#I was planning on binding my own copy but we will have to see I think

[axelsagewrites]

Robb Stark*Marriage Night

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader

Summary: after your arranged marriage ceremony you and your new husband finally have alone time for the first time.

TW: innuendos ig but not smut (yet?)

Word count: 1439

Masterlist Here

Of course, you had thought Robb was handsome. Plus, from what everyone had told you the Stark boy was nothing but honest and kind. He had done everything correctly leading up to your wedding. Still, you couldn't help the small pit in your stomach as you stood in the godswood with a Maester binding your hands. 

It was hardly uncommon from families such as yours and Robb Starks to set up arranged marriages but for some reason you thought you would at least get to have a conversation alone with the boy before the day. It had to be done though. For the good of your house. You prayed that he was as kind as people had said as he swore his vows. Soon people were clapping and the boy you had not been allowed alone with an hour ago was giving you a swift kiss before turning to your families. 

Despite sitting besides, each other at the feast you barely spoke. You both tried but all you knew about each other was what people had told you. She's pretty. He's handsome. She likes music. He's good with a sword. It wasn't much to go off. 

At least in the hall you could distract yourself with your friends and he with his. But then it was time to go to your chambers and leave them all behind. The Starks were very firmly against a bedding ceremony which you thanked the gods for, but your ladies still led you to your chambers and undressed you down to your nightdress to wait for him in these unfamiliar chambers. 

They had obviously brought a few feminine touches in for you such as a table with perfumes and ointments and hairbrushes and combs. Courtesy of Lady Stark you assumed. She had been so kind this whole time. As you waited for Robb to arrive you figured this was your bed as much as his now and sat down as your ladies tried to give you tips that made your head swim.

A knock came from the door and soon Robb Stark entered, and your ladies quickly curtsied and left. Robb closed the door behind them however hovered a moment before turning to you. 

Robb began to shed some of his own layers before sitting opposite you on the bed in his undershirt and trousers. The silence was beginning to become too much and finally you decided to break it.

"So," you said as you began to pick at your dress. It was only one word, but it was something. 

"So," he copied, "did you enjoy the day my wife,"

It felt weird to hear the words slip of his tongue, but you nodded "Our mothers planned a beautiful day," Robb nodded but you decided for the sake of your sanity you had to force yourself to speak before the silence drove you into madness "I only wish we had got to speak privately before the ceremony."

Robb gave a sheepish smile "I did ask my mother, but she told me it was better not too."

"So did mine," you confessed "So if not for this wedding what would you be doing today?"

"Well, I would have been practising my sword technique with Jon. Maybe teaching Bran a thing or two. Then it would be a family dinner then bed I suppose. I'm sorry I'm not more interesting" Robb confessed, and you couldn't help but smile.

"More interesting than me,"

This time Robb smiled and finally began to meet your gaze "What would you be doing right now if I was not here?"

"Now? Well, I'd be getting ready for bed most likely," you laughed and he blushed "Me and my friend would take turn brushing each other’s hair while either reading each other a book or talking about our days. I'm going to miss doing it if I'm honest,"

"Why will you have to miss it?"

"She has her own wedding to attend in a month's time, so she'll be returning home to prepare. I'm not even sure when I'll see her again" as you spoke you felt the truth of the words sinking in. This was your new life in Winterfell. Alone. With a husband you don’t even know.

A silence fell back over the room as you contemplated your new reality. Robb cleared his throat and your head snapped up from your thought, "I could do it for you,"

"Do what?"

Again his cheeks began to flush as he tried to clarify "Brush your hair. I can’t replace your friends but I could brush it for you if you like. Only if you want me to of course,” he said.

A smile grazed the corner of your lips, “That’d be nice. If you want too of course,”

“I don’t mind,” Robb said returning your smile. He got up and walked to the vanity his mother had prepared for you. His hands hovered over the brushes trying to find which one was right, “This one?” he finally held up shockingly the right one and you nodded. Robb walked back over to the bed and asked “So how do you usually…?” he trailed off.

You began to shuffle down the bed so Robb could sit behind you, “Well usually we would take turns. She would sit behind me and brush mine then we would switch,”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about taking turns anymore,” he laughed as he settled in behind you. Finally, you felt at ease enough to slouch and sit comfortably, “But if you ever wanted someone’s hair to brush im sure my sister would be delighted,” he said as he gently began to pull your hair from over your shoulders behind your back.

“Im assuming you don’t mean Arya,” you chuckled.

“No defiantly not her. Sansa loves you. All she’s spoke about is this wedding,” Robb began to brush your hair as he spoke, gently running it through your hair which luckily had not tangled too much from the wedding.

As he began to brush the conversation began to flow. He started off telling you all about his sisters then his brothers and the rest of his family before asking about yours. After family the talks began to shift to other friends and other stories.

“If I wasn’t such a gentlemen I’d tell you about the time me, Theon, and Jon pranked Maester Lewin in the godswood,” Robb laughed.

“No fair,” His laugh was infection and spread to you, “I told you about what me and Jane did to our septa. Now it’s my turn to hear your juicy stories. I am your wife after all,”

“And am I not supposed to be a gentleman to my wife?” he countered.

“In some ways yes. And in others no,”

“When am I not supposed to be a gentleman?”

“Well I can think of one place but its not very ladylike to discuss what happens in a couples chambers,” you said and Robb laughed without blush, “And when it comes to secrets I want none. No matter how ungentlemanlike they are. I don’t want to be a fool in my marriage,”

“I will never treat you like a fool,” Robb put the brush down and you turned to face him, “That I promise you,”

“So tell me your secrets,” you said with a sly smile as you leaned in.

“Any secret?” Robb leaned in to match.

“Start with the most recent one,”

“I don’t know if I kept it a very good secret,” he chuckled, “but I would very much like to kiss you right now,”

“I am your wife after all. We’ve already kissed before,” you said as you watched his eyes dart to your lips.

“I don’t want to kiss you like that,” he whispered.

“Why don’t you show me how you would like to kiss me then husband,” you whispered back and Robb finally closed the gap. His lips finally collided with yours. They were soft but his kiss was strong. His hand raised to cup your cheek and you found yours beginning to tangle with his hair. His free hand suddenly pulled you closer by your waist till you were pressed up against him but he kept his hand on your waist, holding you firmly.

Your lungs screamed for air, but you ignored them as long as you could till you had to pull back for air. Robb’s lips followed yours, trying to capture them again but you held him back by his air as you tried to steady your breath, “We should do that more often,”

“That we should dear wife,”

#robb stark #robb stark imagine #robb stark fluff #game of thrones fluff #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #got #got imagine #robb got #robb stark x reader

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] A Deal in Three Acts: Act II

Title: A Deal in Three Acts Summary: Weeks since Raphael took temporary residence at Sharess’ Caress, Haarlep is bored. Still waiting for Tav to take him up on his offer, Raphael is frustrated. Tav chooses an interesting evening to show up with a counter-offer. Characters: Raphael, Haarlep, Tav. Rating: Explicit Status: Complete

Act I here Also on AO3

*** Sometimes nice simple plans fall apart, but they can be salvaged with an incubus on your side. I think. ***

When Tav had left Elfsong Tavern to head for Sharess’ Caress, she had a plan. 

A nice, simple plan, as Astarion had called it after they’d spent hours going through every detail of their counter-offer to avoid every possible pitfall. Two centuries since he’d last donned a magistrate’s robes, he still had plenty of insight to give when it came to binding contracts.

“I think I would have hated dealing with magistrate Ancunín,” Tav had muttered. Sitting on the tavern’s terraced roof to bask in the rays of the dying sun, a leg dangling off into the air, Astarion had laughed. He laughed a lot more lately, and it was good to see. In the days after they’d cut down Cazador Szarr, he’d seemed to emptied out that everyone at camp had worried. Now, finally, it seemed to have truly hit him - that the monster who’d taken everything from him was gone, and could never hurt him again.

Tav hoped to feel like that, too, and soon.

“Oh, most people hated dealing with this menace,” Astarion had said, gesturing to himself. “And our friend Raphael will be none too pleased by our counter-offer, I bet, but you must not yield an inch. He’s desperate for that crown, and while we have a backup plan, he does not. Our little, shall we say, requests are just trivial matters to the bearer of the Crown of Karsus. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain by accepting.”

“I suppose the clause binding him to limit his rule to the Nine Hells of Baator may be the main stumbling block.”

“Ah, but he already said he’d do that, didn’t he? He cannot refuse to put it on paper without admitting he lied. Of course, we’ll need the entire contract in a language we understand . And a copy for ourselves. I really can’t believe so many people keep doing that. Signing contracts in some language they don’t know, without even their own copy. Wyll was incredibly lucky we found a way to break his contract and save his father.”

“Not everyone’s a magistrate, magistrate.”

“That’s bloody common sense, darling. Now, let’s go over this again, just to make sure you didn’t forget anything…”

They did, and she hadn’t. Tav left the tavern before the last rays of sun disappeared beyond buildings, taking care to speak with no one else. She knew all too well that most of her companions would disapprove, to say the least - Karlach and Gale most of all. But this was for their sake, too. 

If everything went as planned, if she could get Raphael to accept the counter-offer, they would both be free of the ticking time bombs in their chests. And of course, Tav would get a shot at seeing an Archdevil die. 

The Hells were the Hells; it did not matter to her what devil ruled supreme over it all. She’d gladly hand Raphael the crown and all her own magic on top of it, if it meant she could see Zariel dead and broken, a charred husk among ruins like… like…

“I’m not going to give you a lecture about revenge, because you deserve it as I deserved mine,” was the last thing Astarion had told her before she left. “But they’re dead and you’re alive. Take the blood you’re owed, but keep your life.”

“Is that a very long-winded way to tell me to be careful?”

“I say it a lot better than you do, my friend. If you’re not back by morning, I’ll come looking. You can be certain I will. But I’ll be cursing you the entire way there and back.”

Tav, who’d planned to be back long before morning, had nodded. A simple goal, a simple plan. Nothing was going to throw her off course; she told herself as much while going up the stairs, opening the door, and stepping in the room. 

Then-- well, for all her grim determination, the sight had sort of thrown her off. You can never be completely sure of what you’ll see when walking in on a devil, but Tav had no trouble admitting that ‘Raphael fucking himself in the most literal sense possible’ was not among the possible scenarios she’d thought up. She hadn’t meant to make noise, either, but she had and all things considered, it had been a blessing in disguise. 

Had the incubus not helpfully introduced themself to her, she might have assumed that the Bhaal cult’s shapeshifters were taking an entirely new approach since Orin’s demise, and she might have attacked. Needless to say, it would have made the situation quite awkward.

Well. More awkward.

“Why don’t you join us, little mouse? Get up close and discuss to your heart’s content. I won’t interrupt. I’ll just be doing my thing.”

“Haarlep--” Raphael tried to speak, his voice strained in a way Tav had never heard it, and even that attempt broke up into a groan when the incubus thrust upwards. It was, pun intended, one hell of a sight: Raphael’s naked body on the lap of an incubus who looked almost exactly like his cambion form, his thighs spread open and chest heaving with ragged breaths. 

And Tav she knew a chance when she saw it. She couldn’t have dreamed up an occasion like that, with Raphael that vulnerable, barely coherent . Plus, no matter what Astarion said - she was very much not made of wood. When she met his eyes, clouded with lust as they were, her next words came out in a husky murmur. “May I, Raphael?”

A wordless groan, all his eloquence gone, but it was the only answer she needed. His chest shuddered under her touch and oh, he was feverishly warm, skin glossy with sweat. Beneath her palm, his heart thumped wildly. Tav leaned in, and pressed her lips against his throat. She felt him swallow, and smiled. Her own breathing came a little faster, too. “Tell me what you want.”

“The crown--” he tried, only for an especially clever twist of Haarlep’s hips and to turn the words in a whine. The incubus caught Tav’s eye over his shoulder, and grinned. If they knew what she was trying to do, one thing was clear: they had no intention to stop her.

Good.

Tav pulled back, and tilted Raphael’s chin up. She ran her thumb across his lips, her other hand trailing down his chest, down his stomach, coming to rest on a trembling thigh. “Yes,” she said. “It would look good on you. I want to give you that crown. So you can see all the devils of Baator bowing to you - that’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“I--” he groaned, dropping his head back against Haarlep’s shoulder at a well-timed tilt of their hips. His hands clenched on sheets. “Yes,” he breathed. There was something else to his shaky voice, a need, a hunger that could never be sated. It sent a shiver down Tav’s spine, more heat pooling in her loins. It was getting really, really warm in that armor. 

“You want to see them kneel, don’t you?” she whispered, and finally took his cock in her hand, her touch light, to trace a vein with a nail. “You want to see everyone kneel.”

Raphael’s hips shuddered, and he couldn’t bite back a cry. “Yes,” he managed, and Haarlep laughed. 

“Oh, this one,” they said, grinding up into Raphael. “I like her.”

Somehow, Raphael managed a scoff. “You like-- everyone, you insatiable--”

“That’s patently untrue, my pet. I don’t like you, for one.”

The response made Raphael scowl, and wrinkle his nose. He wrinkled his nose a lot when annoyed and it made it somewhat difficult to take him seriously, power of the Hells and all. Tav smiled, and leaned in, almost close enough to kiss him. She did not have Yurgir’s keen sense of smell, but there it was, just like he’d said - the scent of cherries and musk beneath the lingering sulfur. Her voice had always been a little too rough to sound truly sweet, but she did her best to soften it. “Do you want me to kneel for you, Raphael?”

He didn’t answer, not with words: he tried to lean forward instead, to catch her lips with his, to grab her and pull her closer. Tav was fast enough to pull back, though, and the incubus’ hands grasped Raphael’s wrists, snake-quick. Haarlep laughed at the frustrated noise that got out of him, and thrust upwards into him sharply, biting into his shoulder in the same motion.

“Behave, little brat,” they purred against his ear. “She asked you a question, it’s only polite to answer. With words. Do you want her to kneel for you?”

If Tav could bottle the moan that left Raphael then, and sell it, she’d be able to buy the Gate and everyone in it ten times over. Maybe there was a way to do that, really, but working it out would have to wait. Right now, she had a more urgent matter to take care of.

Well, two urgent matters. There was the contract, too. She probably shouldn’t forget that.

“What did you say, pet? I couldn’t hear a yes or a no.” The incubus grinned, delighted, and bit into his shoulder again. Raphael cried out, wordless, but he managed a nod and Tav supposed she could go with that. She placed a kiss on his shoulder, just below the bite mark, and knelt between his trembling thighs. Up close, she noticed the ring at the base of his cock for the first time. She tilted her head, running a finger down the length. 

Well, look at that. He wasn’t getting to come anytime soon with that thing on. 

“Believe me, you’d have missed all the fun if I hadn’t put that on,” Haarlep almost sing-sang, and let go of one of Raphael’s wrists to grab his face, forcing him to look down. Tav lifted her gaze to see his eyes on her, his lips parted and face flushed, Haarlep’s claws pressing mercilessly into his cheeks. The incubus in question smiled over his shoulder. 

“Do you know what he sees when he looks at you? He’ll never tell you, but he told me. I can make him tell me everything,” they cooed, and silenced Raphael’s attempt at a protest with two fingers in his mouth, pressing down his tongue. Raphael made an indignant noise, but his body remained flush against Haarlep’s chest, his eyes still fixed on Tav, wide and dark and hungry. “Can you guess?”

Great, so this was a guessing game now. Tav raised an eyebrow. “A rodent of small size?” she ventured.  The incubus’ smile widened.

“His kingdom, that’s what he sees. He looks at you, and he sees his crowning glory.”

Well, fuck. That sure did something to the pit of her stomach and a little below that too. Gods was it hot in there. “Ah,” Tav said, and her voice cracked just a touch, but she managed to catch herself. She had to keep some measure of control if she was to negotiate, because Raphael’s helpless state would do her no good if her brain also turned to mush. So she steadied herself, and locked eyes with him. 

She was beginning to feel decidedly overdressed, and her own face was burning, but she held his gaze as she took hold of his cock and leaned in to press her lips on the side of the shaft in a soft kiss. Raphael keened around Haarlep’s fingers, hips shuddering and back arching. The incubus laughed, and thrust up again - hard - to tear another cry from his throat. 

“Ah, now we’re talking. You’re so much more fun than usual, my little brat,” they said, soft, almost affectionate. They snuck their free arm around Raphael to pull him back against their chest, pinching a nipple. “But oh, aren’t we terrible hosts. I should have told you to make yourself at home, little mouse. Feel free to slip out of that armor. It looks so uncomfortable.” A pause, a tilt of their head. “And unflattering, if I may.”

Tav allowed one more kiss on the inside of Raphael's thigh and stood, just a little unsteady. She began undoing the clasps with a huff. “The point of an armor isn’t to be flattering,” she muttered, letting the parts drop on the floor and trying not to look in Raphael’s direction just yet. “It’s to keep pointy things from skewering you.”

“Oh, then you should definitely take it off now.”

“... Guess I walked into that one.” 

The last of Tav’s underclothes were dropped on the floor, and only then did she look back at Haarlep and Raphael. The incubus had pulled their fingers out of Raphael’s mouth and was smiling, eyes running over her body. Not a lot there for them to see, to be entirely honest; she’d always been about as shapely as a wooden board. 

