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#genuinely reminded me of adventuring into fantasy lands so
halenhusky309 · 10 months
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Okay, I love the Little Mermaid 2023 ending way more than the original for several reasons. Also, this just my own opinion.
Spoiler Alert!
While the animated version looks beautiful and magical, especially the wedding scene, but that is the only thing that appeals to me. Just a beautiful fantasy scene. It does not resonate with me that much.
However, with the live action version, the ending touches my heart to the core as it focuses more the emotion aspect, something that Disney used to very good at. In stead of a big wedding, this movie opts for a celebration and a farewell for the new couple who are about to venture on new voyages and discovery. There was a part when both Eric and Ariel was about to depart to the ship, where both Ariel and Eric looked excited at first, only for Ariel suddenly looked to the sea sadly with some uncertainty. It looked like she reminisced her childhood home, under the sea where she grew up and now, she's about to leave her home to discover new lands and wonders. Like OMG, Ariel, despite loving the human world so much, still expressed some longing of her old home and her family, as if the sea will always a part of her. And the part where King Triton showed up to comfort her and remind her that he, her family and her people will always be there for her, man, I couldn't hold my tear when Ariel shed her first genuine tear of joy, as she finally regained her courage and excitement for her new adventures with Eric.
Uhm, about the animated version, well she looked nice in her wedding dress and the hug she got from her father was cute and sweet, but she bare showed any reminiscence of the sea, a.k.a, her childhood home and she seemed to just gleefully waltz her way to prince Eric and the human world. Of course, I understand they want to keep it simple with the magical happy ending and it's still a great scene , especially for children, but it's just no longer feel magical and special to me.
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patriciavetinari · 4 months
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I don't understand the western (school) reading levels. That was not a thing in my country and especially not in my family. This is not a toot my own horn moment or a gifted kid brag. I genuinely thing it's a bad system to restrict books by age.
When I was 8 years old my favorite book was Dumas' Three Musketeers (which was later on my schools mandatory reading list in the 10th fucking grade and I was baffled how NOONE in my class had read it before age of 16). In the time of my parents, appropriate book for 7-12 year old kids were Jules Verne and Robert Stevenson- all the traveling stuff, adventure, tales of foreign lands, not fairy tales and even Tom Sawyer was considered a bit juvenile for a soviet 12 year old.
At 11 I was obsessed with Sherlock Holmes and Rex Stout. I had decided by then already that I disliked Tolstoy very much and didn't feel anything like Dostoevsky described, and much preferred the humane view of Chekhov. I read Bulgakov's Master and Margarita first time at 10 years old, then re-read it every couple of years.
I didn't burn through 'easy' '5th grade level' books - whatever they are even. What, the 'teen' or 'young adult' section in the library? I've never went to those. I burned through Dickens and Gogol and Hugo and Moliere and Wilde and Belyaev and Strugatsky brother's books and Ilf& Petrov. I arrived at Pratchett much later in life, after high school. I went through a h*rry p*tter phase but in between those I read The Garin Death Ray and had loads of fun. I'd read Puzo's Godfather before I read Mary Poppins. I read Zola with more interest than Peter Pan. I might have read some fairy tales one night and switched to 'And then there were none' the next with no issue.
I also think there is no such thing as a book inappropriate for a child. After a child learns to read full sentences, you can give them literally any book and if it's too anything for them – it'll be too boring, they'll put it down anyway and you can tweak it from there. But if it catches their attention and keeps them reading - be it a personal computer manual or Kafka - let them read, yes, even at 5 years old. Let them stumble over unknown words and ideas, and remind them to come and ask you, An Adult TM, or use the dictionary.
The only restriction I might entertain is straight up pornography writing or something, idk, maybe even that is my cultural background speaking. My parents handed me an Angelique book when I was what, 12? 13 maybe? I was bored out of my mind and the sex scenes were stupid as shit and I never finished it because it's frankly Not Good.
So idk. Can't relate. Let kids read whatever. Encourage kids to read whatever. Children's literature is a valuable genre, and this is not to degrade teen or YA fiction or anything, but I think there is nothing wrong with reading a teen fantasy romance or whatever and following week giving Anna Karenina a try. There is no such thing as reading levels I think.
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halflingkima · 11 months
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Finally finished the book I was reading, am procrastinating on the buddy read i’m in the middle of (bc i’m confused and dont wanna reread parts), have about 12 library books due in 5 days, so here’s a first chapter test
After Hannibal by Barry Unsworth: Genuinely don’t know what this is about. something about the place where Hannibal defeated the Romans and gentrifiers of rural Italy in the 90s? won the booker prize, so i’m assuming it’ll bore me to tears
First off, no chapters. Read the first couple.. sections? it’s fine, beginning introductions to an ensemble which tbh sounds promising. none of the characters likeable quite yet, which may prove taxing.
The Sea-Stone Sword by Joel Cornah: Also don’t know what this one’s about. For some reason I recall it being about the False Chosen One trope? and like. a excalibur myth but with pirates, hence sea stone sword..
Didn’t read the full chapter, but seems promising, if closer to a high fantasy. pirate captain’s a woman that i’m already obsessed with but scared we won’t follow since she’s not the main character.
Blonde Indian by Ernestine Hayes: A memoir of a Tlingit woman
Started this a bit ago, and it doesn’t have traditional chapters. it’s slow moving and starts very early in her life. i like the method of the story (told sort of through things her grandmother tells her) but i’m worried i’m getting a little lost in the youth.
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid: juding by how hard it was to get my hands on a library copy, i’m assuming everyone knows what this one is. a now-elderly 50s starlet chronicles her life to a reporter.
Just read the first news article but it seems a lot more interesting than i expected. i didn’t realize it had articles and whatnot, so that’s promising. i also didn’t realize her daughter had died which is a huge bummer right out the gate, dang
Thin Places by Marian Musmecci: also don’t know what this one’s about. assuming its a stream-of-consciousness slice-of-life with some magical realism wrt ancestors and whatnot
The introduction is 36 pages and i’m not reading that if i’m not committing to the whole book rn, but while the writing is quite verbose, it’s easier to read than i remember it being from my first attempt in high school
Starless by Jacqueline Carey: synopsis is extremely vauge. i know it’s a high fantasy and the synopsis uses the phrase “soul’s twin” so maybe a romance thing? i know there’s a bodyguard/court assassin thing going on. and an old god rising??
help i love it. stopped after a couple pages because i’m afraid i’d just read the whole book otherwise. it starts off pretty heavy on the lore and land but the voice is irresistible to me for some reason. it reminded me of Silver Under Moonlight, but without Remy’s sass.
The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty: A pirate comes out of retirement to track down a missing girl
i gotta get on this cuz there’s a long hold list for this and my borrow is up in like two weeks whoops. i haven’t read her other trilogy but this is supposed to be a prequel anyway. also, pirates! anyway! what a lovely intro. i already have so many questions and am so ready for the story. perhaps the bulk will pass quickly.
She-Wolf, edited by Hannah Priest: an essay collection focusing on analysis of female werewolves in media
the introduction is one of the essays in itself, presenting the purpose of the collection and citing so many studies and whatnot. very wordy, very academic. gotta be in the right headspace and i’m not sure i am lmao
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hughjidiot · 3 years
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Under Your Scars, an Amphibia Fanfiction
(TW for panic attacks. Takes place post-canon with aged-up characters.)
Marcy has been together with Anne for one year now and wants to make their anniversary special, but memories of what happened in Amphibia all those years ago threaten to bring everything crashing down.
Thankfully for Marcy, Sasha is there to hold her together while she falls apart.
AO3 Link
---
The shower knob squeaked as it was turned to the right, cutting off the steady stream of warm water. Steam filled the tiny apartment bathroom as Marcy Wu stepped out of the shower, water dripping down her in rivets, eyes shut tight. Quick as a flash the nineteen-year-old STEM major whipped the fluffy green towel off the bar beside the sink, wrapping it tightly around her torso.
 It was only when she was fully covered that Marcy dared open her eyes.
 She wiped the condensation away from the mirror, brushing her wet hair away from her eyes. She popped open the medicine cabinet above the sink, removing her toothbrush and toothpaste before gently closing the door. As she cleaned her teeth, the mint of the toothpaste tingling against her tongue, Marcy ran though her to-do list in her head. A paradoxical mix of anticipation and apprehension roiled in her gut.
 Today was hers and Anne’s anniversary.
 Marcy still couldn’t believe it had been a full year since she and Anne Boonchuy had officially started dating. A full year since Anne had first taken Marcy’s hands in her own, blushing and stuttering, asking if Marcy wanted to have dinner together that weekend. Not with Sasha as they usually did; just the two of them. Marcy had been stunned into silence, a silence that Anne had initially taken for a rejection that had her stammering out an apology looking close to tears.
 Marcy’s senses had returned to her just in time, and she’d practically screamed yes, of  course she’d go out with Anne.
