#and I have very little patience for phantom in general | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelharness · 1 year

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Still trying to find how I want to characterize Danny. I think this specific writing is the closest I’ve gotten to how I want him, unnerving, bizarre, and devoted.

Reader uses a strap, not gendered otherwise.

With The Intimacy of a Knife

WARNINGS: a little blood, not yours

DANNY JOHNSON / THE GHOSTFACE

He makes it easy for you tonight. You wouldn’t have caught him against the watery black velvet of nighttime, but he stands very purposely within reach of the porch light, so when you flick it on his outlight is caught against the flood of yellow light.

Your body stills immediately, as if doused with a cold spray of water, but you catch yourself quick enough to recover and pretend you hadn’t noticed him, as striking as his silhouette is, tailed by fluttering ribbons of fabric.

You pry the sliding glass door open, prickled instantly by the evening wetness and smell of damp grass. Crouching down, you extend a hand to the darkness, the side of the backyard opposite from the one he occupies. From the night, your cat pads up to you, tail flicking.

“C’mere, baby,” you call, wanting to hurry up and head inside, back to the movie you have on pause.

Your cat pauses, turns, tail curls, and meets eyes with the Ghostface.

“What, huh?” you ask, stroking its neck with the side of your fingers.

“C’mon, it’s so cold out here.”

It stands there another moment before pushing past your leg to trod inside. You close the door behind it, not bothering to lock it. The porch light comes off and darkness reclaims the outside, the still blackness resuming.

He knows you know better, so when he follows, it is willingly and adoringly, but still your pulse flits in your chest. Your breaths draw tightly, like drawing back the taut string of a bow, pulling into a knot in your chest.

Assuming the role of observer, you sit in your own darkness, far enough to be out of sight as he makes his way across the porch, but still only a generous stride or two away from the door. You watch a gloved hand reach out and sit on the handle of the door, waiting a beat. Two, three. It could be five minutes or your impatience stretching out the seconds painfully. The fingers curl, drive the door open somehow silently, a feat you could not replicate.

Another pause that makes you despise his tremendous supply of patience. Your legs burn with restlessness.

Finally, one boot inside, he manifests in the doorway, resembling his namesake; he is a phantom against the backdrop of a bleached moon. His white, howling face is expressive but unreadable. The leather of his boots is old and crisp and hardened with wear, and yet somehow every step is soundless, even when his movements become comfortable and comparatively careless. He knows your house well; the initial chill of the water warms.

There is no indication that he is breathing until he inhales a long breath, taking in smell of your home. Neutral, woody, maybe the afterthought of your dinner the prior hour still in the air.

He steps forward again and scans the room. When his mask then fully faces you, the gaping expression bordered by intruding moonlight, you lunge.

Your palms press against the muscle underneath his collarbones, tight with knots and fitted with scars. You make eye contact briefly before he’s tipping down towards the floor with you after him. His back thuds hard against the wooden floor and he exhales, almost gasps, as you push yourself above him, your hands moving instead to restrain his wrists and pull them above his head.

For the most momentary second he panics, thrashes and rapidly flexes his fingers upon finding them captured. Not a cornered animal, but a hunter disarmed. He recovers quickly and falls still, chest heaving slightly.

You’re smiling. Finally, he laughs croakily, hinges on an old door.

“Hi,” you say, leaning forward onto your wrists. You rub your thumbs over the veins in the tender skin of the gap between his gloves and sleeves. He’s as cold as a body long dead—always is, if you did not feel his pulse under your fingers now you could believe he was not alive at all.

“Did I get you? A little?”

Your conversations, if such a casual word could be applied to your bizarre dynamic, are frequently one sided, but you really don’t care; on the occasions he does open his mouth, it’s never the most charming dialogue, so you appreciate his inclination for silence.

“I missed you,” you mutter. Your voice sounds so brittle, splintering in your throat.

He jerks his wrists aside to signal his impatience; never the one for fond words. You’re a little saddened by his dismissal of your vulnerable, tender honesty, but you’re forgiving tonight.

You lead this wraith through your house and to your room. He’s soundless, drifting behind you—one day you’ll ask him what oil he uses on his boots. You glance back only once to confirm his presence, then stare, watching the way he phases in and out of protruding shadows, discernible only in brief gaps of moonlight.

His white mask—the awful specter—somehow intrudes your thoughts and dreams affectionately. Feverishly, too, in visions where he squirms under you and smiles open-mouthed, inviting you to devastate him. He’s cold as you hold him right now, but in those scenes his skin sears you, hot on your tongue when your teeth sink in the vulnerable bridge between his neck and collarbone.

Now in your room, you draw the blinds tight. They were only ever open so late to invite one intended voyeur; you need no more.

You turn around and watch as he breaches the threshold of your doorway. His hand goes for the belt you know holds a lineup of small knives—you reach him first, taking him suddenly by the shoulders down to the floor. He folds to his knees so hard he gasps. Up to this point in this interaction, you’d been very restrained about jostling him around, not that he could easily stop and just as easily overpower you if inclined, but this sudden harshness is

Before you fully feel the intrusion of guilt, even if it is unrealistic to have hurt him any significant amount, he laughs.

“You’re so good,” he commends you, stopping to laugh some more. “But don’t you want to do more?”

It’s very transparently an invitation. By the way his chest is lurching with each breath you can tell he’s excited. How he loves to badger you, perhaps that alone supplies him with pleasure.

He extends his arms outward then makes a show of twisting them and securing them behind him.

“All yours,” he says, a statement as much as it is a request.

You pet him and he nearly lets himself lean into it, but does not.

“I had something specific in mind,” you prompt. You jerk him back up to his feet and he happily relents.

Leaving him in your bedroom to step away to the bathroom feels mildly bizarre. As you turn your hands under the run of cold water, you envision him, this phantom, sat patiently in the room over, on your bed and on your sheets, cross-legged. If you had been anybody else, emerging from their bathroom to drag themselves back to bed, he would’ve stood, silently, then jolted forward, dug his knife up into your stomach and still smiled when you dropped.

It’s a discerning thought, one that reminds you who he is, who he had almost been to you, too, until you step back into your bedroom with the intention to ruin him.

He’s where you expected him to be, sat on your bed like it’s just as well as his.

“Your boots,” you scold as you settle down next to him, moving his knee aside. He ignores you and presses his mask up to your neck eagerly, listening to the hot throb of blood.

“You missed me,” he says. His hands crawl over your thighs and then grab for your own, but you take them and return them to his lap. He’s disappointed, but you give him a reassuring smile before darting down and retrieving a plain box from beneath your bed. It’s only really distinguishable by the white crust of a sticker you unsuccessfully tried to scratch away. He tilts his head at the sound of items shifting inside.

You retract the lid and unfold a layer of crushed gift paper.

He laughs noiselessly when he sees the strap, but then falls still, fingers curling in on his palms. A second later, Danny is back to clawing at you, shuddering, encouraging your hands to search him.

“You’re so impolite tonight,” you say even as you relent, rubbing up and down his strong thighs.

“Hurry, hur—ry,” he beckons, the syllables drawn out and curling mockingly.

He lets you wrestle him into a position you can work with—pushed onto his stomach and knees, hips tilted up so you can work off his belt.

“Ahaha.”

His laugh is airy but cruel and makes you feel like the exposed one as you tug his pants down to his knees, boxers next. The sound stutters to a stop when you run your thumb up the curve of his thigh.

“Ah.”

You graze his hole and he jerks forward, sucking in his gut and holding the breath. It would be hard to get any amount in when he’s so tense. You stroke his thigh as you lean away. He tries to play it off with a laugh but there’s no air in his lungs to produce the sound.

You reach for your nightstand, pushing past the clutter and unopened mail, as well as your own embarrassment, to tug open the drawer. Various things are rattled; pill bottles that couldn’t find space in the bathroom, your hairbrush, loose pens, dog-eared sticky notes, and lube. It’s new and still has the plastic seal on it, which you pick at before successfully peeling off.

You hear him sneer.

“What?” You turn to him, accusatory, but the mask only stares back, and you can envision the amused smile just beneath it.

You pour a quarter-sized portion into your hand, then more, and rub it vigorously between your palms in an attempt to warm it up. Still, he flinches when you push a single, slick finger in his entrance. He flexes his hands into fists then lets them uncurl.

“Cold?” you ask, sympathetically but entertained. Now presuming the role of the voyeur, you almost get how he finds satisfication in watching someone squirm, just as he does, delightfully, under you.

His eerie giggling makes it hard to focus as you push further in in the smallest of increments, waiting between each for a sign to stop. It never comes, even as he twists and huffs and even laughs or sobs at one point. You’re about to pause and ask outright, but he leans back into your hand and snorts.

“Get back to it.” It sounds like a threat disguised as a suggestion, but you know that’s just how he is; he’s not one to earnestly request something, he needs to sound like he’s still the one in control.

“Are you asking for more?” you stop and laugh. You take him by the thigh and work the soft flesh under your thumbs. You’re surprised it’s so soft and not rugged and shredded up with the same distinctive, serrated scars that you’ve seen all up his forearms. There are a few thin, almost white streaks of scarred skin, like long, stray stitches, which you give special attention—otherwise, the skin not tight with muscle is soft and welcoming.

The pace of his breathing waxes as he tries to even it out. You retract your finger to push in two. He’s silent, this time, but squrims still, rocking himself with the motion of your hand, mimicking the curve and pull upward as you curl your digits.

You continue like this for another minute until you feel him fully untense, a little put off by his impossible noiselessness. You focus on the pattern of your bed sheets warping as he twists them into his palms in fistfuls. The wood of your bed thumps like a steady, solid heartbeat.

He leans forward, away from you, initially you think it was too much and go to apologize, but a second later you feel him press a knife to your side. It’s a somewhat funny sight, the way he’s resting on his side, leisurely, robe flipped up to his waist and a knife angled almost casually up your abdomen.

“Get it on, put it in.” For someone with such an expansive and colorful vocabulary over the phone, he’s notably more blunt in person. Sometimes you’re thankful for this, other times it’s that much more unnerving.

You laugh, mostly, as he guides you back onto your knees. It’s still a real threat, but somehow you’re comfortable enough to get in a chuckle at his expense. You take the time to peel off your shirt, tastefully slowly, but don’t extend the same tentativeness to your pants when the blade sinks further into your side (not yet breaking skin, but intending to remind you of the sting of it).

Dealing with the many bands of the strap is not such a graceful scene, fiddling a lot less patiently with buckles. Now he laughs, slower and much more cruel.

“Pretty thing,” he says, strung out, maybe mocking. You take him by the hip and he shuts right up.

You turn him so both knees meet the mattress and push him down, forwards, onto his elbows, filling in behind him.

“Tear me up, get in my guts,” he encourages. Such a grotesque way to put it, but there’s a pleasant hotness in your core as you drag your hand up his thighs and watch him watch you.

There’s no noise when you first enter, but it all comes when he must, inevitably, release the breath that had coiled high in his chest. Half a cry, a dying snicker, a sound of excited pain, he howls and cries.

You rock and drag against him until you find a comfortable nook to saddle up against him and he shudders.

“You’re doing good,” you say as you stroke his thigh. He hisses at you and laughs when you’re taken aback, but it looks as if the handle of the knife will snap in his hand with how fiercely he clenches it.

Soon you have to hold him by the thighs to keep him in place as you distinguish a steady rhythm, fucking into him, forgivingly, for now. Your own breaths start to match his own, heavy and tight, a deepening pressure low in your belly, in your guts.

He’s forgotten the knife as he grips instead at the pillow. The mask looks back at you offering no guidance, no context, but his dizzy mewling tells of sickening pleasure; heaving and panting already but unrelenting, fucking himself back against you even as his head spins and vulnerable insides burn. He loves the ache and the fullness, he thinks, as his eyes sting with smoldering tears, thankfully hidden. It’s nearly as intimate as a knife.

Your face begins to glitter with sweat. It takes more than a moment for the both of you to adapt a shared rhythm. You tangle your fingers deep into his robe until you’re pulling on the tattered coattails like reigns. The friction you get in return as you fuck him is slight, nothing susbtantial on its own, yet still manages to burn tenderly. Sweat glosses his thighs, your brow, the line of your collarbone.

“I thought about you inside of me, before,” he confesses dizzily. You’re not surprised. You lean further over him and bring a hand around the back of his neck and hood, adjusting him to your liking.

“Not always in this way,” he adds with laughter. You must not get it, perplexed by the statement and the heaving chuckling he incites in himself. A long, deep thrust chokes it out of him like a strike to the back.

You think he’s shaking, but the darkness of the night does wonders to hide him, quilts of shadows draped where his own robes don’t hide scarred skin. Your fingers twitch (the want to pry his mask away), but you only dig them further into the nook of his hips against his thighs.

You can’t decide if his eyes would be wide, all watery whites, or heavy and lidded, drowned in the color of blown pupils. You press the hand on his neck further in, curl your fingers around it so the nails nearly meet. The excited flutter of blood in his veins beats against your fingertips.

“You could kill me,” the Ghostface says, “and I’d—ahahaha.”

Does he find himself so amusing, or is it your puzzlement he finds entertaining? He does love those stern, tight looks you give him. He groans.

Abruptly, you ask, “am I the only one you do this with?” You say this from both a feeling of confidence, of ownership, but also with genuine interest and shame over it all. That most others who touch him must not live long after, yet time and time again he is in your house at your allowance. His hands, with blood soaked into the creases, yield to you or even move to stroke you.

He’s said nothing in the moments since your question. He appears to, at this point, be fixated on the ceiling, lost in the motion, the crude sound of skin, the pleasure. You tighten your grip and hope it leaves aching marks.

The Ghostface grabs suddenly for you. His knees jerk inward, a keening, stretched sound curling from his tensed gut. He shakes relentlessly and sobs just as much, clawing at your thighs, gripping them, attempting to twist into the flesh. You rub his sides and his arms and the tight muscle of his back, fucking again, hard and thorough and good into his hole. You see the white catch on his legs, on your bedsheets; the sensation carves into him, all too much, but he still attempts to draw you further inside. It’s all raw and romantically, scarily visceral. His own panting has made the inside of his mask boil, and his eyes steam with tears and euphoria and body heat. You feel so deep in him, but he wants to drag you farther.

Then he collapses. Heaving and gasping like a sailor washed ashore, coughing out spit but laughing still. You pull out slowly, an inch or so at a time, watching the twitch in his legs.

“Thank you,” he rasps, mask buried into your pillow, hands back to pulling at the sheets. Tears and sweat run splotchy streaks down your pillowcase. It was about time to change them out, anyways.

“You did good,” you reply, softly.

He motions you over. You oblige, essentially, shuffling next to him. He grabs you by the back of your neck like you had done to him, fingers pinching between the discs in your neck. He takes you down next to him, not an embrace, exactly, but so you both lie there, faces in your pillows, breathing heavily. You have to angle your hips uncomfortably to the side, lying crooked, panting as if it was you entirely, in body, inside of him. You look deserted, lost in your own house, bedroom, tangled bedsheets.

“What do I get back?” you try to say, but well accustomed to his routine, you know he’s swift and curt in his departure once he gets his relief. You can only sigh out, before you lift yourself to slide out of all the straps of the harness.

“You’re the only one to live this long,” it says, not the mask with the frigid expression, but the man underneath. He says it with his own tongue and lungs and throat. You raise your brows at him, before you realize it must be an answer to your earlier question. He chuckles hoarsely as the realization breaks across your face, nightly frost cracking under morning sunlight. The declaration must not have been meant to be sweet, even with his bizarre, off-putting idea of romance—it’s cruel, but a reminder, never a threat, seemingly.

You stand. The Ghostface follows you with his eyes (you think; he doesn’t move, but you know the distinct feeling of his dedicated gaze.)

