ballet until you were fifteen before eventually falling in love with figure skating. A lot of your routines tend to be based around the elegance of ballet in addition to the complicated turns, spins and jumps that encompassed figure skating; your coach, Vera, loved how you were able to combine both sports in such a seamless way.

The music kept playing even after you had repeated the skid spiral so you naturally flowed into rehearsing more of your choreo, allowing muscle memory and the music to guide you over the ice as you subconsciously waited for Vera to pause the music and ask you to repeat something that didn’t look quite right. Polishing up the routine was filled with more critiques than any stage of creating your final performance so your anticipation for Vera to pause the music, repeat a move and provide additional tips lingered in the back of your mind as you flawlessly spiralled into one of your most difficult spins — a one-handed beillman.

“Beautiful Beautiful!” Vera praised, clapping as you gradually spun out of the position before abandoning the routine and grinning widely to yourself, proud and giddy for finally nailing the transition and spin.

“Vera!” you shout across the ice and over the music, cheering with your fists raised to the air in victory, “I did it!” It was then when you realised that Vera’s clapping was accompanied with an entire audience of applause and your panicked eyes fell upon a grinning hockey player standing beside your coach, behind them was a team of hockey players, some whistling and whooping in between their applause.

As you tried to catch your breath and suppress your bashfulness, you gathered that Vera had neglected to reply to the soundtrack to discuss something with the hockey player, and so, it seems that the entire hockey team just saw a glimpse of your routine. Eventually, Vera paused the music and motioned you over, looking to discuss something.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” you ask upon reaching the sidelines, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves as you avoided the hockey player’s eyes. He was dressed in most of his equipment, only missing his headgear, and was sporting the dopiest grin on his face. “It appears as though the university hockey team had booked the rink to practise for a match happening early next week, however, there was some miscommunication over the timings and schedules,” you furrow your brows as Vera explains the situation before shyly glancing up at the hockey player beside her, who had unruly dark curls and glimmering hazel eyes behind a pair of cute glasses. It seems your simple acknowledgement of him was enough to prompt his self introduction.

“I’m James,” he reaches out his gloved hand for you to shake, quickly taking it back to rip of his glove off before reaching to shake your hand once again, “James Potter, Captain of the Hockey team,” behind him the rest of the hockey players wave at you, some with friendly grins and others sporting a mischievous smirk as they regard their captain’s behaviour around you, “Vera explained that you were practising for a competition and also booked the rink in advance but since you got here early, we’ll put the decision to you,”

You raised a brow and tilted your head slightly, prompting him to continue, “make a decision on what?”

“On whether to kick us out and continue your practice or finish your practice early and allow us to have the rink for drills exercises and plays,” James finished, grinning at you with no malice and insinuating that he wouldn’t hold any ill-will over either outcome.

“Oh!” your cheeks heat up under his warm voice, amiable manner, pretty eyes and charming dimples and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment before eventually shaking your head and giving him your resolve, “I’d be happy to give you the rink, I’ve covered a lot of ground already so I don’t mind,” James’s smile reaches his eyes once more and he nods.

“You heard the lady boys, what do we say?” he shouts back to his team, his voice commanding attention and is as firm as his build, encouraging an ensemble of ‘thank you’s to sound from behind him, “Thank you very much,” James finishes and nods to his boys, signalling them to set up the rink and get ready for practice while you also take the time to shake off your nerves and walk off the ice, where James greets you once more.

“I hope you have a good and productive practice,” you wish him and offer a warm smile, your heart finally settled down to a semi-heightened beat. He’s really quite handsome…you think to yourself but quickly look away to, again, keep from staring too long.

“Thank you and thanks again for letting us have the rink,” James takes your hand and lifts your knuckles to his lips — an act of gratitude that has a dangerous heat creeping up your neck to occupy your cheeks once more, “you’re very beautiful on the ice, by the way. I’m sure you’ll smash it at the competition, your competitors don’t stand a chance,” the two of you share pleasantries and more smiles before you finally make your way to the locker rooms to change with a straighter back and a lighter heart.

What an encounter.

“She practises every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday from 5 to 7pm,” Vera says out of nowhere as she approaches James, who stares off to where you had disappeared.

“I’m sorry?”

A stone cold look crosses over Vera’s face, “avoid those times at all costs,” she warns, her russian accent suddenly thick and intimidating, “my student doesn’t need any distractions,” the statement makes James raise a brow in question, “her competition is on the 14th November, held in the city community rink, and it starts at noon, don’t be late,”

Suffice to say, James wasn’t late to your competition, in fact, he was early and he brought the entire hockey team with him to support you. You won second place but felt like a gold medalist when the hockey team hollered the loudest for you at the awarding ceremony and lifted you onto their shoulders with the congratulatory flowers James brought you in your arms and your silver medal around your neck. To return the favour, you attended their next hockey game and made sure to shout the loudest whenever their team scored and eventually when their team won the match.

“When do you think our captain’s finally gonna grow some balls and ask out his ice skating ballerina?” Sirius whispers to his taller brunette friend.

“Let them take their time,” Remus replies, the two staring as James throws his arm over your shoulders and you wrap your own around the back of his waist, “everyone already thinks their dating anyway so they’ll get it eventually,”

“Wait! So they’re not actually dating yet?” Peter asks with a surprised face as the other two laugh, “But I swear I saw them kissing by the locker rooms before the game earlier!”

a/n : i know nothing about ice skating or ice hockey but i tried my best! i'm sorry if this is not very realistic. i also hope that the request was fulfilled to a satisfactory standard despite the long wait, i'm really sorry for that by the way (┳Д┳) nevertheless, i tried my best and i hope this made you happy, darling, thank you for the cute request (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

navi.

taglist : @ghostgardn @fredweasleysjumper @rosalyn-s @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter #james potter fluff #ice hockey player james potter #hockey player james potter #james potter fanfiction #𐂂 : timestamp #james potter imagine #james potter fic #marauders #📝 : request

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churipu · 4 months

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can i request the reader being gojo's younger (or little, if that's what you prefer) sister during their highschool days? i think the dynamic between her and geto would be really cute and sweet! meanwhile, shoko would be the tired aunt that has to watch every stupid thing that stsg and the reader does 😭

๋࣭⭑ A CHAOTIC FOURSOME ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

featuring. gojo satoru, shoko ieiri, geto suguru + gojo's little sister

warning. time sequence is during their highschool days (2006) and i'd say the reader would be younger than gojo by a year, so she's as old as nanami and haibara :D

note. i'm actually like so ecstatic to write this because i have so many assumptions of gojo with a younger sister, thank you nonnie for requesting this, ily <;33

the mother x the dumb x the dumber x the dumbest

no doubt that shoko is the mother of the group, without her the whole group is just well, plainly chaotic. satoru will come up for stupid plans, hence the dumbest. you will undoubtedly follow him, hence the dumber. and geto will think it's stupid, but will follow him, hence the dumb.

"okay, so what if we just — find a way to summon a curse, and sell our soul to it for something in return?" satoru asks with a cheeky grin.

"sounds cool, i'm in!" you replied with a large toothy grin.

"that must be the stupidest idea i have ever heard in my life," geto sighs out, "but let's do it."

"i don't have a soul," shoko mutters out of the blue, sighing out, "and you guys are incredibly stupid, you know that?" at the end of the day, the plan didn't even commence nor did you all talked about it again.

you are the closest with geto, he treats you like a little sister as well — except he's a little less of an asshole than your actual brother.

satoru is an asshole. he's a pain in the ass, no doubt. all three— you, geto, and shoko— can and will admit the fact that out of you four, satoru is the brattiest. however though, being related to him by blood, you were his target most of the time.

"ouch! satoru, did you really just shoot me with a nerf gun? that fucking hurts you ass!" you hiss, rubbing your nape— where satoru just shot with a nerf gun.

"take that, peasant." satoru sings out, attempting to shoot two more bullets at you, one hitting your arm and the other barely missing you.

you ran to shoko who immediately flee, leaving you open to satoru, traitor. before you eventually seek shelter behind geto who was sitting down on a bench, sipping a drink; and oh boy, the bullet managed to hit his face.

"oh shit." satoru mumbled, "it was an accident, suguru."

"damn." you look at geto, before laughing lightly.

geto smiled at your brother before standing up, and the cat-and-mouse chase between them both begin. geto made sure you were alright after, and satoru was— yeah, he survived, just a little bruised here and there.

being siblings is funny, satoru's closet is your closet too.

"y/n, is that my shirt?" satoru asks, pointing at the white shirt you were wearing and you hummed softly, sipping on a carton of milk.

satoru began lecturing you and how you shouldn't snoop in his closet, "lord, save me." you muttered out, walking in between shoko and geto while your brother constantly turned towards you to lecture you about asking for permission.

"are you even listening to me, brat?"

shoko grunted, "make him shut up, please."

"it's not her fault that she looks better in your shirt, satoru," geto laughed lightly, and that somehow managed to shut your brother up for the rest of the day— until he opens the door to your room late at night with a pout on his face.

"my shirt does not look better on you, for your information."

"oh my god, satoru you're so childish!"

as much as satoru teases you, when it comes to protecting you— he's number one, and he will always worry about you. he will not hesitate to tell someone off if they're bothering you.

"so, who is it?" satoru asks, his eyes not leaving the television screen.

you sat next to him and hummed in confusion. earlier you had gotten home with a small bruise right next to your lip, and as hard as you tried to cover it with make up — satoru still noticed the bluish purple outline of the bruise.

"what do you mean?"

"who gave you the bruise?" he asks again, calmly. way too calm for your liking, to be honest.

"i fell."

satoru finally turned to look at you, "doesn't look like you fell, just tell me what happened, it's not like 'm gonna do anything—maybe." he mumbled out the last part under his breath.

you sighed out, knowing the male won't drop the topic unless you tell him about it, "you know that one guy who wouldn't stop bothering me just because i beat him up in middle school for ruining my comic book?"

"the one i already try to tell off last time?" you nodded at him, "damn it, i should've gotten rid of him that time. want me to hollow purple him or do you prefer a more friendly approach?"

you chuckled, "i can fix this myself."

"nu-uh," he rolled his eyes, "hollow purple it is."

"'toru!"

"sheesh, fine friendly approach it is."

shoko and geto tries their best to look after you and satoru, but they don't get paid for this and always ends up giving up halfway and just joins in the "fun".

"oh, come on satoru, this is like the worst plan ever!" you tell him, crossing your arms.

"what? why? is it because i made it?" he argues, crossing his arms as well.

"no — okay, yes, maybe. but still it's a shitty plan, right?" you look over to geto and shoko who only nodded in forced affirmation, in all honesty, they didn't know what was happening between you and your brother or whatever you both were talking about.

"suguru, even you?" satoru whines out, "traitor."

"see? what about we go for my plan instead?" you offered, and satoru immediately declines, arguing with you.

it took you both two hours to finally settle on doing nothing because you got tired, and satoru got too angry that geto had to drag him away.

when satoru was supposedly "killed" by the sorcerer killer, toji. you were fucking destroyed. until he actually shows up, looking more alive than ever.

"oh, you're alive?" you asked slowly, although in disbelief.

satoru chuckled, opening his arms for you to fall into, "don't say it like that, might think that my own sister doesn't love me," not like you spent the whole time crying over him.

"fucking ass. i hate you so much." you hugged him.

"i love you too."

satoru spoils you. and when he does, he makes sure geto and shoko gets little of it too (because you told him to do it so they would feel loved).

"i was thinking — satoru treating us three to shabu?" geto immediately agrees with no hesitation, no thoughts, he just agreed to what you said.

satoru looks at you and smiled sweetly. a fake one. but it was fun watching him like this so you didn't care, "shoko?"

"free food? hell yeah." shoko nods her head with a smirk.

satoru ended up feeding all three of you like a mama feeding her child, and you ended up getting a scolding from him and a threat that goes a little like: "that's the last time i'm spending my money on you, loser."

but you know he didn't mean that. just watch how he'll probably get you something the very next day.