 In hindsight it seemed natural that the two girls would end up together. They’d been friends since kindergarten, complimenting each other perfectly. Anne would be the one to look out for Marcy and keep her safe, while Marcy would be the one to help Anne with the schoolwork she always struggled with. Along with their mutual friend Sasha Waybright, they completed each other, made each other whole.
 Granted there had been some… complications in their adolescence. Complications that were exacerbated by circumstances that most teenagers couldn’t imagine dealing with. But in the end the three had worked through everything, coming out with a stronger friendship, a  genuine  friendship. A friendship that had naturally segued into romance for Anne and Marcy, with Sasha fully supportive of her oldest friends getting together.
 Now it was time to celebrate one year of their relationship.
 The day had gotten off to a great start already, Marcy waking up to find that Anne had already gotten up and prepared a full breakfast of all their favorite foods. They laughed and joked as they ate, finding simple joy in each other’s presence. They talked about Anne’s work and Marcy’s schooling, and how much they were looking forward to the reservation they’d made at that new Italian restaurant for dinner tonight.
 Marcy felt her face heat up as she finished brushing, spitting the foamy mixture into the sink. Their dinner date wasn’t until eight in the evening, it was a little after eleven now, and Anne would be back from working the lunch shift at her parent’s restaurant around two. Meaning they’d have almost the entire day all to themselves. And Marcy wanted it to be  special. 
 After a year together, after a year of going no further than heavy make-out sessions, she’d decided it was finally time to take things with Anne to the next level.
 Feeling that her hair was dry enough, Marcy retrieved the hair dryer from the cabinet. She closed the door again, and froze at the sight of her reflection.
 Her towel had slipped ever-so-slightly, exposing a triangular patch of pale-pink skin just below her collarbone, extending to underneath the fabric.
 Marcy felt her breath hitch as the memories came flooding back to her.
 Memories of her arguing with her parents on that autumn day. 
 Running from her house in tears, screaming that they were ruining her life.
 Finding the Calamity Box in the pawn shop.
 Remembering the book from the library, thinking it had to be a coincidence, that there’s no  way it would actually work.
 Then, the fateful decision: what’s the harm in trying?
 Marcy felt her hands start to tremble. The memories came faster.
 Standing outside the pawn shop with Sasha while Anne stole the music box.
 Seeing a blinding flash when Anne opened the box at the park.
 Landing in a city straight out of one of her video games.
 Meeting him. The “good king” who took in a confused and frightened visitor from another world. The man who housed, studied with her, gave her a crossbow as a gift and taught her how to shoot. An adult who actually listened to what she had to say, who encouraged her to embrace her own interests rather than force his ideals on her.
 Being made the head of an entire military branch. Going on thrilling missions and daring adventures, just like her favorite fantasy novels.
 Then, meeting Anne again after so many months apart.
 Marcy’s eyes started to burn, welling up with tears. More memories, slamming into her like a physical force.
 Feeling such hope and joy as she was reunited with her oldest friend.
 Showing her the city. Introducing her to King Andrias.
 Doing research on the music box so that the girls could finally get home. Just like Anne wanted.
 Letting her go so she could spend just a little more time with her surrogate frog family.
 Watching Anne dash through the streets, leaving Marcy alone.
 Then, seven words from King Andrias that would again change the course of her life: “I have a proposition for you, Marcy… ”
 Marcy’s legs trembled, and she dropped the hairdryer and gripped the counter to steady herself as she tried desperately to get her breathing under control. Not helping was that the motion had caused her towel to drop further, exposing even more of that damned scar. The memories wouldn’t stop.
 Travelling across Amphibia with Anne and the Plantars on a quest to charge the stones of the Calamity Box.
 Meeting Sasha again after so much time apart, who seemed to have truly grown and turned over a new leaf.
 Lying to both of them about going home.
 Returning to Newtopia with the fully-charged box in tow.
 Watching in shock as Sasha and Grime stabbed them in the back and launched a full-blown toad rebellion.
 Watching in horror as Anne exploded at Sasha, ending their friendship right then and there.
 Thinking that it was fine, this was fine, they’d had their spats before, Marcy could fix this like she always did.
 Working with Anne, the Plantars, Yunan and Olivia to free King Andrias and crush the rebellion.
 Then, the moment everything came crashing down.
  Keep it together, Marcy thought to herself in the bathroom, shutting her eyes tight. She bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as her mind was assaulted with sounds and images. Not today. Not today…
 Listening in stunned shock to Andrias’s delusional ranting.
 Watching the Calamity Box light up the castle, feeling the entire structure rise into the sky as a small army of robots seemed to show up out of nowhere.
 Pleading with Andrias that this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t part of the plan.
 Standing there helpless as Andrias coldly revealed the truth in front of everyone.
 Desperately trying to explain things to Anne and Sasha. Sasha backing away in anger and disgust. Anne looking at Marcy with such hurt, such betrayal.
  You did that to them, a voice whispered in the back of Marcy’s brain. You tore them from their homes, their lives, put them through hell. It was all you, Marcy.
 Fighting Andrias’ robots alongside everyone.
 Staring in horror as Andrias cruelly dropped Sprig to his death.
 Diving out the window after them, whistling for Joe Sparrow to fly in and save them both. It was the least she could do. He  was Anne’s best friend, after all.
 Returning to the castle with Sprig in tow, watching in awe as Anne laid the hurt down on Andrias, using powers that none of the girls understood at the time.
 Grabbing the music box, using it to open a portal home. Anne and the Plantars rushing through while Sasha and Grime held off Andrias.
 And then.
 Pain.
 Pain unlike anything Marcy had ever felt.
 Looking down to see the glowing tip of Andrias’s sword protruding from her chest.
 Hearing the stone-cold voice of the man she thought she could trust: “Now look what you made me do.”
 Pain.
 Using her last breath to apologize as her body went numb.
  Pain.
 Hearing Anne’s anguished cry as the world around Marcy faded away.
  Pain pain pain such horrible pain-
 Marcy practically ripped the medicine cabinet open, grabbing her anti-panic attack medication. She untwisted the cap and, despite her shaking, managed to get a single pill out and popped it into her mouth. She slammed the cabinet door shut and turned on the faucet, collecting water in her cupped hands and taking a huge gulp.
 Unfortunately, her rapid movements sent the towel tumbling to the floor, leaving that goddamned scar on full display. 
 An ugly, thick, jagged line of pale-pink, starting below her collarbone, crossing down over her heart and ending just below her right breast.
 A permanent reminder of the biggest mistake of Marcy’s life. A mistake that had nearly gotten her killed. Almost got her  friends  killed.  Could have killed them at several points, if things had gone just a little bit differently.
 Aside from the doctors she’d seen when their adventure in Amphibia was over, she’d never shown  anyone the full scar. Not her parents, not Sasha, not even Anne.
 In her mind’s eye she saw Anne staring at her bare chest, recoiling in shock and horror from the sight of the scar. A reminder of the one who uprooted Anne from everything she knew on her thirteenth birthday and dropped her into a hostile new world that had almost killed her multiple times.
 She heard Anne’s words from all those years ago echo in her ears: “How could you?! I’ve been missing my family, my life!”
 Marcy tore out of the bathroom, eyes shut against the sting of her tears. She sprinted to the bedroom and threw herself onto the bed, not daring to open her eyes until she had pulled the comforter over her still-damp form and covered her scar. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, her vision was blurry, her heart slammed against her ribcage, and a sensation of pins and needles settled in her hands and feet.
 Marcy curled herself tight into a ball on the bed she shared with Anne. Sweet, kind, wonderful Anne who was hard at work right now, who would walk through the front door in just a few hours expecting to spend a magical anniversary with her girlfriend.
 That thought did little to calm Marcy down.
 She reached for her phone on the nightstand. It wasn’t easy with her hands trembling the way they were, but she managed to pull up Sasha’s name and hit the call button. Marcy waited for what felt like an eternity as the phone rang until, mercifully, it was answered on the second ring.
  “What’s up girlfriend?” Sasha Waybright asked casually.
 “S-sasha?” Marcy choked out.
  “Marcy?!”  Sasha’s tone changed in a heartbeat. “What’s the matter? Where are you?”
 “Apartment. Anxiety attack. It’s r-really bad this time…”
  “Hang on, I’m on my way!”
 Sasha hung up. Marcy let the phone slip from her hand and she curled up tighter, trying to focus on her breathing.
 Several minutes later, Marcy heard the front door unlock and Sasha’s voice call out: “Marcy?!”
 “In here,” Marcy managed to reply.
 Sasha came rushing into the bedroom. The blond woman took one look at the scene on the bed and gasped, hand going to her mouth.