You’ve discarded the toy on your desk chair to clean when you forget and stumble across it later and retreat into your bathroom. Drowning yourself in yellow, humming light, you duck under your sink into the wooden cabinet to fish for a washcloth. You avoid your reflection in the cloudy square of a bathroom mirror and duck back out the door once you’ve snagged one. You return after soaking it in warm water to see the intruder has sat up and saddled himself on the edge of your bed, hunched over like someone wounded. He sees you approaching and the off-white cloth balled in your hand. He used to flee before you would ever get to this point, but it appears either he’s come to trust you or has resigned himself to your coddling.

You clean him up, dabbing up his thighs and the back as well, blotting away sweat and stealing glances at shadowed skin all torn with intersecting scars. It’s nearly intimate.

“Where do you go, after this?” you ask. He turns the mask to you. Silver catches on the rim from the moonlight that pushes through your window shades, blue on the white of his ghastly faux face.

“You want dinner, too?” he asks, another joke. A pause starts, so instead he pushes his mask up against your nose and the angle of your jaw, almost a kiss but cold and momentary. He stands, pants and the assemblage of all those belts and straps back in place, all black as the stillness of your dark bedroom again.

“Maybe,” you answer after what is surely an inappropriately long duration, but you thought about it, about the premise of something so casual and gentle, it nearly seems more intimate than what had just unfolded, and what will and will again when he makes his next appearance, something that has become nearly weekly. It doesn’t fit him, the image of a relaxed night out, of genuine tenderness, it can’t.

There’s a second where he thinks about it, then he simply chuckles.

“When will I see you again?” you ask before he can fully move to leave. He looks at you and you know instantly and with certainty that a wide smile is pulling across his face.

“Check the news tomorrow, yeah?”

He’s swift to your window, pulling it open with little resistance and hiking up a leg to set a heel on the frame. The sting of cold nighttime seeps in rapidly, a torrent that’s practically glacial on your burning body.

“You should’ve locked it,” The Ghostface says, low and suddenly serious, with what he must believe to be dark humor. “Haven’t you been reading the headlines?”

Was thinking of you, you wish to say, but the words never leave your mouth, just jitter on your tongue, rearranging themselves like perching birds. You only smile, far less exposing than flustered words might be. He hoists himself out of the window and into the dark expanse of the backyard (it’s only a short drop, but the night appears to consume him whole, bones and all). His departure is somehow quieter than even the distant, clicking chorus of crickets and slowly churning wind.

A minute passes, realistically less, even though time drags sluggishly. Finally, only now, you flick on your bedroom light. The brightness burns momentarily, too sudden and intrusive, and the sight of your bedroom is off-putting somehow. Then you see the red, just little, speckled crescents seared into your pillowcase and sheets by bloody fingertips. What is nearly a full handprint on your mattress, creased with the imprint of leather gloves. God dammit. You might be on the news, too.

#i forgot how i tag these things #dbd x reader #slasher x reader #x reader #reader insert #horror x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #dbd imagine #dead by daylight x reader #dead by deadlight #junkbox #did not read this over i did this in a frenzy

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n64retro · 1 year

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The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time (Nintendo EAD, 1998) is certainly one of the - if not the - most iconic games of all time. It is for sure one of the most beloved and most commented game from our era. So, maybe I'm being a little bit repetitive with this week's poll. No problem, once nostalgia is about repeating the past and trying to reconnect and re-signify our memories and experiences. There are more than 12 dungeons in TLoZ: OoT if we count the side-dungeons and the final castle. But for this survey purpose I will restrict only the Temples throughout Hyrule that Adult Link had to defeat in order to reach Ganon's Castle. Hope you consider as many aspects of the dungeons as possible, like the general feel or "theme", the puzzles, the battles - especially those with the bosses, and other details.

Forest Temple - here we have four spirits (Sisters Foes), and a labyrinthine dungeon structure. The first sword battle with Stalfos, the Fairy Bow, and the encounter with Phantom Ganon with his black horse.

Fire Temple - here we need to release some Gorons which they're being serving as dinner for Volgagia. Flare Dancer battle is very iconic mini-boss and we have the Megaton Hammer and the before mentioned Lava Dragon boss.

Water Temple - dozens of vertical puzzles involving the water level, a high difficult level and requires much patience with the Iron Boots. But it is very rewarding when everything is put in its right place. Boss is an amoeba called Morpha but it's OK. Can't forget the mythical encounter with Dark Link.

Shadow Temple - the most obscure of them all. It's dark, spooky and everything in this particular dungeon resembles death and doom. Enemies are Dead Hand, Skulltulas, Red Deads, Stalfos... The soundtrack is frightening and the boss, Bongo Bongo is a classic conga player.

Spirit Temple - the only one Link can reach as kid using the Ocarina of Time. It's a dusty place with several architecture references to Arabic culture. There are very interesting battles with and Iron Knuckles and the final boss is an spectacle, the withc sisters Kotake and Koume and their transformation Twinrova.

#the legend of zelda: ocarina of time #legend of zelda #ocarina of time #loz oot #dungeon #best temple in loz oot #poll #forest temple #fire temple #water temple #shadow temple #spirit temple

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randomshyperson · 2 years

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Rulers of The Multiverse - Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Strange’s faulty spell will cause a series of unexpected events, from your reunion with the love of your life in another world to the appearance of a child capable of traveling across the multiverse. This story follows the journey of a very tired Guardian alongside mischievous America Chavez and Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: (+18) explicit language and sexual content, violence, a lot of magic, found family, mentions of abusive past and trauma, mind control, use of illicit substances, mostly top!reader, soulmates analogies. || Words: 6.481k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Series Masterlist

A/N-> I can't believe we are reaching the ending already, so glad for all the reviews so far. A lot of you were worried I would kill Wanda, i almost feel offended haha I hope it's not so confusing to read about Wanda and her variant, just remember that one it's a redhead. Good reading everyone!!

--//--

Chapter Fourteen - Inevitable - Part One

Earth-012S - Before

Wanda stared into the mirror with boredom in her expression. It was not her own reflection she stared back at, but a distorted image of a demon - who had been whining for almost forty minutes.

"[...] Your incompetence continues to impress me, Miss Maximoff." Chthon teased as a last resort, seeing the way the witch wasn't even paying attention. The attempted offense caused a small smile to appear in the corner of the other, who crossed her legs in her chair.

"My incompetence?" She repeated with mock debauchery in her voice, defiance shining in her gaze. "And what are your complaints, my lord?"

The title came loaded with sarcasm, but neither she nor Chthon wavered in their postures. The image of him became sharper in his demon form.

"I keep giving you all the answers you need, and yet, you keep failing." Reminded the demon, his figure circling in the room's reflection, "I wonder if it's not time to choose another variant, one that spends less time on jewelry and more time doing their job!" He charges between teeth, and Wanda gives a hoarse little laugh, raising one of her hands to her chin.

The golden bracelet with the five infinity stones glows in the low light of the room.

"Tell me, oh all-powerful Lord of Chaos, how infuriating is it to be limited to a phantom dimension?" Wanda teases as she stands up. "You must be so frustrated without new toys."

"Do not test my patience, witch." Retorts the god angrily. "Don't forget who you're talking to."

But Wanda only gives another hoarse giggle, moving to reach for the wine jug beside the mirror.

"The mighty god of chaos, banished by his own siblings to a dimension that bores him. I have goosebumps." She mocks and bites back a smile as the god squirms - the whole room shaking and a crack appearing in the glass - through the witch, doesn't flinch an inch.

"When I am free, I will rip your head off and display it as a trophy, you dirty witch-"

"That's why we have issues, my lord." Wanda cuts in, raising one of her hands and taking a long sip of wine afterwards. "It's always the same of the same thing. You cuss, and I cuss, and then you give me some bad clue and try to guilt-trip me into doing your dirty work, and the cycle repeats. It's getting boring, don't you think? Why don't you just tell me where she is."

"Because I don't know!" Chthon shouts impatiently. Taking a deep breath, he tries to calm himself down. "She got out of my influence, it was the guardian I'm sure. I don't know where they are, and you're too stupid to find them!"

"Your lies get in my way, Chthon." Wanda cuts in with coolness, one hand studying the gleaming stones. "I've been turning worlds over after what you asked me for, and all your clues have led me to dead ends. I proved myself worthy of all that power long ago."

Chthon gives a wry laugh. "Worthy? All humans are unworthy of ancient magic, Wanda Maximoff. Our agreement is a mere testament to my benevolence, and you are wearing out my patience. I suggest you find the Guardian before I find another witch." Declares the god seriously, and Wanda clenches her jaw, staring back at him until the image falters, and her red eyes are the only reflection.

Earth-012S - Present

Wanda felt her whole body ache all at once. She could feel the grass scratching her face, and hear the muffled sounds of footsteps, voices, and something like electricity.

She watched as you were thrown into the magical portal, and forced herself to sit up as she saw the knight turn in her direction.

You couldn't be dead, because she could actually feel you everywhere.

"Y/N." She called out once, twice. Until the Knight stood in front of her, sword in hand. Her chest was aching, she had felt the blade before, but now, all she could feel was the wetness and the itch.

"How are you still alive, witch?" The knight questioned in a frustrated grumble, sword trembling between the fingers. "Is this some other of your illusions?" She shouted demandingly. Wanda lowered her head to her own wound, bloody fingers in front of her. But the cut was practically closed.

"Kill her! End this at once!" Someone shouted from the other side - Wanda was going to call it the female and equally show-off version of Steve Rogers with a British shield - to the Knight. But the figure was still hesitant.

"I sense Chthon in you. No more tricks, Wanda. This the end of the line." She declares before straightening her sword. And as she moves forward, scarlet magic holds the blade in the air.

"Now it's my turn." Wanda retorts, her magic expelling the sword away out of the knight's hand as other waves spring up from the ground, moving the roots until they lock onto her opponent's ankles and legs, forcing her to the ground.

The others barely have time to realize what is happening before the same magic envelops them, squeezing and straggling them to the limit - a warning not to try to fight.

Wanda presses the wound, now closed, for a second of confusion before she stands up properly and approaches the imprisoned Knight.

"Where is my family?" she asks earnestly and impatiently, watching the Knight struggle against the roots.

"If you're going to kill me, do it at once!" She retorts angrily. "Don't turn me into one of them!"

Wanda tilts her head, raising her hand to their helmet. The knight struggles, trying to pull the face away, but with a flick of her fingers, the metal begins to shatter until it falls to the ground.

"Y/N." Wanda gasps in surprise as she meets your face, a hard, angry expression, but still you. A few years older perhaps. A huge, deep scar on your right eye, to which she extends her fingers to. "How... what-"

"Don't play innocent with me!" Your variant shouted back, never ceasing to fight against the roots that were getting tighter by the second. "I can feel it, witch! I don't know how you fooled the sword, but I will find another way to kill you!"

Wanda took her eyes from the struggling figure to the fallen sword a few feet away. She used her roots to bring the item close, looking at it curiously.

"I felt the hit, I just don't understand how..."

"How did it not die? Neither do I!" Cut the irritated knight. "It was a trick of your dirty god, I'm sure of it! Let me go, Wanda! Let's have a fair fight for once. Without a sword and without your stones! Face me as an equal at least once!"

Wanda blinks in confusion at the whole thing. "My stones?" She asks and the Knight hesitates a bit as she lets her gaze run down.

"The infinity stones... Did you take them off? B-but..."

Wanda sighs, shaking her head. "Y/N, I'm not the one you're looking for."

"But..." The knight hesitates confusion in her eyes before the anger returns. "Lies! I feel Chthon on you!"

Wanda sighs impatiently, looking around for some clue as to America's whereabouts or the version of you she should be looking for.

The van has had its trunk pretty much wrecked. Something had hit it so hard that it had opened a crater in the road, and when she saw the formation, she realized that it looked a lot like the cut of something, and it was not easy to deduce that it came from the sword.

Turning her attention to the item again, the roots moved the blade to her eye height, and Wanda raised her fingers to the glowing item.

"If you are going to use it to kill me, know that it will hurt you too." The Knight warns between teeth, causing Wanda to frown. "You are not worthy to wield it."

"I would never hurt you, Y/N." Wanda retorts as if it were obvious, receiving an incredulous, tired laugh in return. Rather than insist, she traces her fingers across the blade, sighing softly as she recognizes her magic in it. "I can feel...you."

The knight grimaced. "Of course, you can, it's my sword."

Wanda sighs impatiently, pushing these curiosities away as she moves closer to the knight again, placing her hands behind the back of your neck. "Forgive me, dorogaya, I know you hate it, but I need to find your other version and our kid." That's the only warning before Wanda uses her magic to enter the variant's mind.

It is messy and heavily fortified. Much more so than any other mind, she has ever entered. She can feel the magic fighting against hers, pushing her out. And for a second she thinks she felt a third force, perhaps Chthon trying to overpower her again, before she gets anything really useful. A hiding place in some kind of temple.

She left her variant's head with a gasping sigh, blinking as she met your confused and oh-so-familiar eyes.

"You are not the Wanda I seek." The knight sighs affectedly. "But Chthon has you, too."

"No, detka." Wanda assures gently, one hand going to the cheek of the woman in front of her. "What you feel is not Chthon. You just feel my Chaos magic. I am the Scarlet Witch."

The Knight struggles against the roots in desperation. "No! Get out of here! Don't let her find you!"

Wanda frowns in confusion, but the Knight doesn't stop fighting until the roots start to hurt. "Please, Wanda! Don't look for her, leave this world now! Before she finds you!"

"I have to find-"

"She wants your magic!" The knight cut in desperation. "She wants it, and she'll do anything to get it! There can't be another forge, if she has you it will be a matter of time before she finds the guardian-"

"You are the guardian!" Wanda interrupts, surprising the other, "Or, well, your variant. Which you just threw into a portal."

The knight shakes her head in panic. "No." She gasps, and grunts at the roots. "Let me go! I sent her straight to it, we need to run. She can't get to your Y/N!"

Wanda hesitates, but it's you. And she is running out of options.

"Don't try to kill me again." She warns before the roots go slack. The knight falls to her knees but doesn't stay on the ground for more than two minutes, picking up her sword and getting up.

As soon as the other two girls are free, she is conjuring a portal.

"Now we get to work with the enemy?" It is Captain England who asks Wanda suspiciously, but the Knight gives a short laugh.

"Careful, Peggy. She's the Scarlet Witch, that pretty much makes her your queen." That's the response before your variant pats the surprised woman on the shoulder to encourage her to enter the portal, being accompanied by the other older witch. Before Wanda enters, the Knight touches her arm. "Forgive me for the hit, I thought-"

"It's all right." Wanda interrupts with a lopsided smile. "Let's just get this mess over with soon. I want to find, well, you."

The knight gives a small smile. "Sure, but another thing... If my eyes turn red, and it's not you, aim to kill."

Wanda swallows dryly, but her variant beckons her to enter the portal, and she just decides better to obey.

—--------

“[...] So, in this universe, Wanda snapped her fingers instead of Thanos?" You asked Erik - who had spent the last few minutes explaining to you about that universe in what you came to call the little headquarters.

The cell you were in was in Darkhold's castle, Wundagore Mountain, and according to Erik, it was the most efficient location for what the group had been planning for months.

"Exactly, Miss L/N." Erik agreed with a nod, and you resisted the urge to correct him about your last name. "The second time we needed to face the Mad Titan, someone needed to snap their fingers to wipe out his army. But Wanda..."

"Switched sides." Natasha interrupts the story with a scowl, bringing out what looked like destroyed traps. Erik sighs.

"Romanoff, it wasn't like that."

"Or pardon me, Magneto, what would you call what the lady did later with her own people?"

You frowned in confusion. "Her people?"

Nat laughed humorlessly. "Mutants." She clarified. "Wanda didn't stop after Thanos. We had a plan, to use the stones to stop the titan, and destroy them after. But she grew fond of the power. When the fight was over, no one else could find her, not the stones, not even your body."