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chryblossomjjk · 1 year

Text

midnight mistakes | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: fuckboy!jk x inexperienced reader

⇢ RATING: m/18+

⇢ WC: 2.5k

⇢ WARNINGS: v brief sm*t, v slight angst, oc is sick rip, pregnancy scare putting their relationship to the test eep!!!, brief mentions of abortion (reader considers it)

⇢ SUMMARY: a midnight romp with jungkook leads to tears on your cheeks and a pregnancy test in your hand

⇢ NOTES: i miss writing sm so here's a lil drabble of our otp :') school has been v overwhelming lately and it makes me so sad that i don't have as much time to write on here anymore. hopefully, things will calm down soon. for now, enjoy this crumb!! i love you all, let me know what you think!! if you haven't read the series yet, pls read that before this if u want to!! this wasn't beta'd so i apologize for any grammar issues or typos rip

⇢ SERIES MASTERLIST

The sequence of events that landed you in this situation; having a teary, heaving breakdown in front of your bathroom mirror, was absolutely ridiculous, to say the least.

“I’m gonna kill someone,” you squeak, breathless from the endless stream of sneezes ripping through you. The glow of the alarm clock on your nightstand reads 1 a.m. as you reach for a tissue. Violently blowing your nose does little to ease its congestion. With a shaky sigh, you crumple the sodden napkin and toss it into the bin beside your bed; overthrown by contents alike. The wet ball hits the paper mountain before rolling onto your pretty pink area rug.

You shiver, how fucking disgusting.

A stressful week of labs and quizzes has tanked your immune system, making you susceptible to all the little germs and illnesses that strike when the brisk winter air transitions into the pollen-laced breeze of spring. The antibiotics you were prescribed did little to help your runny nose and sore throat. Pausing the anime playing on your phone, you open your messages.

dumbo love you, get some rest please xx

So much for getting rest. You weren’t expecting a text back. Jungkook had offered to spend the night, but you encouraged him to go. It was his last semester after all. Still, you were pouty and needy, wanting nothing more than to snuggle into his arms and let the swirls of his delicate fingers on your back lull you to sleep. Instead, here you were, confined to your bed, watching Naruto solo as Jungkook, Tae, and Mina lived it up; taking shots until they were belligerent.

A distinguishable knock rattles the door before you can press play again.

“What are you doing here?”

Jungkook stands in your doorway, oversized black tee hanging over his equally oversized green cargo pants. His cute little mullet falls in sweaty loops around his face. “Still feelin’ like shit?” He coos, cringing at your disheveled appearance and the croak in your voice. Ignoring your question, he holds up the various items in his big hands. “I picked up a few things; cough drops—not the cherry kind ‘cause those are fucking nasty,” you laugh at the side note, “—extra spicy ramen and hot sauce to clear out your sinuses.”

Your peer at the array of remedies with wide eyes. Their ability to cure your flu symptoms is questionable. You don’t even have a way of boiling water to make said ramen in your cramped dorm, but the sentiment has your chest swelling with something other than a violent cough for the first time in days. Abruptly, you pull him into a tight embrace.

“Ah, I see,” he laughs, wrapping an arm around the small of your back and walking you back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him. “My Bambi missed me.”

“I did,” you nuzzle into him further, “but you shouldn’t be here… you should be having fun with your friends.”

“Nah, fuck ‘em,” he retorts playfully, putting the quote-unquote medicine down and then plopping onto the bed, taking you with him. “Besides, what kind of shit boyfriend ditches their sick girlfriend to go to a party anyways?”

“The kind that should be enjoying his last semester,” you frown.

“I am, though. I enjoy spending time with you more than anything else.”

As he lays under you, black tresses splayed against your white comforter like a misshapen halo, you feel so incredibly lucky. Gently, you run your fingers through his choppy bangs, pushing them out of his doe eyes. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not really, just a couple shots of Fireball and a few beers.” That much alcohol would have knocked you on your lightweight ass, but after years of beer pong and keg stands, Jungkook’s tolerance was damn near Kage level. It took a lot more than that to get him drunk. “I kinda…” he averts your gaze, something he does when he’s sad or guilty. “I felt really bad so I left.”

“Jungkook, I told you it was okay.”

“I know,” he nods, sliding a warm palm under your shirt, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing lines. “But I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Using your fingertip, you brush an eyelash off the apple of his cheek. “Thank you… for coming back for me.”

“Of course, Bambi.” He leans up and presses a deep kiss to your dehydrated lips.

“Kook, stop,” you mumble, craning your neck back. “You’re gonna get sick.”

“I don’t care.”

It doesn’t take much convincing. If Jungkook doesn’t care, why should you?

What follows is a battle of warm tongues and the needy clash of his bunny teeth against yours. Tender touches coax your Sailor Moon pajama set to the floor with the promise of Jungkook’s delicious love. Before you know it, you’re sinking down onto his hard length, fingers digging into his shoulders as he slouches against your headboard.

“Take it all,” he whispers, jaw slacking as he tilts his head down, getting a clear view of your wet cunt swallowing the remaining few inches. A slick film coats the two fingers he used to hold himself up for you as your lip pillow around the base. “Yeah, just like that.” His face contorts in pleasure, overcome by your warm, slippery walls after a week of illness-induced celibacy. “Feels good, huh baby? Tell me how good my dick makes you feel.”

He wants praise and dirty talk, but the tickle in your nose makes you pause, bracing yourself as a slew of sneezes pours out of you. Eight sneezes to be exact. Jungkook’s high-pitched cackle is drowned out by a shriek as you cup your hand over your leaking nostrils. “EW!”

“Shut up, it’s fine!” He grabs a tissue from the nearly empty box. “Lemme see,” he mumbles, pulling your hand down and wiping it clean, then doing the same to your face afterward and tossing the kleenex in your glittery pink trash bin.

“I’m sorry,” you peep, completely mortified.

“Don’t worry.” The crooked bunny grin eases your nerves. “That was fire, actually. You clenched around me so tight.”

You squint at him and then bury your head into the crook of his neck. You make love to each other; slow and gentle. At one point, Jungkook locks his tattooed fingers in between yours, pecking your bare shoulder as lazy drags of your hips bring you both to writhing climaxes. And he looks so beautiful when he climaxes, gnawing at his lip piercing, skin dewy from sweat and the moonlight shining through the blinds.

At that moment, you felt nothing but love and pure ecstasy.

Isn’t it funny how pleasures of the past can create complete devastation in the present?

Clutching the edge of the porcelain sink, you stare down at the pink box of pregnancy tests. There’s tear stains on your cheeks. A pain in your lungs from all the sobbing. You wish Jungkook had been a shit boyfriend that night. You’d give anything to take it all back.

Like a sixth sense, there’s a distinguishable knock at the door.

“Hey, I-” he stops short, brows furrowing as his dark pupils scan your face. “Have you been crying?”

“What do you think?” You shouldn’t snap at him, but the waves of anxiety washing over you make you highly sensitive. Truthfully, you weren’t going to tell Jungkook any of this. His showing up had put an awful wrench in your plans. Well, unless the test came back positive. Then, you’d be forced to tell him. You clamp your hand over your mouth, the thought making you sick to your stomach.

“__, take a deep breath. Sit down.” You do and he follows suit. “What's going on?”

“I-” you gulp, swallowing back a whine, struggling to form a coherent sentence. There’s no escape, you have to confess. “I think I might be pregnant.”

There’s an eerie silence once the words hit the air, lingering over you both like a dark, dreary cloud. It takes Jungkook a moment to internalize the weight of the situation, but you can tell when the thunder strikes. The pink tinge in his cheeks fades to a stark, sickly white as he inhales shakily. “Fuck-” Leaning his elbows against his knees, he digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, shielding them. “I thought you were on the pill.”

“I am, but I was taking antibiotics last week and I read that they can make birth control less effective- and I’ve been having symptoms lately.” It all comes out in a jumbled mess like word vomit. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move. And it scares you. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Despite his posture, his tone is still and calm. “I just… don’t know what to say. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as the floodgates finally burst. You were still in the swell of your STEM program. Jungkook is just about to graduate with a Bachelor’s in photography. Both of your lives would come to a screeching halt if the worst were true. You weren’t ready for a baby, not in the slightest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t-.” Finally, Jungkook sits up, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. The other arm repeats as he rests his chin on top of your head, rocking your shaking frame back and forth for comfort. “Don’t apologize, don’t cry. Why don’t you take a test before we start freaking the fuck out?”

You suppose he’s right.

The walk to the bathroom is a blur. Suddenly, you’re on the toilet with that evil stick in hand. Jungkook is sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, knees bent and head leaned back against the wood of the cabinet. Normally, you’re extremely pee-shy. It literally will not come out. Under these circumstances, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“You pee so softly,” Jungkook says through an airy laugh. “I pee really hard- and fast. Like-” he makes a little whooshing noise with his mouth, “like a hose.”

“Baby, please,” you huff, setting the test aside and pulling your sweats up. You know he’s trying to ease your nerves, but this is one situation where his lighthearted jokes and comments ceased to make you smile. “This is serious.”

“Trust me, I know.” Spreading his legs, he pats the carpet between them. “C’mere.” As soon as you hit the ground he’s embracing you, trailing kisses all over your exposed skin. “What now?”

“Now,” you sigh, setting a timer on your phone for three minutes, “we wait.”

“You know… it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if it’s positive.”

“It would be absolutely awful, Jungkook.” It’s a sweet sentiment but you know he’s lying, right through his bunny teeth. Late-night conversations in bed about the future ring in your head. ‘Honestly, I don’t think I want kids,’ Jungkook had hummed in the middle of My Neighbor Totoro, ‘ever.’ Generally, you felt the same way, but the memory is terrifying in this context; sitting on the bathroom floor with him, waiting for an answer that could contradict all of your plans and possibly crumble the entire foundation of your relationship.

“Who am I kidding?” He chuckles humorlessly. “You’re right, it would be fucking awful.”

Nervously, you toy with the silver rings on his inked fingers. “What if it’s positive, Jungkook?”

“Let’s just wait until we get the results.”

“But what if it’s positive?” You twist in his arms, showing him your glassy eyes and deep frown. Showing him that his answer, regardless of what the test says, was very important to you.

He blinks at you, lips opening and then closing promptly as he mulls over his words. “If it is… then we’ll take care of it.”

There’s a dual meaning to the sentiment that makes you chew on your bottom lip, eyes flickering up to the white ceiling to stop yourself from crying. Take care of it as in going through with it? Or take care of it as in… the other option? Honestly, the latter would be your first choice, and you’re sure it’s his as well. But for whatever reason, the fact that he assumed it makes your heart ache. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means whatever you want it to mean.” Gently, he smooths a hand over your trembling thighs before they frantically search for yours. “Just… whatever you want to do… whatever you want, I’ll support it… I’m here.”

A breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in releases in relief. You feel stupid for even questioning him. After all these months of unconditional love, you should know better. Bringing your locked hands up, you kiss his fingertips. The smile it brings out of him is just as soft as your touch. “I love you so much.”

“I love y-.”

He’s cut off by the blaring ring of your timer.

“Please, can you look?” You mumble, shaking your head and covering your eyes. “I can’t do it.”

You feel his torso twist against your back as he reaches for the test on your countertop. The time between him grabbing it and the dreaded answer feels like an eternity.

“Negative.”

“Thank fuck!” You groan, doing a complete 180 and wrapping your arms around his neck in celebration. You haven’t felt this type of excitement since you were a child, waking up on Christmas morning and seeing colorful presents under the tree.

“What made you think you were pregnant in the first place?”

You hesitate to respond. In retrospect, it’s not as valid of a reason as you originally thought. “I’ve been feeling sick in the morning.”

Pulling back, Jungkook deadpans you. “Bambi, no shit. You’ve been sick all week.”

“I know but,” you pout, twirling a ringlet at the nape of his neck, “google said I could be pregnant…”

“You’re so fucking lucky you’re cute,” he laughs, holding you flush to him and nipping your cheek playfully. “You’ve got to be the most dramatic person I’ve ever met in my life.” You know he’s joking, but the comment makes your expression drop a bit. “But that’s part of the reason I love you so much. I’m never bored with you.”

Once again, you truly don’t know how you got so lucky.

“Alright,” he huffs, using all of his strength to haul you up into the air and walk you back to your bedroom. Instinctually and habitually, you wrap your legs around his cinched waist. “We finished Avatar last time, so what’re we watching tonight?”

You click your tongue in contemplation. “Naruto.”

“Naruto? Bambi, isn’t Naruto like- a billion episodes long?”

When he tosses you down onto the mattress, you pout and bat your long lashes at him, pulling out all the provenly successful manipulation tactics. “Please?”

“Fine,” he grumbles, plopping down beside you. “But don’t be mad if I knock out.”