On one of the last nights they’d spent together, Misza had joked that she had curves enough for them both, and pretended to smother her against her breast. They had laughed like idiots, and that was when Tav had decided she should put a ring on it, before someone else snatched her up. And she’d been snatched all right, but down, down into the Hells along with the entire city and--

A lump threatened to form in her throat and Tav forced it away, pushing memories of better times in the back of her mind, where dead things lingered amidst the ruins of Elturel. Dead, charred things. Her mother and father and all her little siblings, and the woman she’d wanted to propose to once she returned from her time in the countryside, where she had gone to learn how to better control her wild magic. 

But she’d returned to find a crater where Elturel once was; while the city re-emerged from the Hells in the end, many of its inhabitants didn’t live to see the sky again. She had buried the only body she could recognize, her youngest brother with his owlbear plush toy still in his arms. Then the ring meant for Misza had been sold for passage to Baldur’s Gate and she’d left, long before the surviving citizens cast out all remaining tieflings among them.

“Are you well, little mouse?” Haarlep’s voice snapped her out of it, and they spoke slower, their gaze more focused, a hint of a frown across their features. 

Tav met their gaze, and smiled. She had plenty of reasons to smile. They were all gone, but she was still around and so was Zariel, who’d had the city dragged into Avernus. Zariel, who would never surrender her throne without a fight. Zariel, whose days as archdevil would be numbered if Raphael got his way - and he would, as long as she could secure a few clauses. She’d happily be the key to Raphael’s future kingdom, then. 

After all, he was her key to Zariel’s bloody demise. It was a fair exchange. He just didn’t need to know that. 

“Just admiring the sights,” she said, and looked back at the devil she was getting to know a damn lot better than before. Raphael had shut his eyes, brow furrowed and breathing fast, clearly trying to regain some semblance of control. And that, she knew, would not do. The less in control he was, the more chances she had to turn the negotiations her way. 

So she pushed aside hesitation, strode to the bed, and tilted up Raphael’s face. He blinked his eyes open, as though startled by the touch, and swallowed. “The crown,” he breathed, and Tav smiled. Her other hand went down to her folds, two fingers slipping in and coming out slick and glistening. She pressed them to Raphael’s mouth and he parted his lips to let them in, eyes falling shut with a shiver. His tongue felt too warm, too, and Tav licked her lips. 

“Yes,” she rasped, pushing him against Haarlep’s chest. The incubus leaned back, arms braced on the mattress behind them, and Raphael could only tilt back against them, groaning at the shift of the cock inside him. Tav straddled him, letting his erection barely brush against her labia, just enough to let him feel how warm she was, and how wet. His breath hitched, eyes fluttering open, and she smiled again. “Let’s talk about the crown I’m going to place on your head. I’d like to see you with that on. Just the crown.” 

A hand through his hair, the press of lips against his own, and Raphel’s hands gripped her sides hard enough to bruise, pulling her flush against him, chest to chest. She blinked, taken aback, but then she felt him part his lips to let her tongue in and ah, may as well. She kissed him, more roughly and a good deal more enthusiastically than she had originally planned. 

“I think he likes us,” she recalled Astarion saying, and she recalled her reply just as well.

"I like him too, but I'd never say it to his smarmy face."

Well. She was not saying anything of the sort, and he didn’t look all that smarmy anymore, so her point still stood. She heard, dimly, Haarlep’s throaty chuckle. 

“This one’s eager, pet. Didn’t even need my saliva to help along.”

There was something that sounded very much like a growl deep in Raphael’s chest, and he pulled away from Tav’s mouth to turn and snap at Haarlep to be quiet. Or try to, because it took the incubus only a jolt of their hips for his words to turn into a moan.

“You be quiet, little brat. You’re no one’s master tonight, remember?” they whispered against his ear, and smiled at Tav over his shoulder. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, by the way. I’m always telling Raphael he should introduce me to his friends more often. Alas, he expressly forbade me to play with you. Never seen him get this jealous.”

“That’s not--” Raphael gasped, and Haarlep silenced him with a few swift thrusts. Still straddling Raphael, Tav grasped his shoulders to avoid being thrown off; his cock rubbed against her folds, only for a moment, but it tore a gasp from her and a moan from Raphael. He dropped his forehead against Tav’s shoulder, gasping, and Tav cupped the back of his head without thinking, stroked down the back of his neck before she finally, finally , allowed herself to sink down on him. 

“Oh…” A sigh, and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to savor the feeling, the stretch. She was wet and he slid in so easily, so deep. Was it supposed to feel that warm? Was it a devil thing? Did it matter? Probably not; it felt good either way. Against her skin, Raphael let out an incoherent noise and grasped her again, pulling her close.

Don’t worry, I’m going nowhere, she almost said, but what left her mouth was quite different.

“This is going to be quite a tale,” she groaned, her voice rough, and rocked her hips. “That I bedded the archdevil supreme. No one’s going to believe me.”

A shudder, and there was no telling what had caused it - the heat of her around him, her movements, or her words. Either way, he pulled back enough to look at her. There it was, in the midst of pleasure - that hungry look again. “You shall give me the crown,” he rasped, and Tav smiled.

“I want to give you the crown just as much as you want to put an end to the Grand Design. But like you, I have conditions.” A kiss, deep, a slow tilt of her hips. Haarlep moved again beneath them, inside Raphael, and somehow it was easy to match their movements, find the right rhythm. Raphael’s breaths came in shuddering gasps, but he did not call for either of them to stop. “So I have come with a counteroffer.”

A scoff. “There is no counteroffer to be-- made,” he groaned through clenched teeth. 

A smile, a kiss. “You forget,” Tav whispered against his lips, rocking slowly, “that I have a backup plan, and you do not.”

“Trusting-- ah-- an Illithid is no plan. It’s sheer-- ngh-- idiocy.”

“Ah, but I thrive on idiocy. Idiocy got me this far.” She stilled, clenched around him, and muffled the noise that got out of him with another kiss. “It might just carry me a little further. If the Emperor can help us destroy the Netherbrain, with or without Orpheus - and you know he can - then we’ll have no reason to give you the crown. Why risk it all without hearing me out?” A light bite on his lower lip. “You’ll find my requests more than reasonable.”

Raphael scowled, but he tilted back his head against Haarlep’s shoulder, and closed his eyes. When she leaned in to nip at his throat, she felt him swallow. “... What are your requests?” he finally groaned.

Well, this is it. Best to start small.

“There are two requests that you can satisfy with little more than a snap of your fingers, I’m sure. Two of my companions carry their doom in their chests. I know that with the Crown of Karsus, you can remove the orb from Gale quite readily - and without harming him. And someone capable of creating the Orphic Hammer surely knows how to fix an infernal engine so it can work on this plane without killing its bearer.”

A low, breathy chuckle. “Of course. These will be trivial matters to me.”

“So is that something you’d be willing to add to the contract?”

“Consider it done. Will that-- ah-- ” Raphael trailed off for a moment, trembling, before he caught his voice again. “Will that be all?”

“Not quite. I want to make it clear that no soul but mine will be involved.” She ground against him, hard, and grasped his chin to make sure he’d look at her. His eyes opened, wide and dark, to meet hers. “The crown for the hammer, and for your help for Gale and Karlach, with my soul - mine alone - as the collateral if I fail to deliver the crown. If I deliver it to you, as I intend to, my soul will remain my own.”

Tav watched Raphael’s brow furrow, watched him think it over with as much difficulty one can experience while being fucked by an incubus and a woman at the same time, and finally watched him jerk his head in a nod. “Yes, that is-- ah-- reasonable,” he panted. His hands ran down her back, down her sides, and stopped on her thighs. “Will that-- be all?”

“Not quite.” A kiss, rough. “Another collateral seems fair. You said you’ll limit your rule to the Nine Hells of Baator.”

“And I shall,” Raphael replied, trying to bite her lip, but she was too quick to pull back. She smiled, brushing a hand down his chest, down his stomach, almost to the point where their bodies joined. Her fingers brushed against his shaft, causing him to shudder.

“I want that in writing, binding you to relinquish the crown’s ownership to Mystra if you break the clause.” 

As she had very much expected, Raphael stilled beneath her. He glowered, anger crossing his features even through the daze of pleasure. “No,” he all but growled, and seemed about to add something - but Haarlep rocked into him harder than before, Tav clenched around him, and his voice broke into a groan. Haarlep winked at her; it cost Tav some effort not to openly smile back.

If she succeeded in her mission, she would probably owe the incubus a favor. Oh well. Something could be worked out, surely. 

“No?” she repeated, all fake innocence. She cupped Raphael’s cheek, looking at him in the eye. Her thumb brushed over his lips. “But you have already pledged to keep to the Hells. Putting that in writing should be no trouble at all. Why would it be?”

Because he’d had no intention whatsoever to be true to that pledge, was the obvious answer, but it wasn’t something he could admit without showing his hand. She knew it, he knew it, and he was livid about it. 

… Not livid enough to push her off him, however. She took note of that while waiting for a response. She watched him clench his jaw, then make an effort to smooth his expression. 

“It rather hurts,” he rasped, voice so low, “to see my word doesn’t carry enough weight for you.”

Tav couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “No one’s word does.” She leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose. “ Verba volant, scripta manent. You of all people would know what that means. You’d be a poor devil indeed, not to take advantage of the lack of a written clause. I’d be disappointed if you didn’t at least try, and you have never disappointed so far.”

He still scowled, but when she pulled back he reached to grasp her head, to pull her mouth back on his. It was a rough, devouring kiss - the first such initiative from his part - and she yielded to it immediately. She sighed into his mouth, wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her hips again, pressing him down on Haarlep with her meager weight. She swallowed his groan, and shuddered when he bit into her lower lip - not hard enough to draw blood but oh, almost. For a few moments all she could hear was his panting breath, her own thumping heart, and the slick noises they made as she rocked against him again. 

And then, finally, a groan. “... Very well,” he rasped. “It will be clearly stated in the contract--”

“Which will be written in common tongue,” she cut him off. “For me to ready before I sign. With a copy for me to keep.”

This time, she felt the frustrated growl in his chest more than she heard it. His hands, which had been going down her spine, stilled. “Infernal contracts,” he bit out, obviously short on breath, “are meant to be written in Infernal. It’s very much in the name, little mouse.”

Tav leaned her cheek on his shoulder, and bit at his earlobe. “A certified translation, then, with witnesses,” she panted. He felt hot to the touch and so did she, unbearably so, skin slick with sweat. Still she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. Cherries and musk, yes, and despite the lingering sulfur it was sweet, sweet, intoxicating. Pressure was building up, white-hot. She had to bite her lower lip not to moan. “A-- and a clause that makes the contract null and void-- if the translation differs in any way,” she managed. 

Another groan, part frustration and part arousal, as he shuddered beneath her. “This is-- not the norm, with any contract--”

“But this isn’t any contract, Raphael.” She pulled back, despite the tight grasp around her, to press a kiss against his lips. “This is the one that will make you the archdevil supreme of all Baator.”

“I’ve extended-- more than enough grace--”

“I only want guarantees for what you already promised.” Tav cut him off, and smiled against his lips before pulling away, arching her back. To her satisfaction, Raphael had to bite his lips to silence a moan. She placed both hands on his chest, and rocked her hips. She was close - Gods, was she close - and he was still hard within her, so warm, unable to finish. 

“Contracts can be changed, if both parties agree,” she managed through ragged breaths. “The ruler of all Hells may yet convince me to revise it.” Absolutely not, but you’re welcome to try. If I truly can take that crown from a Netherbrain I’ll be able to take it from you, if I must. “And you’ll have plenty of time to do so. I’ll come to the Hells and join your war.” Let me be the one to cut down Zariel, and I’ll follow you to the Ninth. “We can make-- a separate contract, if you like. I won’t leave until I see you sit on Asmodeus’ throne.”

For a moment, Raphael truly seemed at a loss for words. He stared, eyes wide, as though struggling to make sense of what he’d just heard. Even his grip on her hips slackened. “You-- I--”

“Oh, please let her come over. She’s fun. We could use some fun.”

Haarlep’s voice caused him to recoil, as though he’d somehow forgotten about their presence despite the cock buried inside him. Though come to think of it, Tav hadn’t felt Haarlep move for… several minutes, at least. 

“You-- this is none of your concern, incubus-- and why did you stop? ” Raphael bit out, turning to glare at the incubus in question. They were leaning back on their elbows, head tilted, and grinned widely before thrusting upwards in a smooth motion. Raphael shuddered, and pressed his mouth against Tav’s shoulder to muffle a groan. 

“Ah, my apologies. The two of you were such a fun spectacle to watch,” Haarlep muttered, and sat up, chest once again pressing against Raphael’s back. “You want to finish, don’t you, little brat?” Another upward thrust, another moan against Tav’s skin. “Then wrap up the conversation, pet. It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting for an answer.”

A growl, and Raphael lifted his head to look Tav in the eyes. Shortly after their first meeting, she recalled Gale claiming he’d seen a spark of Hellfire in his eyes. She’d thought he was just being dramatic at the time, but now, up close… oh, she could see it too, and more than a spark. It made her breath catch, pleasure coiling in her loins. Her grip on his shoulders tightened when he spoke, his voice low. 

“... Very well. But you will get me that crown, little mouse. If you refuse, I will have your soul. If you fail to get it for me and die, I’ll still have your soul. Am I clear?”

A nod, a shuddering breath. “Yes,” she managed. “That sounds-- ah-- fair.”

“We have-- a deal, then,” Raphael breathed, and Tav claimed his lips again. Negotiations concluded, she could finally let go of the last shreds of self control and ride him in earnest, grinding hard against him. Her ears were buzzing and all her limbs felt so heavy and so light all of a sudden, her body flushing hot and cold at the same time. 

Distantly, she heard Haarlep laugh, and Raphael cry out. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how that had to feel for him, with both her and Haarlep moving fast and hard, around him and inside him, keeping him trapped between them as they took their pleasure, unable to move and helplessly feeling it all. 

Later, Tav wouldn't know for how long it went on. Too long, probably. Not long enough, surely. She teetered on the edge of orgasm and she was sure she’d break, but she did not. Or at least, she was not the first to break.

“Haarlep--” Raphael cried out against Tav’s neck, and something suspiciously like a sob wracked his body; the face pressed against her skin felt too wet for it to be just sweat. The incubus let out a low, rumbling chuckle. Tav felt their hand slip between them, down Raphael’s stomach and then lower, the back of it barely brushing against her as the fingers toyed with the ring at the base of Raphael’s cock. 

“You want it off, don’t you, little duke?”

“Yes-- yes-- ”

“Beg.”

Another sob, and something dripped down Tav’s neck, down her shoulder. Raphael’s arms were gripping her tightly, as if he was desperately trying to ground himself to something. “Please,” he choked out, and somehow the desperation in his voice was what finally pushed Tav over the edge.

The orgasm was almost blinding, mind-numbing in its intensity, wave after wave of pleasure up her spine. She clenched around him and shuddered hard enough she almost thought, for a moment, that she might seize and die. What a way to go, she thought, barely coherent, holding onto the only Raphael for dear life. A hell of a way to go. If her heart stopped now, she wasn’t sure she’d have complaints.

She never had to find out, though, because her heart did not stop. It kept beating wildly in her chest when her shudders died down and she went limp against Raphael, panting, head spinning. Against her ear, Raphael keened. 

“Please!”

A chuckle, and now even the incubus sounded breathless. “Good boy,” they said, and reached down again. Tav did not see or feel what they did, but suddenly the ring was gone and Raphael muffled a cry against her, his entire body shuddering. And maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her, but Tav could have sworn even his come felt warmer than it had any right to be. She clenched around him reflexively, still mostly spent, and Raphael trembled before he, too, went limp.

“There, little brat. Take it,” Haarlep was murmuring, and thrust their hips upwards one last time before stilling and closing their eyes with a long, pleased sigh. “Oh, this was so much better than usual…”

They said something else, probably, but Tav was beyond hearing it. She must have blacked out, or something like it, because it felt as though she’d only blinked and then she opened her eyes to find herself leaning on her side on the bed, empty and panting, a sticky and cooling mess on the inside of her thighs. She was vaguely aware of the fact Haarlep was sitting at the foot of the bed, saying something about the pool in the next room; but she didn’t look up, couldn’t lift her head.

And neither, it seemed, could Raphael. He was still holding onto her, face wet and burrowed against her throat, breathing ragged. His frame trembled; she reached to brush his hair back without thinking, nails scraping gently against his scalp. She wasn’t sure how long she did that, mind empty of all thought, but eventually their breathing slowed, his trembling subsided. Her fingers tangled once more in Raphael’s hair and did not move again. He remained still, too, his breathing slow and steady against her skin. 

Tav closed her eyes, and let herself fall into nothingness. Somewhere in that darkness on the brink of sleep she saw the Crown of Karsus on Raphael’s head, saw Zariel’s broken body at his feet, saw her head in her hands.

And she smiled.