 “S-sorry to bother you,” Marcy said with a forced smile, craning her neck to look. “I-I didn’t have anyone else to call…”
 “Marcy it’s okay,” Sasha said right away. She crossed the room and laid down on the bed, wrapping her arms around Marcy and pulling her close. One hand went to Marcy’s wet black hair, stroking gently. “It’s okay, just breathe with me. Breathe, Marcy. In and out. In…”
 Marcy took a shaky breath, holding it in.
 “And out.”
 She forced herself to exhale slowly, the tears still falling.
 “In… and out…”
---
It took several minutes, but the combination of Sasha’s comforting presence and the medication managed to calm Marcy down. After making sure Marcy was okay, Sasha laid out a t-shirt and some sweatpants for her before heading out to the kitchen to fix her something to eat. It took every ounce of Marcy’s energy to pull herself out of bed, quickly putting the shirt on first to get that scar covered. She pulled on her pants and shuffled out of the bedroom, moving at a slow and steady pace.
 “Hey Mar-Mar,” Sasha said gently. She was sitting on the living room couch, two bowls of mint chocolate-chip ice cream placed on the coffee table in front of her. “Hope you don’t mind but I raided your freezer.”
 “It’s fine,” Marcy said with a small smile. She grabbed one of the bowls and shoveled a huge spoonful into her mouth. The pleasant taste of mint spread across her tongue as she crunched chocolate chunks between her teeth. “Sasha I’m so sorry for dragging you over here-”
 “Uh-uh-uh!” Sasha said firmly. “I don’t wanna hear any of that junk. You know I’m always here for you and Anne, no matter what.” She paused to eat some of her own ice cream. “So… it was really bad this time, huh?”
 Marcy shuddered as she thought back to her panic attack in the bathroom. “Yeah. I haven’t had an attack that bad in a long time.”
 “If you don’t mind me asking, do you know what triggered it?”
 An image of Anne recoiling at the sight of Marcy’s scar tried to force its way into Marcy’s brain, but she derailed that train of thought.
 “Well… do you know what today is?” Marcy asked.
 “Your’s and Anne’s anniversary,” Sasha answered instantly. She furrowed her brow. “What, did you guys have a fight or something?” Sasha’s eyes widened. “You didn’t forget, did you?”
 “No no no!” Marcy said quickly, waving her hands. “No, everything’s fine between us. And it’s been going great so far: we had a nice breakfast this morning and have a reservation at the new Italian place tonight.”
 “Then what’s the problem?”
 Marcy paused, a blush settling over her cheeks. “Well… Anne gets home from work in a few hours, and then we have a few hours before dinner. I wanted the two of us to have a… special time together. If you know what I mean.”
 Sasha pursed her lips in thought, then her eyes widened and she smirked. “Oh I get you,” she said teasingly. “Finally gonna kick things up a notch, huh? Marcy you dog.”
 Marcy gave a small smile and blushed deeper at Sasha’s playful ribbing.
 “So what are you worried about? Do you need anything ‘special’ to spice things up? ‘Cause there’s a shop like three blocks from here, I can tag along if you’re nervous about going by your-”
 “No, that’s not the issue,” Marcy said quickly before her face could burst into flames. She gave a heavy sigh. “I’m just worried about… this.”
 She grabbed her shirt collar and pulled it down just enough to expose the top part of her scar.
 Sasha furrowed her brow. “Your scar? What’s the big deal about that?” Her eyes widened and she winced. “Er not to say your scar isn't important, I mean! I know that it’s from a major time in our lives a-and I’m not trying to downplay the crazy shit you went through, I just-”
 “It’s okay, I get what you mean,” Marcy said. She sighed heavily. “But that’s… kind of my problem.”
 “Uh, I’m not following you.”
 Marcy sighed heavily. “It’s just… when you get down to it,  everything we went through in Amphibia was because of me. I was the one who found the Calamity Box. I was the one who knew exactly what it would do. I helped you pressure Anne into stealing it, all because I couldn’t face being alone.”
 Marcy felt her eyes start to burn as the tears welled up again, and she quickly wiped them away. “I didn’t wanna be alone, and I ripped you guys away from your lives and families! I dropped you into a dangerous world, a place that could’ve gotten you guys killed!”  The tears welled up again and Marcy’s voice hitched as she went on. “And then I lied to you both about going home! I-I just assumed you guys would want to keep going on adventures with me forever, I never even considered your feelings! I was so blinded by my desires that I didn’t even realize a power-hungry tyrant was playing me like a fiddle! And he… h-he...”
 Sasha’s arms shot out, pulling Marcy into a tight hug. “It’s okay, Marcy,” she said softly. “Everything’s okay. Just breathe.”
 Marcy took several deep, shuddering breaths. She could feel another attack welling up inside her, but the medication kept it in check. Sasha held her for a few more minutes until Marcy felt calm enough to continue.
 “This scar is a permanent reminder of everything I put us through,” Marcy said when she pulled away. She subconsciously traced her hand across the scar over her shirt. “It’s something I’ll be living with for the rest of my life. Most of the time I can’t even look at it without triggering an attack. And I guess I’m just… afraid of Anne seeing it, okay? What if she sees it and remembers that everything she went through was  my fault? What if…”
 Marcy paused for a long while, looking down. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “What if she realizes just how horrible I am?”
 Sasha reached out to put a comforting hand on Marcy’s shoulder. 
 “Oh Mar-Mar…” she said gently, a soft smile gracing her features. “You’re such an idiot.”
 Marcy looked up sharply. “Huh?”
 “You really think Anne’s gonna leave you over something like that?” Sasha chuckled and shook her head. “For someone so smart, you can be pretty damn stupid sometimes. Anne is crazy about you Marcy. You should hear the way she goes on about you during our girls’ nights. There’s no way in hell she’d leave you over everything that happened all those years ago.”
 “But I was the one who-”
 “And that’s another thing! You’re putting way too much blame on yourself for that mess. Sure you might have found the box but I was the one who convinced Anne to swipe it. And you’re not the only one who made some big mistakes in Amphibia.” She chuckled. “I mean at least Andrias tricked you. I willingly tried to start a violent uprising to overthrow the government.”
 Marcy rolled her eyes. “And look what happened when we stopped you.”
 Sasha shrugged. “Yeah, but hindsight is a bitch like that.” She gently grabbed Marcy’s chin to turn her head towards Sasha, looking Marcy in the eye as she continued.
 “Look, I’m not trying to downplay your mistakes. Because you made some  big  ones, I’m not denying that. We all made mistakes, but we all owned up to them. We learned from them so we could become better people. And you’re forgetting the important thing of all: we forgave you. Anne and I both forgave you a long, long time ago. Okay?”
 Marcy felt a pang in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words, not by a long shot. But it didn’t lessen the impact one bit. She could feel the storm clouds of anxiety that had been roiling inside her begin to dissipate. “... Really?”
 Sasha smiled sweetly. “Really.”
 She yelped as Marcy shot forward to wrap Sasha in a hug, but quickly returned the embrace.
 “Thank you Sasha,” Marcy said, “I really needed this, you have no idea.”
 “No problem, Marcy,” Sasha said, patting her friend on the back. “You gonna be okay?”
 Marcy pulled back and nodded. “Yeah. I… I think I’ll be alright.”
 “Good. Now before I take off, are you sure there’s nothing you need help with before Anne comes home?”
 Marcy opened her mouth but paused, the gears turning in her brain. She slowly smiled as an idea began to take shape.
 “Actually… I think there is. I’m gonna need some rose petals.”
--- 
The apartment was dark when Anne arrived after work.
 This fact didn’t surprise her too much; Marcy had a habit of gaming with the lights off, much to Anne’s charaign. But when she fished the key out of her pocket and let herself in, she was surprised to see the living room TV dark and the couch Marcy-free.
 “Honey, I’m home!” Anne called out her usual greeting as she stepped across the threshold, gently shutting the door behind her.
 No response.
 Anne frowned as she shrugged her coat off her shoulders. Was Marcy taking a nap or something?
 She was about to call out again when she saw them: rose petals on the floor. They started just beyond the front door and led down the hall towards the bedroom. The door was open just a crack, soft light coming from inside.
 “Well well well, what have we here?” Anne asked herself with a chuckle as she kicked off her shoes. “Marcy Wu, you charmer.”
 Anne made her way down the hall, gently opening the bedroom door.
 Her heart skipped a beat.
 The lights in the bedroom were all off and the curtains had been drawn; the only illumination came from the candles burning on the nightstand. The trail of rose petals continued across the carpet to the bed itself.
 Marcy Wu laid back on the bed, her upper body propped up on pillows with her arms spread out casually. The blanket covered her up to her chest, clinging to the contours of her body, the creamy skin of her bare shoulders tantalizing peeking out from where the blanket ended. Marcy smiled warmly at her girlfriend, giving Anne the sultriest gaze she could muster.
 “Hey Anna-Bananna,” she said in a breathy voice. “How was work?”