And like clockwork, Jungkook dozes off in the middle of the second episode, but that’s okay, because despite how horrible the pregnancy scare was, it truly solidified Jungkook’s presence in your life. You have all the time in the world to watch hours and hours of subpar filler episodes, and you’ll do it happily as long as you’re with him.

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drconstellation · 6 months

Text

Once and Future Royalty

Just, stay with me on this one. I know its going to look crazy at the start, but trust me, I know where I'm going.

It all started with the 537AD scene in Wessex in the opening montage of "Hard Times," S1E3. Yeah, the one where Aziraphale is supposed to be a knight of the Round Table and Crowley is role-playing the Black Knight, and they are both so super-squeaky shiny clean - not a speck of dirt or mud on them. wtf! It looks out of place, unrealistic, and was bugging the crap out of me, like a stone in your shoe. It just didn't fit. I mean, why put a myth, a legend, into that sequence? Oh, OK, yeah, the preceding stories from the Bible, like the Garden of Eden and the Flood, aren't "myths" as well, you say? Hmm. In the context of the Good Omens AU, being a biblical based story, they belong there far more than the legend of King Arthur.

King Arthur, who supposedly united Britain under his rule during the late 5th century and early 6th century, was shown to have the divine right to rule by wielding the mighty sword Excalibur. Some stories tell of Arthur pulling Excalibur from a stone. Some tell of him receiving Excalibur from the Lady of the Lake. Either way, it was bestowed upon him by divine grace. Despite his triumph in battle, he left no heirs, as his queen, the fair Guinevere, was barren. She had a long-running love affair with the greatest knight of the court, Sir Lancelot, but despite this being an open secret in court Arthur would not put her aside. The knights of the Round Table in the court of Camelot were near-paragons of Christian virtue, and there are many tales of their search for the Holy Grail, the cup from the Last Supper of Jesus Christ.

In the end, mortally wounded in battle, Arthur was taken away for healing, and never seen again. It was said he would return when Britain was at it most direst hour to save the day once more. A "messianic" return.

The Once and Future King.

Now, I'm no Arthurian novice; I drank up all of T. H. White as a teenager, read the Dark is Rising multiple times, Marion Zimmer Bradley's interpretation and what ever else I could lay my hands on for a good couple of decades. And there is LOTS of King Arthur stuff around. You are not left wanting for anything new to read or consume. And I'll bet there are a fair few of you also out there who know a quite bit about the legend as well. Oh, and I can't tell you how many times I have watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I still walk around quoting it day-to-day, like the good little Gen-Xer I am, having grown up on that stuff. So I really should have listened to my intuition when bits of Monty Python kept popping up in my brain in response to other parts of GO I was thinking about. (Staaay, I said, stay with me here....)

I kept chewing away furiously on the Wessex problem, growling in feral frustration at it, but also kept reading and sorting out some other ideas and metas at the same time. Eventually I found the key in a tiny little post, about a small detail in the 1941 Blitz episode S2E4, of all places. I wanted to slap myself with how much was staring me in the face so obviously once the door opened. And the damn beauty of it is, that I already written about some it, out of context, without knowing the why.

OK. Where to start this journey...hmmm, back to Monty Python, because, guess what - the Wessex scene is actually riffing off one the more famous skits out the the Holy Grail. The scene is a masterpiece of political satire, from start to finish, but the relevant part here is this sequence:

In case you missed the salient points: Arthur claims he is king by divine providence, because he was given Excalibur by the Lady of the Lake. Dennis the peasant protests this waterlogged method of determination, mentioning ponds, watery tarts and a moistened... well, I hope you get the idea about where this is going.

Meanwhile, in 537AD, Wessex, as the mist swirls around them:

"It is a bit damp," complains a shiny silver Aziraphale.

Yes, Excalibur would be a bit damp after it emerged from the Lake. (vidavalor! Get your mind out of the gutter! I'm trying to have a serious discussion here! Please! And I wasn't even going to go anywhere near what the sword in the stone is really meant to be referring to...it's not even relevant to the discussion at hand, I swear! Well, there is going to be sexual relations mentioned but - oh, never mind...)

Right. Where were we. Lets leave those super-clean elite pretendy knights to swim off through the swirling mist back to their dry homes to write and file reports to head office, along with Patsy and the hired Igors, and Dennis can keep playing in his lovely muddy filth after he finishes protesting being repressed by the divinely-deluded Arthur. I've got a bit more to say about what Aziraphale and Crowley might represent here later but you need some more context first, so lets move on. I just needed to show you the first bit so you can see the Arthurian theme stretches across both S1 and S2, and will likely appear in S3 as well. More about that towards the end.

Ah, before I forget...another ref from the Holy Grail we need to cover:

This GIF, unfortunately, doesn't have the full exchange between the peasants, which is this:

P1: "Who's that then?" P2: "I don't know. Must be a king." P1: "How can you tell?" P2: "Because he doesn't have any shit on him."

Ah. Er. OH!

Have you made the connection?

Who have I been emphasizing as being unusually clean in their Arthurian setting? That's right, Aziraphale and Crowley.

What's this implying? That they are royalty. Celestial royalty. Maybe not kings, but how about princes? You know how we've been discussing whether Crowley was a once at least an Archangel, and there is even a hint that he was a fallen prince of Heaven given during the replay of Gabriel's trial? (Not the prince, but a prince - a seraphim) And that Aziraphale may have once been Raphael, and may be again in the future? Once and future royalty. To me it adds weight to the past discussion, and helps to explain the assumed authority expressed in these two scenes here: On the left, Aziraphale takes control inside the book shop as the angels and demons argue who is going to punish Gabriel and Beelzebub (finally found it after several months!) and on the right, Crowley is shouting at the assembling demons in the street that they are "out of order."

Onward, Patsy. (I hope you're still with me.)

1941, the Blitz part 2, minisode.

We've found Excalibur! On to Camelot!

[Edit note: I've added a few GIFs and screen shots into the sequence of parallels above because I was thinking over a few things since I posted and felt this actually sat better. To try and explain, as they don't exactly match as I would like, in the Holy Grail movie, King Arthur and the knights he has gathered rock up at the foot of Camelot and gaze up in awe at it. "Camelot!" Arthur declares to the party. "Camelot!" Galahad echoes in excitement. And a third "Camelot!" comes from Lancelot. What do we get in GO? Aziraphale leaps out of the Bentley (Crowley's black horse) and declares "The theater! Sophocles! Shakespeare!" I swear, if you put the two side by side, they would match. It's not just a reminder of how much time Aziraphale has seen pass by, or that we are seeing a tragedy play out. But damn it, I could so just see Aziraphale attending a Sophocles performance in Athens back in the day...]

Camelot was King Arthur's castle and home of his court. In S2 of GO the Windmill Theater is established as our court of Camelot where our 1941 Blitz-era Arthurian drama is to play out, involving Furfur and the zombies.

Yes, poor old Furfur. Two's company, three's a crowd, as they say. Now we know we're in Camelot, we need to be reminded of the central tragedy of the Arthurian story, that ultimately led to the golden kingdom's fall. Lady Guinevere, Arthur's queen, famously loved Sir Lancelot, and the two were passionate lovers. It was essentially a love-triangle at the top, with Arthur being jilted, but he wouldn't/couldn't discard his queen. Where do we see this playing out in 1941?

Furfur, pleased with himself for catching an angel and a demon in the act of consorting together (with the help of the zombies,) barges into the backstage dressing room, and confronts the lovers with their crime. But who is playing who in the Arthurian love triangle? I would say Furfur is clearly caught in the role of Arthur here. Consider the following exchange:

FURFUR: Hmm, well, well, well… What have we here? AZIRAPHALE: Sorry, have we met? FURFUR: Oh, no, you never had the pleasure, but… we have, haven't we? CROWLEY: Have we? FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember? CROWLEY: I remember going into battle, I don't remember being there with you. Sorry. FURFUR: I was right next to you. We did loads together. You use to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat. Anyway, whether you do or whether you don't, it doesn't matter. I'm here to inform you, as a representative of the Higher Powers of Hell, that you, Crowley, are in breach of the Infernal Code. Consulting and collaborating with an angel, Fell the Marvelous, aka… [opens book] Azirapalala. Azirapapap. Aziphapalala. AZIRAPHALE: [annoyed] Aziraphale

Furfur claims a past intimate relationship with Crowley, which Crowley spurns offhandedly. Crowley is playing Guinevere here, jilting Furfur/Arthur, which leaves the demon-smiting Aziraphale standing in for the handsome hero Lancelot (with his French connections, no less), and doesn't he make us weak at the knees when he drops his voice an octave in dominating disgust. (Is it suddenly getting hot in here...? Phew!)

Interestingly, looking back in S1 at 537AD Wessex, though, I would say that Crowley was Lancelot as the Black Knight, a role that Lancelot sometimes played in the legends, and Aziraphale would then be the fair maiden Guinevere. It certainly plays into Crowley's long term role of playing the knight who comes to the rescue of Aziraphale's princess in distress. Excalibur was no where in sight, perhaps still beneath the waters of the lake. Nor Arthur. Perhaps it was still too early in the story then...

I had originally suggested in my very first post that Furfur was given a stag as his demon avatar because he was wearing horns for being cuckolded by Crowley. But I wasn't quite thinking about it in context with the Arthurian legend! The stag is also often associated with royalty, plus while wandering around the medieval bestiary website that someone linked to, it interestingly notes that the enemy of the snake is the stag and the stork (Shax's avatar.) Ah ha!

So how can we extrapolate this knowledge into a possible appearance of the Arthurian theme in S3?

Will we see the love triangle of Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot come back into play and cause more chaos? I'm wondering if it might have something to do with the Fall.

Or will our lovers bring down a divinely-appointed ruler via their committed behind-the-back defiance of expected propriety?

Will Excalibur appear from beneath the waters, perhaps in another form, to declare a new king?

Could it even be a combination Jesus/Arthur, King of the World, returned? And they turn out to be a very naughty boy, disappearing into the night clubs of Times Square, New York, and that's how they lose him? (Social media viral sensation, anyone?)

I wouldn't be half-surprised if Greasy Johnson's name turns out to be Arthur, actually.

And no, I haven't forgotten that Adam's dad was named Arthur as well.

Bring on S3!

**Bonus**

If you've made it this far and you're thinking:

Let me leave you with this last connection.

In the back stage change room, remember Furfur delivers these lines:

FURFUR: What do you mean "have we?" You know we have. We were in the same legion. Just before the Fall. Doing dubious battle on the plains of Heaven. Remember?

On the first level, he is referring the Great War in the Good Omens AU.

On the second level, Furfur is paraphrasing Milton's Paradise Lost.

On a third level, I can (and will in a future meta) connect this back to the training initiative paintball fight at Tadfield Manor in S1.

And even deeper on a fourth level, if you do know the Holy Grail movie well, you'll remember there is an odd little subplot in it, that infers that the whole King Arthur and his knights thing is merely a full-on violent cosplay that is murderously rampaging across the countryside in the present day with the police in hot pursuit. It's a strange juxtaposition between reality and dream, and you aren't quite sure what it is real or not. The ending is bizarrely and abruptly surreal as the two story lines collide in the heat of battle, as the police turn up and arrest the combatants. A bit like this:

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httpiastri · 4 days

Text

sleeping patterns – cn34

nights filled with endless crying and screaming take a toll on clement's confidence.

genre: fluff, slight comfort/angst ig

pairing: young dad!clem x young mom!reader

warnings: none

author’s note: aaaaaaaaaaa im so soft for clem and ive had such an insane baby fever recently. i miss him sm :(( he would be such a good dad, i just know it

f2/f3 masterlist

‎‎ ‎‎

the big, red numbers of your electric clock on the bedside table tell you it's only 3am, a frustrated huff passing through your lips when your eyes slowly open. it takes a while for you to realize what's waking you up – but then it makes so much sense.

the soft cries on the other side of the baby monitor sting like a knife in your heart, and you're fully awake in a matter of seconds. you're just about to push yourself up to a sitting position when the bed dips next to you. after turning around, you find your boyfriend already jumping out of bed. "i'll get her."