You widen your eyes. "M-my body?"

"Look, cutie, the reason Pietro was impressed with your affection for the witch is that after what happened to our Wanda and your variant, she went completely berserk. She used some kind of magic to travel between worlds and murder as many versions of you as possible."

You swallowed hard, glancing quickly at America, but the girl was busy with one of the others in the corner of the room and away from the conversation. "But why would Wanda, um, kill me?"

"We don't know exactly, but it must be because you are the only one who can stop her." Erik continues the story. "Look, Y/N, in this world, my daughter and you had a difficult relationship. Opposing natures in your abilities caused a certain conflict between you. It was a surprise when the conflict turned into love. But you, well, there is no easy way to say it. You died protecting the Mind Stone."

"But it was no use, because Thanos already had the Time Stone, and he only needed to rewind it to get all five." Natasha says, her hands working on the broken traps. "Half the population blipped, and Wanda with them. Thanos prevented your death by using the Stone, but you grew different without her. When we brought everyone back, you and I..." Natasha hesitates, clearing her throat. "We needed to make a sacrifice. One soul for another. And well, you gave yours. I used the iron armor to get your body, and it wasn't an easy thing. But I couldn't leave you in that place..."

You look at them in surprise, but the redhead just sighs wearily before speaking again.

"So when Wanda came back from the blip, she found out that you had sacrificed yourself, once again, for the greater good or whatever other cheesy shit you used to say." Nat continues. "We held a funeral for you, tried to move on. But suddenly, things started getting pretty weird."

"Wanda isolated herself after she ran off with the stones. She came here, in this castle to study the darkhold." Erik takes over the story. "It was Pietro who found her first, and he only got out alive because he was smart enough to pretend to believe the fantasy she created here."

You look at them expecting them to complete, but it is Pietro who steps forward.

"Imagine this place completely different, Y/N. Like a real castle, with fine tapestries and shelves of gold. It was like walking into a fairy tale, nothing like those moldy walls or that cold. I entered through the front door, and was welcomed by you." Pietro recounts. "Wanda used the stones to restore everything, and create a fake life. But everything was fragile and untruthful, she could not go far from the castle, nor you, nor..."

"Your daughters." Erik continues, and you widen your eyes. "Two little girls also made with magic. It was a perfect fairy tale. But it was destroying that reality from the inside out."

"Me or the guys who can't move things with their minds had no chance of stopping her, especially with the stones and all the power she gathered while being here." Natasha counters with a grimace. "So the sorcerers and her people tried."

"And Wanda snapped her fingers again." Pietro completes with a sad sigh. "She refused to move on, and with just a simple wish, all the mutants were gone."

"But you and Erik are still here." You comment as soon as you recover from the shock, and receive a humorless chuckle from the older man.

"Yes, and I should thank you for that." Erik retorts. "The Sword that your variant carries, has the power to cut between realities. You left Wanda, broke free of her command, and dragged a few of us into another universe. And as we tried to make our way back, we discovered what our Wanda was doing. Killing her way out to get to the version of you that can help her get what she really wants."

"She wants it to be real." You mutter in shock. "That's it isn't it?"

All three nod in agreement. Natasha speaks first:

"Your betrayal has shaken her, that was our guess. Because she brought you back to life and you, well, went behind her back and did the right thing." She says. "But then, when your variant explained to us about your magics, and about who you were, it all made sense."

"Not even the five infinity stones can create life, Y/N." Erik says. "Wanda needed ancient magic, and this place taught her all about it. The problem is that there can only be one Scarlet Witch, and she was not the one chosen."

"So she wants to steal my Wanda's magic?"

Erik nods. "And yours too."

"Mine?" you exclaim in confusion.

"Order Magic and Chaos Magic, when combined, create life." He explains. "It would make her daughters real, it could even bring you truly back to life."

"So the knight version of me, is like a living dead person?"

"Something like that." Natasha comments running a hand over her neck. "I think it's in the middle. The blessing of the goddess of order and the soul stone keeps you grounded, probably. We don't know exactly how it works, but what matters is that you are standing, trying to bring the mutants back and stop your ex-wife."

You sigh loudly, getting up. Your body is hurting a little, but that will have to wait for later.

"Okay, that was a lot. But I need to find my Wanda, so tell me what I can help with?"

Natasha and Erik exchange quick glances. "You stay behind, we've been practicing this for a long time for new changes." That' is what the mutant declares, making you exclaim impatiently.

"What? No, I'm going to help!"

"Miss L/N, you can't even use your magic properly-"

"It is Miss Maximoff, and my magic is fine!" You retort, electric wires coming out of your fingers. "I'm going to find your daughter, both versions, and put an end to this big mess. And then I'm going to pack up my car and leave this universe!"

Natasha hides a giggle, impressed by Magneto's speechlessness. You step aside to walk over to America.

"Hey kiddo, come here a sec." You ask pulling her into a corner. "I want to ask you to stay behind."

America frowns immediately. "What, but I want to-"

"Help, I know." You interrupt her with a sad smile. "But, you're like, super important to me okay? And I don't want you to be in danger. And we've arrived in a world where it's gotten really bad really fast, and we're dealing with something way worse than crawling monsters, and I'm not going to risk you."

"But Y/N..."

"America, promise me something." You say looking into her eyes. "If things get worse, you will open a portal and you will leave this world. And you won't look back."

She immediately denies it with her head, her eyes filling with tears. "No, I'm not leaving you."

"Please, kiddo, listen to me." You insist, swallowing your emotion to speak seriously. " You know that I care about Wanda. Very deeply. And fighting her is not going to be the same as fighting someone else. I can't guarantee that..." You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. "She's not like another enemy, I would never want to hurt her. And maybe, in this world, I need to. And if I fail, I don't want you to be put in danger. So you need to promise that you will stay safe, while I search for our Wanda to be back."

America hesitates, but then hugs you tight, and you want to believe that she will obey.

"Well, it's time, so if you're going to help, move." Natasha breaks the momentum as she approaches, two rifles - visually encrusted with magic by the electrical markings on the tips - at her back. The group moves very quickly.

And you bid America farewell at the cell door. "Remember, Chavez. Things have gotten ugly..."

"Portal to another world." She completes, hugging you one last time before you turn away.

Natasha guides the group through the dark corridors. You realize through the windows of the castle that there is some sort of event going on outside.

"Those are the Chaos Worshippers." Pietro whispers to you as you make your sneaky way. "They're like henchmen."

"Oh, right." You mutter, and as soon as you meet up with the first group around the hall, you realize that Natasha and the others are using the fireworks to cover the noises of gunfire.

A moment later, something occurs to you.

"Hey, Pietro, you didn't tell me where to...?" But you keep silent because you are alone in the cold hallway. Your body tenses immediately, and it only gets worse when a giggle sounds in your ears, the sound all too familiar.

"You know what the most fun part of time loops is?" Asks the female voice that makes you close your eyes for a second. "No one ever realizes they are in one."

You watch the illusion of the hallway dissipate around you, turning into a destroyed large room.

"What have you done with them?" You ask into the room, not knowing where the witch was yet, not being able to sense her.

"They are experiencing that ridiculous day again. Over and over." She replies. "This pathetic attack on the worshippers. It was very foolish of them to think I wouldn't find out they were in my own house, don't you think, Detka?"

You swallow dryly at the nickname, but the woman laughs softly again, and a moment later, you look forward, and she is stepping out of the shadows.

Always, absolutely stunning, in every universe. It's unfair, to say the least. You sigh deeply, trying to remember everything you've been told.

Bad Wanda.

Bad yet fucking pretty Wanda.

"I finally found you, Y/N." She says with a short smile, her brunette hair cascading down her shoulders, her red outfit completely dominated by the darkhold marks and making you swallow dryly.

"I hope you're not disappointed." You manage to tease with a small smile, trying not to despair at the thought of America.

Wanda smiles, her eyes glowing red. "I kinda miss the scar, but you're still beautiful."

You give a confused laugh, "Scar?"

"Mm-hmm." Wanda murmurs, moving leisurely around, her fingers lighting the chandeliers one by one until you are able to make out the great hall you are in, and the statues on the walls. The largest of them, in the center, makes you swallow dry because it is exactly like the one on your back. "Didn't you get one in your universe? Here, it was a heartbreaking story. Little Sammy didn't want his sister to embarrass him at training so he decided to teach her a lesson."

You frowned. "My brother?"

Wanda bit back a smile, watching you intently. "Oh, you know him, then."

"Of course I do!" You retort. "My brother would never hurt me!"

Wanda gives a wicked little laugh, shaking her head. She crosses her arms, one hand brought to her chin, and you flinch as you notice the bracelet with the stones. "It's fascinating how stories change between universes, don't you think, darling? Your Samuel wouldn't hurt you, while in this world, hurting you was all he ever did."

You swallow dryly, trying to think of what to do next. Wanda seems to immediately realize your idea of buying time, and closes her fist, wrapping you in a magical chain in the blink of an eye that makes you grunt in pain.

"But I lied to you, dear." She comments as she approaches you. "The scar was much smaller before I ripped the stone from your eye."

“W-what?”

You grunt in confusion, being dragged across the room without difficulty by the thick, painful chains.

"Oh, yes, you asked me to, sweetheart." Wanda retorts, leading the way to a stone table. "You said it was time and that only I had the power to do it. Thanos could not have the Stone ‘cause it wouldn’t be fair for all those people to die. But it was alright, right, dear, since I could never hurt you, could I?"

You swallow dryly, trying to struggle against the chains to no avail, and soon, you are pinned to the stone table. Wanda sighs softly, as she approaches, leaning toward you until the hand holding the stones is caressing your cheek.

"So I put a hole in your face to destroy the stone, and I killed you for nothing." Wanda tells without a hint of emotion in her voice, though you can make out the tears in her red irises. "And when Thanos brought you back, what happened, kukolka?"

"You were blipped." You answer, your breath hitching as you feel Wanda trace her black fingers to your throat, and can hear the fabric of your t-shirt being torn. "A-and I sacrificed myself for the Soul Stone to bring everyone back wasn't it?"

"Funny thing." Wanda comments as she licks her lips, your torn shirt flying away into the distance, and her hand going down to your stomach. "Since you gave your soul, no matter how many times I snapped my fingers, you wouldn't come back to me. Not entirely. Always a whisper, a shadow."

"Perhaps it would be better to let me go." You suggest breathlessly, and Wanda gives a short chuckle. Your smile fades as you feel a deep pain in your abdomen as if your skin is tearing and burning. The surrounding candles burst into flames, and Wanda sighs deeply.

"The worst part about these toys, Y/N, is how fragile they are." Wanda mutters as she moves her hands away from you - stained with blood now - and nods to her own wrist with the stones. "No matter how many times I changed the fantasy, it never stopped being a lie. And we deserve better than a lie, don't you think, darling?"

You didn't answer, because suddenly it became hard to breathe. Your body began to burn, and spasm and your eyes began to glow golden. Wanda watched the scene with fascination, leaning toward you again, and whispering in your ear:

"Find them for me, dear." She commands. "So I can make things right for us again."

—-----

Wanda can feel Chthon in the walls. Still, he doesn't speak to her. There is only a low rumble of a laugh, a teasing. As if he knows she is there but doesn't recognize her only to leave the uncomfortable feeling beneath her skin.

Your variant brought her into an open room, some kind of hiding place. It was full of people, working with boxes of weapons or objects she didn't know about.

They seemed to be planning something big.

Peggy and the witch from before came out in front, the captain went straight to the front of an electronic map of a structure that resembled a castle.

"Where are we?" Wanda asked the knight, who offered her a tired sigh.

"The resistance." She replied. "What's left of the Avengers, Mutants, and Sorcerers of this world. All working to end the Witch's dominance."

Wanda crossed her arms in discomfort. It wasn't her, but it was still a version of her that had started some kind of tyrannical dictatorship. She decided to stick around your variant, it was the most familiar thing she had there.

"Any sign of them, Peggy?" Asked the knight to Peggy who still had her attention on the map.

"No, Y/N, we're the same. No return officially for four weeks." Says the captain sadly. Your variant sighs in frustration, and Wanda asks what's wrong.

"A group has gone AWOL on a planned offensive." Answers the woman, and seemed a bit hesitant to continue, but at Wanda's glance, she sighed. "Among them, Wanda's brother."

"Pietro?" She exclaims in shock. "He...he's alive?"

"Well, we don't know." Peggy cuts in with a certain sarcasm. "It was risky to attack, but we planned it for months. And when it finally happened, it was as if the whole group just disappeared. I wouldn't doubt that she snapped her fingers again and-"

"I wouldn't hurt him." Wanda interrupts seriously and doesn't flinch from Peggy's stare. "Never. In any world. He's my twin."

"Well, in any case, he's gone. Along with some other soldiers quite valuable to us." Peggy still clearly doesn't believe Wanda. "We're preparing an infiltration mission, to at least find out if your variant is even still inside the castle-"

"She's inside." The knight cuts in. "I can feel her. But that doesn't mean she hasn't left."

The knight nods for Wanda to follow her to the other corner, where there are several note boards to which she nods.

"The Darkhold castle is the place where the God of Chaos prescribed the book of the damned. All the teachings are on the walls. There is a spell that allows a witch to transmit the consciousness to another version of themselves throughout the universe." Explains the woman. "It is how my-our Wanda has traveled between worlds and done so much damage. I, on the other hand, can only go physically, by using Oshur's sword to cut my way between the rifts of the worlds. And it's exhausting for someone in my condition."

"What condition?" Wanda asks.

"I am dead." The knight replies making Wanda's eyes widen. "There is much you do not know..."

"We don't have time for stories, Y/N." The elder witch with the staff cuts in, approaching Wanda. "Let me show you the truth, and we can continue to fight."

She allows the witch into her mind after exchanging a look of confirmation with your variant. And in a second, she sees everything that happened there. It overwhelms her, all the pain and suffering.

"Excuse me, I need... a moment." She asks quickly not wanting to have a panic attack in front of so many strangers.

She ends up in a hallway, her hand on her stomach and her forehead against the wall. There is a small improvised bathroom to her right, and she is grateful for the sink.

Memories of the witch flash in her eyes - ugly fights, the image of herself killing all those sorcerers, holding the bracelet, holding your body....”

"Sorry about that." The voice of your Variant makes Wanda jump in fright. She meets the eyes so familiar and yet so different in the reflection, as the variant approaches with a small smile. "They're not good at trusting strangers, especially if the stranger has the same face as the enemy."

Wanda gives a short laugh, turning around, her hands holding up her sinks. "It's okay, I can hardly imagine how hard it must be to look at me and not see so much death."

Your variant hesitates, taking up the free space on the wall. "I'm sorry, Wanda." That's what she says, and Wanda only forces a smile, averting her eyes to her own feet. "If it's any consolation, I don't just see death when I look at you."

"And what do you see?" Wanda asks raising her gaze again and getting a small smile in return.

"I just see you."

Wanda looks away again, a short laugh escaping. "Yeah, I don't know what that means."

"I guess we'll find out." Your variant comments and Wanda sighs, brushing a strand of hair out of the front of her face.

"What's the plan?" She asks, deciding that she has already spent too long thinking about things when she should be meeting you and America. Your variant gives a soft chuckle.

"Well, the plan was to investigate the large, unknown, magical energy emission that appeared in Dragorin, and try not to lose anyone else along the way." The knight countered by crossing one of her arms. "And of course, the main mission of preventing the witch from finding both the Guardian and the Scarlet Witch, but apparently, we've already blown a stage."

"Where did you send her?" Wanda questions and your variant lets out a guilty sigh.

"To an abandoned cell in the eastern area." She replies. "I figured your Y/N was under the witch's control, and I wasn't going to send her straight to us. But it's an old hiding place, and she'll probably find it eaten. The little girl too."

Wanda lets out a relieved sigh. "Okay, let's go there then."