 Fire blossomed in Anne’s face as she opened and closed her mouth, which was suddenly  very dry. “Uh… guh…”
 Marcy felt her confidence ebb at Anne’s stammering and she chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, was this too much?”
��“Oh no no, it’s more than fine!” Anne said quickly. “I mean I was thinking you’d have something waiting for me when I got home, but this…” Anne made a show of tugging at her shirt collar. “This is beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”
 Marcy perked up, smiling shyly as she brushed some of her hair behind her ear. “So you like it then?”
 Anne crossed the space between them in a fraction of a second, joining Marcy on the bed. She cupped Marcy’s chin and leaned in for a long, deep kiss. Marcy returned the kiss with gusto, reaching up with one hand to thread her fingers through Anne’s hair while the other held the blanket in place.
 “I love it,” Anne said when she pulled away, fixing Marcy with a fiery gaze that had her trembling in anticipation. As much as Marcy wanted to start tearing Anne’s clothes off right then and there, she took a deep breath and held herself back.
 She had to do this right.
 “Anne,” Marcy said as she sat up, still holding the blanket up over her chest as she looked into her girlfriend’s eyes, “this last year has been the happiest of my entire life. When I’m with you, everything just feels right. You complete me in ways no one else ever has. You give me strength and confidence, inspire me to be a better person. I love that you’re the last thing I see before I go to sleep each night and the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. I love you, Anne Boonchuy.”
 Anne placed a hand over her mouth, eyes twinkling. “Marcy…”
 Marcy took another deep breath. “I know we’ve gotten pretty… familiar with each other over these last several months. And if you’re ready to take things to the next level…”
 She let the blanket fall. “Then so am I.”
 Anne’s blush deepened as her eyes traveled downward. Marcy kept her face steady, but some dark corner of her brain was still expecting Anne to pull back at the sight of her scar, reminded that everything that happened in Amphibia - all of her hardships and brushes with death - was all because of Marcy.
 But there was no revulsion, no anger. There was lust and desire in her gaze to be sure. But there was also passion and love. The same spark Marcy saw when she and Anne would get lost in each other’s eyes while eating dinner, or walking in the park, or just cuddling on the couch.
 Anne looked back up at Marcy, then leaned in for a second kiss. Tender and gentle but with a hunger and passion bubbling just below the surface. Marcy melted into the kiss, allowing herself to be pushed back onto the pillows as Anne crawled further onto the bed, climbing on top of her girlfriend. Anne pulled away after several long seconds, both girls breathing heavily, staring at each other with smoldering eyes.
 “I’ve been ready for a long, long time,” Anne said. “I love you Marcy Wu.”
 Marcy felt her heart soar.
 She wrapped her arms around Anne and pulled her close for yet another kiss. The third of many, many more.
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flying-elliska · 3 years
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so going through everything Ben Barnes has starred in and I've watched the two Narnia movies i missed. Prince Caspian is absolutely adorable and I get the generational crush thing now. I saw the first movie when it came out and i was very meh about it. Also I remember watching the trailer for Prince Caspian after that and being like 'oh that character is obviously there to be attractive to girls, that's lame, I won't watch it!!!!' because i was in my 'not like other girls' phase, which, in hindsight, is hilarious. i guess the Ben Barnes charm gets to you whether you want it or not (Garfield 'you are not immune' meme)
also the sense of whimsy in these movies is really fun. fantasy has gotten SO self serious and grim, and that can be cool but...I still miss the whimsy a bit. even though the effects have aged badly and the characters are cardboard, it's still very entertaining. I saw critics say that Voyage of the Dawn Treader was a complete dud but I still found it entertaining maybe because i think the plot of 'found family goes on wacky adventures from island to island' should be more of a thing. (That sea snake centipede thing was genuinely one of the most horrible things i've ever seen though. my god i want brain bleach.) and there are random moments that are oddly impacting, like them coming back to Narnia and realizing 1300 years have passed, or having to adjust to normal life again as a metaphor for young people coming back from the war, or Lucy learning to accept how she looks as a way not to wish herself away.
that said it also reminded me i haaaaaaaate Narnia as a concept. maybe because i grew up on Tolkien and Philip Pullman who have both said very unflattering things about CS Lewis' writing and i took that sort of literary feuding very seriously back in the days. And yeah it's just such blatant, boring, in your face Christian allegory it makes the story utterly devoid of stakes because the characters are expect to trust random nudges without reason and you just know Aslan is coming to save the day in the end. except that wack ass lion was just sitting in the forest while people were dying in battle because he was waiting for Lucy to have a personal development moment and come to Jesus. That's not faith, that's emotional blackmail. this is why if god existed, i would want to kill him. also the whole outlook of 'bunch of white kids coming into a distant land and being handed the reigns of power because they're just so morally superior' is like. bad. no matter how you look at it. plus i'm still mad about the Problem of Susan.
so like. fun, if you turn your brain aaaaaallllll the way off.
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henryholmesacademia · 3 years
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Predilection Chapter One
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A/N: ahhhhh....I’m so nervous and excited! This isn’t my first time writing and publishing something on tumblr, but it is the first time I write for this guy. Hope you like it, and hope you stick around but please don’t feel obligated too. I don’t like doing synopsis or previews because I feel like it gives the story away, so you’ll just have to feel this one out. Enjoy! Or not, I can’t tell you how to live your life <3
beta reader, co-writer, motivator, and all around love of my life: @lost-aesthetic-of-past​ 
This isn’t a special story.
Might not even be a story at all.
But rather a telling of events that happened in a certain order and have been strung together to create a tale that could cure the boredom of the mind and indulge the land of fantasy.
We won’t start from the beginning. I’ll spare you the boring details and let you come to your own conclusions.
We’ll start our telling of tales in a humble tearoom.
The famous detective Sherlock Holmes had just finished having a somewhat futile conversation with Edith in the search for his younger sister. Come to think of it, it was not much of a conversation as much as it was a reprimanding of sorts. It might even be considered educating him on a subject he knew nothing of and needed a good slap into reality.
“You said she was traveling with a boy?” Sherlock inquired as she was making her exit from the room.
She stops at the doorway. “A useless boy, she called him. I couldn’t help but be reminded of a woman who traveled through here yesterday. We were about to close when she came in. She was wet from rain, but she didn’t seem to mind it at all.” She turns to look at him. “She said you would be here today, and it seems her assumption was correct. She told me that she would be waiting for you at 6 o'clock, Mr. Holmes, and that you had better dress nicely.”
“She left no name?” He raises an eyebrow.
Edith shrugged. “She was very certain that you would know who she was and that you would know exactly where she wanted you.”
Sherlock Holmes has always been talented at keeping his cool. Demonstrating no emotion. His face, some compared it to the likeness of a statue with how unmoved he was in situations.
This would be no different. It had been years since he had last seen the woman who was beckoning him.
And yet, she was always able to pique his curiosity.
“I see you received my message, Mr. Holmes.” Her voice was only accompanied by the sound of her heels. It had seemed that all sound in the bustle of society had come to a stop. No clinking of glass. No servers rushing passed them. It was just her. “And you dressed for the occasion.” Her eyes zero in on his attire. “I do love a man in a tie, as I’m sure you are aware." Oh, how she loved to tease him.
The detective knew basic manners, he was taught right from wrong, how to be respectful toward women, not to mention he had observed enough of the body language and cues of people. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stand up and pull out a chair for her.
"I thought sending you a message would better prepare you for this, but I see it made no difference.” She sets her bag on the table and sits down on her own accord. She both loved and hated etiquette. There were so many rules and guidelines to follow. However, it did work to her advantage at times. “Tell me, Mr. Holmes, what adventure are you on right at this moment?”
“When did you return from overseas?” He manages to find his voice, though he never meant to lose it.
“I’ve been told that you are looking for someone. Could it be that marquee from the papers?” She stirs the spoon of the tea that a server had set down in front of her.
“You are avoiding my question. Mycroft is not aware that you are back, is he?” He lets out a deep breath. There was never a chance of getting a straight answer from her. She only knew how to respond in teasing and quick wit. Every smile devious, and every word was calculated.
“And you are very rudely avoiding mine.” Her smile, that teasing smile of hers. “Would you like help with the case of the marquee? If you ask nicely, I’ll go with you. Finding people who don’t want to be found is a specialty of mine.” She lifts the teacup from the saucer to her mouth innocently enough, but he knew better.
“But dealing with the damage you leave in your wake isn’t?” His words stop her drink and she places the cup back on the saucer.
“What a pity.” Her face forms a small pout. “I was rather liking our game.”
“You always think of things as some kind of game. There is going to be a day when you will find not everyone wants to join in. Not everyone is a toy who is vying for your attention in hope that you will play with them.”
“I will learn that the day you learn that people are more than answers to riddles.” She challenges. “Indulge me for a moment, why did you come here? You knew it was me who sent for you. You remembered my favorite restaurant, my favorite tea, and if they did not give you this table, I will forever assume that you were the one who asked for the table that was in the farthest corner of the room.”