"are you sure?" you ask, voice creaky after several hours of not speaking.

clement nods, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "go back to sleep," he hums, and just like that, he has waddled through the door to your nursery.

the sad truth is that your little one hasn't been progressing with her sleep as much as she should. she had a period of almost sleeping through the nights about a month ago, but then you were hit with the four-month regression. she's almost five months old now, and still, you have issues with sudden wakeups in the middle of the night. as much as you adore every second you get to spend with her, you just wish you could get one full night of sleep sometime.

you know you won't be able to fall asleep until clement is back, you never can. but it's not because you're worried; in fact, there's not a single piece of concern on your mind over it. you know that he has mastered the cradling-cooing-bouncing sequence by now. and sure enough, your daughter's cries grow lighter and lighter, until the only sound that can be heard from the monitor is the ones of soft steps and hushed whispers.

but something feels off. even when the apartment is completely silent, clement doesn't come back to bed.

it's very strange. he fell asleep once in the rocking chair in the nursery, but complained about his back aching for a week afterwards and promised that he would never put himself through that again.

the moonlight peeking through the poorly shut blinds in the nursery casts a shadow across clement's profile when you step inside. despite how dark it is, you can see every little toy on the floor and every detail of the little race car-themed mobile that dangles above the crib clearly. you're way too used to being in here at night.

clement has put your daughter back down into her crib by now, and his hands are wrapped around the railing as he leans over it, looking down at her. he doesn't react when you come closer, and he doesn't move a muscle even when you place your hand on his shoulder. it's easy to understand that something is bothering him.

"what's on your mind?"

he turns to you and lets out a tiny exhale, as if it was a struggle for him to snap himself out of his thoughts. he shakes his head. "it's nothing."

"tell me," you press, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze.

"well, i…" he squeezes his eyes shut. "i'm kind of freaking out. it's been over four months, and… i still haven't adjusted."

"honey," you start, your hand moving to the back of his neck. "where is this coming from? so suddenly?"

"i don't know," he says with a sigh. "you've seen me lately, i've barely been able to fall asleep at all."

he opens his eyes again and gazes down into the crib, eyes softening once they land on the little bundle of love resting so peacefully. he follows the way her chest rises with her breaths, her slightly pouting lips, her tiny fists that are wrapped around her blankie.

"it feels like i'm the only one who's struggling. you're such a natural, you're doing so much better with her, while i just feel… hopeless."

you don't want to interrupt him – clement doesn't often speak about his deeper feelings, so now that he's finally going, you don't wish to stop his flow – but you have to say something. "i think you're doing really well."

"you actually think so?" he asks. though his gaze doesn't move an inch, he can still see you nodding in the corner of his eye. he takes a deep breath. "i've heard people say that new fathers go through things… that it takes time, that it takes patience- and i've tried to be patient, i really have. but…"

he finally looks at you, and his heart breaks slightly at the sight of your uneasy expression, the tension in your eyebrows and your worried eyes. he hates being the one to make you feel like this.

"i just can't get rid of this constant anxiety. it feels like i'm always stressing over something. over you, over her, over everything."

you relate to every word he says. being this young, you feel like you're stumbling through darkness most of the time, not knowing what to do. it's frankly a guessing game, with mostly correct guesses mixed with some bad ones, since neither of you have any prior parenting experiences. even though he may not see it or know it, you're going through the same things as him.

no one had expected for you to get pregnant at this age, and no one – not even the two of you – had expected for you and clement to actually keep the baby. and sometimes, way more often than you'd thought before, your youth and inexperience has been catching up with you.

it's hard, but at least you have each other.

you step closer, draping your arms around his shoulders in an instant. "it's alright," you whisper into the skin of his neck, your nose filling with that scent that's just so him, and you finally relax a bit. his hands find your waist, fingers caressing your sides through the flimsy material of your nightgown. "it's okay to feel like this. i do, too. i think… all new parents must feel it." you give his neck a soft kiss. "but they all get through it, don't they? and so will we."

he stays silent for a while before he nods slowly. "it's all just so… intimidating. i don't want to mess anything up."

"and you won't." you pull away slightly to look into his eyes. "i trust you fully, and-"

you're interrupted mid-sentence, the sound of your daughter stirring in her crib taking clement's attention away from you as he glances towards her. you see his adam's apple bob as she begins to whine, her fists clenching and face scrunching up. "should- can i take her?" he asks tentatively, hands trembling slightly on your sides.

you nod not even a second later, stepping out of his embrace to give him no excuse to hold back. "go for it."

clement had bought every parenting guidebook he could find, and read every website with tips for new parents on the entire internet – and yet, nothing had prepared him for this nervousness that he's experiencing so often. he knew it wouldn't be smooth sailing all the way, but he hadn't expected to feel this uncertain in everything he does. even in the way that he picks his daughter out of her crib, he feels anxious that he's doing something wrong.

however, the second she feels her father's presence, it's far from the story that his anxiety has been making up for him. she lets out one last soft cry before, as if out of habit, nuzzling her face into his skin.

while clement has been struggling this whole time, you can't help but notice that she settles easily into his arms. like she belongs there; like she knows that he'll take care of her.

because he always does.

"see?" you say, letting a finger run along the curve of her cheek as you smile down at her. "that's not so bad, is it? you're doing so well."

considering all the difficulties he's faced, hearing these kind words of appreciation from you gives him comfort in a way that few other feelings can compare to. his gaze is still glued to your daughter, the precious little baby that is his entire world. well, half of his world – the other half is standing right next to him. "i love her, you know," he says softly. "even if she doesn't know it yet, i do. so much."

"i think she knows," you answer, watching as your boyfriend cradles her against his bare chest. he has loved the skin-on-skin contact since day one, and you're sure she does, too; her gentle babbling is always a sure sign that she's completely content. you can't hold back from smiling. "and she loves you just as much."

"sometimes i just can't believe that she's ours. that we made her." his eyes meet yours, nothing but pure love in them. "isn't it strange?"

"strange that we've done something good for once?"

he answers your tease by sticking out his tongue, nudging your shoulder with his, though gently enough to not bother the little one in his arms.

"come on, let's go back to bed," you say, leaning in to press your lips gently to the back of her head. "one night of co-sleeping can't be the entire world, can it?"

#f1 #f2 #formula 1 #formula one #formula two #formula 2 #elms #european le mans series #clement novalak #fluff #angst #x reader #x you #x yn #x y/n #imagine #scenario #fanfic #fic #romance

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3minsover · 6 months

Text

Steddie Dancing With the Stars AU (posted on twitter a little while ago)

Eddie Munson used to be in a band.

They were successful, hit the mainstream at just 19 years old, and had almost 4 years of success. But it’s been 8 years since the band fell apart, and when Eddie’s manager suggests he do something like Dancing With the Stars, he’s initially appalled. He’s a Serious Musician. He’s not about to make a fool of himself fucking about in spandex on live television. But management feed him the Exposure line; it’ll make him a household name again, remind people he exists. So he has his people say yes. Though, he’d left it late to agree to the offer, so he’s only a back up in case someone else drops out. He’ll most probably not have to even do it. Sweet. Except, a week before filming starts, someone does drop out. bumping eddie up to main cast.

Shit.

He’s paired with a guy, Steve. Has no issues with dancing with a man; they’re not the only same sex couple this season and it’s cool to see even a little progress. What he very much does have an issue with, however, is Steve Harrington. Who made no effort to hide how disappointed he was that the man Eddie’d been replacing - some ex-football player - had dropped out last minute, and how he ‘guesses Eddie’ll do.’ Steve’s pushy and demanding, and frankly a bit of a bitch. But he’s a fucking great dancer. Even Eddie can see that. they get through the first couple weeks of live shows easily enough, but it’s tough faking a smile and agreeing that, ‘Oh, i’m just so lucky to have Steve as my partner.’

The night after the third live show, when Eddie had missed a step and nearly tripped Steve, when muscles are sore and nerves are frayed, they get into it in the parking lot out back of the studio.

Eddie confronts Steve about his attitude, and Steve bites back about Eddie’s own. It takes one of the other dancers to break them apart, all up in each other’s faces as they were. They’re told to cool the fuck off, start again on Monday. Only, when monday rolls around, Steve announces their dance this week is the Argentine Tango.

Eddie’s heard of it, another couple danced it last week. lots of twisting and stepping and flicking of legs. Fucking nonsense, honestly. Steve sits Eddie down and shows him the choreo he’ll be doing, gliding over the studio floor, arms raised at the elbow, hands floating in the air in front of his chest, and Eddie finds himself itching to be clasped within those hands. He almost slaps himself at the thought. They work through the first few sequences, Eddie giving lacklustre leg-raises between Steve’s calves. after a particularly half-hearted flick, Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s biceps and jolts him, forcing Eddie to look at him. They’re chest to chest, nose to nose, heartbeats already elevated from the movement.

"You don’t get to fuck this up for me," Steve growls, eyes boring into eddie’s with a darkness he’s not seen in the month they’ve known each other.

"You think I’m doing this on purpose? I can’t do it, it looks stupid."

"It only looks stupid if you don’t try," Steve snarls in response. "Let’s keep going." He swings the pair around to their next position. And then Steve does something that has Eddie’s jaw dropping open.

Steve drops into a crouch, sliding one leg swiftly out to the side. the angle seems impossible, and it has Eddie thinking all sorts of things about how flexible Steve is. Steve’s hands have slid down Eddie’s arms and are circling his wrists, pulling on them just enough for Steve to keep his balance.

"Okay, and then you’re going to spin me round from left to right. Can you do that?" Steve asks. But Eddie’s unable to focus on the question, because all he can see is Steve, face-height with his junk, looking up at him through those long lashes.

"Uh. Can I- gimme a second." Eddie tears himself away from Steve’s grasp, rushes out of the studio and into the foyer. He’s lightheaded with lust and his cheeks are burning.

This isn’t happening. He doesn’t like Steve. He’d been secretly planning to sabotage their performance so they’d get voted off, but now. Now he’s already craving the featherlight touch of Steve’s fingertips as he repositions Eddie’s head, as he guides his hands to the correct place. He eventually returns to the rehearsal room, having splashed some cold water over his flushed face.

Steve does the move again, and Eddie spins him, staying silent but for confirmation of Steve’s instructions. And then Steve slowly raises himself up until he’s pressed back against Eddie’s chest, leaning ever so slightly to his left to look back at Eddie’s face.

"The Argentine is about desire. Want. Lust. It’s about craving. You have to look at me like you crave me," Steve almost whispers, and Eddie’s legs feel weak. Eddie swallows, blinks hard, can’t help the way his gaze dips down to trace over Steve’s plush pink lips. When he looks back up, Steve’s eyes are wide and searching. "Yeah, like that," Steve breathes, though Eddie had been making no conscious effort to look at Steve in any way other than the way Steve makes him feel.

And if Eddie realizes now that that feeling is desire, then that’s just gonna make this whole thing a fuckton more interesting.

#steddie #stranger things au #fanfic #3minsover #steve harrington x eddie munson #originally posted on twitter

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talktolwt · 10 months

Text

I would like to focus on the music chosen for Hob Gadling's 80s sequence.

I'm extremely late to the world of The Sandman (finally binged it two weeks ago after my mother had been begging me to watch it with her and now I'm more obsessed than her) Bottom line: I'm unbelievably glad I finally watched this beautiful piece of television.

I have yet to read the comics but as for the first season, I have to say, without a doubt, my favorite episode is Chapter 6: The Sound of Her Wings. Death's 20-min segment is a beauty unto itself, but I'll be focusing on Hob's segment today. Specifically, his 80s scenes.

Considering I'm so late to this fandom and exploring all of its wondrous details and themes, excuse me if this has already been noted. I've been thinking about these details over and over but I need to get it out there in the Sandman world and hear everyone else's thoughts.

*Also excuse the terrible photos - Netflix doesn't let you screenshot and I was too lazy to get another app to let me bypass it. Please bear with my photos of my laptop screen.*

There are three songs that play throughout this sequence.

#1 - "She Drives Me Crazy" by Fine Young Cannibals

I accidentally deleted half my post mid-writing this but here I go again.

As we can see, after the breakup scene, we open up on Hob Gadling (he looks amazing in his 80s look, by the way) and this song plays.

Here are the lyrics:

I mean - where do I even start LMAO.

*Let me just give another note - regardless if you ship Dreamling romantically or not, I will be merely analyzing these lyrics as they are and how they convey Hob's feelings for Dream in general. But, I mean, the songs are THERE, the text is THERE. So do with that what you will.*

This will go for the following two songs as well, but these songs are placed with meaningful intention. Each of these offer a unique lens and dive into Hob's feelings.