The knight frowns. "That's not how we do things-"

But Wanda cuts in with a short laugh. "Look, I don't mean to be disrespectful to all the fighting and planning, but, I've dealt with the infinity stones before. And chaos magic is endlessly superior. You guys don't have to worry about-

"It's not you I worry about." Variant cuts in with a seriousness that makes Wanda swallow dryly. "That version of you wiped out a population with a snap of the fingers. The stones may not be as powerful as ancient magic, but they do bad damage. The Scarlet Witch can survive a lot, but we have soldiers who don't count on the same luck."

Wanda presses her lips together. "Fine, I'll go alone then." Wanda declares but when she turns around, your variant holds her wrist.

"Please, Wanda, listen to me." She asks more gently now. "I dare not underestimate your mastery or magical power, but I am talking about a version of you that has been absorbing knowledge and other creatures, including master spellcasters for a considerable time, all to achieve as much power as she could." Your variant counters. "I must urge the minimum of caution, for if my Wanda is able to absorb your magic, it will be the end of everything."

Wanda tilts her head toward your variant. "Earlier, you corrected yourself. You called her our Wanda, instead of yours." Remarks the witch and watches the variant swallow dryly, looking away. "Witchbreaker memories don't show everything. What am I to you in this world?"

Your variant hesitates, shaking her head. "Nothing, not anymore."

"Bullshit."

"Wanda."

"I always know when you're lying." Wanda insists, raising a hand to the variant's face, sliding her finger across the scar in her eye. "Yet, this is different."

The variant swallows dry again, shuddering under the touch but keeping her gaze on Wanda. "No matter what existed between us, my mission now is with the survivors."

Wanda hums, tracing the scar. "What happened to your eye?"

"It doesn't matter." Variant says but Wanda firms her grip, and the woman grunts softly before adding: "You."

"What was in here?"

Variant sighs. "I had an accident when I was younger, my master thought I would bleed to death, so he put Agamotto’s eye in place, that being the mind stone. When Thanos arrived, you had to rip it out to destroy it so the Titan couldn't have it."

Wanda pulls her hand away in shock. "I blew a hole in your head."

Your variant sighs. "Wanda, it wasn't your fault-"

"You lost your vision as a child." She mumbles thoughtfully, a million ideas in her head at once. A million possibilities.

"Hum, yeah, but you used to make a little joke about it." Your variant counters with an awkward chuckle. "The first time you saw me with the stone, you joked that I was a such a good vision to look at. It was meant to tease me, but then it kind of became a nickname and-"

Wanda's eyes were filled with tears.

Vision.

You were Vision.

How was that possible?

"[...] Anyway, it doesn't matter. That was a long time ago, and I'm dead, and I can't let my Wanda go on with this."

The witch frowns. "She's doing all of this for you, isn't she?"

Variant chuckles short, "No, Wanda." But the witch doesn't believe it, not one bit.

"Stop lying."

"I'm not lying!" The variant exclaims impatiently and takes a deep breath for speaking up. "She didn't…-I left her, okay? My Wanda brought me back, did everything for us, and I...I left her. I lost her. She's not... I don't feel her anymore. I just feel Chthon." She confesses with bitterness in her voice. "The first few nights, I could pretend I didn't. Wanda used the stones and kept changing things to take the uncertainties out of me, but over time, it all broke down. She is no longer..." The variant cut herself off, emotion in her voice, and Wanda swallowed dryly. "That's why I say it doesn't matter what happened between us. I'm dead, and my wife is gone too. The priority has to be those people."

Wanda sighs deeply but manages a smile. She holds the variant's hand. "I will make things right, I promise."

The variant smiles but blinks a moment, and her eyes turn red. Wanda frowns. "Y/N?"

Suddenly, lips are on hers, and Wanda chokes in surprise. She instinctively pushes off the variant, confusion stamped on her face. The knight wastes no time in pushing forward again, pressing Wanda's entire body against the sink.

It's so familiar, and it's so you. Except it isn't. And while Wanda is busy trying to remember this, and trying to get free, the knight conjures a portal next to them.

"Y/N, stop-" Wanda pleads, pushing again, but her sentence breaks into an exclamation as she stumbles backward, and is falling at high speed.

She only has time to force her flight magic, before the variant jumps after her beyond the portal.

Both land on the ground with a very loud impact, and Wanda freezes as she hears her own laughter.

"I should have known you would make a theatrical entrance, my dear." Says Wanda's variant, sitting on the throne in front of the black stone table where you are tied up. "And I should also say hello to the honorable Scarlet Witch."

--//--

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x yn #marvel imagines #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda imagines #Rulers of The Multiverse

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dnangelic · 3 months

Note

An envelope with a very familiar purple-colored ribbon is left taped to the inside of Daisuke's bedroom, taped to his door. Strange, it seems someone left it there for when he got back. Who knows how long or how short of a day he's had, but did that matter? The fragrant letter, once opened, reveals contents that... surely couldn't have held as much as a simple envelope would have allowed. It's almost like the inside of the envelope is somehow deeper than the outside suggests.. within the envelope is a pink card and about a week's worth of assorted chocolates, which could likely be comically dumped onto a soft surface just to reveal the sheer amount of candies procured.

Neatly written on the card in purple ink..

___________________________________________

Dear Daisuke. .. And Dark too, since I already know the secret. Thank you for being so patient with me for all this time. I never really had anyone to speak up to about my problems before. I've always felt super isolated. Now I'm starting to meet people that want to show me that kind of patience. Even if you or Dark drive me up a wall sometimes.. what you two have done for me.. it really means a lot, so.. Thank you. I almost forgot what it felt like to be hugged so tightly. .. ahhh. Now it's getting sappy. Just enjoy the chocolates! Happy Valentine's Day.

___________________________________________

(note translation because what the fuck is neat handwriting)

Dear Daisuke.

.. And Dark too, since I already know the secret.

Thank you for being so patient with me for all this time. I never really had anyone to speak up to about my problems before. I've always felt super isolated. Now I'm starting to meet people that want to show me that kind of patience.

Even if you or Dark drive me up a wall sometimes.. what you two have done for me.. it really means a lot, so.. Thank you.

I almost forgot what it felt like to be hugged so tightly.

.. ahhh. Now it's getting sappy. Just enjoy the chocolates!

Happy Valentine's Day.

there's no mistaking it . neat , violet , and dressed up with delicate but eye-catching ribbon --- it's from sirin , isn't it ? even if she had visited , vanished , and left only a readily identifiable letter behind . it's a little funny , if only because it's the sort of thing the niwa himself might have done ; not only as a phantom thief used to penning cards of pending warning and stolen success , but also as a shy , clumsy boy --- one full of out-of-control feelings , bad with words , easily flustered , and to top it all off , downright cursed .

something incredible had to be in this letter , and daisuke understood that . even though there's a buzz and electrified feeling racing along his skin , there's still some inexplicable , inescapable sense of longing accompanying it . a faint , bittersweet wish that sirin herself had been the one to personally hand such a thing to himself ... was that too selfish ? wasn't it only natural to want to see someone that you wanted to be sincere with , and that you really liked ?

in the end , he wanted to believe that he understood . both of them had their various intimate limits . in fact , daisuke had well already succumb to his own , the heavy rhythmic thud of his heart pounding out its own heavy beats amidst what felt like an assortment of at least a hundred different chocolates thumping onto his desk . it's a marvel , and he could only wonder exactly how sirin's own methods might have worked . practiced magicians and illusionists like himself had all sorts of tricks for things like this , but it could have never lessened his surprise at the sheer quantity somehow stuffed into nothing more than a small , unassuming letter .

... moreover , was this the shape of sirin's own true feelings ?

generous , aromatic , sweet and light and enticing , he can't help but smile then grin at the immense tidal wash of sights , scents , and sentiments that seem to pour out more and more from the letter's interior . it's lovely , and in a way that he's never experienced before . just a single spring ago , and he could remember his room being much darker , curtains pulled , his frown and tender spirits sunken into their absolute lowest , a confession letter he had painstakingly written with his own two hands torn in half like his very own heart .

his first transformation had been back then , too . unbearably hot , painful , and overwhelming . but this overwhelms him in a different way . there's bliss even in his blood's burn , or the dull , rolling-out ache in his limbs . there's laughter in his throat , and all of this love . things he couldn't say but still treasured , things that were embarrassing just to even imagine , truth nevertheless dwelling within each idea anyways .

--- he's never had much courage to ever hug anyone so tightly like that before either .

yet it had been so comfortable , like something out of a dream . even if there were parts of him that were supposed to be kept secret , everything had felt so natural . his hand and her hair . her head and his chest . the unfurl and strong flap of his twin black wings . an empty space in the shape of sirin herself leaves him restless and unsatisfied in the instant , but he clutches her letter close without crushing it , both her feelings and her orders , deciding to be obedient and follow their instruction without frantic , ecstatic pursuit of their delivering person herself , if only until the day that he could properly return something to her .

company . his own chocolates and sincere letter . another embrace . proof of the smile and happiness that she had given to him --- to both of them , not solely to host or phantom but their wholly shared selves . of course , either of them would have always listened . they would have done all that they could no matter how menial , meaningless , or annoying , even to their own recipient ; from reminder to regular . and that was fine , wasn't it ? on a day where , if only just this once , an excess of sappy , corny , tacky feelings of all sorts were allowed --- it was good timing to make this sort of promise to themselves .

to her .

tomorrow , the day after , until the mound of chocolates slowly ran out , he was sure to have all sorts of eager greetings and happy stories to tell .

#*･ﾟ⊰ ANSWERED. ⊱#CANON.#remunporium

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rawliverandgoronspice · 11 months

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In Descant, how does Ganondorf command monsters? By turning them loose in a direction of his choosing, by using magic to enthrall them, through negotiation, or varies depending on the intelligence. I remember reading lizalfos warred with the Zora in BOTW and had structure enough to have a general

So... To be honest, I kind of decided to be a little sparse on the magical worldbuilding to avoid causing myself a concussion given this is originally a side-project and not something meant to consume my every waking thought (this is not going great right now but I'll stir it back under control eventually). I do have one, however, and it's loosely related to this.

(I kind of infodump about my magic system instead of really answering the question sorry sorry)

I decided to use the basis of the different "realms" of magical abilities embodied by the Sages in OoT: so Light, Forest, Fire, Water, Shadow and Spirit. Each of these elements encompass both a very literal manipulation of this element (whenever possible, right Spirit :) :) :) ) and a more complicated manipulation of energies associated with this element. For example: Shadow magic involves manipulating darkness directly (making a place spookier or shrouding oneself), but taken to an extreme it also encompasses decay, fear, everything dissimulated --and also, because of the nature of what is most hidden, truth. Fire is about arson, and it's also about drive and consumption; Forest is about the neat little trees, and it's also about growth and patience and ancient knowledge, etc etc. Part of mastering a given element is deepening your understanding and of just everything it really encompasses and the very complex web of how it truly affects reality, and how you can inject your own input of energy to affect it to your liking.

So a lot of basic monsters in Descant are kind of bound to being fueled by a given type of magic --and so sometimes it's just that there's Vibes in a place and so monsters appear there as a coproduct, and sometimes (and Ganondorf loves to do this) through upsetting said Vibes of a place, you can mess up the internal balance and generate an "infection", aka drastically and brutally change the magical ecosystem and invoking a bunch of things by doing so. In this kind of situation, Ganondorf isn't bound to these creatures like an invoker would be (like they don't have to obey him through a magical contract or anything), but given he generally is the person in the room with the most mastery over the type of magic that fuels the monsters he encouraged the proliferation of, the loose alliegeance happens pretty naturally. They serve his purposes, even if half-consciously and not in a way that he can use to make complex strategies like he would with actual soldiers or more complicated creations (like his phantoms).

Then, for more complex cultures where the monsters are not gohmas or redeads or things like this, I think there might be negotiations or something of a higher caliber going on but it's not a part of Descant I focused on a lot and I mostly brushed over it for the sake of uhhh narrative simplification, because it was already spinning out of control!!!

Thank you so much for your curiosity!!

#asks #descant of greatness #unhallowed vespers #ganondorf #not me trying to remember how to write fantasy and magic system and stuff #I feel super out of my depth #my writing #tloz #oot #ocarina of time

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ladyheraofthewhitearms · 2 years

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Saw your post that you might be willing to do a part two to "a phantom face" if there's interest - and count me as interested! I really liked the premise so I would love if you continued it 💕❤️.

Of course! First of all, thank you so much for reaching out :) I genuinely love it when you guys tell me what you think of my stories (support your local writer by commenting on their fic! Something even as simple as a "good job!" will do! It means more than you know!). My inbox is open for requests, but also feel free to send me any Owl House / Wittebane brothers-related thoughts (or thots ;) ) you have. I may not be able to respond to them all as soon as I'd like because of final exams, but I genuinely really appreciate them and will respond as soon as I can!

Second, thank you so much for expressing interest in "a Phantom Face"! I already have a general idea of where I want to take the APF story. All I need to do is just sit down and actually write the thing. Unfortunately, I probably won't be able to start that phase until late May because of my exams. Then nearly immediately after that (because ain't that just the way) I'm having surgery on my wisdom teeth and will be out of it for a couple days. I'm so sorry for the delay, but I promise that there's more coming! Thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient.

Finally, I just want to say that I've really seen such growth in this little Belos simp community of ours. When I first started this blog, my intention was to help produce content for fellow Belos simps like me and (hopefully) inspire more blogs to start writing as well. Since then, whether from the new Owl House episodes or from seeing other content out there, other people have started writing as well! Not only that, but I've also seen an incredible increase in followers (I'm at 37 now! 🥹), and in simps just interacting with my posts in general. My "Of Snails and Flowers" fic just passed the 100 notes mark which I am absolutely THRILLED about! I'm so incredibly happy that I can make content that you guys enjoy <3 I love you all very much and, again, thank you so much for your patience! Happy simping!

#Lady's rambling #the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #belos #belos toh #philip toh #philip wittebane toh #toh #toh belos

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regallibellbright · 1 year

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Me, managing along in Pokemon Violet, dealing with the knowledge that, per speedrunners, I have the significantly slower-performing version. (In-game time vs actual time has something like a ten-minute difference in Scarlet and twelve minutes in Violet.) And I’ve always found battles slower than I’d like, especially when you can’t turn animations off. Like in this game. Okay, this is fine.

I get just got the Cascarrafa Gym badge. Next, per level scaling, is either Medali Gym, the Lurking Steel Titan, or Atticus.

In terms of distance to Cascarrafa, Medali’s closest.

I cannot fucking FIND the approach out of Cascarrafa that will get me near Medali for the life of me. I try several attempts that lead to nowhere because the in-game map does not signpost those particular cliffs. I get annoyed encountering Tauros and one-hit KO a Chansey I actively wanted to catch. And then there’s this bridge. It looks like (to my hopelessly spatially-challenged ass) it is leading in generally the right direction.

The Pokemon trainer on one side of the bridge has level 27-33 Pokemon, like I do.

The Pokemon trainer on the other side of the bridge has a level 53 Mismagius.

I realize this, and that I somehow ended up in an area WAY overleveled for me, and resign myself to a team wipe.

The Mismagius’s favorite move is Phantom Force, a two-turn move. I resign myself to a very SLOW team wipe. The last of my Pokemon with a dark-type move is my Noibat. Who has Quick Claw, since his Speed isn’t where I want it to be for, you know, a Noivern.

His Quick Claw activates on the turn where Mismagius is intangible, so I don’t even get THAT hit in.

At this point I actually scream in frustration and my mother asks if I’m okay, since that was the single most irritating thing the RNG could possibly do. Unfortunately, I don’t have autosave on because I was worried about glitches at launch and hadn’t turned it back on yet, so if I reset, I lose all progress and have to do the Gym fight and Gym cutscene again. I don’t wanna deal with the Gym cutscenes again.