***

[Back to Act I]

[On to Act III]

#bg3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 raphael #bg3 haarlep #tiefling tav #female tav #raphael bg3 #deal in three acts

[pastafossa]

Hey Pasta! i was so glad to read that things have been starting to look up for you recently & i hope it only gets better ♡

have you heard about the fic binding legal scandals happening bc of etsy sellers binding & selling hard copies of fics? i saw some authors are reccomending putting disclaimers on their fics to hopefully avoid legal action being taken against them & was wondering if you were planning to do something like that? id hate to see your works being taken down/deleted bc of peoples ignorance

art like yours deserves a place in the world

Thank you so much anon! Things are definitely looking up a little, and I've got my fingers crossed that my mood will continue to follow it. 😅 Honestly if I could just have a six month period or so where things were chill I'd be SUPER relieved.

And I have seen it yeah, and I've been watching it fairly closely since this has the potential to alter the fanfic legal landscape that we writers post in regardless of whether or not one of our own fics were being sold. I'm well aware TRT isn't as big as some of the fics at the center of the current legal/ethical scuffle over it, but TRT is popular enough in the fandom that I've kept an eye out on etsy for bound copies just in case. I'm still supportive of people binding TRT for personal, non-commercial use only where no money changes hands, I have no issue with that. That being said, I am considering slapping a general, 'please don't do this commercially' on the fic. I honestly have no idea whether it would actually protect the fic or not, and whether or not that would protect me from legal blowback (my life for a lawyer matt boyfriend to explain this shit). But it wouldn't hurt to remind people that this sort of thing is how you get fics taken down. 99.999% of fic authors do not have the funds to fight someone like the Mouse even if they'd eventually win. So, as much as I joke about wanting Feige to notice TRT and hire me to write Jane into Daredevil, if allllll of us want TRT finished, we need to all play by the rules, especially as Born Again will likely give the fandom (and potentially TRT) a boost in popularity.

#the red thread #i've been considering it tbh #over the past few days #i lived through the tail end of the 'slap a Not Mine disclaimer on a fic so you aren't sued' era so i'm familiar with the principle #it feels weird that we've potentially come full circle

[paste-n-paper]

I was so excited when, after posting about the first copy of this fic I bound, I was contacted by one of the authors about getting their own copy.

We went with the black bookcloth because this was a known quantity for me. It made it so I was able to add the title and author names to the front cover!

I do this sort of lettering with paper, which may seem counter intuitive to some, especially those that use vinyl. But I use a thin paper that means there isn't much of an edge around the letters, and it's glued using book binding pva, so it's strong, flexible, and designed to bond well to traditional bookcloth. That means it has no acidic adhesive, like some vinyls, and won't yellow or crack or damage the bookcloth and cover in 10 or 15 years.

The downfall is that it can be a little more delicate than vinyl, and I can't add it to this type of spine. You can see in the video the spine is very flexible, and the paper itself would wear out with repetitive opening and closing. But a dust jacket would easily fix this, and I think the author has plans to eventually get one.

I personally think this second copy turned out even better as I had more knowledge under my belt. Very pleased and so honored to have been given some beautiful comments once it was received.

#bookbinding #fic binding #call of duty #typesetting #paste n' paper

[chubsonthemoon]

Binderary 2023 Wrap-Up!

Binderary 2023 is over, and I come bearing some stats, thoughts, and a compiled list of my QOTD answers! :3

Stats:

Books planned: 7

Books completed: 7/7 (woohoo!)

Fandoms: 3 (Yuri on Ice, Harry Potter, and The Sandman)

Total word count: 340,654

List of books (from left to right):

Maybe sprout wings by @moorishflower

Flower King by @landwriter

The Politeness of Princes by @aboxthecolourofheartache

Uncertain Results (also by Box!)

I'm caught inside every open eye (also also by Box :3)

Not pictured (on account of them being given away as gifts!):

My Immortal by Tara Gilesbie (aka xxxbloodyrists666xxx) (community typeset by @renegadepublishing)

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by @kazliin (typesetting by @ziezie13 <3)

QOTD answers under the cut (and these are copied directly from our DW post, just with added tumblr @'s!)

1. What does Renegade mean to you?

Renegade has, in all honesty, probably changed the course of my life! That's not hyperbole--it's had such a huge influence on my hobbies, my friendships, my academic trajectory, even my career. I was still in undergrad when I found ASH's post on fanbinding, and I was very lost as to what the next steps would be. And like so many others experienced, the pandemic only made things even murkier and more isolating. Then I found ASH's manifesto in June 2020, worked up the courage to join the Discord in July 2020, and found a community of like-minded weirdos who were just as passionate (if not even more so!) about their favorite stories, and a craft that I fall a little bit more in love with every day (well, most days. fuckin printers man XD). I wrote my honors thesis thanks to Renegade; I've made lifelong friends thanks to Renegade; I have my current job, in a field I love, thanks to Renegade. (My first Rocky Horror Picture show at Havencon 2022? All thanks to Renegade :D) This really feels like my forever fandom home-- even when I jump around from fandom to fandom, there's always a wonderful and supportive community to fall back on. In short, I really love it here, I'm so pleased with what we've done so far, and I can't wait to see where we go! ❤️

2. Favorite Fic

As everyone else who answered this, this question is IMPOSSIBLE. However, if you put a gun to my head and told me to answer right now, I'd have to say Tell Me About the Big Bang (my binding of it here!) It's one of the fics that has touched me most deeply and which has probably had the greatest influence on my writing. It was one of the first fics I'd ever bound, and I really wanted to rebind it to see how far I've come!

3. One thing you'd like to learn more about

GOD SO MANY THINGS. Backing! Headband techniques. Chisel trimming. Edge gilding. Tiny books. More advanced Cricut techniques. More cohesive and professional-looking graphic design. This hobby is really a dozen hobbies in a trench coat, and there's so much to explore.

4. Paper!

For my textblocks, I use 20 lb. cream Hammermill paper! I order it in 11"x 17" and get it cut in half for short grain, like a lot of other folks at Renegade. Recently I've started experimenting with quarto-sized Legal (8.5"x 14")and fell in love. I also want to try a bunch of the other paper that folks have suggested (looking at @robins-egg-bindery Mohawk Via o.o). For my endpapers, I usually use scrapbook paper from those scrapbook paper packs you can get at Michaels and Joann's (and when they're on sale...WOOF)

5. Cloth!

DUO BOOKCLOTH MY BELOVED. God I wish I'd gotten in on the Renegade group order - but ah well. Big fan of making my own though! There are just so many options to choose from, so it really expands what you can do (again: a dozen hobbies and crafts in a trench coat)

6. The Glue War

LOVE me some PVA! I know that it gives you less time to do things, but I get impatient XD. Plus it's cheap and easy to find and ready to use right out of the bottle, which is great. I've tried my hand at making starch paste + PVA with very mixed (ha!) results, although I had a wonderful time with some methyl cell that @simply-sithel gifted me at Havencon last year <3 So mayhaps will have to buy more of that for a future project!

I also love my Cricut Explore 2, Charlotte! She holds up very well, although I think she's due for a blade refill soon. I've just been setting my pressure higher and higher LOL

7. Machines

Love my Epson ecotank! I recently bought it--for the first two years I was going to my local print shop because the quality was great and I had a discount card. Unfortunately the discount card eventually expired, so I decided to bite the bullet and get my own printer. I really love it! I didn't want to have to deal with laser and printing in color can get pricey--the cartridges are just so goddamn expensive, although I do think laser prints in higher quality. Mayhaps a future purchase, because I'd really like to experiment with foiling!

8. Favorite binding technique

Ooh this one is interesting! I know which part of the process I enjoy the most, which is sewing! Kettle stitch my beloved. ALTHOUGH I am a sucker for the French link too--it's just so pretty! And we just had a wonderful workshop put on last week by @queercore-curriculum on their...embroidered binding/long-stitch binding (??? I don't know if there's an official name for it yet), which I LOVE. Glueless bindings are SO cool and I would love to experiment more with them.

9. Your best tip/trick

Ooh! Hmmm...I'd say: never bind while you're super tired/hungry LOL. I've made many a preventable mistake very late at night because I wanted to get something cased in or glued before bed when I probably should've waited till morning XD That being said, on the flip side I think you should never be afraid to experiment! Go hog wild!!! Use those glitter pens!! Try out that fancy silk for your endbands!! Try that new binding style! And if you fuck up, remember that's okay too! These are handmade objects and those mistakes are proud proof of that, and of your journey as a fanbinder. Stick 'em in the channel on the Discord, laugh and (maybe cry a little XD) about it, and then keep going. tldr; ya live and learn!

10. Favorite Detail

Ooh, this one's hard! I love leaving little Easter eggs in my designs. I'd say my favorite is putting my maker's mark on things! My imprint is Moonham Press (a fun mix of my usernames, chubsthehamster and chubsonthemoon), and the logo includes a little crescent moon. I'd actually been binding for about two years when I finally made the imprint--I used to think that it was...idk, kind of weird to put myself in the book? Like I was taking away from the story inside it. But then I got to thinking--well, hey, I'm the one who made this book, right? If nothing else, putting my mark on it tells someone who may pick it up one day that I was connected to this story. Some conversations with some folks at Renegade during Havencon 2022 also helped me embrace this. So these days I put my imprint logo in the typesetting, and I also put it on the cover somewhere! My favorite spots are either on the spine, between the title and author name, or on the back cover, in the bottom left corner :D

11. Spines

Spines are the bane of my existence. Haha, jk. They're mostly just tedious, since they're one of the only parts of the process that still require precise measurement (I've cut templates for everything else by now, and I use my guillotine to cut boards, so that goes super fast). For my thicker books I use Bristol board; I actually still use the same sheets I bought in 2020 when I first started binding--I didn't know how much I would really need so I think I ordered four massive sheets which will probably last me for ten years LOL. For my thinner books, I use Davy board, which is a pain to cut but gives the book a really nice board feel. And for my paperbacks, the spine is just the cover, which I make out of kraft paper for the backing + the decorative paper (usually scrapbook paper or something I've designed and printed)

12. Mistakes/Fails

Ooh BOY are there many. My most recent was my experiment with making a hardback quarto letter. I made the hinge waaaaay too small so when I tested the case the textblock was sticking out of it LOL. But I've been pretty lucky--this is only the second case I've had to remake in my time as fanbinder *KNOCKS ON WOOD*, but my printer fuck-ups when I was trying to figure out how to print on legal sized paper (since my printer doesn't duplex) probably make up for the luck I've had in the case department XD. Casing in, though--I think I've had maaaaaybe...two or three case-ins where I was completely happy with the results. A large part of this is because my guillotine doesn't cut completely straight, so my squares are never even LOL. But hey, I'm not getting paid for this, and I'm having fun, so eh.

13. Process

Ooh, interesting! My process has remained largely unchanged--I think the only thing that has really changed is now the frequency at which I print. I used to print at a print shop, so I'd make typesets in large batches--usually two to four books, sometimes more (I think the most I've done at a time is five?), and I'd make a day out of it. Now that I have my printer at home though, I can do things in smaller batches! I can also test print things, so I've been able to get a lot more experimental with my books sizes and my covers. Everything else has remained largely the same--the first book I did I typeset in MS Word, but everything after that I've all done in Affinity Publisher. I typeset > print > bind > take pictures! I really like how different each step is (like I said, twelve different hobbies in a trench coat), so there's always something different to do if I get bored. My favorite parts are probably designing covers and sewing the signatures!

14. Storage solutions

OUGH. I have one of those rollaway drawer thingies for all my tools, a dozen scrapbook paper containers, several large baskets for my vinyl and cloth, a hanging stand for my larger sheets of decorative paper, a standing desk which holds my Cricut and printer (a few of the aforementioned vinyl baskets are under this desk too), another rollaway basket thingy that holds my printing paper and my press (also under the standing desk), another desk which holds both my two guillotines and cutting mats (and under that desk are all my scrapbook paper containers and Cricut mats), and a final third desk where I keep all my sewing stuff and where I do my typesetting and other sitting-down parts of the process. And of course my shelves for all my books! This doesn't really give a sense of where everything is, but it's actually fairly organized, and for the most part I know where everything is (except for my FUCKING bone folder god that thing is always ending up in places I do not remember putting it XD)

15. Your Workspace

Ah, see my answer to 14! I'll probably upload a photo here later XD

16. Dust jackets and covers

Oooh, I've never made a dust jacket before--I don't think my printer could handle the wonky paper size that it requires, but they look really cool and I'd maybe be up for making one someday! And covers! Both my greatest love and my greatest enemy. They're super fun to design, but this is one part of the process that always feels like an uphill battle for me! There are so many skilled and talented folks in Renegade with GORGEOUS covers, and it's always a mix of being incredibly inspired and getting some design envy--but either way it's very motivating to keep me out of my comfort zone and to always keep trying new things. I use decorative paper and scrapbook paper mostly for the base material (although I've begun experimenting with designing things digitally and printing them out on Epson matte presentation paper), and then the rest is fuck it, we ball. I usually design the cover last, so I have an entire typeset and title page already when I begin, which makes things a little easier since I have an already established aesthetic to work with. My font selection is kind of determined by how small the text for the title/author name is, since my Cricut isn't great at cutting super small sizes (Times New Roman, funnily enough, is one of the only fonts that it can do at smaller sizes LOL so a lot of the text on my covers/spines are in TNR). I'm excited to keep improving and experimenting in this area!

17. Published inspiration

Ooh!! This one's fun--when I first began making my Master pages in Affinity publisher, I literally grabbed the first few books I saw on my shelf and said 'alright, this looks good' and haven't looked back since LOL. Those books were Vintage's editions of Toni Morrison's novels, Picador's Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, Vintage's edition of Willa Cather's The Song of the Lark, Fall River's omnibus editions of Shakespeare and Sherlock Holmes's works, Penguin Classic's Deluxe edition of Jane Austen's novels, and a few others that I can't remember. I looked at all these books, found what they had in common (for example, a simple title page before the decorative title page, the use of a single graphic or design at the beginning of each chapter, etc.) and went with that! I don't usually take inspiration from specific books, EXCEPT for a project I'm currently working on which I'm super excited about :3 More TK here eheh (ADDITION 3/7: I was talking about Maybe sprout wings here LOL)

18. Illustrations

FANART MY BELOVED. I LOVE including fanart in my books, because it's such a lovely demonstration of the communal nature of these stories and it's so fun getting to collect all the pieces. For free use graphics my favorite sites are Adobe Stock images and Heritage Library. Heritage in particular has a beautiful selection of free vintage graphics packs that I've used for years now. And very occasionally, wingdings fonts will have something I really like XD

19. Favorite tool

Despite my gripes earlier about always misplacing it, I ADORE my bone folder. It's a funky lil dude and it makes all my edges nice and crisp! I can't wait for the retreat bone folder fufu :3 Also a very big fan of my guillotine, which despite its flaws makes my life a hell of a lot easier in the long run, as well as my presses, which were handmade by my dad and do their jobs very well (squiiiiiiish)

20. Favorite part of the binding process

Oooh, this one's fun! I really like the actual construction of the book--sewing sigs is always relaxing and has been one of my fave parts since the very beginning. Recently I've started to really enjoy designing covers, especially if there are a lot of physical elements (like layering scrapbook paper or playing around with Mod Podge).

I had the absolute privilege to hold @clovenhoofbindery's copy of Away Childish Things at Havencon last year. Literally every book Space makes I fall in love with, and her designs are a HUGE inspiration for me. Everything from the typesetting to cover design to physical construction--I lose my marbles every time.

21. Inspo: The binder that inspired you!

Ohhh this one's so hard! Literally every time I check the #show-off channel in the Discord I'm struck by so many beautiful books. I'm going to cheat and name a few people here, but this list is by no means comprehensive and doesn't even begin to cover everyone I could name.

Everything @pleasantboatpress binds is just so beautiful. Their color choices are always inspired and their headbands make me want to cry! Their bind of Unconditional in particular had me foaming at the mouth.

The quality of everything @zhalfirin-binds makes, likewise, always blows me away. Her books are so polished and professional, and her photos make me feel like I'm in a museum when I'm trawling her blog for inspo!

@simply-sithel's tiny books are literally the coolest things ever! I'm still working my way through the Binderary vids and I can't wait to get to hers. Six plays with form in mind-bending and truly innovative ways, and her blog is wonderland of tiny and fantastical book creatures.

@teleportbooks's binds are the definition of classy and refined. They're so good at designing their books according to the contents of the fic--their binding of Thirty-Three Lashes in particular is just the best design centered around fic content and title I've seen. Their designs always make me melt a little when I see them!

@no-name-publishing's endbands are to DIE for. Like fr I am in awe every time!!! And Kam's cover + title page designs are a huge source of inspo for me--forever in love with this bind of theirs, with the beautiful painted cover + matching endpapers T_T

And of course!!! I (and everyone else) wouldn't be here without our beloved leader, @armoredsuperheavy. He's the first binder that ever inspired me, and he continues to do so today!

22. Inspo: The fic that inspired you!

My original answer was also my answer for 27 ("First bind"), but I'm gonna say something a little different here! I usually know pretty quickly whether I'm interested in binding something, but very rarely has a fic gotten me hook, line, and sinker the way @that-banhus's King of Infinite Space did. Like, from the first line I was like "oh god I need to hold this one." And eventually I did! :3

23. Author spotlight: Someone you've bound

AHHHHHH this one is so hard too! I've bound a good number of authors over the years, many of whom are my dear friends, and to spotlight only a single one would be impossible. So I'm just going to poke @dodici12, whose killugon fic See You Upside Down is one of the best killugon reunion fics ever in my very humble hamster opinion. Hiiiii Tessa ilysm <333

24. Author spotlight: Someone you'd like to bind

OOOOOH. Many, many fics are in my queue. I'll keep them to myself for now, since I prefer to ask for author permission via DM, but atm I have my eye on a few Good Omens authors whose work I adore!