“You do not want Mycroft to know you are here.” He tries to gauge her reaction and steer the conversation. Like always, she gives a grin. A true Cheshire cat smile.
“No. And you forget, Mr. Holmes, nobody knows anything until I want them to know.” She gathers her purse and stands up from the chair. “Here I was, hoping that we would have a nice dinner. It’s been…” she trails off as she looks for the right word. “Refreshing to see you, Mr. Holmes.”
“Why waste your time having dinner with me?” He can’t help but ask her. Just from observing her, he remembered how she would do nothing if it did not have a motive that she would find useful.
She pauses for a moment as she considers his question and gives him a genuine smile. A rare, but beautiful sight. “Is it so hard to believe that your company might be missed?” As she walks past him, she leans down close to his ear. “As for earlier, this isn’t a game to me, Mr. Holmes. But if it was…you were always my favorite player.” She whispers and leaves him to dwell with the aroma of sugar and spice in the air.
The great detective takes to his pipe that night as he stares into the fire. If you were to see him, you would think that he would be calculating his next move or contemplating his own life. That he would be entirely concerned for the welfare of his sister or mother that has vanished into thin air.
No.
He was thinking about his encounter with that woman. Not even the one from this evening, but all the previous ones he had with her. Each one is more memorable than the last. But none shall ever haunt his memory as much as when he first met her.
He never expected such a woman of high society to be standing in the same room with Lestrade right next to a crime scene. Her voice floated melodiously through the room as he walked through the front door. The smell of spice and sugar leads him to where a woman had her back turned to him while answering the Scotland Yard inspector’s questions.
“Ah, Mr. Holmes this is-” Lestrade begins.
The woman turns to see him, the ensemble on her hat was grand and elegant, but her striking eyes that hide the mischief behind them and her smile, which seemed to match the sentiment, was not hidden or dimmed. They were…quite beautifully complemented by it, as he recalled the words his mother said to him once as a child. She extends her gloved hand. “Miss Harrison.” She finishes for Lestrade with a pearly white smile. “And you are?” She inquires.
He was shocked for a moment as her hand was extended toward him. Society would not have allowed it to happen as a young woman should never extend her hand, and she did not seem to be married. Her glove did not have an outdent from a wedding ring.
“This is Sherlock Holmes, we ask him for consultation, and he comes when he’s bothered to read a telegram from us,” Lestrade adds when Sherlock remains stoic and silent.
The corners of her mouth seemed to turn up even higher at that. “My oh my, Mr. Holmes, the papers do not do you justice.” She looks straight at his eyes when she speaks again. “Tell me, has anybody ever told you how incredibly blue your eyes are? Why, I keep finding myself stopping to admire them.”
“No, miss, I can not say that I have.” He releases her hand and clears his throat while stepping forward to examine what Lestrade had originally summoned him for a routine theft. But from what he could tell, the jewelry stolen was not the woman’s jewelry. For she seemed to not wear any. Women who could afford such jewelry never left their households without displaying a few pieces and any fortune she might have clearly was being spent and invested in their extravagant garments and perfumes.
“I apologize. He’s not - well he does tend to act like that sometimes.” Lestrade finds himself in a very awkward position at the moment.
She turns to see him examining a table, observing his side profile. “There is no need for an apology, inspector Lestrade. He’s exactly as I imagined him to be. He’ll do nicely for this case. My employer would be pleased.”
“Who is your employer again? I never caught the name.”
“Oh, I didn’t say. They would prefer it if they were not associated with what happened at all.” She pauses for a moment. “Is that any problem, Mr. Holmes?” Her voice is a little louder to get his attention.
He ignores her question.
Just as the inspector is about to apologize again, she gives him a grin. “I quite like him, Lestrade. I might just keep him on.”
And keep him she did.
Sherlock takes out her handkerchief that she had slipped into his pocket when she was whispering in his ear, embroidered with her initials and the outline of her lipstick. A color that was almost as bold as she was. He held it up to his nose and, sure enough, it was the scent of sugar and spice.
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steamedlem0ns · 3 years
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Adventures in Goth Sitting: Chapter 1
Bucky X Original Chubby Female Character, Nickname: Morticia
Word Count: ~1400
Warnings: cursing, soul sucking, general buffoonery, Bucky being a sweet shit, discussion of cannabis use (future chapters to include angst, love, canon compliant gore, occult activity, sex, dom/sub relationships, breeding (no pregnancy involved), and more.)
Rating: PG-13 (each additional chapter will be XRated )
Part two:
Author’s Note: Hi! Thanks for stopping by and I really hope you enjoy the first chapter of this fic. I’ve got some big things planned and I just really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it.
Rule 1: Your Goth requires darkness or shade, at all times. Bright, hot spaces are to be avoided without explicit permission.
You could cook an egg on the sidewalk. I was half tempted to at this point. My entire body was sticky and covered in a layer of sweat thicker than I’d ever been covered in before. My dress stuck to my body uncomfortably and I knew I was going to have chaffing on my calves from these boots.
“You better have a good goddamn reason for bringing me out here, Barnes.” I snapped.
Bucky was ahead of me cutting through a line of ivy to clear a path. I saw his back curl in a chuckle.
We’d had this discussion. When Natasha left for missions, I was his to watch. Couldn’t be trusted on my own apparently. You suck the literal soul out of a skeeze for touching you inappropriately once out on the streets and suddenly you need a court mandated babysitter. Bullshit.
I’d much rather be in my cozy nest in my room, Watching Simpsons and smoking several bowls. Maybe I’d pop some popcorn and order Thai for dinner. Treat myself to a nice relaxing afternoon. But, no. I’m stuck out in the middle of bum fuck Egypt for no apparent reason with the closest thing in existence (to my knowledge) to an incubus. The man was six foot five inches of pure sex and just radiated big dick energy.
Currently though, fuck him. Not in the good way.
“The stop is just up here, Morticia. You bring your bathing suit like I told you to?” Condescension dripped off his voice like honey. I motioned to the pack on my back with an eye roll, thankfully hidden by my sunglasses and hat.
I followed him up the hill and through the thicket of fully green trees. The terrain began to level out and we approached what looked like a cliff.
“Absolutely, fucking not Barnes. Did you really bring me out here to jump to my death? Ready to get rid of me, already?”
I knew he wasn’t my biggest fan, in fact, that was the reason Natasha picked him as back up. She thought there’d be less of a chance of me using my “wiles” to get my way. I gently reminded her, I learned from the best.
Bucky stopped and smiled, propping his hands on his hips. I could see a thin layer of sweat on his brow and felt instantly jealous of that damn serum running through him.
“I brought you out here to let go. You’re too wound up. You either hole yourself up alone or seclude yourself in Nats room. She’s tired of it. Frankly, I’m tired of listening to her bitch. So, doll, you’re go behind that tree and change - gentleman’s honor, I won’t peek - and then, we’re gonna jump off this cliff, together.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled off my sunglasses. If men have one thing, they have the audacity.
“I’m not cliff jumping with you, you goat fucker.”
Oof. Too much. Bucky’s face twisted in this sick half smirk half scowl and he advanced on me. I stumbled backwards, catching a boot on a rock and fell back on my ass. My tailbone stung and I looked up, bleary eyed to see a very angry James Barnes staring at me. He kicked the rock out the way and laughed.
“Am I making you fall for me already, sweetheart?” He mocked. Bucky knelt and grabbed the front of my dress, yanking me up and leveling my eyes with his.
“Go get fucking changed. I won’t tell you again.” He let me go and I landed with a sharp thud. I watched stunned as he just walked away to the ledge again and stripped off his shirt. There was NO way he’d catch me staring. Not after that. The consistent ache between my legs told me that if I wasn’t careful, something bad was going to happen. I picked myself up and adjusted my now, stretched dress. There was a large, old tree nearby and I decided to use that as cover. Believing that Bucky would keep his eyes to himself felt so far away at this point. But, the shiver that thought sent up my spine made me immediately put that fantasy to rest. I changed quickly, pulling my boobs in the cups of the black bikini and sending a prayer to the gods they’d stay there. I tied up my top and bottoms and adjusted the back. The skimpy garment was a great choice at the time of purchase. I would have never thought I’d End up here.
A moment later I mustered the courage to leave my hiding spot. I stuffed my clothes into the bag and slipped on my flip flops.
“Put your bag by the Boulder on your right.”
Bucky called. He never looked over. I did as he said and walked to him. My Heart pounded against my ribs almost painfully. Bucky finally turned his gaze toward me. With a huff and s jaw tick he held out his flesh hand to me.
“You good, Buck?” I asked.
He nodded, “Yeah, I’m good.” He certainly wasn’t. But, I took his hand and we walked to the edge. I could see for miles. Endless green and blue sky, wonder and beauty for miles. Untainted majesty in the middle of New York.