Now, fortunately, I also have a Clodsire (who gets Poison Point on the Mismagius when it KOs her with Phantom Force) and an Azumarill. So I’m down to Azumarill, waiting to wipe, and have been looking away from the screen except to change Pokemon because it’s SO EXCRUCIATINGLY SLOW, and get the victory fanfare because somehow this stalled Mismagius out, since its AI kept using a two-turn move when it was poisoned and evidently either used it against a WATER TYPE when I know it had Magical Leaf, or Azumarill could tank a super-effective hit from a Pokemon 20 levels higher but without STAB. Could be either. I did not think to get video of this bullshit.

So I’m obviously done for the night, having healed and saved, because I have NO patience left for the game anymore. I played for maybe thirty minutes in total. I’m starting to see why I haven’t felt as motivated to play this game as to do… anything else, really. I’ve managed to beat both Let’s Go and Shining Pearl, I refuse to let this one beat me, and I AM having fun when things are going well. I like the Team Star gameplay, I have fun with the other two when I’m not putting up with performance issues and VERY SLOW elevator cutscenes, I love my dragon bike, I KNOW the story is good because I’ve seen Bro handle the climax… but the performance issues ARE kicking my ass and I am evidently struggling with the open world in a way I did not with Legends Arceus, at least at this particular point.

I don’t like Pokemon making me feel THIS frustrated in THAT little time.

#pokemon #long post #venting #negativity #negative #pokemon negativity #tagging because I don’t WANT to start something I’m just like ‘holy SHIT that was the most irritating experience possible’#’it would be comical if it hadn’t been SO DAMN FRUSTRATING’#that was just Murphy’s Law distilled into a Pokemon experience.#shoutouts to Winnie and Miri for somehow managing that W.#public shaming to Neku for his terrible judgment in Quick Claw use.#I am not above renaming you if you keep this up you little shit. Don’t think I’m not.

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seemslegitflapjacks · 2 years

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Silena Mariani ref sheet

So this is my home girl. Love her so much. I can’t wait to use her in role plays n whatnot.

General idea of her character is that she’s definitely got somewhat of an attitude problem. She’s a generally chill person and easy going, but catch her on at the wrong time on the wrong day and she will snap on you. She doesn’t take kindly to any rumors or people that share secrets. In her clique she views Lola as an older sister. Although she doesn’t fully trust her, she’s still her role model, but was taught enough from others not to follow in her exact footsteps. She’s closest to Norton and Johnny. Silena in currently dating Davis White, although they do have a somewhat strained relationship.

Mostly she gets in trouble for feeding stray animals, since they now like to sit by the auto repair shop and cry for food. It annoys Johnny to no end. But Norton absolutely loves the cats. Johnny is totally the dad who didn’t want the damn cat but when you get the cat he basically steals it.

She has her horse, Phantom’s Fury, but they all just call him Pantom, or Danny Phantom for funsies. He’s a 17.5 hh thoroughbred stallion with a black coat and a tiny little white star on his forehead. Around Halloween time she flies him from florida so they could dress up as the headless horseman. He’s very sweet for a stud, but he occasionally spooks to loud noises, and his patience can run thin when there’s antics going around. She rides English, but occasionally western when she helps her parents with the cattle back at home.

Her parents are very Italian. She knows Italian almost fluently, and was taught to cook. The only downside is that her grandmas are extremely superstitious, as most Italian old ladies are.

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whythehellnaut · 3 years

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The secret brilliance behind Nickelodeon All Star Brawl‘s marketing

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the Nickelodeon fighting game after it was announced, progressing from mild interest to ironic excitement to unironic excitement for it. So many jokes and memes have been made about it that they’re almost impossible to avoid. But when I thought about it, I realized that that’s exactly what the marketing team for this game wanted. The idea of the game is so absurd that no one would expect it to exist, but they figured out a way to make absolutely sure that it would create just the right buzz to get people like me to take serious interest in it.

Watching the trailer again, I figured out that every character they picked to showcase in that minute and a half trailer were carefully and strategically chosen to cater to as many people as they could. Even the order of their appearance had deliberation behind it. Here are my thoughts:

Michelangelo comes first, establishing that the game is combat focused. After all, who better to show off first for a fighting game than a character that has already appeared as a playable character in at least two of them? Plus, the Ninja Turtles are the oldest characters in Nickelodeon’s library when you consider that they first aired in the 80′s, before Nickelodeon even started making cartoons. This is a character that everyone recognizes, parents included.

Lincoln Loud comes next, a more modern character that adults might not know but kids will. This is to quickly lure the kids, who have less patience than adults, into watching the rest of the trailer, assuring them that it won’t just be older characters like the turtles that show up.

Powdered Toast Man comes next to snatch up the other side of the equation, the adults/90′s kids who remember him from the original Ren and Stimpy show from 1991. I’m not sure if it’s still airing as reruns on Nick today, but considering I hear very little about the show online, I’m guessing not. This is a bit of a surprise to the adults who thought it’d be a kids’ game, so it lures those folks into staying for the rest of the trailer as well.

Sandy is important to show off early for a number of reasons. Spongebob is popular among kids and Millenials, and is arguably the only property here as well known as Ninja Turtles, so they’re luring in more fans. It also serves to imply that other Spongebob characters will join, as, even though Sandy’s passion for karate makes total sense for her to appear in a fighting game, you still can’t leave out Spongebob himself. Showing her first implies more possibilities of characters to come, proving it won’t just be a festival of protagonists like Jump Force was. It also shows off their female representation to keep women interested.

Patrick is just a fan favorite to get out of the way before the sponge shows up, so he’s only here to confirm that the game is going to be full of characters that people actually want to see.

Oblina was personally a shocker to me, as I barely remember Ahh Real Monsters from my own childhood, but I remember enough to know that she wasn’t the protagonist, necessarily. I also know it’s relatively obscure in comparison to Spongebob or Ren and Stimpy, so they proved that they are willing to take characters from more obscure shows that the young kids won’t remember. This solidified my interest as I could tell that they are doing more to cater to the 90s generation than just confirming Powdered Toast Man.

Nigel Thornberry is arguably their most important addition at the halfway point. Outside of Spongebob characters and maybe Stu Pickles, I would say Nigel is the internet’s favorite Nickelodeon character to use for memes. The marketing team had to have known this. After getting some of the core audiences hooked, they now have the memer crowd invested, ready to spread the word about the insanity of this game’s premise across the internet. This is exactly what happened, and why the trailer has 2 million views on Youtube right now.

Lucy Loud is shown off quickly to remind the younger crowd to keep watching, and to add a little bit more female representation.

Spongebob is shown off a little bit late, but since we were expecting him to show up, it’s just to make sure the casual fans who only know the big names stay watching.

Helga is an older character, but I recently saw a young kid wearing a Hey Arnold tee shirt at the supermarket, so I’m positive it’s being shown as reruns on Nick today, so most Nick fans of all ages will be excited about her. Moreover, since she came immediately after Spongebob, who is a protagonist that was introduced after Sandy, a side character from his show, it gives an implication that Arnold will also appear. Although he is not introduced in this trailer, it allows the fans to speculate that he will soon be showcased, perhaps in the next trailer. Also, she’s the fourth female character shown, confirming that the game is being fair and inclusive to both sexes and not simply catering to male gamers, like say, Jump Force or Dragonball Fighter Z.

Reptar is another shocker, because although Rugrats is very popular and well known throughout the generations, he is a very, very minor character in the show. He is literally a fictional character within a separate fictional universe. The marketing team threw him in to show off that just about any character from any Nick property, no matter how minor or obscure, has a chance of making it into this game. Again, this forces the fans to speculate about future announcements with even more creative thinking, as we now know that it won’t just be major characters joining the fray.

Zim is a well thought out choice because he caters to a specific crowd that I’d describe as the alternative niche. That is to say, there are people who are fans of Invader Zim who don’t watch other Nick shows, so they are luring in the folks you’d expect to see at Hot Topic and the like. It was an edgy show with a feel and fanbase unlike other shows of its era, so it’s important to use him to diversify the roster. They also showed off Gir as his assist, and although that may deconfirm him as playable, it still pleases the fans, who often prefer Gir over Zim.

Danny Phantom is the only character that comes strictly from the 2000s era, so they are making sure to maintain the attention of the teenagers who watched that show as kids.

Leonardo seems like an odd choice to end on, maybe even anticlimactic, since they started with Michelangelo, but it makes sense when you think about it. They couldn’t show just 1 turtle, or else it might imply that the game’s roster was small. But if they showed all 4 turtles, they would have needed to leave two other characters out of the trailer to make room for them, and they didn’t want to make it look like a Turtles fighting game with guest characters. So having exactly 2 turtles allows them to show off enough characters from other properties, while also confirming unofficially that the other turtles would appear later, since you can’t just have 2 of the 4 turtles in the game. By leaving it open like that, they’re giving an implication that the roster is going to be huge. So big that the turtles were just a small portion of it. They end the trailer this way to leave the crowd speculating again: how many characters will appear in total?

The only characters that curiously don’t show up in the trailer are the cast of the Avatar franchise, who are quite popular. However, one of the stages shown is clearly the Air Temple with Aang’s glider in plain sight, implying that Avatar characters will be announced later. Another smart move to instill hope in the fans.

Finally, the Rollback Netcode announcement that came afterward solidified a very important group- the serious/competitive gamers. For those who don’t know, rollback netcode is relatively new technology that speeds up online gameplay to cut down on input lag, which is super important for fighting games in particular, as they rely on strict timing more than other game genres. It’s so new, however, that not all competitive fighting games use it. Popular tournament fighters like Super Smash Bros, Tekken, and Dragonball Fighter Z have not implemented rollback netcode for their games yet, so of all games, Nickelodeon All Star Brawl beating them to the punch is causing a stir. This is a sign that the devs are putting serious effort into making the game enjoyable online, which could potentially help its chances to be taken seriously in competitive settings. Only time will tell if that truly happens, but it’s a sign of quality, nonetheless.

So ultimately, this short trailer and announcement manage to cater to dang near every crowd that may want to play it: Kids, teenagers, young adults in their 20s and 30s, parents in their 40s, men, women, memers, casual fans, alternative fans, and serious gamers, and opens up a ton of potential for speculation regarding new announcements. That’s a fantastic way to start off and explains why this game, which for all intents and purposes should have been nothing more than a thought experiment that people joke about in the car with friends, has been trending so much for the past two weeks. Congrats to the marketing team for what they put together.

#Nickelodeon #nickelodeon all star brawl #fighting games #fgc

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bvccy · 3 years

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Tenderness and Ferocity | 4. The Third Night

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Hydra!Reader Fic Synopsis: The Winter Soldier is starting to make stupid mistakes in the field, which is Bucky's way of trying to wrest back control and sabotage his handlers. Hydra brings a new doctor to figure out what's wrong with him and fix it. As she spends time with him, she becomes fond of the Winter Soldier, and he becomes fond of her. Bucky has other ideas. Or, a fic in which the Winter Soldier is the good guy and Bucky is actually the bad guy. Warnings for this chapter: light Smut Word count: 1984 Read on AO3: [link] [Previous Chapter] [Fic Masterlist] [Next Chapter]

"This is a love that equals in its power the love of man for woman and reaches inwards as deeply. It is the love of a man or of a woman for their world. For the world of their centre where their lives burn genuinely and with a free flame." — Mervyn Peake

"See you tomorrow, Eeli!"

"Bye!"

"Night, Benji!"

"Good night!"

"Bye, Suzi!"

"Have a good night!"

She said her goodbyes to the evening staff, the duty officer, the cleaning lady, and made her way down the white corridor that led to the bus, which took all the day staff to their living quarters. She tried not to hurry too much, not to hold her purse too close, nor to smile too widely. She breathed a sigh of relief once she took her seat, her head leaning to cool against the window.

Although it was only evening, in the late winter it already looked like the dead of night, blackness stretching out forever starting fifteen feet from wherever you stood. The sparse trees looked like cardboard cut-outs under the stark nightlights, lifeless against a starless sky. There was a tranquillity in the effect: a feeling that, in a world where everything was fake, you too could be whatever you wanted.

The bus bumped along as usual, carrying its quiet cargo, but until she was off it she couldn't shake the nagging shame that was burning a hole in her purse. She surreptitiously squeezed it down, letting herself lean heavily against it while she looked out the window and tried not to think about getting shot.

The apartment complex was easily within driving distance but completely out of view of the Headquarters, even with the flat emptiness that lay between. It was built especially for the civilian workers, and named the Administrative, Medical, Economical, Research and Innovation Cadres Apartments. Or, as Hydra referred to it with great amusement, A.M.E.R.I.C.A..

Its outside inherited the bleakness that came with rushed work, cheap materials, and failed modernist concepts, but the inside had been renovated over the years into something that was at worst ergonomic, and at best managed to be cosy. It almost felt like home, and for a lot of the staff it had to be.

The ride squeaked to a halt, jolting its passengers awake. They waddled out in orderly fashion, saying their thank-yous to the driver, and their good-nights to each other as gradually they each went to their wing.

A few token trees, grown very tall over the decades, were spread around the park before the main entrance, their barren branches lit pale gold by the lamplights. The round fountain at the centre was finally unfrozen for the first time in months, its water sitting in a motionless reflection of the sable sky.

The night guardsman watched everyone amble in, nodding and smiling to whoever spared him a glance as he cradled a chipped mug of coffee in his chubby hands. She mouthed a "Hello" to him and kept on walking, her eyes going back down in what she knew was her usual 'tired' look and nobody spoke to her when they grouped up in the elevator, or when they spread out in their own directions, and then finally she was safely inside her little apartment — locked up and double-bolted.

She placed her purse very carefully on the hallway table. Put her coat up, tucked her shoes away, turned on the lights, turned on the heating, and went through the usual ritual of taking everything off and stuffing it in the laundry bin before taking a shower.

Dinner was, as usual, replaced by a cup of tea and biscuits in bed while her hair slowly dried, wrapped up in a thin old towel. She sipped her tea while scrolling through feeds of news articles, celebrity scandals, the occasional cat video, not really paying attention to anything. As soon as she could justify it to herself, she rolled out of bed and took her cup and plate to the kitchen. She brushed her teeth in a rush, brushed out her tangled hair, then finally approached the purse that was sitting innocuously in waiting.

It was stuffed full of notebooks, emergency cosmetics, obsolete post-its and little lozenge tins, so she had to dig a little until she found the one booklet where, as if by accident, a crisp white page had slipped in. There was hardly any way for someone to detect it, of course — "analog technology" is the safest way to smuggle information — but it didn't stop her from trembling all the way home.

She unfolded it, and smiled tenderly at the sight of the precisely drawn clock face. With the tip of a finger, she could just about feel the indent where the pen first went into the page, a phantom of the energy that passed through his arm for just one moment.

She put all her things away, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed with it. The lamp shining outside was enough for her to make out the page as it rested by her pillow. She had taken it without any particular idea of what to do with it, but she just knew she had to have it, had to have something from him.

The logical side knew that this was a normal emotional reaction for a woman, stuck somewhere without a palatable selection of men, however numerous. Her body recognised, before her head, that the Soldier would be quite a catch even if they weren't stuck in the middle of an industrialised nowhere, and in short order had reached the conclusions that he was: pretty nice, tempting, wasted on Hydra, stupidly beautiful, distractingly virile, before finally settling on him being utterly desirable.

Her head was still stuck at "wasted on Hydra".

But it would get there eventually. The more of him she brought out, the easier it was for her to see him as a person — and people can be admired, liked, and even wanted. For now, she would make do with this schoolyard token and allow herself to enjoy whatever she wanted in her mind.

She already couldn't remember what he felt like under her fingers, how exactly his voice sounded, even his face became blurred the longer she was away from him, but she could easily summon back the memory of what it felt like to be around him.