25. Favorite bind by you!

THIS ONE IS SO HARD AJLSKDJF. I love all my babies so much and I'm proud of what I was able to accomplish and what I learned from each of them. However, if you put a gun to my head and asked me to choose right now, I'd have to go with my most recent bind of Maybe sprout wings by @moorishflower. I'm really pleased with both its construction and particularly the curation of its contents, which includes the work of nearly a dozen people. It was my attempt at capturing the communal nature of fanfiction's creation and dispersal, and it was also my Big Project this Binderary. I'm ridiculously fond and proud of it!

26. Favorite bind by someone else!

THIS ONE IS SO HARD TOO HELP. Okay this is only one of my many many favorites, but dragging Space back out here again to say that her bind of Away Childish Things permanently altered my brain chemistry. Like, the cutout!!! The patronuses!!!! The title page cutout???? THE KEY??? Again, I held this book in my hands IN PERSON last year and I'm still not over it. The quality of the work is absolutely bonkers crazy incredible and I think about it Often.

27. First bind

The very first fic I ever bound was On Stranger Tides by @theroyalsavage. It's still one of my favorite fics ever today--it has the perfect blend of action/adventure, romance, humor, and fantasy. It gives me the good ol' "roaming the high seas with found family and magic and pirates" ache. It holds a very special place in my heart!

FINAL THOUGHTS

28. Latest bind

See 22! But for funsises, I'm also ridiculously fond of the binding before that, of @aboxthecolourofheartache's fic The Politeness of Princes, because I got to do lots of fun arts and crafty things with the cover!

This was my first year doing Binderary, and I had such a blast! It's so crazy seeing how far Renegade has come, from a little Discord for book shop chatting (ASH mentioned in one of the talks how it was just called, like, "Bookbinding Discord" at the beginning LOL) to now. We're well on our way to a proper organizational structure, with several yearly events, in-person meetups, and thousands of members all over the world. And we have so much more planned! It feels truly special, and I'm so grateful to everyone who makes this possible.

Okay!! That's all from me for today, folks. If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! <3

#binderary2023 #fanbinding #bookbinding #ficbinding

[lifesarchive]

THE SHARDS by BRET EASTON ELLIS (REVIEW)

quickly: a group of rich white friends are too high to notice that the new kid may be a serial killer (an imaginative young writer / a vain but popular group of friends / a new kid with a dark past / valium for breakfast, weed for lunch, ‘ludes for dinner, cocaine for dessert / boys, boys, boys / endless supplies of sex, drugs, and rock and roll / hippie cults hiding in the hills / blood sacrifices and bodily ‘arrangements’ / ‘there’s someone in the house’ / where are the adults??!)

For just a moment, I was a young, hot, high, and wealthy white seventeen-year-old in ’70s-’80s Los Angeles… My parents are never home, every day is an orgasm, and I have all the drugs and euphoria I want. In my endless pharmaceutical high, a serial killer is playing mind games with my friends and me, and I’m barely sober enough to notice it is happening.

That is THE SHARDS. I am confident that if I were to give this hardcover copy a good shake, either a quaalude, a Valium, or a mist of fine white powder may loosen itself from the bindings. These are the substances that seem to hold the story and its characters together. There’s also a hearty scoop of graphic, disturbing, deranged, stomach-churning violence… a stark contrast to the ultra-sweet lives of these young rich kids. The reality of these brutal slayings is what makes the kids’ dissociation all the more real.

★ ★ ★ ★

more thoughts: SPOILERS!

Some personal context… this isn’t the book I originally planned on reading after “HUMAN SACRIFICES” by María Ampeuro, but it was actually the perfect follow-up. The world of the characters in María’s stories was soaked in the harsh realities of capitalism, white supremacy, and patriarchy. What better pairing than a story on the other end of the spectrum… rich white kids with Daddy’s money made from exploiting others!

This is my first Bret Easton Ellis book. All I knew about the guy before reading this was that he wrote AMERICAN PSYCHO. I’ve seen the movie, but I’ve never read the book. I actually owned the book for years, and it was destroyed in a flooded storage facility. Nevertheless, I ended up meeting Bret Easton Ellis’s work anyways. Not because I sought out his penmanship, but because, as tends to happen, I just had a good feeling about the book based on the cover, description, and number of reviews.

This book made me feel poor and ugly, and I think that was the point!

This is a story about a story. The book opens with a prelude in present-day LA as our narrator, Bret Easton Ellis, is driving around and sees an old classmate, which ignites panic within him. 

From there we are sent back to the summer before Bret’s senior year begins. He is a closeted bisexual man in love with his best friend Sarah, who is dating his good friend Thom (whom he is also in love with). He doesn’t seem to be in love with his girlfriend Debbie at all. An idyllic summer spent third wheeling with Susan and Thom ends once school starts and a new guy is introduced at the morning assembly… Robert Mallory. 

Immediately, Robert gets under Bret’s skin. Bret remembers seeing Robert months before he moved to L.A., at a movie theater, but Robert’s consistent denial of this drives Bret crazy. Taking time off from the different guys at school he is secretly intimate with, he decides to follow Robert after school one day. Robert catches him in the act of tailing him and any chance they had at a friendship is ruined. From here on out, it’s a game of cat and mouse between the two. (Or maybe mouse and mouse?)

The first major OMG moment is the death of Matt (a consistently stoned hottie), one of Bret’s ‘intimate friends’. 

As Bret watches Robert ease his way into the various friend groups on campus, he begins to see a side of Robert that is only noticeable from a distance… he notices the silent calculations that Robert is constantly making as if Robert is devising some secret masterplan. It’s then that Robert begins taunting Bret, dropping hints that he knows about the relationship between Bret and Matt. It’s also then that Matt starts receiving mysterious phone calls and notices that someone has stolen his pet fish and rearranged his room. In a state of psychological anguish, he accuses Bret of being behind it, due to some ‘gay’ obsession with Matt. Soon after, Matt turns up dead. Missing for several days, then found dead and mutilated in his own backyard. 

Bret meets with Matt’s father and learns the horrid details of Matt’s death. This makes the outlines of what Bret may be dealing with become more real now. No one cares about Matt’s death enough to notice the pattern that is forming. News articles begin to appear, daily, about missing girls, missing pets, mysterious home break-ins with furniture being rearranged, and late-night attacks. The police eventually put together a profile for a killer they are calling The Trawler. There are hints that he may be connected to a roving group of Manson-esque murder hippies that are terrorizing LA.

Bret makes the decision to divide himself between a true, hidden Bret, and a false, public Bret. Public Bret will play the role of a model student and boyfriend, while private Bret investigates Robert Mallory, whom he believes to be The Trawler. Valium, Quaaludes, and marijuana form the wall between the real and fake Brets. (Imagine someone breaking into your home, and you pop a pill and hide in a closet, falling asleep, and just hoping they pass you by.) Cue an endless string of parties, conversations, car rides, class assignments, and missed calls from Debbie (and The Trawler) that Bret floats through.

Fast forward past more missing women, Bret following Robert Mallory through the streets of LA, Bret being followed by a mysterious van through the streets of LA, Bret being taunted by The Trawler, Bret meeting with Robert’s aunt and finding out about Robert’s dark past, Bret breaking into Robert’s second home, Bret sleeping with Debbie’s dad, and Bret’s numerous attempts at telling someone what may be happening with Robert and being called crazy, etc. 

Eventually, we reach the foggy climax. After Debbie goes missing, Bret is convinced that Susan is the Trawler’s next victim. Robert’s next victim. He decides to take matters into his own hands. That night, Susan and Thom are attacked at Susan’s home by a masked assailant. Susan bites the assailant and he runs out (but not before disfiguring Susan’s breast, and Thom’s leg). Robert comes to the rescue, getting them help, and then heads back to his apartment. Bret arrives at Robert’s apartment soon after and a fight ensues that leads to Robert jumping to his death. Bret is alive and tells a version of the story that exonerates himself, and there is no one to dispute it. 

It is only in the denouement that it is revealed that Bret was the attacker that night of Susan and Thom’s attempted killing… and this is where I started to come down off the story’s canna/lude/coke/valium high… We find out that Bret is Susan and Thom’s attacker after Susan recognizes the bite mark she left on her attacker’s arm, casually peeking out from Bret’s long sleeve Polo. He breaks her hand and threatens her, to keep her quiet. (It’s only years later that Bret finds out Susan immediately told Thom about what she saw on Bret’s arm).

Coupled with this jarring reveal, we are also told (through a letter written to the press) that The Trawler is neither Bret nor Robert. The Trawler is independent of both young men but is indeed a part of the cult roaming the hills of LA. They claim that Robert Mallory was ‘their God’, and the mutilated bodies were ’sacrifices’ given to ‘the God’. Then I just sat with the book closed and wondered what I had just read.

I went back and forth on whether I felt this deserved 4 or 5 stars (like my opinion matters LOL). What gives me doubt is the execution of the ending. As bulky of a book as THE SHARDS is, the writing was actually pretty easy to follow. It flowed frictionlessly from one page to the next. I didn’t even mind all the extraneous storylines because they flowed, and added flesh to the characters. However, the last few chapters ended in such an odd package of revelations and reveals that it almost seemed as if a different writer had tried to finish the story with Bret’s voice.

Now, I must also say, that after reading the book I did a lite Google search on Bret Easton Ellis, just to see what he’s up to today. Unsurprisingly, he seems to be exactly the man I’d expect him to be after growing up as a well-to-do SoCal private school kid (i.e., his book White, 2019). He has not escaped the haze of privilege and wealth, that tends to blind those with his upbringing, from the complex harsh multi-ethnic multi-cultural struggles of the world. I wasn’t disappointed though. Just confirmed. Only a privileged asshole could write so excellently about vanity, insecurity, and recreational pharmaceuticals. 

#the shards #bret easton ellis #4 stars #FICTION #review #books & libraries #currently reading #book review #booklr #booklover #booksbooksbooks #bookworm #literature #reviews #teen thriller #psychological thriller #mystery #suspense #2023

[gnomer-denois]

13 books tag game, as tagged by @vanillivilovesreus

1) Last book I read:

A Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ Charles. The second in a series of historical gay romance novels I've read. The first was recced by @protect-parker-jones and I've promised not to spoiler this one.

2) A book I recommend:

Camp Damascus by @drchucktingle. Mind, it is horror and thus you might want to check about any triggers you have before starting.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

The Starless Sea by @erinmorgenstern. It's extremely excellent and I'm going to suggest that the answers to questions 2 and 3 could apply to either question.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more)

This isn't something I do very often. I guess since I bound my own copy of Trail Magic and I have read it more than twice, that counts?

5) A book on my TBR

Star Wars Jedi: Battle Scars by Sam Maggs is going with me on a trip for travel reading.

6) A book I’ve put down

uh. Gone With the Wind. Never finished it.

7) A book on my wish list

Bury Your Gays by @drchucktingle again. If by "wish list" you mean "pre-ordered".

8) A favourite book from childhood

Let's say Camp Fear by Carol Ellis. I borrowed it once in 5th or 6th grade and it got me into reading horror book.

9) A book you would give a friend

I have given friends bindings of their own writing, does that count? Otherwise, it would extremely depend on the friend.

10) The most books you own by a single author (physical books only)

I think that will be Michelle West. As long as I'm not required to find said books since they are in storage.

11) A nonfiction book you own

Patterns of Fashion 3, there's a fashion history book about the Tudors around somewhere, plus books on religion.

12) what are you currently reading

Bookshops & Bonedust by Travis Baldree. My loan ends soon, so I need to finish it in the next couple of days.

13) what are you planning on reading next?

Jedi: Battle Scars as mentioned above, or We Could Be So Good by Cat Sebastian. Depends on if I need something to read physical or on my laptop.

Who to tag. um. @mareebrittenford @quill-of-thoth @tentacleteapot @happinessisntfun and anyone else who sees and wants to give me more ideas of things to check in my library for answer.

#oh man #when the angels left the old country is another good one I read recently #I blame Dr Tingle and Theo for getting me back into reading this past year #I've now read too many good books in too short a time

[she-who-the-river-could-not-hold]

Rambling March Updates

A little bit of a fun update for this month and moving forward, since I’ve been feeling a shift in how I approach my creative work (and well, everything else too) and I feel like organizing my thoughts somewhere. It’s technically the 2nd of March, but after a mini vacation post half-marathon, I definitely feel like it’s a valid bookend to semi start at. I’m in my usual “time to overhaul my life and plans” mood so it’s fitting for that as well, like a spring cleaning for the mind!

Writing Updates:

I’m about halfway through my celebration oneshot, which is a Bellarke AU based on the winning tropes from my survey that I ran during my follower celebration. So in a sense it’s a collaborative fic which is pretty fun! I’m liking it so far, though I do feel a bit rusty writing the Bellarke again after taking a bit of a break.

If you somehow missed my excessive reblogs, I finished my longest fic ever last month (hence another writing break)! It was for Stranger Things/Hellcheer (Eddie x Chrissy) and ended up clocking in at just under 80k words. Pretty astounding and I haven’t really processed how long it is. I feel like I need to reread it just to bask in the accomplishment and to also remember what I wrote lol.

Organizing the new month means updating my word count calendar, and with it I’ll probably spend some time reworking some outlining and WIP plans. I still like most of my WIPs that are unfinished, though one or two might get axed and abandoned. But the ones I want to finish deserve a polishing up and fixed outlines so I feel more confident getting back into them! And of course, organizing some new fic ideas I have and seeing if I can prep myself into making them shorter, easier projects for the main reason I’m about to share!

The biggest reason I want to spend time narrowing down my approach and what I want to write in terms of fanfic is that I’ve finally confirmed to myself that I want to write my own original novel. The idea started bouncing around in my head and I tried to ignore. Thought about it a little longer, told my husband about it, and he enthusiastically insisted that I legitimately consider writing it. And now I can’t stop thinking about it, so I’m going to give it a go! I can’t let myself think about any goals beyond writing it, but I am excited to see how that goal can fit and how I can push myself with it and hopefully actually write it. 

Design/Visual Creative Updates:

I do want to eventually finish my Stranger Things episode gif sets. I find them incredibly relaxing to make and a nice little visual stimulation break! 

More episode posters such as this one are also something on the back burner. Mainly because I’m also considering expanding my efforts in an online shop and I think it would be cool to include them! A part of that is organizing the categories of work I want to do, as well as the very tedious element of figuring out a name for the shop so that I feel comfortable sharing it across platforms. Hopefully updates on that will come down the line by the summer!

In non-fandom thoughts, I desperately need to update my graphic design portfolio and take new headshots. It’s driving me bananas at how much I’ve stalled on that so that needs to be a priority 

I’m determined to learn how to book bind this year and turn my own fics into physical copies (also a nice tie in for my own potential novel). We’ll see how that goes––it’ll be added to my long list of physical creative projects I want to get into this year!

I’ve negotiated my current contract to being a four day work week, so I’m excited to see my schedule start to form in a way that I can maximize my time and work on more personal projects!

However all of this comes on the back of that my husband and I are officially looking to move to a new state and city! Which means there’s a buzzing amount of stress just consistently in my mind right now, which will most definitely multiple over time as we actually have to complete the process. That means I’ll probably put a lot of this all on pause later this month and into April, but I also think that moving to a bit of a slower paced lifestyle is also going to be really good for both of our goals moving forward. Very exciting and very scary at the same time as we look to start a new chapter in our lives!

Onward to updating Notion and hopefully getting some good work in today! Happy almost spring!

#kathryn chats

[jemsday]

We have finally made it to our final week- yay! 

This week is all about fine tweaking everything, making sure the unit plans, lesson presentations and work booklets/resources are all ready to go. This week consisted with a lot of spell checking, final cross checking, and reviewing before we finally produced the final copies of all resources and printed and binded the booklets. 

This week has allowed us to reflect on the journey of creating this unit and everything within it. A lot of time and effort went into it and a lot of collaboration to make this the most perfect and effective resource for students to utilise and benefit from. 

This has been a journey where we have learnt and gained so much, having the opportunity to apply our knowledge and also challenge ourselves to how we can best implement aboriginal pedagogies across a whole unit of work. Additional to this, it has challenged us to apply all of our knowledge to create a unit of work in whole, something as undergraduate students we have never had the exposure or opportunity to do. 

As we approach our fourth year and final year into our degree, this project has been hell. Building a whole non existent unit up from nothing to something. But what I have taken away more then anything is, the reassurance that this is the right field of work for myself as despite the challenge of creating something from nothing, I loved every moment because I care and it’s what I am passionate about and to say I am proud of what my project partner and I have produced is an understatement. 

We have challenged ourselves, our knowledge and our creative ability to create something so wonderful and with the greatest purpose and intention behind it, to close the gap within our Indigenous Education and I cannot wait to see where we will be able to able this work in the future in our own classes. 