“I’ve wanted to do this for years. Never found the right partner. So.” Bucky looked at you, “wanna jump with me, doll?”
I nodded way too many times. I gripped his hand tighter and he moved us to the edge.
“Okay, we’re going to back up seven steps and then when I say go, run. Don’t let go.”
We went flying, Through the air, like two of the strangest birds. No wings, no way to keep themselves up.
We crashed. Pummeling through the cold water together. I felt Buckys hand slip from my own as we went under. I was consumed. The impact jostled my senses and I struggled to gain stability under the water. As I thrashed, trying to force myself up I felt a hand grab my arm.
Bucky pulled me to the surface and we swam to shore. We both heaved and fought for our breaths for a few moments before raucous laughter broke out.
“You said you wouldn’t try to kill me.” I chided. He cackled. I tried desperately to catch my breath.
“Good?” Bucky asked. His voice sounded genuinely concerned.
“Yeah, ugh. Just, need to breathe.”
We sat like that for what felt like forever. Watching the sky and resting our lungs, we warmed beneath the sun. After a few moments, I pulled myself up and sat cross legged.
“Why’d you agree to do this?” I asked.
“Huh?”
“Why did you agree to be my “escort” when Natasha isn’t around?” I asked him again. After months I still hadn’t figured that out. Usually, he stayed as far away from me as possible, even when he was supposed to be with me. I would walk into a room and he would leave. It’s not like he ever went far, I could always feel his eyes burning into me - but, he never made the effort to even stay around me.
“I know what it’s like to lose control. I’ve been unfair to you, honestly. I know you think I hate you, doll, but I don’t. I’ve been in therapy for a bit…” I turned to look at Bucky as he continued, “working on myself. Figured out that I was projecting my own fears onto you. Some shit my therapist said anyway. You can’t be expected to take shit from people for all your life and never fight back. I didn’t see some soul eating witch and I don’t. I see a woman who is tired of being treated like dirt and she fought back. She just happens to be able to eat souls.”
The tears formed quick, They burnt hot like betrayal in my eyes. I was so wrong about him. God, I was wrong.
I reached my hand over and covered his metal one with my own flesh fingers.
“Thanks, Mr. Roboto.”
Amendment to Rule Number One: when gothsitting in the heat, consider water. Results will vary.
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irrwicht · 3 years
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2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, 16
Anime asks cause why not; munday on a saturday
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2. first anime crush
Oh man...Definitely either Captain Tsubasa from the anime of the same name or Sesshomaru from Inuyasha. I think I also had a bit of a crush on BOTH male and female versions of Ranma from Ranma 1/2 but it's blurry since I was a literal toddler haha.
3. favorite anime character
I am a total sucker for Dazai from Bungou Stray Dogs, Ash Lynx from Banana Fish as well as Akane from Psycho Pass. Recently also obviously Gojo from Jujutsu Kaisen but like who doesn't love that smug overpowered genius.
4. least favorite anime character
That's kinda hard because I also love hating characters as long as they are written well? I guess without any specifics I don't care much about female characters that are written as their only character trait or motivation being a man or worse, the attention of a man. Genuinely hate it. Don't have a specific character in mind since I wouldn't watch it.
5. list all anime you have ever watched
I started a list in like 2014 that says it's 2043 anime's so far but I feel like I definitely left a few out, especially those I started and never finished so it's closer to 3000. I am not going to list them here lol.
6. popular anime you didn’t like
I'm so sorry wife- I HATE Sword Art Online, I just can't. I mean that goes for most recent Isekai though. I also never understood what people like about Black Clover or Clannad. I somewhat understand the hype around Gintama and Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, it just isn't my taste. Also don't get me started on Boruto, the Naruto franchise should have ended long ago when Naruto's story wrapped up.
7. anime you are currently watching
I'm not really watching any right now, I finished all I wanted. I guess I'm on episode 5 of the recent My Hero Academia season but I'm too distracted with life. I also started Horimiya which is a romane anime that genuinely makes me laugh but in the end I just can't watch anime solely based around romance so I stopped. I also wanted to start up the second season of Beastars but I kinda couldn't get into it anymore so I probably need some more time
8. anime character you are most like
Hmm..I'm sure a few years ago I would have had a list haha but on the spot I can't think of any. I think I'm a bit like Kagome because growing up I looked up to her but also not really.
9. favorite anime child
I mean I guess the little niece from A Silent Voice was fucking adorable but that's a movie and you didn't see her much. I did watch Gakuen Babysitters and the kids were all so damn cute but I don't remember their names. Which reminds me I was surprised I genuinely enjoyed and wanted a second season of Gakuen Babysitters.
10. favorite anime animal sidekick
answered!
11. anime you didn’t expect to like but did
also answered!
12. anime that should get more attention from others
Definitely Ancient Magus Bride. Such a gorgeous animation as well as depicting self hatred and depression in a very real way. Also very good for fantasy rp inspiration! Also the recent Akudama Drive was a short but damn exciting ride. If you love heartbreak check out Banana Fish or if you like a slow but sweet romance then Given.
13. funnest anime you have watched
Again, I'm not big on comedy but I think Soul Eater has some fun moments if I remember right, I also think Zombie Land Saga is an unspoken masterpiece when it comes to death humor.
14. saddest anime you have ever watched
Gotta be Banana Fish. A lot of people say Death Parade was sad but it felt more bittersweet than anything.
15. anime you never get sick of watching
I have re-watched Ancient Magus Bride, K-Project as well as Psycho Pass several times now. It's just get's never boring, each for their individual reasons. Sometimes I also rewatch anime because I watched so many in the past that I simply cannot remember the plot at all (coughs Bungo Stray Dogs cough)
16. 10 best animes you have watched
Wouldn't say the best but I clearly have favorites: Banana Fish, Death Parade, Inuyasha, Jujutsu Kaisen, K-Project, A Silent Voice, Ancient Magus Bride, Psycho Pass, Soul Eater and No. 6
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doomedandstoned · 3 years
Text
Prog-Doom Trio APE VERMIN Blast New EP, 'Arctic Noise’
~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~
By Billy Goate
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Album Art by Steven Yoyada
One of the most impressive release years on record was 2018, when all the big dogs of doom dropped new albums. It was a tough year for a fledgling band to make its big splash, but somehow APE VERMIN made us all turn around and take notice, birthing a massive full-length debut 'Sonic Monolith' (2018) -- still a favorite among doomers. Now, we herald the return of the North Carolina heavyweights with an extended play record, 'Arctic Noise' (2021).
Having already crossed the 2-3 year threshold that seems to either make or break many a promising band, Ape Vermin seem here to stay as they near a half-decade together. Originating in 2017, Brett Lee (guitar, vox), William Deal (bass), and Charlie Burleson (drums) dub their style progressive doom. Through firmly grounded to the storied tradition of deep, reverberating doom, these guys are explorers who like ancient man simply are searching for new horizons.
“Our records are stepping stones for us,” frontman Brett Lee states. “We put our heart and soul into them and where Sonic Monolith had a very drone-type feel with an avalanche of groove, this new EP is a little more over the edge, and more melodic at times. We wanted this EP to represent the celebration of echo, death, and rebirth.”
Based in the small town of Valdese with barely 5,000 souls to speak of and nestled near the Catawba River 'neath the looming mountains, Ape Vermin have developed a club weilding style that's also surprisingly spiritual. Their bio depicts their artful style as comp[ose of "juddering riffs, thundering drums and otherworldly concepts that underpin the sheer mania of their music, along with hypnotic riffs and nimble fretwork" which gives"genuine virtuosity to the sonic vistas they create." That, my beloved Doomers & Stoners, I can firmly endorse.
And now to the record before us. We first encounter on Arctic Noise a song called "Megaliths Of Echo." Warping pedal effects and feedback are interrupted by a declamatory guitar lead accented by bass and drums, establishing our main theme. If you listen carefully, a story is being told in the music alone. Chugging riffage erupts with a stampede of rhythm bringing us caveman-like grunting, "Arctic Drone! Asteroid Explode! Shadow! Behold! Echo! Unfold! Astral Fate, Colossus Awake!"
Something momentus has happened, and suddenly the mood shifts down to a Cathedralesque riff that reminds me of that chilling moment on "Tower of Silence" when Lee Dorian announced, "The circle of time has stopped...sun no longer shines." And we're but five minutes into this gigantic near 17 minute slab of ice core.
Fire in the arctic! To celebrate this guilt. We've been surrounded, By the ice! We've killed the martyr, to set free this realm. We've been surrounded, By the ice!
Fire in the arctic! We've been surrounded! We've killed the martyr! The stone has fallen!