I won't be annoying and over-explain anything, but the lyrics are clear I feel:

"She drives me crazy" - cough

"Things you do don't seem real" - in Hob's view, Dream literally is an enigma. Hob has no idea the capacities, the limits, and even the name of this being he meets every century.

"This waiting 'round's killing me" - well.

"Everything you say is lies" - now I wouldn't say particularly lies, but Dream does keep and omit things from Hob. Understandably, Hob would find himself in a confused limbo with Dream.

Here's the kicker:

"I won't make it on my own/No one likes to be alone." - HELLO. I mean, if this isn't the core message and pinnacle of Dream and Hob's lesson to immortality.

As Death mentions earlier in the episode, around 18:10, "Most of us will be glad for the company of a friend."

I feel I could go on forever and ever about the beauty of this episode and how well The Sound of Her Wings and Men of Good Fortune intertwine. They beautifully complement each other as stories lamenting the dichotomy of life and death, and the joys of humanity.

But essentially, Death reteaches Dream how beautiful humans can truly be, and in this pivotal moment, she says this zinger of a line. The camera was initially on Death but for THIS line, it cuts to Dream.

BECAUSE - poor Dream is definitely in need a friend.

Which is then shown to the audience by the 30-min long Hob Gadling sequence that ensues, and we see Dream's aversion to needing someone, to needing a friend.

But I digress - back to the song, and that one line about not wanting to be alone.

That is such a poignant line, because as much as Dream felt alone and needed company, so does Hob? An immortal, constantly seeing the death of others around him, his companions and family long gone, he needs someone.

Considering this 80s sequence ruminates so heavily on post-breakup feelings, Hob is missing Dream dearly. His constant in life.

I'm rambling too much, onto the next one!

#2 - "Shattered Dreams" by Johnny Hates Jazz

Time skip to perhaps a few hours later, who knows. We see Hob still waiting for Dream, alone in the pub.

Hm.

Literally what else could I say. I'm being slapped in the face with pining and angst and longing.

Here are the lyrics:

Some noteworthy lyrics:

"So much for your promises/They died the day you let me go" - this breakup man

"Caught up in a web of lies" - another lie motif

"I thought it was you/Who would stand by my side" - the theme of Dream and Hob being constants in each other's lives

"Shattered dreams" - I could scream. The title of the song. SHATTERED. DREAMS. giggling rn.

"Woke up to reality" - I think that's a very interesting line toeing between the constant references of the Waking and the Dreaming

Basically, I've been noting these evident similarities within the songs to align themselves to Dream and Hob's situation, and it's clear that the director/writers chose these songs with intent of it paralleling Dreamling.

So that makes it even more insane when lines like "From this empty heart" are meant to parallel Hob. Like.

Okay, last song.

#3 - "Keep On Moving" by Soul II Soul

This song plays as the night progresses. It's late, it's clear Dream isn't showing up, and Hob is feeling pretty final about that, and perhaps he's accepted it at this point. Dream isn't coming.

So this is where he speaks to the bartender and that scene ensues.

Here are the lyrics:

The themes of time and clocks are super prevalent within this song, and again it's once more clear how heavily this reflects and represents Hob.

Noteworthy lyrics:

"Why do people choose to live their lives this way?" - I think this also uniquely touches on the general aspect of humanity and one's reason to live/love life. Dream battles with his confusion/slight disappointment for humanity at the beginning, as he asks Death, "Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?" And then Hob helps Dream realize why there's so much to live for. (24:30)

"I know the time will come today/The time will come one day"

"Walking alone in my own way" - Again this idea of walking alone and needing company.

"You'll be in my life, my life always" - Dream and Hob being constants again.

This all goes to say - Hob cares. He cares for Dream.

And I just think that's very beautiful. The magnitude with which Dream's absence means to him and how much their friendship/companionship both means to each of them. I just think their connection is a beautiful thing that I love seeing and rewatching. Wonderfully, these songs give the audience even more layered insight into this connection.

This was super long, and I apologize if I went on some tangents. But I also just couldn't help it, The Sandman is so incredibly rich in its storytelling and its connections and dynamics that I had to write this all down. I also just very much appreciate the amount of care and detail that goes into every aspect of television, and needle drops such as these three songs are no exception.

Thank you for sticking with me through this! Can't wait for season 2!

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piglinmyfeet · 3 months

Note

YES please pretty please talk about your historical life series au

So, the setting is roughly late 1900s to early 1910s. Pre-war era England. London to be specific, though I am looking for a specific year to set this in (partly for the sake of character design)

The au contains all members of the life series, but some don't have set roles yet and I'm open to input on those, as well as ideas for characters who already have roles

The central characters are Joel and Scar (and to an extent, Grian), though the story is more from Joel's perspective overall.

Joel is an artist, as a reference to his empires s1. He was raised by his aunt and uncle in Yorkshire, along with his cousin but moved to London at a young age to pursue his career in art.

Scar is an American nouveau riche car manufacturer (a reference to hermitcraft S8) who recently moved to England and is a new patron of Joel's art.

Ren is Scar's old money neighbour who has a suspiciously familiar manservant. Spoiler but Ren is also the legitimate brother of Joel.

Martyn was the second son of an Earl and highly respected officer in the British army, however he died recently. Another spoiler, he faked his death and is disguised as Ren's manservant.

Grian is another neighbour of Scar's, though his family's wealth goes back much less far. Grian grew up with Martyn and Ren but has a deep hatred for the two of them and is determined to find something to ruin their reputation, such as an illegitimate sibling or the truth about a suspicious death.

Gem is an officer in the British army who replaced Martyn after his death. She has been disguised as a man since joining the army and is widely disrespected due to her age, despite how strict she is with the troops, rivalling many other officers.

Etho is an older army officer and the only person who knows Gem's status as he was the one who helped her make her way into the army.

Cleo is Martyns so called widow, making her a dowager. Don't ask why there was so much alcohol at her husbands funeral, a woman may cope however she pleases.

Scott is Cleo's new fiancé after the death of Martyn. He is a bankrupt noble due to a series of bad investments at the hand of his older brother and has agreed to marrying a wealthy dowager (Cleo)

Lizzie is Joel's ex-fiance who went missing a few years ago. Yet another spoiler, she got heavily involved in the suffragette movement (theyre the violent ones, the suffragists were the more peaceful ones) and is on the run from the law and under Cleos protection.

The two with less fleshed out roles at the moment are Jimmy, Joel's cousin he was raised with in Yorkshire, and Mumbo, a mechanic who works for Scar, so they need to be further developed

Then there's Pearl, Impulse, Bdubs, Skizz, BigB are Tango who I honestly have no clue where to fit them in here so please give me ideas 🥺👉👈 i literally love using that sequence of emojis its so silly

Places I took inspiration from for this are: A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder (Musical), The Unexpected Heiress (Visual Novel) and The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue (Book Series)

The last one is set in a completely different time period (1700s), however I took inspiration from it's mystery aspects (this also only applies to the first two books in the series) (it also has no relation to GGLAM, ignore their similar names, and the fact both have main characters who go by Monty)

(By the way, don't expect perfect historical accuracy, this is not the time period I've studied the most extensively. The one I have studied is not really suitable for Minecraft fanfiction, however I am still a history lover.)

#my very own post #traffic historical au #smallishbeans #goodtimeswithscar #rendog #inthelittlewood #grian #geminitay #ethoslab #zombiecleo #smajor1995 #ldshadowlady #asks #ggttaob

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sporesgalaxy · 1 year

Text

Gee. You know. Looking at this? I am not eved making a comic this long. I've just kept slowly adding to this thing and it's too big to do anything with now. So. Uh.

3 part final version of my TOHsona dream sequences I guess? cw for violence and unreality

Part 1: (the pitchfork dream I posted a draft of a while back)

There is an old myth on the Boiling Isles that Humans, because they cannot cast spells, lack a heart.

This myth predates the discovery of the bile sac. In ancient times, it was understood only that the heart was the source of a witch’s magic.

This is the origin of the modern superstition that witches with round ears are heartless in the metaphorical sense.

[12 YEARS BEFORE THE DAY OF UNITY]

Philip watches as Caleb walks away from him, towards the figure of a witch silouhetted against an obscuring light, her hand outstretched.

Philip cannot move a muscle. He grips the rock he's crouching behind and his wooden mask so tightly that his knuckes are white.

Caleb reaches the witch, and discards his pitchfork. The loud clatter makes Philip twitch, but he remains frozen. He wills himself to stand, to shout, to do something, anything, but it's useless. His body simply refuses to listen.

The witch puts an arm around Caleb so gently that Philip wants to be sick. They enter the light slowly, agonizingly. Philip watches as their forms blur around the edges more and more, until at last the final hint of their shadow vanishes, and the door slams behind them.

Philip leaps to his feet, knowing he is too late. He jumps over the rock anyways, running full speed towards the door.

P: CALEB--!

Abruptly the door swings open again, and a new figure rushes out of the light, toward Philip, causing him to stop short and almost fall over from momentum. She leans back through the doorway to say one last thing--

S: --no thank you! Sorry!

-- then closes the door hurriedly and backs away from it nervously. Philip finds himself at a complete loss for how to react. This girl is not the witch who took Caleb, she's too short-- closer to Philip's height-- and her hair is too long. She shows no trace of the demonic pointed ears, either, but one can never be too cautious.

From behind the door, Philip hears the muffled voices of a few more young girls:

?: What's her problem?

?: You're missing out, scardey cat~!

?: She wouldn't've been much help, but it would've been fun...

?: C'mon guys, lets pick a doll!

[giggling]

The girl sighs, staring forlornly at the door as the voices fade away.

P: [now weilding Caleb's pitchfork] Who are you?!

S: [jumps violently] Agh! Uh--!

She rubs her face and sniffles. Her cheek seems shinier, but it's not quite how tear streaks should look--

S: I'm Signey-- Sorry! I thought this was...my room...?

She looks around, only now registering that she is in a cave.

P: Well, you don't belong here! Begone!

P: A-and bring my brother back! Or...or else!

He thrusts the pitchfork toward her threateningly, with much more confidence than he feels. She lifts her open palms in front of her to mime surrender, and leans away from him for good measure, back pressed against the door.

S: I didn't see any boys on my way here! I just came down the hall!

She points unhelpfully at the door.

P: I don't care!! Get out!!!

She reaches for the doorknob as if to heed him, but then pauses and stares nervously at it, chewing her lip.

S: Uh...can I stay here for just a minute, actually...?

Shw turns toward him a little, but doesn't make eye contact. She is wringing her hands.

S: I just...don't want to be in there during the conjuring spell...

P: Spell?! [gasps] Caleb!

Frantic, Philip runs toward the door, and fhe stranger has the good sense to swiftly step out of his way. His hand hesitates over the doorknob for just a moment. He takes a deep breath, barely manages to steel his resolve, and throws open the door.

On the other side is a hallway, apparently inside of a house. He hears girls giggling around the corner and runs toward the sound

He's met by a circle of witches that look a little bit older and are dressed even more strangely than the girl he just spoke to. Candles are arranged throughout the room, and tbeir wicks burn an unnatural green color, casting everything in an eerie, flickering light.

P: [wielding pitchfork at them again] Where is Caleb?!

The witches look at him with confusion, disdain, and annoyance.

??: Uh.

??: What the hell?

?: Get out of here! No one invited you!

??: Cool witches only.

P: [voice shaking] Just-- just tell me where my brother is and I won't hurt you!!!

??: Oh my Titan.

??: We don't know who you're talking about, weirdo!

??: Seriously!

Signey shuffles timidly around the corner behind Philip.

S: Uh...Sorry. He's confused, I think...Sorry...

?: Whatever. Just get him away from us.

Signey walks toward Philip, lifting a hand as if to touch his arm, but stopping short.

S: Hey, come on--

He stumbles backwards a couple of steps, twisting to face her.

P: Get away from me!! I can't allow these witches commune with the Devil, or-- or whatever it is they're doing!

S: [raising her voice to match his] Can't you just leave them alone?

S: You're ruining the conjuring! [she steps toward him]

[Philips shakey grip on the pitchfork tightens]

P: What is wrong with you?! That's clearly dark sorcery!!

??: Ugh, shut UP.

?: It's not a big deal. It doesn't even count as Wild Magic. Everyone knows that.

S: Yeah! It...it doesn't count. Just let them do whatever they want!

??: Yeah!

P: But...You don't really think that!!

S: !

P: Just a minute ago, I saw how scared you were! You must be able to tell this is evil!