I’d like to personally thank you for following our journey, for watching us grow and challenge ourselves and make a change and a difference in what we have been working towards. This has been a great journey and all journeys must come to an end, I’m sure this won’t be the last you hear from me- this is not goodbye, just see you later as we go to make a difference with the wonderful work we have created to apply in our own classrooms. 

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay Chapter 4: Breach

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader, Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Angst; Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse; Betrayal; Lies; F!Reader’s Age Kind of Finalized; Specific Reference to Age; Blackmail; Crying; Slight Panic Attack; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: Even the truth can’t set you free.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3

Notes: And we’re back to pain. My outline got derailed for this chapter so bear with me, sometimes revelations need to be hammered in. No smut here for now but I also needed to get this arc finished so I can start on the next.

Also I know I keep jumping forward — I swear I will write about their relationship growing.

Thank you all for reading and commenting! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you’re yelling at me.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

The air is…

Shifted.

Shifted enough that the whole office notices, avoids yours, avoids the glare Steve Rogers fires at them the moment they approach the door, avoids your eye. Shifted enough that you miss the before, the pressure of his presence demanding your attention, the smugness in his endless eyes you denied looking at.

Shifted.

Counsel.

What?

We need to talk.

Is that not what you’ve been avoiding doing all morning, Captain?

You swear you can hear his molar crack in the dead silence, but your eyes never flit upwards from the contract you’re poring through, red pen in hand.

Focus.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it, the presence of him, the pressure of him. It’s a job, and he calls on you to do your duty and you do but no one has ever asked you to be kind and no one has ever asked you to smile as you bear it so you don’t.

It’s a job, this life, and this is a part of it.

You. Are a part of it.

Counsel.

It’s a bark, an order, an annoyance and you shouldn’t let his stubborn fury be the thing that derails you. This is your domain. Your palace of glass and steel, remember? New York buzzes behind you and you surge forward on the tightrope of his affections, teetering dangerously close to his temper and always, always daring him to pull you down.

Try it again.

Fine, with a sigh and a setting down of your papers, You’re closer to the door.

And in your defense, he is, seated on your couch as stiff as a board, scrolling through his phone on occasion and — previously, at least — deftly ignoring your inquiries about the status of his office and why he needs to spend his morning in yours.

He fixes you with a look you do not name and proceeds to stand anyways. The door clicks shut and stays that way — both of you have learned.

Do you still talk to him?

Excuse me?

The Senator. Are. You. Still. In. Contact.

He spreads out every word like an accusation and every word turns you a little colder. You’ve been avoiding this. Avoiding him, distracted by work, the both of you but now you are back in each other’s orbits and this…

This cannot be avoided.

I haven’t spoken to him beyond to tell him I returned home safe that night.

Not. For lack of wanting.

If he’s hurt you, just say the words.

There’s nothing you can say.

It’s been a week. Almost two.

He’s been kind, stayed away, kept his distance but that… that will not last. Only as long as whatever conference has his office busy and then you know what comes next and then you know what comes after.

The bruising may have faded but the memories remain, after all.

They always do.

Steve Rogers is not Andy Barber, is not warm-eyed concern or a soft-voiced invitation, is not trying to save you from the horrors you cannot name, is not to be trusted but Andy Barber is also not Steve Rogers, is not exactly the man you expect, is not the answer to your dilemma, is not the devil you know and you…

Are still testing your wings.

Get up.

Get up and walk away from the prison of your desk, see how far you can get before you shackle yourself to your own ambition. Get. Up.

Blue eyes watch you like he’s calculating the next angle of his attack and technically you know that’s exactly the case but let’s pretend a moment he doesn’t have his claws out and you aren’t trapped in a cage for him to batter.

Delude yourself into the power you think you have, and keep him there, across the room where he cannot show you how effortlessly he strips you of it and how deeply you enjoy it.

Don’t.

You may be in bed with the mob but you are not asleep to his crimes and this is just an interim, a plan, a moment.

You stood me up, Counsel. After we made our deal.

It was a week ago and you ever-so-kindly taught me my lesson — don’t wince as you speak, don’t let him know you remember, don’t let him think you actually learned from his hand, hard against your body.

He hasn’t since, after all.

He says your name.

He says your name and your blood runs cold and you freeze by the coffee machine you keep in your office and you turn. Senator Barber is a friend.

A dangerous friend. I won’t even ask if you know his stance on —

On the Syndicate? Oh I know. I know who he shakes hands with.

Then you know why I’m asking.

Are you loyal?

Are you?

Is it loyalty that keeps you here?

Don’t let your hands shake when you look at him. Don’t let him see the slide of your eyes, the glance outside, the wondering how long before your window would be a portal and that tightrope would snap.

You are not a fool.

This. Is not loyalty.

I keep to my ethical duties, Captain.

You’re sleeping with your boss.

Oh that one makes you laugh, sharp and cruel and you do look at him then, fix your eyes onto him and raise an eyebrow and watch. All that power, all that smugness, wrapped up in one body and how does he contain it, do you know?

I believe the actual term is serving at your pleasure.

It’s back to the game, the dance, the ruse, the steps you take around each other, the blades he digs into your chest the reminders he gives you you are a whore you are a whore you are a whore and you lift your chin up, dare him to look at the bruises his lips leave on your skin and ask him in the silence and what will you do about it.

You could hate him. You do, technically. You hate that you could love him in the early hours of the morning, when his eyes seek you out and soften at the reminder you’re still here. You hate that his invasive presence in your office is a shield as much as it is a virus, a comfort in the silence and you hate most of all that the way he looks at you with that open desire women might normally have just dreamed was possible makes you want to return it.

You hate that he is dangerous. That he has bound you to him like this, chained you to the idea of his warmth and that there is a sick sort of safety in the binding.

You hate that he looks at you now with something like hope, with something like obsession, with something like vulnerability and you hate that it strips you of that cold armor as effortlessly as his hands strip you of your resistance.

And he could hate you too, in the whispers he leaves on your shoulders when he thinks you’re asleep. He could hate that you are soft, that you are sweet on his tongue that you…

Are his.

Could hate that he has thought of nothing else but the very theory of your betrayal and you know none of these things but his eyes are not so inscrutable as he thinks and so—

He twists the knife.

I talked to your Judge, by the way.

You did what?

You heard me. Interesting conversation.

Excuse me?

You really sold yourself to me for a lover’s spat, Counsel? I thought you were better than that — woman of the law and all.

A lover’s spat? That’s what he told you?

Just what would you call it, if not that?

He’s daring you, back to somewhere between smug and angry, as if disappointed you made him waste his time and all you can do is feel your heart sinking, feel yourself back in that place again, the decade-long sting of control over your body, the painful reminder of the girl you once were.

Where is he?

Did you think I’d clean up your dirty laundry for you? I’m not a breakup counselor, and you nee—

You left him alive!? The panic in your voice is so palpable it stops him in his tracks all over again, suspicious and surprised and you step back to reach for something — steady yourself steady yourself steady yourself you are not safe you are not safe you are not safe.

I’m not killing your ex-boyfriend without a good reas—

I was nineteen!

The world tilts, shifts, your knees are buckling, that’s tears in your eyes and you.

Are that girl again.

Too small, too scared, too naive to know better, too easy to mold and break and manipulate and you promised you’d never be her again, you promised you’d get her justice and you promised it wouldn’t be like this over and over again, promised he wouldn’t sink his fangs into you a third time.

What? He sounds smaller. Or is it faraway? You are too busy trying to stand, trying to still the shaking of your hands, the cold chill in your veins, too busy feeling your knees surrendering, too busy sliding to the floor and staring blankly into your memory.

Counsel. What. Did. You. Say. He repeats himself, and then he’s crouching before you, holding your chin in his hand and when did you start having tears on your cheeks for him to wipe away?

I was nineteen, you repeat, blank and broken, not seeing his brow furrow, not seeing the regret flash over his expression, I didn’t want it. I never wanted it.

What are you saying, sweetness? How dare he sound so soft? How dare he sound like he actually cares, when he’s the reason you’re here, on this floor, barely resisting your breakdown yet again?

You know better.

I was nineteen, a third time, I needed a job, something to give me experience, and he — he used me. That was my experience.

He’s starting to understand, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when you’re staring too far into the past, into a sneering face and cruel hands.

(I can ruin you or I can help you, Intern, so you make your choice. You need me.)

It never stops. Not after the first time — but you know that.

But you know that. That’s your knife, the one you twist into his chest and the realization sinks in heavy as an anchor, the thing he’s done.

The thing he’s done to you.

So why wait until now?

I would have waited forever.

You hid the letter. Hid it well enough even he wouldn’t have found it rifling through your things. Hid the threat in those typewritten words and the casual signature swept across the stationary, unaffected.

Men like him never face consequences. Only you, only the women they make use of, the ones they turn into commodities for their enjoyment. Who would care if you’d made it public, if you showed the world the kind of man he was — he was appointed for life, he was friends with the Governor, he was powerful and you were never going to be strong enough.

(You wouldn’t want anyone in the District Attorney’s office knowing just the sorts of things you’re willing to do to get your way. I can still help you be an exceptional lawyer, Intern.)

What are you? Ambition and drive and skill but what does it all mean when it can be reduced to plaything and pet project and whore.

I helped him get appointed. He helped me get into law school. Introduced me to… To Andy Barber, who calls you Sunshine and watches out for you and comes to New York despite having no power in the state just to see you again because he worries, because he cares.

You pay.

And sometimes that payment bounces back.

You pay and you pay and you pay and you struggle but what is the culmination of your strife is it the sight of you finally broken on the floor, is it the moment he’s been waiting for, dragged off your pedestal why couldn’t he have left well enough alone didn’t he know the horse was for your protection and not his pride?

No.

They never do.

They never do, do they, always so wrapped up in themselves and even now he kneels in front of you and wipes your tears but he has no words to say to atone for what he’s done and you know he can never.

I need you to leave.

The words come out without your control.

You know what you are. You are fury made flesh and you will not be manipulated again, not by the pressure of his hands on your face, not by the way he almost hugs you, he lied he lied he lied he lied.

Sweetness…

No. You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.

You could have tolerated it. You could have accepted it you could have let yourself become the prize he took, owned his defeat by defeating you, you might even have enjoyed it but no.

No.

I held up my end of the bargain.

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #mob!au #political!au #dark!fic #steve rogers smut #andy barber smut #dark!steve rogers #angst #series #mob!steve rogers x reader #i really am gonna die here

[ghost-party]

Can I please request Bertholdt and flower shop AU? If you don’t mind doing an older version. Thanks! 💘💘💘

Thanks for this request, anon! This might be one of the cutest things I’ve ever written. 🥰❤️ I just want to give Bertholdt the biggest hug.

• • •

Bertholdt + Flower Shop

You have an ongoing arrangement with Bertholdt Hoover, the owner of the flower shop across the street from your bookstore. Every week, he brings you a small arrangement, made with blooms that went unsold. And in return, you allow him to borrow books from your store — as many as he likes. 

He’s a voracious reader, but also a careful one, returning volumes in pristine condition, looking as if they haven’t been touched. But if you ask about any of them, he’s more than happy to talk about what he enjoyed most, his eyes bright and excited.

A few months have passed since you both came up with this agreement, and you now eagerly anticipate his visits, glancing at the clock every five minutes and peering through the front window to see if he has many customers left to help. Bertholdt, with his quiet, bashful kindness, has become a welcome presence in your life. Whenever he walks in — impossibly tall, with that soft smile lighting up his handsome face... It makes your heart beat faster.

Today is no exception, and when you turn to look at him, you whip around so fast, the books you’re in the middle of shelving nearly tumble from your arms. “Hi, Bertholdt!”

He gives you a small wave, balancing a large, lovely arrangement in the crook of his elbow. “Do you need some help?”

“No, that’s okay.” You set the books aside, silently griping at yourself to get it together as you walk over to him. “Wow... These are beautiful,” you say, looking at the vase full of round, pearlescent flowers. 

“White camellias.” Bertholdt smiles, but there’s something almost hesitant about the curve of his lips. “They’re one of my favorites.” He seems strangely nervous as he hands them over and watches you place them on the counter, just beside the register.

“They’re different from what you usually bring.” His typical bouquets burst with a variety of colors and types, pulling together the best blooms in his leftover inventory. But this one has a singular focus — a dozen camellias, as delicate and lovely as folded paper.

“Oh, yeah...” His gaze darts away from yours, down to the floor. “We, uh... had a cancelled order. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no, they’re gorgeous!” you assure him. “I love them. Thank you.” 

He finally looks back up at you, that same tremulous smile on his face. “Good. I’m glad.”

• • •

The next week, Bertholdt shows up with a vibrant bouquet of yellow tulips. When you ask about them, his answer is vague, something about an overlarge shipment. You see that the tips of his ears are pink as he turns away, bending down to look at a table full of new releases.

Out of curiosity, after he’s left for the evening, books tucked under his arm, you retrieve a volume from your shelves — a guide to the language of flowers.

You quickly find the listing for white camellias, and your cheeks grow warm as you read their meaning: You’re adorable. And under yellow tulips, you find, There’s sunshine in your smile.

Is he choosing these on purpose? It would explain the sudden shift from randomly-mixed to single-flower arrangements. Leaning against the ladder behind your desk, you think back on your interactions.

Bertholdt has always been friendly, patient, and sweet. For Christmas, he bought you a book-binding kit, something you had briefly mentioned wanting to try. Some mornings, he swings by and brings you coffee, always remembering the exact way you like it. He often helps with your window displays, his height making tasks like hanging lights or arranging strings of paper hearts or snowflakes a breeze.

When you visited his shop one afternoon, hoping to buy some flowers for your friend’s birthday, you met his former college roommates, Reiner and Marcel, who immediately asked if you wanted to join their group outing to a drive-in theater that weekend. You ended up in the back of someone’s pickup truck, huddled under a heavy blanket with Bertholdt at your side. He was stiff as a board and noticeably awkward as he offered to share his popcorn and soda. You half-expected him to pass out cold when your hand brushed against his.

More than anything, you thought it was adorable. But it made you hesitant to tell him that you liked him. What if you were completely misreading him? For all you knew, maybe he was uncomfortable with the closeness because he just wanted to be friends — not because he had a crush on you. And the last thing you wanted to do was scare him away.

But now, as you stare at the tulips... You know you didn’t misread a single thing.

• • •

Over the next few weeks, Bertholdt brings you calla lilies (beauty), sunflowers (adoration), and pink carnations (I’ll never forget you). There’s no doubt in your mind that every choice is intentional, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him what you know. Each time he hands you the latest arrangement, he quickly turns away, running a nervous hand through his hair or rubbing the back of his neck. 

This time, when he offers you a wide vase filled to the brim with gardenias and wanders off to choose his latest reads, you duck behind the counter and quickly look up their meaning: secret love. 

Your heart pounds as you sneak a glance at him, and you know you have to do something. No more waiting. He’s told you how he feels, in his own way. And now it’s your turn.

While he browses, you grab a slim tome from your personal collection and page through it, highlighter clutched in one hand, looking for something specific. By the time he’s finished, you’ve executed your plan, and he doesn’t notice as you slide the book between his other choices. Waving at him as he leaves, you wonder how long it will take for him to notice your message...

• • •

You’re surprised when Bertholdt walks in the very next morning, looking slightly more disheveled than usual. His hair is sticking up in places, giving you the impression he’s been running his hands through it. And there are slight dark circles beneath his eyes.

Before you can say anything, he reaches into the pocket of his florist’s apron and pulls out the book you snuck into his stack — a well-worn, hardcover copy of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. He opens it to reveal a highlighted passage: 

I do love nothing in the world so well as you: is  not that strange?

Marking the place is a bookmark, with the name of your shop printed at the top and a hand-drawn rose in red ink at the bottom.

“Were these... meant for me?” he asks, cheeks flushed.

When you nod, he stammers, clearly flustered, until you take his hand in yours. “I figured out the flowers,” you tell him quietly.

“H-how long have you —”

“Since the tulips.” You rub your thumb along his knuckles, watching as some of his tension eases. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It just... made me happy. To be honest, it’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I wanted to do something for you, too.”

Bertholdt smiles, looking happy and relieved. “It’s perfect. I wasn’t sure how to... say what I wanted to say. The words were there, but I’m not really good with those. But you probably already know that...” He laughs softly. “Can I, uh... take you on a date? Tomorrow? If you’re busy, that’s...”

He trails off as you reach for the book, thumbing through a few pages until you reach a second highlighted passage, one he had yet to read: Yea, as sure as I have a thought or a soul.

“I know, it’s a little cheesy,” you explain. “I was just hoping you might ask something like that...” 

Bertholdt’s face reddens even further. But his smile widens, and he gently squeezes your hand.

“Like I said — perfect.”

#200 followers event #attack on titan #aot #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #bertholdt hoover #bertholdt x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertolt hoover #bertolt x reader #bertolt hoover x reader

[hitodama3]

The Fourth Wall vs Regression

So I've gotten into ORV through the webtoons recently. I briefly tried to move to the webnovel because the webtoon isn't updating fast enough to satisfy me, but the novel couldn't keep my attention as well. I jumped off to return to the web novel at the third or fourth destruction? The one with the *companion* scene. People who've read it know what I mean.