It's clear that someone's doom has come. For a moment, you can see it in your mind's eye, perhaps a churning in the gut, as the Neanderthal DNA still abiding inside has a sudden flashback to this momentous day in prehistory. What is happening? No one knows. Confusion abounds. All one can do is stand, watch in awe, and contemplate their fate.
We fade in the end, You've been holding the earth, We've been mining the sun, You will fade in the end.
I talked last night to frontman Brett Lee, who shared: "These songs were written during an intense emotional period." You can see the lyrics both describing some long ago fantastic calamity and also doubling as a metaphor for the bewilderment that comes with change and uncertainty, which all of us know far too well in recent days due to pandemic pandemonium.
Open the door, To find reason to kill, Locked up inside, For 10,000 years.
Something is encased in ice, and thawing. An ancient spirit lies within with the raw instinct for survival. It grabs us in our weakest moments and shouts, "Live, god damn, you, live!" The emotion laden writhing of the axeman seems to stir up such sentiment as I listen. Then a reminder of my own mortality.
We fade in the end, We echo.
We have such a short time to live. Our time is now. Let's attack it with the same uncouth gusto of our forebears, who struggled to survive in the ice and snow. The words of Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" comes to mind in these closing minutes:
We come from the land of the ice and snow From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow The hammer of the gods Will drive our ships to new lands To fight the horde, sing and cry Valhalla, I am coming
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Ancient Ruin takes the stage next, with a Near Eastern sounding motif with an attractive hook accompanied by tribal beat and voices singing in Forming The Void like harmony, "Orion." Following this is a vicious drum dominant slog and once again, we hear from our gruff caveman, who exclaims:
Fading out, Cosmic temple Riding out of this hell fear thy brother, meet thy maker Feel the darkness in my soul.
It's clear a religious ritual of some sort is underway, perhaps in response to the inexplicable disaster of the opening number.
We finish our adventure with the namesake track, Arctic Noise, which could very well serve as a Part B to the previous song. The riffage here seems more curious and wandering. A tale is told 'round a cave sheltered camp fire as cold, vicious winds blow about.
Arctic samurai, Astral vision May the arc of life BURN! Ancient avalanche echo All hail noise
I am the wretch I am the fiend Out of the void and in the machine I am the failure I am the one Out of the rapture and into the sun.
A searing solo breaks through that reminded me of one we'd hear on the first High on Fire record, only it begins feeling kind of wobbly and wounded, as if in pain. It quickly becomes seized by adrenaline and expresses itself in a confident, warm-blooded tone. I haven't said enough good things about the drumming so far, but it really shines in the second half of this song, and of course William Deal's basswork is as hearty as ever. The song ends on a cliffhanger, as if to say: "To be continued."
"I leave a lot of imagination in the lyrics," Brett told me, but dispels any notion that this is thematically linked to their debut LP, 'Sonic Monolith' (2021). He ended our conversation with an intriguing footnote: "Although deep in the lyrics in the debut album and also this E.P may you unlock what is to come next!"
Next did you say? That's something to look forward to, for damn sure! What better time than now to become a fan of Ape Vermin and revel in their dirty, gritty doom and fuzz-loaded stoner vibe!
I would be remiss were I to compliment the extraordinary album art by Steven Yoyada (who also penned the remarkable cover for our recent Doomed & Stoned in Denver compilation). Gaze upon this moment frozen in fantasy and you'll discover that it, too, has captured something of the record's soul.
Arctic Noise by Ape Vermin will be officially see the light of day on May 7th via Koloss Records (pre-order here). Fans of Conan, High on Fire, and Mastodon are you listening? Good, because Doomed & Stoned is rocking this mother in its entirety today.
Give ear...
Arctic Noise by APE VERMIN
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terramythos · 3 years
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TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 9 of 26
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Title: The Priory of the Orange Tree (2019) 
Author: Samantha Shannon
Genre/Tags: Fantasy, Epic Fantasy, Third-Person, Female Protagonists, LGBT Protagonists
Rating: 10/10
Date Began: 3/12/2021
Date Finished: 4/12/2021
1000 years ago, the world burned. Draconic creatures terrorized the land, led by a horrific evil known as the Nameless One. But then something happened that sent the monsters into a seemingly endless sleep, and the world has rebuilt in the centuries since.
But the Draconic evil begins to stir in its slumber, and the divided nations of the world have little chance to stop it. Eadaz is a mage from the Priory of the Orange Tree, sent to spy on the northern queendom of Inys. Legend has it that as long as the royal line continues, the world will be free from the Nameless One. While it's a long shot, Ead guards the young Queen Sabran closely to preserve the peace. However, as she and the queen grow closer to each other, Ead has to decide where her loyalties lie. Meanwhile, her close friend Loth is secretly sent into exile by the royal spymaster due to his controversial friendship with the queen. Supposedly sent as an ambassador to the newly Draconic kingdom of Yscalin, he soon finds himself out of his depth, entrusted with a deadly secret.
In the isolationist Eastern country of Seiiki, Tané wants nothing more than to become a dragon rider. The dragons of the East are old, wise, and revered as gods-- eternally opposed to the Draconic legions of the West. However, the night before the choosing ceremony that will decide her fate, she breaks isolation and discovers a young man from the West on the shore. Rather than report him to the authorities, she and her friend smuggle him to the island of Orisima, the only place Westerners are permitted. Niclays Roos, an old man exiled to Orisima by Queen Sabran, soon finds himself caught in the conflict. He believes if he finds an elixir for eternal life, he will finally be able to return home. When he's forced to shelter the forbidden Westerner, Niclays' entire way of life is upended-- but he is soon granted the opportunity to escape his exile.  
'My grandmother once said that when a wolf comes to the village, a shepherd looks first to her own flock. The wolf bloods his teeth on other sheep, and the shepherd knows it will one day come for hers, but she clings to the hope that she might be able to keep him out. Until the wolf is at her door.’
Full review, minor spoilers, and content warnings under the cut.
Content warnings for the book:  Some sexual content. Blood, gore, violence, traumatic injury, suicide, and death. Torture and execution. Miscarriage. Body horror (kinda). Drug use.
Clocking in at just over 800 pages, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a long, detailed story. I tend to label things Epic Fantasy when they have world-changing stakes. While Priory certainly fits that criteria, it's the first fantasy book I've read in a while that really does feel like an epic. It stars a huge cast of interesting characters from many walks of life, all of whom find themselves caught up in a world-spanning conflict. It captures the sense of a standalone, grand adventure that shorter fantasy novels of today don't typically reach.
With a book this long, it would be easy to ramble on forever about everything I liked. However, I'm going to try to keep it short and simple.
One of my favorite things about this story was the sheer depth of the world. Lots of people compare this to The Lord of the Rings not for its tropes, but the attention to detail regarding the countries, politics, history, religion, and so on. I'm inclined to agree with this assessment. The world felt alive and multi-dimensional. I could pinpoint many parallels to our own mythologies and histories-- particularly drawn from Europe, Asia, and the Middle East. There's also a clear love of language in the story via its beautiful prose. I like to think I know English pretty well, but this book taught me quite a few new words! Might fuck around and call sunsets "rutilant" from now on.
I thought all four leads were interesting. Ead is kinda the "main" lead of the novel, although Tané overtakes her in the latter half. Everyone had different personalities and backstories, and I genuinely enjoyed all of their arcs. Niclays in particular would be an easy character to hate; of the four, he's the most selfish and does some real questionable shit. At the same time, it's hard not to sympathize with him. He's a sad, unjustly exiled elder who's lost the one man he cared about, and finds himself in a desperate situation. These types of characters are interesting to me; a glimpse of what anyone can become given the wrong circumstances and cruel treatment.
With stories like this, one of the most satisfying payoffs is how the different characters and stories come together. It was interesting to see how their paths converged and diverged over time, and ultimately how everything tied together in the end. I also appreciated the character relationships. I liked that Loth's close friendships with both Sabran and Ead were intimate yet platonic without some awkward love triangle.
From some story specifics... I'm a sucker for the bodyguard romance trope, and seeing it done with women in a mainstream novel gave me life. I thought the romance between Ead and Sabran was really sweet; I didn't see how it would work early on since Sabran was a little insufferable, but she had hidden depths (oh god, another weakness of mine). I also really liked the idea of traditional European and Asian dragons being diametrically opposed, and that being a core theme of the story. Intelligent and/or talking animals are another thing I adore in spec fic, so I dug characters like Aralaq. Kalyba's ongoing relevance and gradual exposition was also neat; I love minor world details that turn out super relevant later.
Also, the entire final battle/ending sequence was SO good. Really creative and action packed. Action scenes often blend together for me (and can be logistical nightmares) but Priory's climactic ending was just awesome. I don't want to spoil specifics, but it reminded me of many beloved epic battles in modern fantasy. Avatar the Last Airbender, How To Train Your Dragon, and Pirates of the Caribbean all came to mind. 