S: No! I-I just...I'm nervous, 'cause...!

[The other witches are all staring at her silently. Signey cannot meet their eyes]

S: I just am! I'm a baby, okay?! It's me, not them!

P: How can you defend them?! They took Caleb! They're evil!

S: SHUT UP!!!!

[Philip is shocked into silence]

S: NO ONE CARES!!!!

S: No one cares about your stupid brother!!!! He's not even here!!!

S: No one wants YOU here, either!!!

S: So GET OUT!!!!

As the witches shout in agreement, Signey suddenly lunges for his arm-- he elbows her away. She reaches for the pitchfork instead, managing to grab the handle. She tugs on it hard, and nearly wrenches it out of his hands. He needs to act fast, or he's going to be defenseless. In a moment of desperation, Philip twists the pitchfork out of her grip and swings the sharp end towards Signey, succumbing to the childish impulse to squeeze his eyes shut. He feels the pitchfork catch.

The room falls dead silent. The light seems to change. Signey, who had flinched reflexively, looks down to see the prongs of the pitchfork sticking into her chest.

Philip stares, frozen with shock. The direction he'd swung in and the place she was standing should have made this impossible.

Signey is not moving, barely even breathing. The two children stay stone still for a moment that seems to stretch on for ages.

Then, the witches behind them start laughing.

Philip whips his head around to look at them. They are shrouded in shadow, their facial features becoming unclear and their grins seeming to stretch to uncanny extremes in the dim light. They take turns jeering between fits of giggles.

??: Wowww!

??: Seriously?

??: Don't just stand there!

?: Suck it up!

??: Use a spell!

Philip's skin crawls.

P: Stop laughing!! This isn't a joke!

Laughter roars again.

?: Yeah it is!

Pointing a shadowy finger toward the pitchfork’s prongs, a witch with long, dark hair continues, barely stifling her own laughter,

?: Look! There’s nothing in there!

When Philip looks again, he realizes it’s true. It’s as though he’s poked through the shirt of a scarecrow. The fabric puckers inward, but there’s no indication of flesh or blood underneath.

Despite everything, the unnatural sight gives Philip a rush of vindictive courage.

P: She’s a witch, like all of you! It’s sorcery!

His comment renews their laughter a bit too well. The lead witch says, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world,

?: Yeah right! She can’t even handle a moonlight conjuring!

Signey is trying desperately to speak, but her jaw will not move far enough, and her vocal chords refuse to cooperate. She can't even will herself to look up. She is helpless. Still, Signey hears the wide smile in her sister’s voice as she continues:

?: Don't you get it?

?: You’re both human!

Philip's blood runs cold.

?: And he still hates your guts.

The witch erupts into hysterical giggles. Philip’s eyes reflexively snap to Signey, and he regrets it. Her wide-eyed, desperate terror reflects his own too closely.

Philip steps backwards in a futile attempt to separate himself from what he’s done. The fire encircling them, dancing with derisive glee, prevents him from getting very far. When did the flames get so tall? Philip feels the bloodied knife slip out of his weak grip.

Signey's skin prickles. It's forming scales that dry out and catch on her hair. She presses a forearm against her stab wound, which is feeling strangely cold. Her breaths are shallow.

With no one around to impress, the things Signey said come crashing down on her. Of course he hates her.

She wants to let herself collapse. She wants to cry. She wants to apologize. She can't form the words. She wonders how it feels to burn to death. She wonders if his poor brother will be okay.

Philip's blood feels like ice. He can’t doubt himself now, not after he’s come this far. Not when there is still so much to do. His opponent is only a silouhette against the flames, curling in on itself pathetically. He can't indulge the pity or the grief. It's too late for that, now. “You’re not human,” he mutters desperately instead, shaking his head, “Not anymore.” The figure staggers, struggling to hold itself upright. His dread and panic, allowed a tiny foothold, now refuse to release him; Philip feels himself teetering on the edge of sickening, unbearable uncertainty.

Eager to drag him deeper into terror are the hundreds of grating, childlike voices that swiftly flood his mind. They bury all coherent thought under a shrill cacaphony of accusation and animal distress. Philip feels his muscles slithering painfully beneath his skin, spasming more violently when he reflexively tenses them, only ceasing after they’re stretched taut by aching, malformed bones. He shifts his weight, fighting the burden of his own greusome anatomy.

A round, golden mask snaps loudly beneath his heel, and he lurches backward, into an unseen abyss.

Too shocked to control the transformation, with nothing to support his weight, Philip falls backward--

In two very different places on the Boiling Isles, Signey Shale and Emperor Belos jolt awake from a nightmare.

#tohsona #toh

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 6 months

Text

Phantom

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Nothing that's not Canon. But just in case, mentions of torture

Author’s Note: Its a day early but I dont care. A little bit more of torture. But I keep writing and adding more. 😅 I promise action and more next chapter. Characters might be a little out of character (Tony mostly) because I was having issues writing. My muse has been a fickle bitch lately. As a reminder, please be sure to follow @xxwritemeastoryxxlibrary and turn on notifications so you never miss a fic!

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

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Every detail about her time as Phantom was sitting in his hand. Her trigger words, the torment and conditioning she had been subjected to, along with notes from her handlers about her missions would be within the pages of the journal. The one thing that kept her from ever falling into the wrong hands without a fight and he now had it.

She trusted him with the very detailed past she tried so hard to keep hidden from him. Trusted him with the very thing that could be used against her time and time again if allowed. He had it in his hand and he wanted nothing more than to watch it burn.

"FRIDAY, pull up any footage that may have caught a glimpse of Y/N."

Tony’s voice had caused Bucky to put everything back into its place before almost slamming the top back onto the box earning looks from the others. He simply shrugged his shoulders before bringing the box to his side. The vibranium keeping the box in a tight hold.

Unfortunately the only footage found was time stamped two days before her capture. A projected video came up from Tony’s watch. A tourist couple had been recording the vendors area.

Bucky had moved closer to look at the video footage as it began to play. They could hear the loud environment as the video began to pan over the vendors. People were chatting away and you could hear some laughter in the background.

Different vendors panned within seconds before a particular stand came into view. While the person behind the camera had been focused only on the goods each vendor had, they had unknowingly caught Y/N on camera.

Bucky watched as she spoke with a vendor. Watched as she would occasionally take in her surroundings, keeping watch of what could be lurking. A moment later the vendor pointed to something up and off screen. Y/N nodded her head a moment later before handing over cash. It wasn't long after that the person filming had moved past that particular stand and filmed the next vendor.

"This is how they found her. " Natasha noted.

"Why didn't we get notified about this clip?" Bucky asked.

With the recent missions, the data changed the sequence of importance in regards to Y/N. FRIDAY began. It earned a glare from Bucky. The more the team has cleaned up Hydra, the less information there is on her. Facial recognition scans have not been successful until now.

"Why don't we take this back to the quinjet?" Natasha offered. She could see the look of frustration and anger growing on Bucky. Her head nodded towards the shop owner who was leaning on the countertop listening with curiosity.

Bucky shook his head slightly before he turned and walked out of the shop. The sound of the door swinging open and slamming shut had caused the bells to rattle loudly causing the shop owner to flinch as it did.

"You know how this argument is going to happen, right?" Natasha asked as she watched Bucky through the window.

A long sigh came from Tony. "Yeah. If she was anyone else, she shouldn't have dropped lower on the priority list. I dropped the ball."

Bucky’s pace back to the quinjet had been quick. Each step he had taken seemed to cause the people around him to open a path for him to pass. He was sure that his stance was probably intimidating but at the moment he was trying to calm the internal storm that was brewing. And endless cycle of questions playing through his head.

How could she drop on the priority list?

How could FRIDAY not alert there was a video of her?

Would she be in Hydra’s hold now if I had known sooner?

Would I have made it in time to prevent it?

He didn't even notice the others coming towards him after looking through the apartments. He hadn't heard when Steve yelled out his name to get his attention several times. Nor did he notice the medium size box that Wanda held in her arms.

_____

The lies have finally caught up to me. I thought I burned and buried it deep enough. The hurt on Bucky’s face was proof that it hadn't been deep enough. I deserved every reaction he gave tonight before giving me the slightest moment of having a real birthday. I didn't deserve his kindness. If I'm being honest I should be locked away in a cell somewhere. Not currently sitting under an overpass for the night.

I can't stop seeing the look on his face and it kills me. I hurt him and I betrayed him in a way that there's no going back from.

Bucky knew he needed a moment to cool off. That up until recently everyone believed that Y/N was keeping to herself and doing a damn good job of it. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to argue with Stark about it all. But in reality, the blame game wouldn't do any of them any good.

Once he was on the quinjet alone, he found himself pulling out her journal and flipping through the pages. Part of him yelled that he shouldn't go through it. But the other part had wanted to believe there was something in there she'd leave for him to find.

His attention caught her birthday entry. As much as he tried to forget how things happened that night, they've haunted him since. Reading that entry however, hadn't brought him any kind of comfort.

I hope that one day he can forgive me. But I know there's a chance he never will. Life sure does have a way of coming back around and biting you in the ass. I should have done things differently. I should have… It's pointless to think about all the things I could have done. I've made my bed. The least I can do is lie uncomfortably in it.

"Bucky?" Wanda's voice was soft, pulling his attention from the journal. When Bucky looked up, he found Wanda standing there with a box in her arms. She had a small sympathetic smile on her face. "We found the apartment she used."

Quickly closing the journal, he set it on top of the box beside him before standing. "Anything?"

"Nothing that would help us to figure out where they might have gone." She said with a slight tilt of her head. "But I've found things she left behind. I thought you would want to go through them instead of leaving them there."

As she held the box out, Bucky gently took it from her. "Thank you for grabbing it." He turned and placed the box next to the other.

Wanda watched as he had done so. "Can I tell you something?" She asked a moment later.

Bucky’s eyebrow raised slightly as he turned to face her, but he nodded. "Sure."

"It isn't my intention to make you feel guilt or fear in any way with what I'm about to say." She watched as Bucky almost steeled himself for the inevitable. "While I have never attempted to see into your mind for respect for your privacy, there was a time I saw into hers for a moment. She did not fear many things. Not with the history she had. But she feared for you." She watched as Bucky’s face fell. "I did not understand why until recently." She paused for a moment as she heard the others begin to board the quinjet. "Her greatest fear was losing you by her own doing. I do not know if that fear was centered around what has already happened or if it was rooted deeper than keeping her past from you."

Bucky could only nod his head as he tried to process the information she had given him. He could now understand why that had been her fear. He understood the possibility of what she could possibly do in the process. Not only to him, but to others and the emotional torment that came with it.

"Did you know?" He asked curiously. If Wanda had seen into her mind, she must have seen something that gave Y/N away.

"Not until her party." Wanda responded. "Probably after you had learned the truth. Her mind had been completely open after you returned to the party." She sighed softly. "She was saying goodbye while we sang to her."

Flashes of memories played through his mind at her words. The fake smile that was plastered on his face as anger and betrayal laid just beneath it. The way Y/N had a smile on her face as their friends had begun to sing to her.

But he had missed the shift in her eyes that had been clear to Wanda. He had missed the moment Y/N had said her goodbyes through facial expressions. He had been too busy being angry with her.

Tony cleared his throat getting their attention. The others had been standing off not too far. When Bucky looked towards him, Tony had been rubbing the back of his neck.

"I adjusted protocols with FRIDAY. Y/N has been prioritized as unchanging number one." He began. "I've also adjusted it so that any and all new information comes directly to you to ensure nothing is missed. If I had known she had fallen on the priority list, I would have fixed it immediately. We all want her back and she would have been back sooner if-”

Incoming call from Colonel Rhodes. High priority for the team.

Tony shook his head and mumbled about interrupting him before instructing the AI to put him on speaker. “For someone who was such in rush to leave us earlier, this call sounds like you miss us.” He shrugged slightly. “Or checking in like some overprotective parent.”

"Ha ha, very funny. If I hadn't left, we'd all be in the dark about this. I have some information that might be of interest for that trip you're on." His voice came over the speaker.

"Spill." Tony said as he looked over at the others.

"A convoy with heavy duty machinery was ambushed leaving Germany early this morning."

"That doesn't sound like anything of use." Natasha noted.

"It was an inside job." That caused Bucky’s eyebrow to raise as he listened to the call. "It was decided less than 12 hours ago to move the convoy. No one could plan this elaborate of an ambush given that time frame. The information they had, they knew more than they should have."