Anyway I thought of a really angsty prompt because we all can see where this webtoon is heading KDJ x YJH, but it made me think alot more about the fourth wall.

So in the webtoon KDJ just saw a prophet go from a 'person' who was part of the 'real world's because they were a prophet, and he was unable to see his character sheet, to being able to see the 'character sheet' which is only for characters from the novel.

KDJ also has a skill Fourth Wall that assists him in being unaffected by events or attacks that occur in the novel; usually mental attacks. Ex: The Sunfish fight the webtoon just finished.

We've also seen the warning pop up, "Character is too immersed in scenario. Fourth wall is crumbling/shaking." Which usually makes KDJ take a moment to calm down and reconsider the scenario. Usually reminding himself of the fact he's in the novel as he's trying to figure a way out of the situation.

The key point being he's not allowing himself to think of his current reality as *reality*, but a part of the novel.

Is that what gives him the Fourth Wall skill? Just like the title of the novel he's looking at it from the reader's point of view and not thinking if the characters as REAL people they are just *characters*.

So any time he gets close to considering this reality as real and the PEOPLE as real the fourth wall will shake and crumble? Will KDJ become a character if the fourth wall ever breaks?

Did the prophets become characters because they got off early and their knowledge ran out. So anything that is currently happening is unknown to them, now it is their *reality*, so they became characters?

If KDJ helps YJH clear the novel will KDJ get booted back to 'reality' or will he finally become a character and lose his abilities?

Some interesting conflicts in this. KDJ having to face losing his powers that help him survive vs opening his heart enough to have actual companionship that he could lean on to help him survive. Giving up control is hard.

Okay enough rambling. Below is my angsty YJH idea.

Some spoilers about the identities of secretive plotter and most ancient dream.

So KDJ has already brought up the concern on what happens if YJH dies and regresses. Does the timeline continue on, or reset? Do the prophets reset with him? So KDJ has to make sure YJH doesn't die because everyone may die with him, and the prophets awareness may die with him.

YJH is unaware of KDJ's unique existence. As far as YJH is aware his speed running the train and blowing part of it up is the reason KDJ is alive and running around instead of the KMJ (I think that's his name. The psychotic character from the beginning of the webtoon.).

So what if YJH resets, and the people who would have been prophets reset with him but their knowledge doesn't. YJH having now accepted KDJ as a companion breezes through the train to go and collect him, his group, and maybe KMJ as well this turn.

But he gets to the back of the car and KMJ has already killed everyone because KDJ was there, but didn't have the foreknowledge to calm everyone down. YJH sees KDJ and company dead and kills KMJ in rage. YJH moves forward with the turn because he's pretty sure he won't succeed this turn and KDJ would tell him to collect more info.

YJH resets again. He's had time to think about it and so he tries to recreate the explosion from the KDJ timeline before clearing the train.

KDJ is dead.

YJH moves forward and resets again.

Each and every time YJH changes the train scenario just a little bit until FINALLY KDJ survives the train, but dies on the bridge.

YJH resets.

KDJ finally clears the bridge and is eaten by zombies.

YJH resets.

KDJ is clear of the bridge and zombies. YJH saunters up to him pleased before recreating their ultimatum and tossing him into the monsters mouth. YJH waits at the train station. KDJ is dead.

YJH resets.

This time he grabs KDJ and demands he look at YJH. YJH remembers their first encounter, and how thrilling it was to be known and observed by those eyes. KDJ doesn't recognize YJH.

KDJ dies.

YJH resets.

YJH is going insane chasing after a ghost. Countless resets and countless world alterations yet HIS KDJ doesn't exist in a single one of them. The first KDJ had been unique some how. Different from these copies. Had it not been KDJ but something wearing his face? The world trembles. YJH had been able to keep the KDJ copy alive up to this point in this regression when a new constellation sends him a private message.

SP, "If you want YOUR KDJ you should look into finding ways into the Underworld and how to get back out. Also finding a way to contact MAD constellation."

YJH has no better ideas so he follows the constellation's guidance. Unwilling to clear the scenarios if he can't do so with his companion. He had become numb to death because it was just a new beginning where he could great old friends anew. Never having to lose them permanently as he had KDJ.

AND IT WOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO STAND. KDJ IS NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE HIM.

YJH uncovers the information SP was hinting at and is unable to stop the terrifying smirk to stretch his lips. Though he had wanted to destroy the constellations over his regressions he had never considered tearing them from the sky and binding one to human flesh before.

YJH stared at the useless copy of his companion he had kept alive. But it seems his companion had been hiding a few secrets of his own when wearing a human face. YJH would need to plan this carefully after all it wouldn't do for his companion to run as KDJ is well known for doing.

HE WOULD HAVE HIS COMPANION BACK WHETHER HE HAD TO TEAR THE GOD FROM THE HEAVENS TO DO SO.

This turned from fic idea of how would YJH deal with regressing and never being able to see KDJ and company again because they don't exist in the novel to whatever that was.

I was spoiled on who Secretive Plotter and Most Ancient Dream are.

#orv webtoon #orv #omniscient reader spoilers #omniscient reader's viewpoint #kim dokja #secretive plotter #most ancient dream #yoo joonghyuk

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Every Jedi lineage has its own dance and Ahsoka, for one, is excited when Anakin finally begins teaching her theirs. However, before they can get really started, they run into a slight problem.Or That time Ahsoka learned Dooku is her great-great-grandmaster. AN: Based on that post about Jedi linages having dances that I can’t find anymore thanks Tumblr. 

Ahsoka wanted to impress her Master. She wanted to prove to Anakin that it hadn’t been a mistake to take her on despite the more than untraditional claiming. She had to make him proud and show that she wasn’t a childish youngling anymore and could be useful on the battlefield.

Ahsoka also desperately wanted to jump up in excitement because they finally had found some time to spare and Anakin was going to teach her their lineage’s dance. It wasn’t the first sign that Ahsoka was his Padawan, but it seemed like the one that was the most binding. She had gotten her proper beads and even been sent to the quartermaster to get clothing more suited for the war front. Ahsoka hoped her Master hadn’t noticed she had picked her new tunics to match the colors he seemed to prefer to wear. She wouldn’t mind it per se, plenty of Padawans did it after all, but it was just a little embarrassing if he said something about it. Anakin already called her “my Padawan” or, after she’d done something particularly reckless, “my very young Padawan” plenty of times. They were a team and would stick together until Ahsoka was a formidable Knight of her own, but being taught something that was particular to their lineage somehow reassured Ahsoka that she had found her place more than anything else.

“Ready?” Anakin asked.

They had assembled in the bigger training hall of the flagship and carefully put their outer robes to the side together with their lightsabers. A few clones were training, but Ahsoka could already see them beginning to work out less and less to observe them. She had to give it her best. Like most younglings, Ahsoka had adored the celebrations when various lineages would show off their dance, dreaming of when she would learn hers. The elaborate choreographies were stunning, the backflips that were in pretty much every dance at least once had always made her screech in delight.

Not that Ahsoka would do so now.

She was fourteen. And a Padawan.

She didn’t giggle or watch in awe.

“Born ready, Master,” Ahsoka replied cheekily.

Anakin grinned, looking carefree and oddly young this way. Ahsoka was glad about it. She would have disliked it if an old and stuffy Master had picked her.

“Good. It’s been a while since I actually danced, so forgive me if it doesn’t look as fluid.”

Anakin shook his right arm, the one Count Dooku had cut off as if to underline the point. Ahsoka was sure that he must be joking. She had seen him go toe-to-toe against Master Kenobi during training and his prosthetic had hardly seemed to bother him. She had been a little put out by it at first, Jedi with such grave injuries didn’t get send on active combat missions or delicate negotiations anymore, but Anakin had definitely shown that it wasn’t holding him back.

Anakin took a deep breath and bowed in front of her, it was the first position which most of the dances Ahsoka had already learned at the temple shared. Then he took a step forward, raising up his right arm at the same time. The longer she watched, the more mesmerized did Ahsoka become. There were plenty of moves, each one representing one Jedi, and they all fit together perfectly. It reminded her of the gentle waves of the sea or shifting sands of the desert, but none of those images perfectly translated to the fluidity with which Anakin moved. She didn’t dare take her eyes off him even for a second, but she could tell that the clones too had all halted in their movements to observe him. It was beautiful and even though there was no music, Ahsoka felt like she could hear the banging of drums or the gentle play of a harp. More than anything she wanted to join right in, learn to copy all his moves.

With ease, Anakin rose from the ground, arched his back as he spun. Out of that flip, he stepped forward with one leg, slowly pulling the other with him. He raised his arms up-

And stopped with curse Ahsoka wouldn’t dare even whisper where any Master could possibly overhear.

“Is everything alright?” Ahsoka asked quickly.

Anakin’s expression had darkened, he was frowning and clutching his prosthetic arm with the other hand as it shook slightly. Had it malfunctioned and hurt him? Ahsoka jumped up from her position on the ground to walk over to her Master, worry trailing after her like a lost child.

“Yes, yes,” Anakin muttered. “I’m fine, I just forgot it. Obi-Wan and I haven’t fixed the sequence yet.”

“Fix it?” Ahsoka inquired. Lineage dances didn’t get fixed, that was the whole point. They got extended but never changed.

“Mhm,” Anakin hummed, pointedly not elaborating, and walked over to his bundle of robes to fish his comm unit out of them.

A moment later he was calling Obi-Wan. The whole situation was absolutely strange to Ahsoka, she didn't want to know what the clones were thinking.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s voice rang through the silent room as if he had been shouting. “Aren’t you supposed to be training with Ahsoka right now?”

“And aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?” Anakin retorted drily.

Ahsoka counted the hours and indeed. Obi-Wan wasn’t supposed to be awake, it was his nighttime rotation. They had scheduled the hours so that at least one Jedi was always up in case of an emergency. If none of them followed protocol, that particular system was rendered useless.

“I had more pressing manners to attend to." That, Ahsoka had already learned, was Obi-Wan speech for I was up reading through reports. "What can I do for you?”

Anakin rolled his eyes and send Ahsoka a look of fond exasperation, expressing quite clearly what he thought about Obi-Wan’s attitude. She snorted and was half in mind to tell him that he wasn’t doing much better than his Master.

“I’m teaching Ahsoka our dance,” Anakin said. “And we didn’t fix it. Dooku’s move is still in there.”

Silence followed. The name of the Sith Lord had cut through the air like a lightsaber, leaving behind a rough and burning wound.

“I- I had forgotten about that,” Obi-Wan picked up the conversation again.

He sounded tired and hurt, it made Ahsoka uncomfortable. Jedi Masters were supposed to know… well, not everything, nobody could, but the uncertainty in his voice was still unsettling.

“You’re in the main training hall, correct? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

And with that Obi-Wan ended the call and Anakin tossed his comm unit back into the clothing pile.

“Sorry, Snips,” he apologized. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Your first lesson is not turning out as I had planned.”

“That’s alright!” Ahsoka replied quickly. She had already figured out that not a lot of things about her apprenticeship were going to be going according to plan. “But, if you don’t mind me asking, what was that about? What do you mean with Dooku?”

Anakin blinked a couple of times as if he didn’t understand her question. For a moment Ahsoka wondered whether she had said something wrong or accidentally spoke complete gibberish, then Anakin’s face cleared up.

“Right, you don’t know. Look, Obi-Wan is your grandmaster. He was trained by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who died ten years ago on Naboo. Qui-Gon’s Master in turn was Count Dooku, who was taught by Master Yoda. Dooku’s your great-great grandmaster.”

Anakin spit Dooku’s name like an insult, rightfully so in her opinion. Dooku was a cruel bastard, it was almost impossible to imagine that he had been a Jedi Master once upon a time. To think that she was of his lineage now, that he had fallen to the dark side when his own Padawan had been murdered by a Sith and had cut off Anakin’s arm-

“He’s no Master of mine,” Ahsoka said finally.

Dooku had betrayed everything the Jedi stood for. He didn’t deserve to be remembered as one of their own. The sooner they cut his sequence from the dance, the better.

“Can you teach me the moves after his until Obi-Wan arrives?” Ahsoka asked. “I still have to learn those.”

Anakin smiled, a little strained still, but cheer was slowly seeping back into it.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Let’s start with Master Qui-Gon’s move.”

He fell into a stance Ahsoka assumed was the one where Dooku’s usually ended and picked right up, transitioning into what must be Master Jinn's move, then Obi-Wan’s and finally his own. By the time Obi-Wan showed up in the training hall, Ahsoka could almost execute those last three in perfect synchronicity with her Master.

#star wars #Anakin Skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #tcw #disaster lineage #fanfic #IF ANYBODY FINDS THAT POST AGAIN PLS LINK ME

[wayward-mikaelson]

I Still Want You, I Still Need You-IV. The Snap

Word Count: 3816

About: A fight is brought to Wakanda leaving you and many others devastated.

Characters: Bucky, Steve, T’Challa, Shuri, Natasha, Bruce, Rhodey, Thor, Thanos, Vision, Wanda, Okoye, and Sam 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (Unprotected-wrap it before you tap it kids and Implied rough sex), Playful Teasing, Fighting, Injuries, Death, Heartbreak

A/N: These last few days I have been having internet trouble but I am back up and running. Also, this ripped my heart as I wrote this so have a tissue or tissue box at hand. I also tried to keep a few of the big IW events in this part.

*This contains content made for 18 and up crowd. Read at your own disrection

**Please do not copy and paste my work anywhere. Reblogs and sharing the link are okay.

***This work is also posted on Wattpad and Archive of our Own. Links can be found in the pinned post on my profile

****Go follow my other accounts. Links can be found in the pinned post on my profile

*****Currently NOT taking request

******Feedback is Welcomed!! 

Forever Tags: @hobby27 @donnaintx @myinconnelly1 @elansaidaris @magssteenkamp @440mxs-wife

Marvel Tags: Open

Story Tags: @cspr-2 @mysticalfestivalkoala @tanyaherondale @lilithknight1111 @lpzallana @snlsamantha @tomisagod @gloriouspersonbanditrascal @buckysgirl101

Bucky/Sebastian Tags: Open

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III. Fresh Air (NSFW)

Favorite Fics Masterlist

The walk wasn’t long and the weather was perfect. It gave your time to think about what you were going to say to Bucky. Steve had called with his monthly check in, it had surprised you due to the hour he called. He knew the time here in Wakanda and he always enjoyed talking to the both of you. So when he called, you had wondered why.

You entered the clearing and got a good view of yours and Bucky’s home. The view of the tree covered mountain always put a smile on your face. No matter what kind of mood you were in. Movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention.

Bucky was playing with two kids from the Border Tribe. You knew these kids pretty well, their parents were hard workers. These boys must have gotten it from their parents because, they would help Bucky with just about anything. Bucky loved it and it made you fall in love all over again with him whenever you saw him with kids.

You continued to walk towards the house with that smile on your face. The days where you saw Bucky messing around and just being himself, God it made you want to give him a child right away. Even you wanted a kid, but in you one year of marriage, it was still you and Bucky. Then again, with how busy the two of you were, you guys never had that conversation.

“Ah, there she is,” Bucky sat up from the ground. “My beautiful and most gorgeous wife.” He stood up and made his way towards you. Soon, you were wrapped in his arm with your lips pressed to his. “I got a lot done today with the twins help,” He mumbled into your lips. “All there’s left is dinner and dessert.” Bucky’s hand slid down from to cup your right ass cheek making you squeal.

“Well,” you pulled back to stare into his blue eyes. The longer he stared at you the darker they got. “Why don’t we send the boys home with some food and we get to work on the rest of the evening.” You motioned the boys to follow you into the house. Soon, they were off with a basket of fruit, bread, cookies and soup.

“Thank you Mister and Missus Barnes!” They called over their shoulders as they walked away. Your cheeks tingled as they called your by Bucky’s last name. You still never got over that people called you Missus Barnes.

You and Bucky had a short ceremony a week after he proposed. Tony would have had a cow if he found out the you weren’t going to have a huge and ravishing wedding. You didn’t care, all that mattered was you and Bucky. Given the circumstances, the ceremony had to be small. T’Challa officiated the wedding, making legal in every binding way. Shuri and Okoye were the witnesses. You had worn a small, simple Wakandan gown while Bucky wore a button up shirt and pants.

While you watched the boys disappear over the hills, Bucky snaked his arm around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck. You closed your eyes, “Steve called earlier,” you said cutting off whatever Bucky was doing.

“Really? Why so early?” He had the same tone of confusion and wonder you had. Bucky had always loved talking with his friend.

You turned in his arm and stared up at him. “He wants us to meet him in Berlin tomorrow evening. He says he may have found a way to clear everyone’s names.”

Bucky took a step back. You immediately knew where his thoughts were going. “He want’s to run it by all off us and we have to let him know in the morning.” You closed the space between the two of you. You reached up to grab the collar of his shirt, “I did tell him that we made Wakanda our home so if his plan works we will be still be living here.”

Bucky smiled. “Good,” he slowly started to back you into the wall. “We can call him tomorrow and tell him we’ll be there. How we skip right to dessert?” Bucky’s chest gently pinned you to the wall and he trailed a slow kiss from the base of your neck to your lips and down again. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Do you want kids?” You blurted out.

Bucky pulled away, the lust disappearing from his eyes. “Yes, why? Are you…?”