He was so pliant, especially that first day all strapped up and helpless. It was a heady combination — a dangerous killer rendered harmless. She liked dominance in the opposite sex, but there was just something about a big strong man being subdued like that while she had full control — made even more exciting, paradoxically, by his lack of interest in her.

She noticed him stare quite shamelessly, but blankly; that was just his programming assessing a threat, like all the other soldiers in the program... that's all it had to be. The Director's crass joke at her expense didn't make it any better, as if he wanted to remind her specifically that the Soldier didn't, and couldn't, find her nor any woman desirable.

Still, she could have done anything she wanted with him. The following days when he was free, he still obeyed her every word (mostly). But he also started speaking a little out of turn and telling tepid jokes; the progress, on a professional level, was considerable. When she had him eating out of her hand, it dawned on her how dangerously close she was to taking advantage of him — dangerous, of course, only if she got caught.

Fortunately she’d had the sense to ask for no surveillance, and had nurtured a reputation of being professional to a fault, unmoved by the raw masculinity of the Winter Soldier recruits that her other colleagues openly gushed over, and generally impervious to male charm — mainly to make it easier to turn down flirtations from the desperate men stuck there. "Don't bother with her. I already tried. You don't stand a chance."

She understood their loneliness, even sympathised with them, but she couldn't take the chance of opening herself to someone only to be used up, as it happened to so many others stuck there; especially not when none of them made her feel anything. Her Soldier though, he made her feel something...

He was more than just another big, dangerous man. In their efforts, Hydra had made him into an ideal. Unfortunately, they also misunderstood the nature of what they made. They thought they were creating a weapon — they did — but Hydra treated the masculinity inherent in her Soldier as just an excuse for brutality, deprecating what he really was and could be. Masculinity was about control and power — to be unleashed when necessary and otherwise reined in, a pack of wild dogs left unfed by their master and held back, held back, held back, to be all the more vicious when finally released.

By misusing her Soldier, they misused that which they channelled through him; the source of that ideal inherent to all men but which favoured so few; which expressed itself through tenderness, and ferocity.

Hydra unwittingly created a weakness, a crack for her to crawl into and bring out that which lay, waiting, underneath the mind. They had no patience for these abstractions, no way to deal with them, and so instead they brought him down and kept him there, ready to use when the brutality was needed.

She closed her eyes and tried to bring back the frissons she felt at the sound of his voice, rough and hanging heavy but so velvety sweet still, the shape of his body silhouetted in the shadows, his artist's-fingers resting obediently on the table, and that surprising mix of chocolate brown hair and grey eyes...

Maybe next time she could have him write something, she could analyse his handwriting; he should definitely still know how... Would he write in cursive or print? Would his letters be thin and sharp, or sensuously curved? Would they be large and take up a lot of space, or small and unassuming like he seemed to be sometimes...

She buried her nose in the pillow, feeling only her own perfume — would he like it? what would it smell like after he spent the night? — and wrapped a leg around the bulky duvet that wasn't nearly big enough to pretend...

Her fingers touched the page again as she squeezed her legs together, her other hand caressing her neck in lighter and lighter touches until she could almost imagine it being his breath, fanning over her skin from above.

She let go of the paper and turned on her back, shivering and sighing, and slipped her hand underneath, down the centre of her chest, stopping just at her lower stomach and pressed down — the way she thought he would if he caught her, if he wanted to hold her still. She bit her lip and teased her throat, content now that her imagination found what it wanted.

Maybe, he wouldn't catch her... Maybe he would break free and come to her, find her in bed, hold her against him, try to seduce her into running away with him. To make it more fun, she'd struggle. She allowed herself a half-bitten moan as she instinctively throbbed at the idea, and pressed harder, canting her hips more and more to an imaginary rhythm that he set.

The thought of his heavy shape pressing her down, his penetrating eyes above her, his uncertain smile, hopeful, desirous, and just that singular pressure... the feeling of being wanted, of being held, in the place where she most wanted him — not even between her legs, but deep, deep in her womb — was more dizzying than any sticky thing she had ever done on her own because she actually wanted him.

She let her imagination exhaust itself while in parallel her mind searched for ways he could break out, of how they could escape together — the mad dream of running away.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky x OFC #Bucky Barnes x OFC #Winter Soldier fanfiction #Winter Soldier x reader #James Buchanan Barnes #The Winter Soldier #Winter Soldier #Tenderness and Ferocity #bv;fanfiction

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whumping-every-day · 4 years

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(Insert arrow here) for Callum Ask Ash if he wants a hug/headpat/physical affection of any kind, if he says yes then give him affection. Vamp bapy has been through enough and I want him and Callum happy even if Callum is awkward about it.

Thank you, Anon! I sat down with this intending to write some fluff, and... well. I don’t know what i fucking expected. xD Please enjoy, Nonnie!

CW’s: Aftermath of torture and references to said torture, some dehumanization, reluctant/clinical/sorta creepy caretaker, comfort, alternating POV, food mention, blanket warning for Ash’s fucky headspace.

Callum squints at the order. He doesn’t mind offering the vampire an affectionate touch here and there, of course; but the undeniable power dynamic has always made him hesitate. It’s the way Ash watches him; he’s always a silent shadow at Callum’s side, always so eager to obey him. (Too eager).

It’s the kind of eager that has fear behind it. Eager to please, so Callum won’t starve him; quick to obey, so Callum won’t beat him. Every action is driven by the belief that if he can’t keep Callum happy, Callum will do something horrendous to him.

He looks at the hunter, sometimes, and Callum almost thinks that he wants to be touched. But then the hunter will clear his throat, or uncross his legs, or move, and the vampire will flinch like he’s been electrocuted, and Callum knows better.

There’s so much about the time that Ash spent with his captors that Callum doesn’t know. But there’s a lot he can tell from what he’s seen; and the vampire is always so grateful for such small mercies.

Even the briefest kindness still gives Ash that dazzled, awed look, and every time a little bit more of the dazed, worshipful quality stays. He could ask anything of Ash, anything at all, and the vampire would give it.

“Hey, kid?” Callum keeps his voice soft, tries with all his might to ease what he knows is an impressive resting glare. Something still clangs in surprise in the other room, and there’s a hurriedly stifled gasp.

There’s silence, and then the quick pattering of bare feet. Ash appears in the door frame like a phantom; his dark eyes glitter, wary compliance layered over alarm at being summoned.

“Y-yes, Sir?” It’s soft, and Ash shifts uneasily on the balls of his feet, gaze darting from the floor to Callum’s feet and then back.

The vampire is always so good; waiting to be fed, waiting for permission to leave his cell, waiting to be told what to do and where to go. Callum still wishes Ash wouldn’t call him Sir. But it seems to bring the vampire some comfort... and it’s better than the first thing Ash had called him.

“I just wanted to ask you something,” the hunter says carefully, and Ash’s shoulders immediately go tense, distrust plastered all over his face. Shit. “You can say no,” Callum promises; the whites of Ash’s eyes show, like a skittish horse.

From the vampire’s perspective, the space between it and its master is both too little and too much. The hunter moves with an unassuming grace; it’s easy to forget just how big he is, until he walks through a doorway and nearly grazes the ceiling. He’s seated, at the moment, loose and nonthreatening, and his bulk trapped safely (hah) on the other side of the work bench.

The vampire’s instincts are still blaring a red alert.

“Would you like a hug?” The creature startles, refocuses on Callum’s face with bewilderment. Its gaze drops then, to the hunter’s work-worn hands, his scarred forearms, the size of his biceps. The terror in its eyes has him offering again; “or I could pet your hair. Shh, shh, hey,” he murmurs. “You’re alright, bud. There’s no test here.” It’s in that same patient, soothing tone, so unusual coming out of Callum’s mouth.

Ash’s heart hardly beats anymore, but even sluggish and undead the creature’s pulse tries to thrum. The question is a trap - there is always a trap. It hasn’t figured out where the pitfalls are, yet. And every hunter has traps to be tripped, it’s only a matter of stumbling onto them.

“I’ll tell you what.” Callum speaks to break up the spiral he can see unfolding behind Ash’s eyes. The vampire’s gaze snaps to him, and Callum gives it a light smile and wiggles his fingers. “I’m halfway through this project. Just oiling Hugo’s gears, here.”

The vampire’s gaze slips to the workbench, where the mechanical crow is perched. One of its wings has been removed, and Ash can see the moving gears beneath, like muscle and nerves. Hugo turns his head to the side and eyes the vampire with one beedy black eye.

“It won’t even be another ten minutes.” The hunter speaks casually, but the vampire still shrinks under his attention. “You’ve been working hard. I’m very pleased,” he adds. “So if you’d like, you can come sit with me while I finish this. Okay? And if that means some head pats, well, that’s up to you.”

Up to you.

The vampire isn’t used to being a you, yet. It doesn’t know what to do with this lack of boundaries, and every step it takes feels like navigating a rigged obstacle course while blindfolded... but it knows from experience that when Callum tells it to choose something, it will have to choose.

The vampire briefly debates the merits of fleeing back into the other room. Callum might let it go, it thinks... the hunter’s punishments have been unbelievably lax so far. He lets it sleep, lets it cower away when it’s frightened, doesn’t punish it for flinching or crying.

It doesn’t run.

The hunter waits patiently while the vampire stands there chewing on its bottom lip, caught between indecision and fear. If it goes closer, the hunter can grab it, hurt it...

...

But also, if it goes closer, the man can pet it. The thought crosses its mind, unbidden, that those hands are big but they’d also be warm.

There’s suspicion and something else warring behind Ash’s eyes as the vampire takes a halting step forward. It waits for a split second, for the other shoe to drop, for the hunter to spring up out of his seat and shout gotcha.

It doesn’t happen.

Ash - and that is something else the vampire has to be grateful for, its name. Ash inches into the hunter’s space, and it doesn’t dare take too long, lest the man lose his patience. It’s not like this is the first time it’s been close to the man - the hunter had carried it in the beginning, every day, from its cell to the lab, and then back. But this is the first time the hunter has summoned it like this, no tests to perform, no wounds to tend.

When it stops, shoulders hunched in Callum’s shadow, there is no retribution, and no sudden, violent outburst. The hunter just nods, and he puts one of those massive hands in his lap casually, picks up the oil-stained rag with the other.

“This won’t take long,” he says again, still soft, still careful. The vampire watches him for a moment, and Callum can feel him assessing the situation, trying to figure out how it might end. “I’d say you’ve earned a break, little one,” he murmurs, and each word is laid with intent.

He’s pieced together by now that Ash was made to earn a lot of things, before. Blood, shelter, mercy, a slightly less heinous method of torture. The language of rewards and punishments isn’t something Callum likes to employ... but from the corner of his eye, he sees the vampire hesitate, and then loosen, like magic.

Ash doesn’t speak again, but some of the tension has eased. Framing this as a reward had worked, which... Huh. Callum turns that over in his head for a moment. He also knows that the peace is fragile; he can’t pay the vampire any undue attention, or he’ll spook it.

To all outward appearances, Callum is exceedingly casual, and entirely relaxed. He’s careful as he goes back to work one-handed, and he leaves the other hand in his lap, open, fingers loose. There’s a second stool beside his; Callum knows better by now than to try and force the vampire into it.

Instead he feels the air shift as Ash sinks slowly to his knees, folding his hands in his lap. It puts the vampire at just lap height, and Callum carefully doesn’t look down as he goes back to removing, cleaning and then reinstalling Hugo’s gears.

From where the vampire is kneeling, its palms prick with sweat. It has been summoned here and told to take a break - so of course its heart is in its throat waiting. But when it risks the tiniest glance upward, minutes after kneeling, the hunter seems to be genuinely invested in his work.

This hunter is so smart, the creature thinks. He’s always working on something; diagrams or strange substances and powders, things that click and spark and grind. Callum calls them machines, says that they are new. But to the creature’s eyes, much of it seems like magic.

It is glad to be allowed to sit there; Callum has been generous to give it tasks. It can be useful this way, counting arrowheads or polishing leather, or scrubbing the pots clean. It is a far kinder use than the others had for it.

Instinct tells the creature that it’s in danger; but it squeezes its eyes shut and breathes, dredges up the hunter’s words from memory. You’ve been working hard, and I’m very pleased.

Pleased. With it. Assuming that the human does not jest, Ash can only marvel.

But then, the vampire reasons, if the man was displeased, surely he would have made it known by now. Surely he would correct its behavior, and not simply allow it to continue in its filthy, rotten ways.

Something moves in the corner of its vision, and the vampire tenses - but it’s only the hunter’s hand, draped loosely again his thigh so his fingers hang free.

Headpats are up to you, he’d said.

His hand is close, but it’s not reaching, not tugging or yanking or grabbing. Ash casts another glance upwards, and Callum is busy, not paying any attention. Even just the simple act of being ignored is comforting - the hunter can’t be angry with it if he’s not thinking about it.

It takes some time, but the vampire slowly, slowly starts to lean. It’s stupid, and its heart is in its throat - this is a test and it is failing, it’s failing terribly. But somehow, irrationally (desperately) the creature wants what has been offered.

This is what the man wants. The vampire tells itself that, over and over again, to stifle its own hesitation. If it does this, it’ll be good. If it does this, it will stave off the hunter’s wrath for just a little longer.

Callum’s leg is thick and warm when Ash finally leans into it. The creature is shivering, left-over vestiges of adrenaline rattling through its system at the touch. It holds its breath as it settles; it’s barely there, resting a fraction of its weight as it braces for the anger and yelling.

Instead, there’s nothing. Ash’s fingernails dig furrows into his palms with how tightly he clenches them, but it’s like the hunter doesn’t even feel him.

The ground is cold, but the hunter is warm, and it seeps through the fabric of Ash’s shirt and sinks into his side. The heat is soothing, and the vampire bites down a soft, high sound as it slumps a little further. It waits, at each stage, for the human’s reaction, and each time there isn’t one.

Ten minutes later, Ash is curled up at Callum’s feet, resting his temple against the of the hunter’s knee. Its head is almost in his lap, and this time it barely flinches when something settles on its hair.

The vampire peels its eyes open, and the hunter has a hand on top of its head. Ash checks again, and Callum is still occupied with his task, like the creature sitting at his feet isn’t a dangerous, blood-sucking leech.

Then that hand moves, slow and careful; the first proper stroke makes goosebumps break out all along Ash’s arms and shoulders. He whines softly, but he quickly swallows it down; Callum’s hand pauses, and Ash’s lungs don’t work until it starts to move again.

There has always been something to be longed for in the grace of human warmth. Eventually, the vampire even dares to nuzzle against Callum’s knee, timid and soft. The hunter huffs quietly, and his touch drifts to the back of the creature’s neck, scritching gently at its nape.

This is the reward, the vampire thinks - or hopes. Not a break from its tasks, it’s been given a multitude of those already, far in excess. No, the reward is the touch, a mercy given without being earned or bled for.

Its hair is still a mess, frazzled and wild - and longer, now, than it had been before. Calloused fingers pet over the brown curls, then dig deeper, nails scraping ever so lightly against its scalp. The vampire shudders in pleasure at that, and its eyes flutter halfway, murring needy in the back of its throat.

Callum drags out the simple task of cleaning Hugo’s gears for another thirty minutes. By the time he’s finished, the crow’s gears shine like new, and Ash is purring, slumped bodily against Callum’s legs and head fully in the hunter’s lap. Callum watches him for a moment, dark lashes against soft cheeks, and feels something fierce and protective stir in his chest.

For Ash, time has started to blur again. The creature knows what it feels like to have the passage of day and night lose their meaning, but this is different. This is pure bliss, a thrill that starts at the back of its spine and trickles in shivers down its back.

It doesn’t know what it did to be worthy of such a kindness. (something, it must have done something.) But it hopes, this time, that if it keeps trying to be good, if it’s small and silent and sweet enough... maybe it can earn this sort of reward again.