"Anything on the team?" Steve asked.

"That's the thing that's got a lot of people scratching their heads on all fronts." The group looked at each other as if hearing those words had sparked something within them. "Ten soldiers were assigned. When the files were pulled for investigation only nine were found. Both physical and digital copies disappeared. When asked about the tenth soldier, they could only say that she was hand selected for her skills. Any piece of footage they have has been scrubbed without so much as a glimpse of her. Whoever she is, she's pretty damn good at being invisible."

"Any survivors?" Tony asked.

"Two fatalities. The others are going to make it out alive. The other mystery is why those two and not the others."

Bucky’s heart dropped as he processed the information. Three weeks had been too long for her. In that time they had manipulated her mind into being the asset she once was and tossed her back into the fire.

"They saw her face." He said a moment later. It caused all eyes to turn towards him. He sighed as he looked back at them. "No loose ends. Everything else can't prove she was there. You leave someone alive that knows who you are and the game is over."

"That makes sense." Natasha said with a shrug. "Can't describe someone you didn't see."

"If it was anyone else who said it, I'd be worried." Rhodes responded. "Now I hate to ask, but how sure are we that this wasn't done willingly?"

"She fought her way out before being captured." Bucky added. "None of this was willing. Everything she's left for us shows she wouldn't go down without a fight."

“Did she happen to leave any idea where they'd be heading next?" Rhodes asked.

"I doubt it." Bucky said with a sigh. "I haven't had a chance to go digging through what she left behind."

"That's if she even had a chance to leave anything behind." Sam noted. "By the looks of things she barely had enough time to leave what she did."

"If she did leave any indication, Hydra found it while searching her apartment." Steve added. It caused Bucky’s eyes to shoot over to Steve. "With the way the place was ransacked, they might have found what they were looking for. "

Keep it safe. Keep it hidden.

Bucky had almost mentioned they hadn't found what they were looking for. He had the very thing they were wanting and they couldn't find it. He should have mentioned it. He should have told them about the journal, but he couldn't bring himself to.

He trusted the people currently standing in the room with him and would gladly watch their backs at any given time. He would put his life on the line for a majority of them without a second thought. But the fear of having that journal fall into the wrong hands stopped him from saying anything about it.

"Just means we're gonna have to do a wide search while digging deep." He said instead. "We know they're out there and they're using her. With the proper channels, we should be able to find something to get a lead before she's used for anything more drastic."

"You mean more than killing people?" Rhodes' voice filled the air.

"Given how Hydra used her in the past," Natasha began before Bucky could. "A few deaths are better than her being used to bring down governments in Hydra’s favor. So yeah, let's get her back before we find ourselves either preventing or fighting a war we couldn't prevent.”

____

Six Months Later

The main conference room walls had been covered in papers taped to the walls. Each paper corresponds to a recent event that involved Hydra in some way. Each grouping of papers laid out the details of another ambush at Hydra’s hands. Each one taking either a piece of equipment or technology.

Even with all the information displayed on the walls, the Avengers had no idea what Hydra was attempting to assemble. FRIDAY couldn't pinpoint any variations of possible weapons. Nor could the AI predict where they could possibly hit next.

However, over the last several months they had been able to uncover several new hideaways that Hydra had been using. Each of them had helped to supply information towards the grand scheme of things. But with each thorough sweep, there were never any signs of Y/N.

With every Hydra captive they interrogated, none of them had physically laid eyes on Phantom. They all gave the same answer in different words but none of them could give locations. Phantom was only accessible through her handler.

Her handler that they all refused to give up any details about. The captives either went silent and refused to say anything else, or they purposely gave false information to throw off the Avengers. And when they came up empty handed from those false leads, it was Bucky that paid them a visit.

Bucky practically moved into the conference room. A pillow and blankets found a new home on the couch by the back wall. Only leaving when the missions deemed it necessary.

As he stood by the conference table going over the new files from their recent raid, Bucky’s mind occasionally went back to Y/N's journal. He had read it cover to cover several times and the small passages that surprisingly made him smile had played on a loop when he felt he needed it.

This is a little slice of heaven. I found myself actually enjoying a beach day. Last week, I walked past an antique shop that had a globe sitting in view of the window. I couldn't resist and I found myself spinning it. I was reminded how much we talked about doing something like picking a place on a spinning globe and just going there. It's how I ended up in Italy. It's peace. A calm that I haven't felt in months.

He could easily picture her sitting with her toes in the sand as she watched the waves. How he wished he would have been able to see her that day. But then there were entries that stuck in his mind for other reasons.

Out of all the things I've seen and believed in, you'd think I wouldn't be skeptical about psychics. But here I am sitting in the corner booth of a sketchy bar and this woman said she needed to speak with me. That the thoughts troubling me wouldn't last forever. And then she asked for his name. A name that I haven't physically spoken in over a year. Before I could even muster up a fake name to give her, she knew his name. Knew without me even saying anything. She told me he'd come around. That one day he was going to find me and save me from the internal torment that I'm facing. For a brief moment there was hope that sparked within me that maybe one day it would happen. Maybe one day Bucky will let me apologize a million times over. I hope that he can forgive me. But the reality is, after almost a year later, I don't think he will.

With each entry he read Bucky wondered what would have happened if he hadn't waited so long to go looking for her. Would they be put on a mission together like they used to by now? Or would they be on that vacation he talked about taking with her at one point.

Each page of her writing gave him a reason to kick himself in the ass for waiting so long. But in truth, he hadn't been ready to forgive her. The day he realized how much he missed her, she hadn't been to a safe house for six months. The day he forgave her was the day he started looking in vacant apartments when they completed missions.

And now as he stared at the papers in front of him, he knew that no matter how many what if situations he played in his mind, they wouldn't fix anything. The what ifs weren't going to get her back from Hydra. They weren't going to free her from the hold the black journal held over her.

At first Bucky kept the journal hidden. He didn't dare to open it and read any of the contents the pages held. He hadn't even thought about it until one night his nightmare got the best of him. One where Y/N couldn't be stopped from almost killing her friends.

Bucky searched through the pages for one command and one command only. While he hoped it would never come down to it, he felt a little better knowing he could stop her from doing something she’d never recover from.

A sigh passed his lips at the same time Steve walked into the room.

“That bad?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

Bucky shook his head. “No. I just…” He stopped for a moment as he looked at the file before him. “I thought by now we would have found her.”

“We're not going to stop until we do.” Steve noted as he looked at the current spread of papers on the table. “Anything from Mexico?”

A recent mission to a Hydra base just north of Mexico City provided them with more information than they had gotten in months. Bucky was attempting to sift through it all to see if anything could point them in the next direction.

“Same as the others so far.” Bucky shook his head. “Intel for everything else but for her.”

“The guys below haven't given up her handler either.” Steve added. More captives from the base, none of which wanted to speak about the handler. "Nat is giving it a go."

“Whoever it is, they're staying in the dark. They know the blind spots and use it to their advantage.” It was frustrating to Bucky. Frustrating to the team that a good lead would leave them empty handed.

Bucky picked up a CCTV still from the file he had been going through. The stills were deemed priority by FRIDAY for one reason or another. And as Bucky scanned the image attempting to find the reason, his eye caught the top corner of it.

“What is it?” Steve asked as he caught the way Bucky’s brows began to furrow as he looked at the image.

“FRIDAY?” Bucky called out to the AI. “Do we have the full clip from camera 5 that was flagged?” A moment later a projected image appeared from the middle of the table.

Playing now.

Both Bucky and Steve watched the clip. The camera angle had captured a side room and a hallway. A hallway that Bucky had recognized as he walked through it during the mission. The room in view was empty when he walked into it.

But as the camera panned the area, equipment could be seen in the room. The sight of it caused his heart to pick up in pace as flashes of memories played in front of him. His fist clenched around the photo in his hand as he tried to push the memories away. He shook his head slightly as he watched soldiers begin making their way down the hallway.

Several of them were struggling as they walked. Some were knocked down before quickly getting back up. A moment later, Y/N came into view, attempting to fight her way out of their hold. In view of the camera they watched as she threw punches and kicks. At one point she got a few of them off of her before a soldier came and tased her, sending her to the ground.

Steve's eyes shot to Bucky. He knew what was about to happen given what he was watching. Bucky’s eyes had been fixed on the projection. Steve could see the anger growing within his body language as well as tears well up in his eyes.

“FRIDAY turn-”

“No.” Bucky said never taking his eyes off the video.

It made Steve glad there was no audio attached to this clip. That there was no way for Bucky to hear the torment he was watching on the screen. He wouldn't be able to hear the way she started screaming the moment she was strapped in.

“Buck,” Steve said the moment he watched a tear fall on Bucky’s cheek. He tried to get his attention away from the screen.

“If her handler is in this video, I have to-”

“FRIDAY, run facial recognition through the whole clip and shut this off.” It was Tony's voice that filled the air. Bucky turned towards him the moment FRIDAY shut off the video, shaking his head and ready to protest. “Natasha can be quite persuasive in her interrogations." He walked further into the room. "We were able to piece together what they're trying to make. And in the process, we learned what two things they'll be going for next and where they'll more than likely be hit.”

“Where?” Bucky asked. The anger he felt didn't evaporate entirely. If anything it was fueling the need to get things rolling. He knew she was going to be the main player and that was his chance to get her back.

Tony sighed as he looked over at Steve for a moment before looking back at Bucky. “That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Y/N won't be at either of them.”

“Why wouldn't she be?” Bucky asked with a raised brow.

“Unless this is another false lead, which doesn't seem likely, given how Natasha obtained the information, but "Phantom" has a new mission she's been tasked with.” When Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, Tony continued. “It's us.”

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evelili · 7 months

Note

I know it’s been ages since I sent one of these, I’ve been busy and I’m still busy so I don’t have time to read the full chapter BUT!! Here’s some of my thoughts and favorite lines from the beginning of this chapter. The Final Trial.

I really love how you write the memory sequences in this story. They all flow really well and don’t feel redundant!! The reveal of these memories twilight has hidden of Luna are so good!! God!! Her devastation when she realized she had forgotten someone as important as Celestia’s SISTER her AUNT is AMAZING!!

her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her legs bare below the knees of a ridiculous pink-and-purple skort that she’d have been mortified to wear past puberty—eight or nine, then, she decided. It’s probably summertime, too.

God this mental image is so cute!! I had to google what skorts are but yeah they definitely fit Twilight and her character, especially as a kid!!

Twilight waited for her younger self to voice the familiar retort she thought she’d known her entire life—magic isn’t real; magic doesn’t exist; magic is fictional and fantastical and lies. But instead of a rational dismissal she heard her voice ask something completely wrong instead:

“You’re really going to show me how?”

And Twilight didn’t hear anything else after that.

DAMNNN this sequence is so good!! The way twilights world is just DESTROYED by this is fantastic!!

“Well, I wanted to check in on the two of you.” The door swung further open, and suddenly Twilight was face-to-face with the Celestia of her childhood—younger by nearly a decade and yet still recognizable in almost every way. She hadn’t ever thought time had changed her mentor much, but the contrast between present and past was far more blatant when not viewed as a gradual shift. No laugh lines. No grey hairs. No ice in her eyes.

Just a Celestia whose very presence made Someone bristle in response.

This description of her is DEVASTATING. She’s both somehow unhappier and so much happier with Luna in her life. The way you write her is stunning and I’m loving the conflict between her wanting Luna to focus on the future and Luna who is focused on enjoying the present. It’s a very cool conflict and I love how you’re handling it!! Them both caring more about twilights emotions than each other’s is heartbreaking

It did—to both the Twilight of the present and the past. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I get it.”

Fuck this line is FANTASTIC. The understanding twilight finds in her memories of Luna are fantastic and I’m very curious on how this will impact how she handles Nightmare going forward. Unfortunately I can’t read anymore tonight, but I love it so far!!