You shook your head. “No. I just see how well you are with the kids that pass by through here. You’re so great with them and I just know that if we have a few of our own, you’ll make the perfect father.”

Bucky cupped your chin with his hand. “Are you wanting to try? Starting tonight?” There was small smile forming on his lips.

A smile plays on the corner of your lips as well.

Moments later, You laying on your back while Bucky hovers over you. You reach between your naked bodies and take hold of Bucky’s hardened cock. A small and almost silent moan slips from Bucky’s mouth. You give his cock two slow pumps before lining him up with your aching entrance.

Bucky slowly pushed into you, causing your eye to close and roll back. “Open those gorgeous eyes, Doll,” Bucky stated to thrust in and out of you at a decent pace. You opened your eyes and see Bucky staring down at you. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

“You tell me everyday, love,” You lifted your hips up to meet Bucky half way. Each time the two of your met, a soft groan escaped your lips. “Do you know how lucky I am to have you?”

Bucky chuckled. “Only when we’re having sex.”

You playfully smack his chest. “I was being serious.”

“I know,” Bucky laughed and dipped down to press his lips to yours. While pushing himself further into you, causing you to moan into his mouth.

“You know what,” you pushed Bucky onto his back and straddled him. “Screw the slow and sensual crap. I’m going to make tonight feel like this is going to be the last time we ever do this.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened. “In that case, Doll, get on all fours.”

***

The next morning you and Bucky are doing some work, when Bucky purposefully bumped into you spilling some water from the bucket he was carrying. You turned to him to see him laughing as he continued to walk away. You shook your head as you thought up your move.

You walked over to where he stood next to the compost pile. As you walked by, you bumped his hips with yours, causing Bucky to lose his balance and fall into the compost. You covered your mouth to fight the laughter.

Bucky sat up in the pile and stared at you. You dropped your hand while the smile was still on your lips. “Next time you’ll think twice about splashing me with water.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Bucky lunged forward. You tried to move away but Bucky managed to his hand on you and pull you back into the compost with him. “Now, I think we’re even,” Bucky’s hand trailed down to your thigh and gave it a small, little squeeze.

“I love you,” you pressed your lips to his before standing up. “I have to go help Shuri and make that call to Steve.”

The moment you stood on your feet and turned around, you wished you hadn’t. There, entering the clearing and walking towards you and Bucky was T’Challa and some of his guards. It wasn’t the guards that followed the King of Wakanda that bothered you, it was the big, narrow case that accompanied them.

You knew that case all too well. If the case was being brought, you knew something was going to happen.

You looked back at your husband, all smiles and playful behavior no longer painted his face. The look of dread and sadness had taken it’s place. It was almost similar to the look he had before going back on ice. It ripped your heart out to see that look on his face.

“I’m sorry to break up such a fun moment,” T’Challa sounded like he was talking to someone of a higher power than him.

He gestured to the guards to bring the case up. You held your breath as they opened it. There sat the black and gold metal arm you helped Shuri design. You watched as Bucky slowly approached the case to get a better look at the arm. You could see that part of him is excited about the arm, for you had told him all about it and what it could do. The other part is that he knows that he will have to put it on. Both of you knew it.

Bucky Barnes may have been tired to fight, but he would fight to protect the world. And you, you were his entire world. The one thing keeping him going and not just flat out giving up. He would do just about anything, even if it meant dying, to make sure you lived to see another day.

“Where’s the fight?” he asked in a hollow voice.

T’Challa looked between the two of you. He hated this just as much as you did. “On it’s way.”

***

You stood looking through the window and watched as your husband got his arm on. It looked painful in your opinion, but Bucky’s face made no indication that it hurt him. He just stared at the ceiling until the procedure was finished.

There wasn’t much said about why you guys were needed. Just that Steve was on his way here and would fill you all in when he arrived. You knew it must have been urgent if Steve wouldn’t give the full story.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice pulled your back from your thoughts. You turned around and immediately stared at the metal arm on your husband. Suddenly, you were having some very impure thoughts about it. Maybe you should have convinced Bucky to have the arm sooner. All you wanted was to feel those cool, metal fingers on your bare skin. Gripping every part of your body.

“Hi,” you breathed out. You had to shake your head to distract you from the dirty thoughts about that arm.

“How do I look?” Bucky held out both arms and did a small little spin.

You rose an eyebrow with a smile on your face, “Do you want the clean answer or dirty answer to that?” Bucky closed the space between the two of you. His metal hand gripped your hip and pulled your closer to him. He was on to your thoughts.

“That depends,” his voice was right against your ear. It sent instant shivers down your spine. Yep, he was one hundred on to you. “Do you want the clean answer or dirty answer to how you look? Cause this tight outfit you’re wearing is already doing something to me. Where has this been the whole time?” Bucky’s metal hand snaked to your ass and gave it a small squeeze before backing you to a wall.

“Packed away with that arm of yours,” You slowly wrap your arms around his waist.

Bucky nuzzled your neck, sending more shivers down your back. “How come? We could have had loads of fun with this.”

“The last time I wore this, I fell a good story out of a helicopter,” you answered.

Bucky pulled back and stared at you. “What?” his eyebrows furrowed. “How? What were you doing? How come I never heard about that?”

You dropped your arms, “Because it happened while you were still on ice and I was doing something on the side for T’Challa. Gathering information.”

“Were you hurt?”

You took a deep breath. “Yes and Shuri made some upgrades so if I were to fall a good distance, the suit would take most of the impact.” The look on your husbands face tugged at your heart. He looked hurt that he didn’t know about those few months where you went out and did small missions. “Look,” you took his face in your hands. “I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you and I’m sorry I never said anything about it. Let’s talk more about this later.”

Bucky pushed your back against the wall. “Only if you wear this,” he said before pressing his lips firmly to yours. His tongue slipped passed your lips and explored your mouth.

“And only if you keep that arm for a while,” you smile against his lips.

The sound of an air craft was heard, making both you and Bucky pull apart and look out the window. A smile formed on your face when you recognized the air craft. Spinning on your heel you raced out to the front, with Bucky following after you.

You waited impatiently for the Quinjet to land. When the loading hatch opened you watched as not only Steve walk out, but more of your friends. They approached T’Challa and you saw only one of them bow. Idiot, you thought. Then you realized who that idiot was.

“Oh my god, Bruce!” You whispered. You hadn’t seen since Sokovia and a lot of your had long sense thought he had died.

Then you locked eyes with Steve. You and Bucky approached him and he gave the both of you the biggest hug ever. It was two years worth of hugs.

“How are you guys doing?” He asked as he pulled away from Bucky.

“We’re good,” Bucky looked at you and smiled.

“What’s going on?” You asked.

Steve looked around him and then placed his hands on his hips. “Bruce, wanna tell them?”

You looked at Bruce, who walked slowly towards you. There as look on his face that instantly made you worried for some reason. “Someone called Thanos, he’s after what’s called the Infinity Stones. Vision was almost killed for the Mind Stone. We’re seeing if it can be taken off and destroyed without killing him before Thanos get’s it.”

“What does he want with them?” Bucky asked.

“He wants to wipe out half of the worlds population,” Bruce looked towards Bucky. “Who are you?”

“Bucky,” Bucky answered. “Barnes. I’m also Y/Ns husband.”

Bruce looked back at you. “You got married? Does Tony know? Wait speaking of Tony.”

Your heart skipped a beat when Bruce said Tony’s name like it was some sort of taboo thing. Bucky noticed the change in your posture. He took a step towards you and placed his hand in yours. “What about Tony?” Your voice was hard.

***

You stood in the lab as you processed what was said about your brother. You didn’t want to believe it but then again it was Tony. He did just about anything. You were so lost in thought you didn’t know what was being said about Vision or the stone on his head. You walked to the window and looked out into the distance.

“You doing okay?” Natasha was standing beside you.

“As good as I can be,” You looked over to her. She had cute and died her hair blonde. You weren’t going to lie, you liked it a lot. “I just hope he’s okay.”

“We all do,” Natasha rubbed your arm. “Does Tony know you married the man that killed your father?” You shook your head. “You know he might not take it well, when or if he finds out.”

“Tony will just have to suck it up, Bucky’s fixed now and isn’t who he was when he worked with HYDRA.” You were aware of the ear piece in your ear linking you to the rest of the team. Bucky had one too. You knew he heard all that was said and you knew what was going on through his head.

Howard and Maria Stark were the biggest contribution to his nightmares.

“Hey guys,” Sam’s voice rang in your ears. “Um, somethings trying to get in.”

“They won’t be able to,” Okoye said.

“Are you sure about that?” You watch as something hit the barrier that surrounds Wakanda. Then another one and soon you’re able to see the barrier itself.

You turned to see everyone staring out the window. Poor Vision was laying on the table looking helpless. Wanda was hovering over him and staying close to him. You could read her body language well. Wanda loved him.

T’Challa and Steve exchanged a few words and it appeared they agreed on something. “How much time do you need, Shuri?”

“As much as you can give me,” Shuri didn’t looked up from her spot. She was too engrossed with what she saw.

“Y/N,’ Steve was approaching you. “It’s best if you stay up here and protect Vision with Wanda.”

“I agree, Doll,” Bucky’s voice was in your ear. “Whatever’s coming sounds nasty and I want you as far from it as possible.”

“And if the fight comes towards me?”

“Then kick their asses and show them some hell,” Natasha smiled.

***

Hell is what you gave when three creatures broke into the lab. You were quick on your feet but not too quick. One had thrown you off a landing right next to Vision. You got up and did the only thing you thought of.

“Get out of here Vision!” You helped Vision off the table until something crashed into the two of you sending the two of you through the window.

You slid the slanted roof trying to find something to grab onto. You called out for help only to not get a response back. The edge of the roof was quickly approaching and your hand missed the edge by centimeters. You were then falling three stories down to the ground. Even though your suit could take the impact, you weren’t so sure about your head. Then something grabbed you midair before setting your down. You looked up and saw Rhodey flying away back towards the fight. You made a mental note to try and thank him later.

“Guys, we got ourselves a Vision situation,” Sam said.

“Somebody get to Vision,” Steve yelled.

“Already on it,” You replied. You started to weave in and out of the threes looking for Vision. From a distance you heard a clap of thunder and soon saw a flash of lighting and you knew who just entered the fight.

Something crashed into you and sent you flying to a nearby three. Your head smacked against the trunk. You cried out and landed face first into the ground. Whatever threw you, picked you up by gripping a chunk of your hair. They were disgusting looking and part of you felt like that moment was it. You were a goner. Then they dropped you as they fell to their knees.

“You alright, Doll,” Bucky helped you up and looked you over.

“I think so,” you were breathing hard. “Not my finest hour.”

Suddenly there was gust of wind. Something was changing and it raised goosebumps on every part of your body. You looked around to see a cloud of blue burst and a purple looking thing walked out. One hand was covered in a gold glove with gems on it. Thanos, you thought.

“That’s him,” you heard Bruce say.

Then everyone was racing towards him. Anyone who got close to him was thrown back. Bruce was thrown into boulder. Natasha was pinned under earth that rose from the ground. Bucky was thrown into a three. You and Steve were the only ones who got close.

You slid in between Thanos’s legs and jumped onto his shoulders. You pulled the knife from your thigh holster. Before you could stab the knife into him, Thanos pulled on your leg and then gripped your neck with one of his giant hands. With each second it was tightening and you barely able to breath. You clawed at the giant hand but failed. The look on his face has a faint smile. He was taking pleasure in killing you.

“No!” Bucky’s voice was heard from someone.

The grip on your neck loosened some, giving you some breathing air. Thanos looked towards the sound and back at you. He looked you over and then flung you into a tree. You landed on the ground, the wind being knocked out of you.

You rolled over onto you knees to watch what happened next.

It all happened in slow motion. Wanda was holding off Thanos while destroying the stone on Visions head. You saw the heartbroken look on her face. She didn’t want to do it but she knew she needed to. Vision had closed his eyes and you knew that he made peace with what was happening.

Then Vision and the stone were gone.

But that isn’t what surprised you.

Thanos did something on that glove of his hand. All the while, he spoke quietly to Wanda. Green surrounded that area and suddenly, Vision was back. Wanda realized what was going to happen, so she jumped up and was thrown back by Thanos. Then Thanos had Vision by the neck and ripped the stone right off his head.

Vision was gone again.

Everything started to change when you saw and axe fly passed your head. Thor was then attacking Thanos and digging his axe deep into his opponents chest when Thor stopped. His head turned when he saw Thanos raise his hand up and snap the fingers that were in the gloved hand.

Everything, everywhere was silent and it sent chills down your spine. Something happened and you knew that something was bad and going to leave you heart broken.

“What did you do?” Thor yelled but Thanos disappeared leaving the group to stare at one of another.

You walked up to Steve who was a few feet from you and helped him up. He walked over to Wanda who was next to Visions body. The look on her face was pure brokenness.

Little did you know…

“Y/N? Steve?”

You turned and froze. Bucky had been making his way towards you when he started to turn to dust. You quickly ran over to him and right when you got within grabbing range he fell to the ground. Dust at your feet.

“No,” you whispered as your knees gave out beneath you. Your hand ran through what was left of your husband. You felt your entire world grow cold. You felt pressure on your chest as you covered your mouth to suppress the sob that took over your body. The of you were happy and talking about having kids and now, not even twenty four hours later, you were left alone looking at the literal ashes of your husband.

You let out a scream you didn’t know your body or vocal cords were capable of.

#I Still Want You I Still Need You Story #Shy's Marvel Masterlist #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes Smut #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes Story #Bucky Barnes Imagine #Sebastian Stan #Marvel #Marvel Story #Marvel Imagine #Marvel Fanfic #Bucky Barnes Fanfic #Marve daily #MCU #MCU Story #MCU Imagine #MCU Fanfic #MCU Daily #The Winter Soldier #The White Wolf

[andypantsx3]

war paint | 2 | rumors

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

The city was nothing like you’d expected it to be.

You’d known of course, that it would be filled with people. You’d grown up only a day’s journey south of the capital - you had seen the caravans of merchants that passed close to your family farm almost weekly, the stream of soldiers that poured endlessly out from the city walls to spread out across the countryside.

But still none of that prepared you. It was loud, louder than almost anything you’d ever heard. Thousands upon thousands of people clamored almost on top of one another, running this way and that, chatting and yelling and selling everything under the sun.

You followed the main road through the city gates, carrying you deeper into the city. The castle stood on a high ledge overlooking the city, and the main road eventually wound into looping switchbacks leading up the steep climb.

It was hell after your long walk all the way to the city, made even more so by the tight fabric you’d eventually thought to wind around your chest under your shirt, but you endured it, eager to be done. The sooner you reached the top, the sooner you could speak to a castle guard about enlistment.

At the top, you found a small troop of soldiers guarding a portcullis signaling the entrance to castle grounds.

“Excuse me,” you greeted a guard, “where would I find the enlistment offices?”

He stared down at you. “A little small to be joining the kingsguard, aren’t you?”

You bristled. “I wasn’t aware that the army turned away able men.”

An eyebrow went up. “Able men, no. Able boys, though, are another thing. Are you sure you’re old enough?”

You stared at him in question, then realized what you must look like to him. Though nearly a spinster as a woman, as a man you must look almost like a child, short and fresh-faced and soft-voiced.

“I’ve had sixteen summers, though I may not look it,” you said, pressing up on your heels. You doubted he would believe you any older, considering how quickly boys grew after that age.

“You certainly don’t look it, no,” he chuckled. He gestured to his left, indicating a small building tucked into the outcropping of castle walls. “Office is over there, we’ll see if they believe you.”

You thanked him, pushing down your annoyance, and followed his direction to the building. The door was already open, and just inside sat what must have been the kingdom’s most harried looking clerk, scribbling away over scrolls of parchment, his shirt and hair rumpled as if he’d had no rest for days.

“Excuse me, sir,” you started, but he cut you off with a long, gusty sigh.

“No, he does not have two heads, nor is he in possession of claws or fangs. He is human by all accounts, was born here in the capital, and as far as I’m aware no winds from hell have ever blown through the city.”

You stared at him. “What?”

The clerk heaved another put upon sigh and looked up at you. “You’re here about Captain Bakugou, are you not? You boys always want the same thing.”

You felt your eyebrows go up. “Captain...who?”

The clerk blinked. “You haven’t heard of Captain Bakugou?”

You looked at him blankly. “Should I know who that is?”

He shuffled his papers meaningfully. “Why are you here then, boy, if not to ask about our Lord Captain?”

You leaned forward eagerly. “I’m here to join the kingsguard, sir.”

He looked you up and down skeptically. “You must be of age to join the kingsguard.”

“I am!” you said feelingly. You hadn’t anticipated this much trouble about your age when you’d planned this. You couldn’t let him stop you from joining the guard; you needed that initial fee to send back to your family quickly. “How can I prove it, sir?”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Have you any papers?”

You shook your head. “I’m from the country, sir. A farm. We don’t have any papers there.”

His mouth twisted. “What’s your name?”

“L/N,” you said. “My family name, sir.”

“And how old are you, L/N?” he asked.

“Just sixteen last summer,” you said.

He sighed. “I suppose you could be. And you mean to join the kingsguard, do you?”

You nodded.