[END]

Tagging the vampire gang this time :3 @wildfaewhump @pepperonyscience @robinsdoghouseofwhump @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelspaverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper @latenightcupsofcoffee @thebluejayswhump @what-huh-imconfused @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whump-em @umniyah-s @adventuresofacreesty @scarheart @kyra-plays @lionhxartxd-blog @blue-flare10 @whumpywhumper @doityourselfbombs @pastry-case @maybeawhumpblog @httyd-chocolate @maqcyloup @yyyee-haw @to-hurt-and-comfort @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @manip-loki @dungeons-and-dragons-and-whump @ariirenn @poetofswords86 @whumpity--whump--whump @swagjudgehandsdragon @machimaquiaveli @theladyoffangorn @oracle-of-maybe @cuddlycryptid @the-potato-beeper @insanitycheshire @slam-whump @sweeterthanadonut @ffaerie-dustt @whump-in-the-night @elfo8792 @kinda-bad-poet @crackedskel @deluxewhump @this-zombie-will-eat-you @a-moment-to-write @stoic-whumpee @paradigmparadoxical @burtlederp @whump-with-wren @whimperwoods @winged-ace-whump @whump-only @sola-whumping @theoretical-toes @servenas-inner-fangirl @hurtmebeautifully @shaegal @crystalrainwing

#whump #vampire whump #vampire whumpee #creature whump #comfort #reluctant caretaker #aftermath of torture #fear #past torture #conditioned whumpee #original content #mine

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url-is-url · 3 years

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Can you please talk more about valerie red huntress symbiote au ? Just general thoughts on how it would work ? I know barely anything about Venom but imagine valerie would get the symbiote from Axion Labs.

OH GOD OH NO OH GOD OH NO I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS TO BE AN AU I JUST WANTED TO DUNK ON BUTCH HARTMAN AND HIS PLAGIARIZING HABIT AND MY VENOM OBSESSION

First of all: I will be referring to the symbiote as Venom, a la movie canon, because I have a deep and passionate loathing for the past three years of Venom comic canon, do not get me started on this because I will not be able to stop.

Okay firstly: YES Venom totally comes from Axion Labs. I have not watched Danny Phantom since it was actually airing so I'm definitely checking the ole wiki as I write this but apparently Axion Labs was its own thing and then VladCo bought it? Idk how Venom got to Axion Labs, but it got there and the scientists were like "idk wtf to do with this" and just sorta. Put it in a drawer with a label that says "weird space goo" and forgot about it. (That is VERY MUCH a thing that happens in science labs you would not BELIEVE the shit you can run into if you start poking around old storage objects in labs.) And then VladCo buys Axion, and Intern Valerie is helping organize things and she finds the jar of lost space goo. Idk what happens after that; maybe she determines it's some flavor of alive and passes it to Vlad under the assumption that it's a Weird Space Ghost, maybe she drops it and Venom escapes and bonds with her. I don't know, the details of how they get together aren't important IMO, the important part is the interactions between symbiote and host.

Valerie is still in high school and this is very important to me. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom is between several thousand and six hundred million years old. Depending on what you do and don't consider canon, Venom has BEEN TO EARTH BEFORE! I am of the opinion that Venom is actually extremely knowledgeable about physics and chemistry and other like, not-Earth-specific things, because they're old as balls. So imagine you're in high school and you're in AP World learning about the Vikings, and you hear this bass-ass voice in your head go actually it wasn't like that at all and suddenly you're RELIVING some other creature's memories of fighting Vikings. Or you're in high school and you're in biology watching a video about octopus camouflage and this voice in your head goes we can do that too and your arm turns "invisible". Imagine you're on your period and you ran out of Advil and you think to yourself "I swear to god if this lunch line doesn't move faster I'm gonna eat the kid in front of me" and the voice in your head goes no, eat the one behind you, he looks juicier LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

Valerie and Venom get together way after Danny becomes Phantom. So Valerie has this huge crush on Danny, but then she also hates Phantom's guts. Venom has senses that humans don't so they can tell that Fenton is Phantom, and Venom regrets their life choices re:bonding with a human, because oh no, these bald apes are so fucking stupid. Every day Venom considers informing Valerie about the secret identity thing. Every day Venom remembers that Phantom's ghostly wail is extremely deadly to them specifically. Every day Venom does not tell Valerie about the secret identity thing.

Most of town is probably at least a little convinced that the huntress is some sort of weirdass ghost, because humans aren't that big. I headcanon Valerie as being short but muscular as hell, around 5'4". Venomized Valerie? Pushing 7' and built like Athena. People assuming she's a weirdass ghost pisses Valerie off SO MUCH, and it pisses Venom off too though for different reasons (I AM TAKING VERY GOOD CARE OF MY HOST SHE IS ONE HUNDRED PERCENT ALIVE I AM INSULTED BY YOUR INSINUATIONS THAT SHE IS IN ANY WAY DECEASED)

Oh hey wait, if Venom can tell the Dannys are the same person, Venom can also tell that the Vlads are the same person. Vlad has never demonstrated anything along the lines of a ghostly wail, so his secret identity is NOT safe and Venom tells Valerie what's what. Valerie is so disturbed, but then she decides to give Vlad the Homophobic Rich Grandpa treatment and pretends to go along with what he wants so she can get that sweet sweet tech, then she turns right around and does whatever she wants when he's not looking. Maybe Venom (as in the big lady) and Red Huntress are assumed to be two different people because Valerie works for Vlad as Red but then does her own stuff as Venom?

Carnage. Oh god, Carnage. So, the Carnage symbiote (often referred to as Red, I love a coinkydink) is Venom's offspring. In the comics, it is possible for a host to experience sympathetic morning sickness and shit in advance of the symbiote spawning. Please imagine you're in high school in a small town, and you are nauseous as fuck and having weird dreams and cannot eat enough chocolate (chocolate is a good source of phenylthylamine, which is a neurotransmitter that symbiotes need to eat) and one of your shitty high school friends goes "omg are you PREGNANT" and you know that whatever you say, everybody in the universe is gonna hear it. You've never had sex in your life but you still have a moment of panic like OH GOD AM I THE NEXT VIRGIN MARY SHIT and then your body roommate is like actually, this one's on me. DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND OR DO YOU LOSE YOUR WHOLE GODDAMN MIND. "wait Venom I thought you were a guy" "why would you think that i have a concept of gender" "...your voice is deep?" "humans are so fucking stupid"

The big weaknesses of symbiotes are fire and certain frequencies of sound. Venom is scared shitless of Ember McClain, send tweet.

There's a re-appearing ghost who hosted Venom when they were alive. This could be a canon character or an OC. Either way, the interactions maximally play up the "awkward ex" thing.

A better source of the phenylthylamine Venom needs to live is BRAINS. This is now a ghost hunger AU also and Valerie catches Phantom noshing on like, a ghost deer or something. Cue Venom SEE IF HE CAN DO IT WHY CAN'T WE

Hey Venom's an alien who is old as balls, it's called the INFINITE REALMS, there's probably LOTS of alien ghosts with opinions about symbiotes

One day Phantom gets hurt really badly and Valerie feels bad enough to go save his ass (if only because the only person that gets to kill Phantom is HER tyvm). Venom is very Exasperated Parent about all of these fool human children so they just. Pick him up by the scruff like a disgruntled kitten and drag him to safety.

Venom has a very, very low opinion of the Doctors Fenton. Venom knows one (1) thing about humans and that is Protecc The Children and these morons are continuously shooting at their own child. The only reason Venom has not eaten them is because a) Valerie insists that humans are off menu and b) Danny's ghostly wail is scary. Also the only competent ghost hunters in this town seem to be Sam, Tucker, Danny, Jazz, and Valerie. Valerie why are the only competent people in this town children. "i wish i FUCKIN KNEW"

I'm now headcanoning that Valerie has a Very Southern grandma or auntie just to have an excuse for Venom to learn Very Southern expressions. Please imagine doing something stupid and the alien that lives in your brain stem just goes "oh bless your heart". Please imagine that some asshole yoinked the whole town into the Ghost Zone again and the alien that lives in your brain stem is like "dear jesus give me patience" I just think that would be funny.

#please don't ask me to talk about venom i will not be able to stop a;lskdjfsa;lkdfj

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trashscenariihxh · 4 years

Text

Chrollo gets pegged

Exactly as it says on the tin. Yet another commission!

It had started out as a joke, a tiny offhanded comment not meant to be taken seriously. You’d been bent over a desk with Chrollo’s cock buried in your cunt, his fingers tangled in your hair, and a firm hand pressed between your shoulder blades, holding you down. Not an altogether unfavorable position, except the bastard was refusing to actually fuck you.

“Move!” You’d commanded, trying in vain to press back into him.

He’d chuckled at your irritation and given your hair a tug. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t you wish you could?”

He’d eventually given in and fucked you, but his little comment about you fucking him hung in the hair long after, planting itself in your mind and germinating into an Idea. With the help of a brief internet search, very helpful sex shops and express shipping, the Idea became a reality a short time later. The final step, though, was getting Chrollo to agree, which was proving to be more difficult than you’d anticipated.

“No.” Chrollo shook his head firmly and crossed his arms over his chest the second you presented him with your recent purchase.

“Why not?” you whined, not caring how ridiculous you looked holding a large black strap-on in one hand and a bottle of lubricant in the other.

“Not interested.”

“But I got your favorite color!”

“No, ______.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at his obstinacy. “What, are you too dignified for it?”

“It’s not that. I’m just not interested.”

You didn’t want to press the issue; doing so would only make Chrollo clam up further. No, you had to be much more subtle with your approach. Sneakier. More Chrollo-like. You were willing to wait, though. Good things come to those who wait.

***

Your opportunity to strike presented itself much sooner than expected, when Chrollo was feeling particularly amorous a few nights later. When he moved to get on top of you, you stopped him, making him lie on his back. “You seem stressed tonight, Dear. Let me take care of you.”

Chrollo cocked an amused eyebrow and gave you a look that said “what are you planning?” but relented, lying back and letting you crawl on top of him.

As you kissed your way down his chest, over his twitching abs, his hipbones, you took note of the little sounds of enjoyment that escaped him. This was promising. When you got to his cock, you gave it a few strokes before taking it into your mouth.

A deep hum of approval emanated from Chrollo’s chest as you lapped at his cock, swirling your tongue over the head and flattening it against the shaft. When you took all of him into your mouth and sucked, you heard Chrollo moan. Very promising indeed.

When you were sure that Chrollo was too lost in pleasure to notice, you quickly brought your fingers to your mouth and sucked, coating them generously in saliva before resuming your ministrations. Luckily for you, Chrollo’s legs were already bent and spread, so your next task was simple; as you continued to suck his cock, you pressed one of your wet fingers against his asshole.

Chrollo hissed when you rubbed against it, but didn’t tell you to stop, so you decided to just go for it. You pressed your finger into his ass, sliding in to the first knuckle, and waited. Still no protests; only a breathy moan from above. Confidence bolstered, you continued, sliding in to the second knuckle. When your finger slid fully into his ass, Chrollo finally spoke.

“W-what are you doing?”

What a stupid question. What did he expect you to say? Fingering your asshole, you idiot. With great difficulty you swallowed the snarky response, and instead opted for a much milder “do you like it?”

Before Chrollo could respond you pumped your finger inside him, hitting a sensitive spot within him. Or at least, you assumed it was sensitive, because Chrollo whimpered. Emboldened, you added another finger, scissoring and stretching and stroking deep inside.

“Oh, fuck!”

Chrollo’s use of the expletive caught you off guard for a moment; you pulled back, letting his cock slip out of your mouth with a slick pop.

“You okay?”

Chrollo nodded. “Keep… keep sucking.”

“Hm…” You smiled to yourself as you put your plan into action. With a soft hum, you withdrew your fingers from his ass and waited. You were not disappointed.

“Why did you stop?” Chrollo opened a large grey eye and regarded you reproachfully, seemingly offended by your actions.

“Oh, you want me to continue?” You did your best to look as surprised as possible. “I thought you weren’t interested.”

“______...” his tone was dangerous, and for a moment you wondered whether you should just do as he said. Being obedient was never your strong suit, however; a sly smile spread across your face as you took in his needy form.

“What if I told you no?”

“You won’t.”

You clicked your tongue. “But maybe I will.”

Chrollo sighed impatiently, a flush of desperation beginning to tinge his alabaster cheeks. He opened his mouth to berate you, but you cut him off.

“I’ll continue, Chrollo, on one condition.”

“Anything,” he responded, a little too quickly to disguise the need in his voice.

You bit your lip, trying to hide the shit-eating grin that threatened to spread across your face. “How about we use my newest purchase?”

Chrollo’s eyes widened momentarily before narrowing in consideration. “Once,” he said after a few moments of deliberation. “I’ll allow you this one time, but then you’ll get rid of that… thing and never bring it up again. Understood?”

You nodded, surprised that Chrollo had agreed so quickly. Quickly, as you were afraid Chrollo would change his mind if you waited too long, you went to the bedside table and pulled out the strap-on and a small bottle of lube. “You sure?”

Grey eyes narrowed. “If you ask me again, I’ll say no.” Chrollo was stroking himself now, watching you as you fastened the contraption around your hips. “Better hurry, or I’ll just finish myself off.” The glint in his eyes showed you that he meant it, so you hurriedly checked to make sure everything was secure before climbing back on to the bed.

Chrollo eyed you as you squirted the lube into your hand and slicked up the dildo. You wanted to make sure he had an easy time of things, after all, even if he didn’t exactly deserve it. When you positioned yourself between his legs, Chrollo drew his knees to his chest and fixed you with one of his unreadable expressions. Assuming that he meant that he was ready, you positioned the tip of the dildo against his asshole, and with a jerk of your hips, you slid in.

The reaction was immediate. You weren’t sure whether you’d somehow managed to hit his prostate on your first try, or perhaps Chrollo was just that big of a slut, but the moan that emanated from the man was absolutely shameless.

Experimentally you pulled out slightly, eliciting a whimper from the dark-haired man.

“You really are a cockslut, aren’t you?” The words tumbled unbidden from your lips before you had a chance to think about the consequences, but Chrollo only moaned in response. With a snap of your hips you drove back in, slamming into his prostate once again and eliciting yet another moan from the dark-haired man.

Confidence flowed through you as you moved, each thrust drawing out more cries of pained pleasure. After a while, the moans and cries became keens of need; it was obvious to you that Chrollo needed more. Needed it harder.

Naturally, you obliged. “You fucking love this, don’t you?” You taunted, deciding that you would degrade him now and face the consequences later. “Such a slut for this, Chrollo. Who’d have thought the leader of the Phantom Troupe would be so eager to have his ass stuffed?” The obscenities flowed from you with an almost unbelievable ease; in any other situation you’d be mortified, but something about seeing the leader of the Phantom Troup spread out before you like this did something to you. You decided then and there that you would fuck him into a panting, drooling mess.

The harder you fucked him, the closer Chrollo came to total ruin. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his cheeks were tinged pink, his lips swollen from how much he’d been biting them. His eyes were closed tightly; his face wet from tears. He was utterly gorgeous. He was close to coming, too; he’d been feverishly stroking himself with sharp, uneven pumps as you’d fucked into him. His cock was achingly, painfully hard; precum leaked from the flushed pink head. Yes, he was close. Too close.

You pulled out, thoroughly enjoying the needy whine that filled the room.

“H-hey,” Chrollo stuttered, opening his eyes.

“Hey what?”

“Why did you…?”

You smirked down at him. “Oh, you want me to keep fucking you?”

Chrollo huffed, his normal voice returning. “Obviously.”

You decided to push your luck. “Then beg.”

Chrollo’s eyes narrowed at your words. “______…” The way his voice shook betrayed his desperation.

“Beg.”

“Please.”

“Beg harder.” You shook your head in dissatisfaction, reaching down to stroke his well-fucked asshole with your finger.