STOP THE CLOCK. I FORGOT THIS BANGER LINE: “You believe in magic, Twilight,” she said gently. “And so long as you do, that’s belief enough for me.” The way you write Luna and how much she and celestia both love twilight is DEVASTATING

(combined ur two asks together) WAHHHH thank u so much for the asks!!! and no worries abt taking ur time w the story, u only get to read once for the first time after all!

this chapter is definitely Up There in terms of how happy i am with how it turned out, im rlly glad u liking it so far! i dont know how much i can say without spoiling things, but a reminder to read on fimfic to get the Full Experience (epub missing images my nemesis), a rather important section will b missing otherwise!!

i think to me a big aspect of luna and celestia's relationship in the show that kinda got glossed over was that celestia may not have realized how her actions affected luna until too late. and, it's kind of the "road to hell with good intentions" thing, bc i dont think celestia is the bad guy (at least in tte) for believing that the best way to help someone is plan, prepare, try to think ahead and look forward, etc. but, this kind of mindset can clash with someone who, at that moment, finds the prospect of thinking about the future so impossible. writing from life helped a lot in this regard :)

also, completely unrelated but also related, have a meme :D and thanks again for reading!

#tte #mlp fanfic #my art #twilight sparkle #scitwi #celestia #princess celestia #luna #princess luna #my brain has so much serotonin rn skitty u dont understand #i appreciate u so much!!!

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frankiesmileshow · 7 months

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Crystal Project Review

Ive been having a lot of fun with Crystal Project, a well made FF5-inspired RPG. The combat is very tightly designed and the exploration aspect is top notch. The art style put me off a bit at first, but I think it grew on me over time.

The game does a great job of slowly uncovering its breadth and letting you break its sequence through curious exploring. Lots of fun to search every part of its gigantic map for secrets. This is a game that loves hiding secrets within secrets within secrets. You might even occasionally stumble into a late game area, and exploring carefully could lead to finding items meant for the end of the game, giving your party a significant early game boost.

Exploring will often lead to surprise optional boss battles that are completely out of your league - but dying has few consequences in the game (you just lose a bit of money) and dying from bosses has no consequences at all, so you rarely feel truly punished for having explored too far, and its always worth it to have a peek at a boss battle.

Don't expect too much of a story. There is one, but it keeps a very light touch, this is mainly a game about exploring and fighting monsters. It does have characters and some personality, but dont expect something dense story wise.

It manages to avoid feeling like an open world game - it feels more like a linear game that just lets you break out of the confines of its intended path if you explore enough. It strikes a very good balance between having direction and having freedom. The world map just keeps expanding as you play, leading to many little shocks about the games' scope, a feeling you might be familiar with if you played Elden Ring.

The games combat uses a very well balanced, strategic system. Battles give you a lot of information to let you choose your actions carefully - you can see any enemies' next action in advance, and you even know who the enemy will attack next (notice the dotted lines in the screenshot above). Manipulating the enemies' current target is actually one of the fundamentals of the game- enemies choose their next target based on a "Threat" system which is entirely open to you as you fight, and many classes have abilities to help you manipulate this. Some class abilities also depend on the current threat state of a character - for instance, the rogues' many powerful skills only work if they are considered an enemy's bottom threat, and will otherwise always miss, which requires careful actions on your part.

The class system will be familiar if you played Final Fantasy 5 - you obtain new classes by exploring the world and finding large crystals, each unlocking a new one. The classes set a characters' stat growth on level-up, equippable items, main abilities and all have a unique "Innate passive" which are usually quite powerful (for instance, the base Cleric class receives a significant boost to all healing spells).

You can also add the abilities of a secondary class to your characters' moveset- like adding a clerics' healing spells to your Samurai. There is a lot of fun to be had mixing one class's abilities with anothers' passive boost - for instance, one class has an ability which makes the first action this character makes in a battle always target All enemies or All allies, allowing you to either massively boost your whole party or nuke the enemy party with a powerful spell usually meant for a single foe.

There are also passive abilities you can unlock from any class and assign regardless of a characters' current class, limited by a point cost system. These can range from a boost to max HP, to adding a poison effect to any weapon attacks, to allowing your character to equip a shield regardless of their class.

You can get very creative with the games' class system, there are countless ways to mix and match character abilities and classes to figure out some powerful strategy. The endgame has several challenges that might require you to make custom party setups just for them, turning the combat system into something resembling a kind of puzzle - though one with many possible solutions.

Boss battles have a way of feeling like a desperate struggle of improvising as your strategy falls apart - then winning by the skin of your teeth. This happens a lot. At least half of the boss battles for me ended with most of my party dead, and being one or two turns away from a full wipe-out.

I think the only real misstep is the games' analogue to chocobo breeding, introduced at the very end of the game. It feels tedious, I gave up on it after an hour of wasting my money on food for the creatures and not getting anywhere. Luckily it seems to be completely optional.

All in all I recommend it to anyone who likes FF5 and who likes RPGs that have a focus on exploring. Visually it might look a bit basic, but underneath that is an extremely robust game.

#game development #rpg #indie rpg #crystal project #final fantasy #final fantasy v #game review #video games

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muma-kitty · 7 days

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alright, since some of you seem to agree with my thoughts, i think i'll elaborate a bit

sweeney todd's autism diagnosis

this might be a bit lengthy so ill spare you the scroll if youre not interested.

stiff movements (this isnt really a dancer's role)

lack of expression, tends to look either sad or angry most of the time. could just be the trauma tho

weird stilted way of speaking (hearn specific)

generally quiet and reserved outside of emotional outbursts (again, trauma)

strong sense of justice - "at the top of the hole sit the privileged few making mock of the vermin in the lower zoo"

entirely fixated on razors when reacquiring them, completely oblivious to mrs lovett talking about her massive crush on him

doesnt know what to do with his hands when not holding anything - "at last, my arm is complete again!"

[shaving contest /w pirelli and aftermath]

doesnt bother with any flash or flair, gets straight to work and gets the job done

becomes agitated and paces when expecting the beadle to arrive at his barber shop but doesnt know when (gotta have a schedule)

[epiphany]

if this isnt a textbook meltdown idk what is

mood swings (man goes through every stage of grief twice in the span of 3 minutes)

lashing out - "alright! you sir! how about a shave?"

mrs lovett trying to calm him down just upsets him even more

[a little priest]

doesnt understand what mrs lovett's hints at at first

asks what unfamiliar food is before trying it, as if hes hesitant to try new things

definitely an odd sense of humor

wordplay. so much wordplay.

more tactile stimming, this time with suspenders (hearn)

[god thats good]

upset because the package he was told would arrive by 5:45 is 15 minutes late (his SCHEDULE is RUINED)

once the chair arrives, becomes agitated when he cant get mrs lovett to stay and watch him open it (PLEASE let me share my interests!!!!)

once again calling for lovett's attention, this time to set up a system of communication. he just really wants to make sure she isnt missing his cues

[by the sea]

several minutes of sweeney being completely absorbed in his own thoughts while giving half-assed responses to at least pretend like he heard any of that nonsense

[wigmaker sequence]

time to infodump

possible echolalia? - "the madhouse? the madhouse!"

[finale]

upset that he now has to go find toby when hes expecting the judge to arrive soon (the schedule!)

doesnt seem to be aware of how threatening he sounds while calling for the kid

after killing the judge, suddenly remembers he was supposed to catch toby and runs out only to realize he didnt grab his razor (only has enough working memory for one task at a time)

im sure there are other details i missed, especially since everyone's performance is different, so feel free to add on

#sweeney todd #character interpretation #idk why m so invested in this #but cringe is dead and im having fun so fuck it we ball

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the-boney-rolls · 27 days

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The Great Covid Beatles Binge, Day 2: Give My Regards to Broad Street

Hoo boy, here we go!

OK so we open with a stern/bored looking Paul stuck in traffic in the rain and it looks like he's spacing out... hey, Paul, are you starting to daydream? Paul? Is this whole movie about to be a dream, Paul? Oh god

This silly little car! The computer, the carpet, the pool ball gear shift. It's giving the 80's car version of the Beatles house in Help! It's also giving hyper-masculine in a way that is, I'm sorry, not convincing.

This plot is already deeply inscrutable. Something about some missing tapes, a reformed criminal that Paul knows somehow and trusts for some reason, and some ominous business men. Something bad will happen at midnight if the tapes aren't found. OK!

Ringo looks so cool and hot! That vest over that sick as hell dragon shirt. Yes. This scene is genuinely funny, too -- Ringo spends the entirety of "Here, There and Everywhere" and "Yesterday" searching through his mountains of drum equipment looking for brushes, only to find them too late. Apparently, the reason for this scene is that Ringo just didn't want to re-record old Beatles songs!

And now we have Paul, Ringo, George Martin and Geoff Emerick all together in a scene! Makes me think about how George Harrison apparently was a little miffed Paul didn't just call him to ask for filmmaking advice since it was something he had experience with. What could have been!

“Wanderlust” is such a great song, actually, damn.

“I’m not a bad boy, really. I’m just — er, manipulated” John??

Now this is more like it! Surprise Linda in drag, hell yes!

I don't know why this scene is happening? It's a rehearsal for... something? But I'll take it. I love "Ballroom Dancing" and I love vaudeville Paul.

I'm starting to feel like Paul's grandpa in AHDN, "so far, I've been in a train and a room, and a car and a room, and a room and a room." Did Paul's experience on that set define what a movie is to him? "Ah yes, a movie must include lots of transportation from one location to another and then some musical scenes." But dear, it worked because there were jokes! And all four of you to play off each other.

I.......... what

This is Silly Love Songs, of all things!

Again, I don't know why this scene is happening in the context of the movie. Is it another rehearsal for something? A music video? Television special? Who knows, Yoko! But OK here we go, I sure am having fun! Linda is extremely into it. That slap bass kills. There's a Michael Jackson impersonator for some reason? Sure! It makes no sense but I love this man and his bizarre beautiful mind.

So now we're doing band rehearsal in some kind of barn? Or abandoned warehouse? Or something? All of the plot of this movie seems to happen in dialog in cars en route to some ambiguous musical engagement.

“Do you think we can get some heat in here or are we practicing to be Canadians?” God bless you, Ringo.

“Should we try Not Such a Bad Boy” “Do we have to?” “Yeah” Bossy Paul bosses around a Beatle, we love to see it.

Is this song about him or John?

The French horn player coming in late to record "For No One," inexplicably in a bright red motorcycle helmet, so late that he’s preparing up until right before the solo starts. Reminds me of that story of Ringo recording Hey Jude. But it also feels very symbolic of something. There are so many odd inscrutable details in this movie, it could almost be Lynchian in someone else's hands.

“We’re running, and running out of time too” It feels meaningful but I don't know how.

Hello Mr. Darcy! Wow, can I have an entire movie that’s just this Victorian dream sequence? Can we go back in time and do a Beatles movie period piece, please??

The strings in this which are inspired by but are not quite "Eleanor Rigby" are lovely. Apparently this whole sequence is called "Eleanor's Dream," which implies that Paul is Eleanor. Make of that what you will, I suppose.

I like that Linda is a pants-wearing photographer in this period scene. Linda's gotta Linda.

This strikes me as very Evil Beatles. Again, make of that what you will.

Barbara and Linda are acting the HELL out of this going over the waterfall scene damn.

I don't know, I could screen grab this entire segment, it's amazing, it's insane.

But I can't gloss over Paul being horny for Ghost Horse Girl Linda. Incredible.

"That’s it you’re finished. What are you gonna do now?" Well ok at least this one is pretty obviously a reference to the critical reception of his career after the Beatles and again after John.

"Uncle Jim" Ok so I guess this is supposed to be his dad, but what is the point of this scene? And why the monkey? The further I get into this film the more I feel like I am looking deep into this man's psyche but through the murkiest of windows. I'm here for the weird dream symbolism, Paul, but if you're gonna go that route, again go full Lynch and get even weirder.

Just the straight up original recording of "Band on the Run" feels out of place with all these re-records. I wonder why that choice.

His car license plate is "PM 1" That's right, baby, you're number 1.

Another little cute but inconsequential day dream (presumably within the dream that is this entire movie). He looks like Roy Orbison here.

Oh ok Harry was just locked in a cupboard this whole time. So the whole "plot" was pointless. Cool cool cool.

Paul and Harry being giddy and laughing together is cute though, and it makes me wish that that relationship was fleshed out more. Who are they to each other, exactly??

Yup it was all a dream. Love it, love that for us. Thanks, Paul.

OK so this was definitely barely a movie. There could have been something here, but I'll go back to what I said above -- I wish he'd gone weirder with the whole thing! And I wish Paul himself had been weirder. The character Paul is kind of a dud, just plodding along from place to place and only coming alive when he performs. It's like that Hawaiian shirt is supposed to be a stand in for characterization. But worth it for the music video scenes and for getting a tiny glimpse into Paul's psyche.

#give my regards to broad street #paul mccartney #the beatles #linda mccartney #ringo starr

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