He rustled around on his desk, digging through his papers before thrusting a half hand of parchment at you. It was covered with cramped lines in a dark ink, with a small space left open towards the bottom.

“This is your contract,” he said, “can you read or do you need me to read it to you?”

You took it from him. “I can read, sir.”

You scanned the paper quickly, eyes darting over the terms outlining your pay, your meals, and your housing. You picked out phrases like one year and a day, the length of your contract, and the concerning phrase in the service of Katsuki Bakugou, Captain of the Guard and Lord of Musutafu.

“You said this, um, Captain Bakugou...people think he has two heads?” you asked hesitantly.

The clerk waved a hand. “A rumor, nothing more.”

You wondered at that, why a man -- a nobleman at that, if the title of lord was any indication -- would stand accused of possessing an extra head, and from the sound of it, a set of fangs and claws. Was he horrifically ugly? You supposed it mattered not, if he were a good captain.

“Um, I sign here?” you asked, indicating the blank space at the bottom.

The clerk nodded and handed you his quill. You copied out your name in a messy hand, obscuring your first name in a riot of loose loops, and handed the parchment back to him. He looked it over and nodded, handing over a small seal in its place.

“This will get you inside castle grounds. You’re to head straight for the barracks to the east of the palace proper.”

You nodded, and stepped back out into the waning sunlight, following his direction back to the castle entrance. The dark haired guard who you’d spoken to smiled at your approach.

“Looks like we’ll be serving with each other after all, then?” he asked.

You nodded.

He held out a hand, “I’m Hanta Sero.”

“L/N,” you said, taking his hand and shaking it.

Sero gestured you inside the palace grounds, and you set off towards the east, following a wide cobblestone path towards a series of buildings set into the long shadow the castle cast at sunset. Your bindings itched now more than ever, and you looked forward to finding somewhere to sit, eager to get off your feet after a full day’s journey.

As you arrived at the front of the barracks, you were greeted by another soldier. He looked about your age, with large unruly spikes of yellow-blonde hair and friendly features, and he seemed to perk up considerably as you approached.

“I was wondering if we’d get anyone new today!” he said, smiling. “Welcome to the kingsguard!”

You raised a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m L/N.”

“Denki Kaminari,” he replied, gesturing for you to follow him. “You’re lucky you got here when you did! They just rang the bell for dinner.”

He led you into one of the buildings, down a long corridor that emerged into an enormous mess hall set with high ceilings and studded with dozens of tables and low benches. The din of many voices crashed over you, and you gaped at the hundreds of soldiers spread out across the room, chattering in clusters of brilliant red uniforms. A line snaked around the corner of the room, men of every stature tapping their feet impatiently as the queued up to receive their rations.

You were suddenly struck by what it meant to be here. These hundreds of men, you would be living among them, dining with them, sleeping beside them, training and fighting with them. You would need to remain in disguise for a year and a day, need to hide while you bathed, while you changed, while you bled. The thought was incredibly overwhelming.

“So where you from?” Kaminari said conversationally as you joined the line behind a pair of men chatting in low tones.

“Only about a day south of here,” you said, waving a hand. “It’s a small farm village, I doubt you’d know it. You?”

Kaminari grinned. “Born and raised in the capital! I’m a city boy through and through.”

You laughed. “Have you ever been outside of it?”

He shook his blonde head. “Only for the rare training and once on exchange with the city watch -- Captain Bakugou sometimes loans us out to Commander Iida. Last time, Iida made my troop do a perimeter walk around the city.”

“Commander Iida?” you asked.

Kaminari nodded. “Another of the nobles who took a military position, like Captain Bakugou. He’s much nicer, though. Strict, but he hardly breathes fire like our dear captain.”

You could feel your eyebrows lift. “Breathes fire?”

Kaminari laughed. “Well, he doesn’t breathe it. He mostly just yells his head off. Oh, but he can make stuff explode if he gets really into it. He’s got some amount of magic, like Prince Shouto.”

You nodded. Magic was rare, but not unheard of. One girl in your home village had been born with the ability to turn anything smaller than a cat into dust. The other kids had kept their distance from her, until she’d grown up quite beautiful. Last you’d heard, she was married to the village headman’s son and had a little girl of her own.

“The registration clerk seemed to have much to say about the captain,” you said. “Why are there so many rumors about him?”

The line moved forward as you spoke, and you followed. Your ankle rolled underneath you and you stumbled, colliding hard with the back of one of the men in front of you.

“Oh,” you said, backing up a step. “My apologies.”

The two men turned to you, the one you’d run into eyeing you angrily. “Watch it, pipsqueak.”

You frowned up at him, eyebrows drawing together. “Hey, I said I’m sorry. No need for that.”

Kaminari made a concerned noise beside you, but you paid him no mind as the man drew himself up in front of you. He was dark haired and blue-eyed, with the kind of manner that might have suggested he’d never seen a hard day in his life had the sudden spark of violence in his eye not told a different story.

“What’d you say, you little baby bitch?” he ground out.

Your hand balled into a fist, but Kaminari put a placating hand out in front of you. “Nishimura, it was an accident. No need to fight!”

Nishimura growled. “This little fuck thinks he can tell me what to do. I’ll teach him his place.”

What the hell was this man’s problem? Suddenly, it felt like all your emotions were welling up inside of you. Your exhaustion from walking all day, your frustration with your father, your anxiety at being trapped with these men for more than a year, all of it roiled inside you like the churning waves of an angry sea. The words bubbled up before you could stop them.

“Try it, asshole.”

Nishimura lunged, and he was on you before you could blink. The next thing you registered, the two of you were rolling across the floor, scrabbling at each other like starving animals. His fist caught you in your side and you grunted, hooking a foot into his stomach and forcing him off of you. You scrambled to your feet and backed away, knocking roughly into one of the low tables.

You’d never fought with anyone before, and if this is what it was like, you never wanted to again. Your heart beat frantically in your throat, every fiber in your body snapped to attention. You felt scared, threatened, and so apprehensive you might be sick.

Nishimura, however, did not seem to have the same reservations. He rolled to his feet and lunged for you again, catching you around the waist and bringing you to the floor. His fist drove into your stomach, knocking the wind from you. Frantic, and struggling to breathe, you curled your own fist, catching him in the side of the jaw.

He’d just managed to hit you in the stomach again when there was a blinding flash and a deafening crack like thunder split the mess hall. Nishimura’s eyes widened and he swore, pushing himself off of you as fast as he’d dove for you.

You coughed, curling an arm around your stomach, desperately attempting to take in air.

“What the fuck is going on?” a rough voice growled from behind you. Nishimura stepped back from you, stumbling.

“He attacked me, sir,” Nishimura said, his pupils dilating in something that looked like fear. Behind him, the friend he’d been talking with nodded, though his eyes remained fixed, unblinking, on someone behind you.

“Bullshit,” you gasped out, “you tackled me.”

Nishmura’s eyes darted back to you, but only for a second. You rolled to your knees, turning to look up at whoever he’d been addressing, only to freeze under a blood-red gaze.

Suddenly, all the talk of rumors finally became clear.

Though he had no fangs or claws or an extra head, there was no question who the man in front of you was. Captain Katsuki Bakugou was tall, powerfully built, with ash blonde hair, and a handsome face that could have been carved from stone. He stood at the entrance of the mess hall, looking as though he’d just returned from somewhere, dressed in a dark traveling cloak that mostly obscured the red uniform shirt of the palace guard. Power seemed to pour from him in angry waves, and the hard expression that twisted his features was enough to quicken your heartbeat.

“I don’t give a shit who started it,” Bakugou snarled. “I don’t need soldiers who roll around on the floor like squabbling fucking toddlers.”

Indignation washed through you and you opened your mouth to retort, but Bakugou rounded on you.

“You gonna talk back to me, pretty boy?” he demanded. “Say one damn word and I’ll fucking cook you in your skin.”

A volley of sparks lit off from his palm, and your mouth clicked shut.

He sneered at you before his crimson gaze flicked back to Nishimura. “And you, acting like you weren’t the one winning the damn fight.” He growled. “Both of you, one month of extra training. And if I see you so much as breathe in each other’s direction again, I’ll kill you.”

Your blood pounded in your ears as you nodded. Nishimura was similarly cowed, staring at his feet.

Bakugou’s eyes searched over every face in the room. “That goes for the rest of you. Now dinner’s over. Back to your rooms.”

There was a rustle of indignant shuffling behind you, but no one dared disagree with him. Looking satisfied, Bakugou turned on his heel, pinning you with one last hard look, before sweeping from the room. His boots echoed in the hall, easily audible over the stunned silence of the men around you.

You closed your eyes, the pain from your bruises and the gnaw of your empty stomach finally washing over you.

Fuck. This was not how you’d wanted to start your enlistment.

#bakugou x reader #fanfic #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

The Leauge of villains in a horror movie (no quirk au)

I just think itd be interesting

I'm more a fan of horror books than movies, because I get scared easily with visual content. BUT I'd do the best I can. Here it goes:

THE YEAR OF THE DEMON LORD AU :

The story is about a little boy (Shimura Tenko) who was sold to a demon (AFO) by his father (Shimura Kotaro), who was trying to bring his mother (Shimura Nana) back to life.

The demon tricked Kotaro and he only brought the ghost of Nana back. To mark the little boy as his, the demon changed Tenko's name to Tomura. His hair also changed from black to white and he got permanent scars along his face and neck, the a curse that would be always screacting.

The story cuts to the future, where we see an older Tomura playing with his train set. Nao, Kotaro's wife, is arguing with him because she refuse to let the demon take the kid. That night when the demon appears, Nao makes her choice: crying, she tells the demon to take Kotaro in exchange of letting her son live for another 15 years. The demon accepts the deal but in exchange he decides he's gonna take the lives of all the Shimuras one by one, whenever he wants.

Nao takes her family and begins her career against the clock: she needs to find someone who can fight the demon to free her son.

She doesn't hide to his son what is happening. Tomura knows he's cursed and a demon is looking for him. But Nao also teaches him about how his grandmother, Nana, used to fight against demons all the time. Tomura is not alone and he can't let the demon take him, because he is a special boy, she knows it. Whatever happens, the demon can't take him.

Within the first 5 years, Tomura lost both his maternal grandparents. Tomura is now 10 years old, but they haven't found someone to fight the demon. Instead, Nao has spend those years finding someone to teach Tomura how to resist the demon's influence. His name is Kurogiri and he's a young specialist on fighting satanic influences. He becomes like a father to Tomura and Hana, something Nao is grateful for.

Another 5 years go by and Nao dissappears. Hana is 18 years old, Tomura is 15 years old. The grieve causes Tomura to forget most of the past 15 years old of his life. Hana starts her theological studies as Kurogiri helps Tomura develop his supernatural abilities. They don't tell Tomura the truth, because they want him to have some normal years.

Tomura gets some friends. They all are strange and weird as him, almost all of them having some or other form of connection with the supernatural, even if they don't know about it.

Hana and Kurogiri agree that it's best for him to keep some close friends to help him. Still, they're time is running out.

Tomura doesn't know why her sister acts so strange. She's jumpy, scared, tearful and constantly worrying over him. She fights a lot with his friends, he goes paranoid.

They have a fight. Tomura leaves their home. After some hours, Hana panics and calls everyone to go after him. She barely finds him and is able to apologize when she sees the demon lurking in the shadows. Hana tells him to run but Tomura doesn't. He stays there while the demon takes his sister.

Everything comes back to him in a flash. He faints. When he wakes up, he finds out Kurogiri was the one who saved him, but he got his own curse for getting in between the demon and him.

With all his family dead and his mentor injured, Tomura needs to make a decision. Is he going to expend the rest of his years looking for a savior or is he going to fight the demon himself?

Tomura dissappears. Hana is dead. The Villain Club (the way Tomura decides to refer to his friends), are madly worried. Tomura has always helped them, he was always there when they needed him, so how can the let Tomura just dissappear like that?

Magne uses her power to contact a ghost to help them. Most of them are terrified and won't even talk to her. Compress is her anchor to the real world, Twice is the bait, so Toga is the one protecting Magne from the ghost in the spirit realm. Since Spinner is not spiritually sensitive and Dabi can't control his powers, they are the ones protecting the others in the real world.

Toga, Spinner and Dabi are doing their best, but there are too many ghost attacking them. They are almost past the limit when Magne finds the ghost of Nana.

She explain the situation as quickly as she can, before begging them to rush, giving them Tomura's location. He plans to contact the demon behind Kurogiri's back to get done with the whole deal.

Tomura is not strong enough, but he's tired of watching the people he loves die. He knows in his bones that if he asks his friends for help, they won't refuse. But getting involved equals getting kill, and that's something he can't deal with.

I bet you already know that everything goes wrong from this point further.

The demon needs some time to properly possess Tomura. The Villian Club are on their way, but know the demon knows that too.

They crash. Magne gets badly injured and she just knows the demon won't let her live, not when she was the one who contacted Nana. That's why she tells the rest to go save Tomura while she stays behind. She's gonna use her own blood, flesh and bones to create a protection for them. Human sacrifices are powerful, and even more when the person gives their love willingly.

Tomura is fighting the demon's will. Their in an abandoned building, one the Villian Club needs to break in. Except now they're not only dealing with ghosts, but with demon possessed humans.

This time, Compress and Twice are the ones to keep the demon's servants at bay. They find Kurogiri is already there, but there are too many. He orders the rest to keep going.

Spinner, Dabi and Tog fight their way to the room where Tomura is. While Toga is on transe to properly kill the demons, Spinner needs to carry her on his back and keep her safe in the real world. Dabi is able to kill both demons and humans in the spirit and real world, but it activates his curse and the more he uses his senses, the more his body burns.

When they reach Tomura, is almost too late.

Toga almost collapses for just staring into the demon's real form. Spinner needs to wake her. Dabi can use his arms properly anymore.

That's when the ghost of Magne appears. She's not dead, thanks to Giran and Mustard finding her on time. Using Giran as an anchor and with the help of Giran, she finds a way to contact the Villain Club to give them the final piece Nana told her: the demon has always wanted Tomura because he has the same special ability she was born with: the can bind demons inside of them to destroy them from within.

All they need to do is bring Tomura's consciousness back and tell him that he can contact his dead family, because every life the demon has ever reclaimed keeps living inside of him. A demon as old as that one... He must has thousands and thousands of ghost inside of him.

Dabi and Toga take the most damage, because they're both trying to slow down the demon in both realms the best they can. Spinner is in charge on making Tomura wake up. But how?

He remembers Tomura once confessed that, in order to wake from a nightmare, he created a copy of his father on his subconscious. Whenever the copy of his father put his hand on Tomura's face, he knew he was in danger and his instincts kicked him awake.

With Dabi and Toga defeated, with the possessed humans surrounding the rest of the Villain Club, Spinner tries one last time: he let's the demon capture him, let him think he's done. And when he lowers his guard, Spinner puts his hand on Tomura's face.

For a second, just the laughter of the demon. And then...

“Spinner?”

Spinner almost cries out loud. Or maybe he does. He can't talk, so it's a blessing that Dabi has kept himself awake enough to yell Tomura to contact his family. When Tomura retreats, the demon already attempting to regain control.

The Villain Club uses their last sparks of energy to anchor Tomura. Like hands holding him all over his body, reminding him he's not alone.

And that's when Tomura remembers his mother, his sister, his grandparents. Nana.

He cries and kicks and shouts and bites his way down down down into the demon memory, reclaiming all those lives who took, asking them for help. They are like specks of dust floating on the air, slowly retaking their mortal form. And they are so many... An army of the death.

When he reaches his family, he's tired. He can't move anymore. He closes his eyes while he hears how the ghost tear the demon apart. And he feels gentle hands, gentle voices, gentle smiles.

With the delicate touch of a pair of colorful wings, Tomura feels a kiss on his cheek.

“I'm sorry I had to leave you. Could you forgive me, please? About that night?”

Tomura begins to cry.

Hana, his sister. He'd recognize her voice anywhere.

“It was a silly fight. I was never angry with you anyway. And you're here now.”

She laughs, taking his hand to guide him out of the darkness and he misses her so much.

He knows he can't stay there.

He let's his mother hug him and kiss his forehead, smoothing his hair. He promises to take care of his scars and scratches. L

“My brave little boy, I knew you could do it.”

He let's his grandparents tell him how proud they are. They don't accept the apology of Tomura for being the reason they are dead.

“It was our choice, a great one. We're glad of what we did, so don't regret it for us.”

When he opens his eyes, he's at the hospital. Apparently no one else died, but scared a bunch of people to death for suddenly reappearing with a bunch of injuries, covered in blood and mud.

The Villain Club gets to be angry with Tomura for not asking them for help and then they get to hug the hell out of him.

And if this is a horror movie, why didn't I kill more people? Because this is my au and I get to save them all for being the author.

Happy fucking ending you all.

And remember: I never told any of you that the demon was dead, because no one ever saw him dying.

#Shan's asks #Shan's mha aus #Shan's bnha aus #Shan's lov aus #The year of the demon lord au #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #lov #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #shimura nao #shimura kotaro #AFO #shimura hana #Shimuras #shimura nana #kurogiri #dabi #toga himiko #magne #mr. compress #twice #spinner #giran #mustard #Mha aus #Bnha aus