Chrollo hissed when you slid your finger in again, his breath coming in shuddering pants. “Ah! F-fuck me!”

That was all you needed to hear. An instant later, your finger was replaced by the strap-on, and you were fucking into him again with fast hard thrusts.

Chrollo scrunched his eyes shut, a cacophony of “oh gods” and “fucks” falling from his lips with each thrust. His voice trembled as tears of pleasure streamed down his now-pink face. He reached down to stroke himself again, but you batted his hand away.

“No,” you ordered, secretly surprised that he gave in so easily. “I want you to cum just like this. Cum from getting fucked, like a good fucking slut.” You punctuated each word with a thrust, each one driving Chrollo closer to his inevitable release.

When he came, he came hard and loudly. His release spattered over his stomach, some even reaching the lower regions of his chest. You pulled out immediately, and Chrollo released his hold on his thighs, letting his legs flop down onto the bed.

With much more grace than when you’d put it on, you quickly unstrapped the harness and cast it to the side. Before Chrollo could fully recover from his orgasm, you’d straddled him, inching up his body before lowering yourself onto his face.

A small part of you was surprised when Chrollo’s tongue darted out to lick your clit; you’d assumed he’d be too fucked out to do anything, but Chrollo lapped at you, his hands coming up to squeeze the meat of your thighs as he did so.

You rocked against him, grinding your cunt against his face. Heat radiated from your core as his tongue drew circles against your clit. Chrollo’s grip on your thighs tightened to a bruising level as he licked you, and it was your turn to cry out. A swift swat to your ass silenced you, and Chrollo doubled his efforts, his tongue slowly but surely drawing your orgasm out of you.

You came undone when he flattened his tongue against your clit, and the room was filled with your own moans and sighs as you shook on top of him.

Chrollo’s grip weakened, and you took the opportunity to dismount from his face and fall onto the bed. Chrollo took the opportunity to grab a tissue and wipe himself off, grimacing at the mess he’d made. When he was reasonably satisfied with his cleanliness, he turned to you and fixed you with a cold stare.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” he murmured. He seemed to have recovered from his orgasm, as there was no trace of the panting, crying ruin of a man from ten minutes before. “It’s never happening again.”

“That’s fine,” you waved your hand dismissively, sure that he was bluffing. After all, how could he not be?

“And just so you know, ______,” Chrollo continued, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t appreciate being called a… what was it? A cockslut, as you so poetically put it. I shall have to punish you later.” He rose from the bed and headed for the bathroom.

You turned away from him and smiled to yourself. You looked forward to it.

#smuttastic #chrollo lucilfer

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givemeonebreath · 3 years

Text

A big, messy Linked Universe playlist

Link for Links

Heavy on the angst, because of who I am as a person. (At the same time, don’t take it too seriously, man.)

Influenced by canon, manga (TP Link is really Going Through It™ ), my personal perceptions, and popular fandom canon.

A pretty wide variety of genres, with a bias towards metal and prog rock.

I kept snippets of lyrics for most songs, also because of who I am as a person. (Some were particularly hard to narrow down to just one verse or chorus.) Those - and a little more rambling - are under the cut if you really want, in the order of the playlist. But. It’s long.

I didn’t initially make this with the intent to share, but hey. Throughout my past year+ of listening, I’ve been haphazardly adding songs to a playlist I very creatively named Links. If something reminded me of them, whether through the music or lyrics or both, I threw it on the playlist, so some songs might seem odd or vague. Some are really on the nose, as subtle as a sledgehammer. (Sky for Sky? Dude. Sorry.) Some are there because of a fitting line or two that stuck in my head. Ultimately, music - like any form of creative expression - can be interpreted in a multitude of ways.

My listening habits and tastes are erratic, which is why this is one big, jumbled playlist and not separated for different Links. Not to mention if I did that, some (Wild, Legend) would have a lot and some (Wind, Four) would have none, both because of my own familiarity with them, and because of the general themes of the music I tend to listen to. Most songs are a general ‘hero’s spirit reborn’ mood, anyway - those are the first part of the playlist. The second half is more nuanced to specific Links, plus a few Ganon vibes.

1. Deep Purple - April (Koji Kondo, composer of the original Legend of Zelda theme, was into Deep Purple as a kid, and it shows.)

2. Kamelot - Regalis Apertura

3. Au4 - So Just Hang On, Beautiful One (I’ve posted this here before. I can’t hear it without thinking of LU now.) So I slipped in through the gate almost unknown. All my border stamps were late. Seven days old. Cold hand griped my shoulder blade, broke the bone. Bloody nose and turned away, all the way home.

4. FC Kahuna - Hayling Don’t think about all those things you fear, just be glad to be here

5. Glass Animals - Youth Boy, when I left you you were young I was gone, but not my love You were clearly meant for more Than a life lost in the war

6. Pain of Salvation - Restless Boy A restless boy in a world too slow A flame born into cinder, ash, and glow I've given everything I gave it all Yet find myself alone

7. Haken - The Endless Knot Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line our cycle starts to fail. Our design shifted frame by frame! Across the line we die to live again. We need a story to believe in. We need a hero to prevail. We need a challenge we can overcome, it takes a tragedy to make us one

8. Kamelot - Memento Mori (I particularly associate this with Time and Twilight) I am the god in my own history The master of the game I may believe if she would come to me And whisper out my name Sometimes I wonder where the wind has gone If life has ever been Sometimes I wonder how belief alone Can cut me free from sin

9. Katatonia - Fighters Look I told you so We never stop If we said that We'll back it up For sure You know We're fighters

10. Megadeth - This Day We Fight! (I mean, all Links, but particularly Warriors) For this I was chosen, because I fear nothing With confidence I tread through the dead of the night Off to another war-torn, faraway battlefield Wherein lies a demonic enemy horde

11. Moon Tooth - Igneous Well, the spirit took me And this old broken body leapt up and danced Settin’ out Settin' out with all my heroes in a bundle at my back Hawk am I More wings span in my shadow than overcast Yeah, you know what they say Always need something to look up to, ha

12. Samael - Moongate Destiny, tomorrow is today Destiny, without boundaries How many nights will we spend together traveling infinity back and forth and again How many times will we go together questioning eternity about us about our wonders...

13. TOOL- Parabola This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality Embrace this moment, remember We are eternal, all this pain is an illusion

14. Lunatic Soul - Blood on the Tightrope No matter how hard you try To shut down your feverish thoughts They hunt you down with no regret Cause you have to fix it all

15. Hybrid - Keep It In The Family

16. Soul Savers - Unbalanced Pieces Gone, now carry on Through violent seasons I call you mother, mother, mother In vain, absent chain The twilight's bleeding And the playing board has two unbalanced pieces

17. Steve Von Till - Valley of the Moon All she gives is a stone facade Like ill-given flowers at a dead man's wake Here we slave for the dreams of another And fight over scraps like wayward dogs

18. Ludovico Einaudi - Experience

19. Lunatic Soul - Summoning Dance Three stones on the right side Three stones on the left My vicious circle of life and death “Oh you want it” I hear it again “Oh you want it” My burden Curse to break

20. Lunatic Soul - Through Shaded Woods Run through your shaded woods Run through your shaded mind Run through the night Run away Run through the darkness Run

21. Lunatic Soul - Naavie

22. David Bowie - Nature Boy There was a boy A very strange, enchanted boy They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea A little shy and sad of eye But very wise was he

23. The Dandy Warhols - Sleep Well, I could sleep forever But it's of her I dream If I could sleep forever I could forget about everything

24. Au4 - Everyone is Everyone (and Everything is Everything) Tripping and tumbling, Flipping and fumbling. Flowing on the rivers of sadness That have been forever rumbling. But from dawn until now Of all the paths that I could have gone down Of all the valleys That I could have been flowing through. In spite of all the chaos And all that has come between us, How is it I still find myself Here with you.

25. Kingcrow - Everything Goes Your hands again upon the ground Falling rain for hours and hours As you learn the game Time dispels the fog ... Ever been there? Ever felt like prey? Ever thought your mind was feeble? Lot of things that don’t make sense

26. Pain of Salvation - Icon As a child I felt too old And now when I'm grown-up I feel too young A different kind so I've been told Just slightly out of reach and out of time

27. Sophia Loizou - Divine Interference (I got spooky dungeon vibes. Also, the title.)

28. Carpenter Brut - Fab Tool Runnin Gunnin Forward in the phantom shatter so grand Splatter grand, arcanum fuel Wrought iron out of the sky Over me, tells no lie

29. Blue Stahli - Death Will Have to Run All on the open road Where none will ever grow A journey toward the known With countless miles to go

30. Gyroscope - Mistakes & Ladders I am the first? No I can't be the first A continuous nothing, destined for something Tell me who you are and why you trapped me here

31. Queens of the Stone Age - Run, Pig, Run Run, pig, run Here I come

32. Chali 2na & Krafty Kuts - Guard The Fort The swords are drawn and odds are stacked And we clash the impact's a thunderous clap Calm demeanor Even though we are under attack [...my turn to guard the fort ready for combat]

33. The Great Discord - Army of Me (lol)

34. Kongos - Terrified I think I'll start again and change my name You only live once or twice, what a shame Somebody fucked up when designing this game

35. Woodkid - Run Boy Run Run, boy, run! This ride is a journey to Run, boy, run! The secret inside of you Run, boy, run! This race is a prophecy Run, boy, run! And disappear in the trees

36. The Beta Machine - The End A million miles away from you this time I'll do what it takes I'm on my way If lines are in the sand I'll go under If I can make it in time I will bring you back with me

37. Devin Townsend Project - Gump When we last met who was I? I'm sorry we no longer see eye to eye The energy to keep you in while keeping myself out I'm sorry how you'll take this But I just don't have the patience anymore

38. Arrested Youth - Riot! I can't get much satisfaction living in this cave It's tough to breathe, I'm in the belly of the beast Can't sleep with all my rage With me and all my generations living in this cage Pick up your guns and tell your sons, tonight we break the cage

39. Led Zeppelin - Friends So anytime somebody needs you Don't let them down, although it grieves you Some day you'll need someone like they do Looking for what you knew

40. Faunts - M4, pt 2 (Wild) Fight your foes you're not alone Holy war is on the phone Asking to please stay on hold Bleeding loss of blood runs cold And I need you to recover Because I can't make it on my own

41. Faith No More - Ashes to Ashes (Wild) I want them to know it's me, it's on my head I'll point the finger at me, it's on my head Smiling with the mouth of the ocean And I'll wave to you with the arms of the mountain

42. Devin Townsend - Jupiter (Wild) I know you At least I think I do Everything's changed But in the days that are so dark It's wonderful

43. Katatonia - Neon Epitaph (Wild) Shadow of my shadow Cling not to my grief I am long left behind now You are free

44. The Smashing Pumpkins - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning (Wild) Time has stopped before us The sky cannot ignore us No one can separate us For we are all that is left The echo bounces off me The shadow lost beside me There's no more need to pretend Cause now I can begin again

45. Katatonia - Lacquer (Wild) My voice travelling Soaring bird above your head The house we lived in Ridden with disease ... The levee breaking I can't live to fight once more The road to the grave is straight as an arrow I'm just staying around to sing your song, baby

46. Eskimo Joe - This is Pressure (Wild) There is no romance in suffocation The walls fall down like your expectations You want to scream And you want to shout But you've built up steam And you can't let it out This is pressure

47. Portugal. The Man - 1000 Years (Wild) We'll wait 1000 years Until the end of time We'll wait 1000 more Dressed up in gold and white We'll climb the mountain sides To find what's in the sky We'll dig through mountain sides To find what's deep inside

48. Au4 - An Ocean’s Measure of Sorrow (Wild) Forgot my name and who I was. Memories of nothing floating up. All of the sorrow we once knew, Colours the ocean's water blue.

49. Band of Skulls - Carnivorous (Twilight) I am corrosive and cohesive Like a chemical bond I'm all together undone I am the broken kingdom I'm just so, so, so So carnivorous

50. Glass Animals - Flip (Twilight) I wanna go back with a club and attack I wanna take to my guns and break you I gotta make my little foe take his own

51. TV on the Radio - Wolf Like Me (Twilight) My mind has changed my body's frame, but, God, I like it My heart's aflame, my body's strained, but, God, I like it

52. Kamelot - The Spell (Twilight) All my demons cast a spell The souls of dusk rising from the ashes So the book of shadows tell The weak will always obey the master

53. OSI - Radiologue (Legend) I was dreaming I was heading west thirty days faster Had a fever woke up in a sweat bailing out the water Can't go on Can't go back Heard your voice coming through the noise wrote it in the radio log Hurt my head, wondering what you said so I threw it overboard

54. Katatonia - Don’t Tell A Soul (Legend) I have been destroyed by the perfection that is a lie see I'm moving soon see my feet are already on the road and if you know where I’m going don’t tell a soul

55. Haken - The Mind’s Eye (Legend) The shape of things to come are closer than they seem Changing your design every time you disappear I'm planning my escape through portals of your mind Where people seem to drop like flies

56. Pain of Salvation - Species (Legend) Sometimes I hate my fucking species Yet most days I'll do anything to please it My generation was fooled to pursue our dreams But it is not what it seems You never need what you want And you rarely want what you need

57. Euringer - Do You Kiss Your Mama with That Mouth? (Legend) All my life, misunderstood I'm fuckin' too smart, too smart for my own good The last question, before I go is "Hey motherfucka, do you kiss your mama with that mouth?" Yes! I kiss your mama with this mouth

58. !!! - Pardon My Freedom (Legend) Like I give a fuck, like I give a shit Like I give a fuck about that shit Like I give a fuck about that motherfucking shit

59. Team Sleep - Ataraxia (Legend) Froze asleep Coma deep I dream I'm out with you Alone at sea

60. Oliver Tank - Embrace (Legend) You're in my dreams The world is torn apart at the seams And I don't wanna leave Wearing my heart on it's sleeve

61. Machine Gun Fellatio - The Girl of My Dreams (Is Giving Me Nightmares) (Legend) The girl of my dreams is giving me nightmares I don't know what it means but she's got multi-coloured hair When she stands in the sand I dream of peaches And I'm not sure what that means either

62. Earl Greyhound - Shotgun (Legend & Hyrule) I am nobody, nobody is who I am I am a traveler on this land And nothing, nothing, nothing in my hands

63. TV on the Radio - Staring at the Sun (Hyrule) You're staring at the sun You're standing in the sea Your mouth is open wide You're trying hard to breathe The water's at your neck There's lightning in your teeth Your body's over me

64. Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon (Time) Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

65. Sufjan Stevens - Sugar (Sky) Don’t break my heart, don’t break my flow now And all this rage has got to go now Let’s take up this lifeline Come on, baby, gimme some sugar Don’t make me wait Don’t make me wait too long Don’t make me sing the sad song Come on, baby, gimme some sugar

66. Obsydians - Ascension (Sky) Rise above the hardships you’ll face I will sign and keep on rising As long as you are giving me your soul and keep me awake Feel like home and spread your light around I will listen and just be there As long as you are giving me your love I’ll give you my soul

67. Sonique - Sky -_-

68. Enter Shikari - The King (Ganon) Watch your back, my friend I'm about to kickstart a cycle Of never ending revenge And this time it's primal, it's tribal

69. Saul Williams - WTF! (Ganon, Hylia) "You've been polluted, uprooted by time You have been muted, computed but I'm A living vessel of the one, of the moon, of the sun" Hey! You ain't as dead as you seem, what the fuck? Hey! But you keep living your lies

70. These New Puritans - We Want War (Ganon/ Dark Link/ any nemesis I guess) Shadows dance back up, it's happening again If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper: "We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words; But they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know" Can't you see them Floating like black ash? Can't you feel them Crawling down your back?

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #listening to music while I stare blankly at nothing is legit my number one hobby #and then shit like this happens #linked universe playlist

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