My main criticism with Priory is that often, the plot relied on convenient coincidence to get the characters out of a jam or otherwise advance the story. I can excuse a minor contrivance or two for the sake of a smooth story, and the scope of this book is big enough that it'd be hard to avoid. But some are nuts. For example, Loth gets rescued from certain death by a giant ichneumon while traveling through the mountains. We later learn the ichneumon is Aralaq, a friend of Ead's, and he just happened to be in the middle of nowhere, far from his home, and stumbled upon Loth. Loth, who ALSO happens to be Ead's best friend... which Aralaq presumably doesn't know?
Another is the MAJOR SPOILER regarding the rising jewel's location. I didn't hate the twist itself, but there was so little build up to it. I wish there were more early hints to justify it, because with setup it would be a pretty cool development. These things didn't ruin my enjoyment of the story, but the borderline deus ex machina (machinae? machinas?) did take me out of it a bit. It’s possible I missed stuff so I’ll give some benefit of the doubt. 
Overall, though, The Priory of the Orange Tree is a fun, world-spanning adventure. Like any long book, it's an investment to get into. However, if you're looking for a standalone, feminist fantasy epic, this is certainly a good place to start.  
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clairecrive · 3 years
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"A trial of sorcerers" - book review ⭐⭐⭐
No spoilers.
Elise Kova has a beautiful writing style and is able to create wonderful complex new worlds that don't feel like it when you first start reading about them.
I discovered her with "A deal with the elf king" which I really enjoyed and now I'm here with this book.
I wanted to read something that easy, that flowed quickly but that was engaging and interesting at the same time. While I thought that this was a standalone and that affected my decision in reading it, I still got what I wanted out of this book.
The Tower with all its secrets bubbled with life and the power of the sorcerers that inhabit it. I love the elemental powers, reminded me a bit of the grishaverse but the more I read about Waterrunners, Firebearer, Groundbreakers and Windlords the more clear it became to me that their powers worked nothing like the Grisha's.
Now, let's talk about our main character: Eira Landan. It's no secret that YA fantasy protagonists are often a pain in the neck and generally disliked for a variety of reasons. I understand that in this book, there was an attempt to reverse the stereotypical YA protagonist into its opposite.
Where they usually are presented as having nothing special but at the same time being desired by everyone and holding a huge amount of power, Eira is confident about herself, her abilities and what she wants.
Sure, it takes a while for her to find her own voice, being always smothered and held back by her family she is able to find the strength to reach out and take what she wants in the support of her best friend, Alyss.
And what does she want? Going to Meru.
Meru is an overseas land where elfins live. Eira is infamously fascinated with the country, its history, its people, their magic. So when the news of the Five Kingdom Tournament brokes, she cannot wait but to compete. Her love for Meru it's exactly what aids her in the trials. But it's also what makes her a target.
And here we come to the part I did not like. If there is so much emphasis on Eira's strength and how she's resilient and capable of taking care of herself, then I wouldn't expect her to fall into such an obvious trap.
I mean, I understand why she did, but at the same time, it was pretty clear from the beginning that the interest wasn't genuine. I know it is supposed to be the plot twist but really, you see it coming almost immediately.
Let's talk about the other characters, shall we?
Alyss? The typical token bff. She didn't really have a storyline beside the fact that she's quirky and funny and Eira's best friend and that she wants to go to Meru with her.
Cullen? He's supposed to be the enemies to lovers interest but he's not really. The tension he has with Eira is merely the result of his name and for his input in what is one of Eira worst night ever. But since it's pretty clear that he's playing a role, the mask comes off fairly quickly and the two connect. I won't say that I'm not intrigued by his storyline cause it sounds like it has the potential to be interesting but for now, I don't care much about him.
Marcus? His relationship with Eira and their bond, the way he cares about her was what made me like him so much. It's genuine, he really cares about his sister. And siblings love is wonderful and it was nice to see it represented.
In general, Eira's family relationships and dynamics I really enjoyed. Despite what Eira thinks of them, familial love it's also wonderful and precious and not that easy to come by. It's also rare to see it represented in a fantasy where usually it's all about the hero/heroine and their found families. Idk it was nice to see her interact with her uncles and aunt and see how much they loved her.
The subplot about Adela? Mh, idk, sounds like maybe it was too much. I mean, a lot happened: Eira's journey in figuring out her magic, her finding her strength and her place in the tower, Ferro and Meru then Denaya and now this? Mh.
I mean, it's only the first book so maybe everything will be explained and developed in the following ones but for now, I'm sceptical.
I know I am a sucker for character development and growth so I'm here for it and ready to change my mind if that happens in the next books.
I'm really curious to see where Eira's adventure will take her.
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hermeticimp · 4 years
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Full Agape Reading Example
Hey guys! So I wanted to include an example of what a full version of my Agape reading looks like. Go here to find a full description of this reading. I’m using a reading on myself for this - with Hermes, Apollo, and Dionysus being the gods who came through. Without further ado, here’s my Agape reading. 
Today, I’ll be covering the things that Hermes, Apollo, and Dionysus love about me and wish for me to know moving forward. I used The Muse Tarot and Oracle of Unicorn decks. Let’s see what we’ve got. 
This first section will cover what they love about me. I was pulled to use tarot cards for this section. These three cards will cover my deities’ favorite trait of mine, a trait they admire that they want me to acknowledge more, and a trait they love that they want me to focus on healing. I’ve got 7 of Inspiration, The Tower, and Page of Inspiration. This is a cool mix! We’ve got two Inspiration (or Wands) cards, a major arcana, and a court card. The first thing that comes to mind is that they see me as a fiery and impassioned person. I have this energy and spark about me that draws others in, making them feel right at home. I’m always thinking of new ideas and projects that I or others could use. I’m resilient, warm, loving, creative, bright, energetic, spiritual, passionate, innovative, ambitious, and determined.
 “You have always been a bright star, Jay. I’ve adored that spark of yours since I’ve met you. It’s one of the things that has defined you over the years I’ve watched over you. You may struggle to see what I do at times, but have faith, dear heart, that this is nothing but the honest truth.” - H. Thanks Hermes. Now, let’s jump into the cards more directly. 
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We begin with 7 of Inspiration. In this deck, the Inspiration suit corresponds to the Wands suit in traditional decks. This card is about fighting for yourself, protecting your light, not letting others get to you, having faith in yourself, and having firm boundaries. All three of them admire my ability to take care of myself. It’s something I’ve only been really coming into in the last few years, but I have learned how to tune out those who only seek to tear me down. The opinions of strangers do nothing for me. I’m me and that’s not something I plan on changing just to suit the whims of others. I may lose sight of what makes me special sometimes, but I won’t let people run roughshod over me. There’s an inner fire that will never be dimmed - which is definitely my Leo Moon conjunct Leo Mars talking. I have placements in all the fire signs, but my Leo side is fierce. I have a pride that won’t allow me to get pushed around for long. 
My deities love that I’ve learned how to fend for myself. Apollo decides to chime in here.“You’re right to see yourself as a warrior, Jay. You’ve managed to fight back everything that’s sought to destroy you from day one. You have courage, faith, and passion on your side. You fight against the world and you have the strength to keep going where others might falter. While part of your lesson is to learn how to put down your sword sometimes, it doesn’t mean that you have to lose this side of yourself. Fight on, little lioness. Never let the weight of your worth crush you because others say so.” I’m strong and I know that even in my weakest moments. See the star shining in the background amongst the orange (determination and enthusiasm), yellow (optimism), blue (truth), and black (protection and stability)? The Star is one of my favorite tarot cards and represents my constant battle for hope, peace, and faith. My gods admire that ability to keep battling my demons, within and without, to progress forward. 
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Up next is The Tower. The psychedelic effects and crackling lighting behind the woman standing amongst crumbling infrastructure is quite the striking image. She seems unphased, as if this is a natural part of her life. The phrase “weathering the storm” comes to mind as I look at it. There is a small figure falling behind her, reminding us of the meaning of this card - unexpected and sudden change. The falling person most likely wasn’t ready for the storm the way the woman is. Instantly, I see myself in both these characters. I’ve had times where everything has been uprooted and I wasn’t prepared for it. I’ve had other times where I rolled with the punches and accepted it. 
Personally, I think I’ve dealt more with the former, but my gods seem to disagree. Hermes comes through. “I mentioned how strong you were earlier. This is the true source of your strength. You’ve been through rather difficult circumstances throughout the lives we’ve spent together. But one thing I always saw was that you never stayed off your feet for long. You’ve come to accept that change is the only constant. You may lose your bearings for a time, but you always regain them fairly quickly. Resiliency is the word you used earlier and I agree. You are resilient because, as you’re wont to say to others, “You’ve survived a hundred percent of your bad days”. Believe in your ability to get through things. You’re a survivor to the core. You’re resourceful, cunning, and adaptive. Rather Uranian and Saturnian in nature, I’ve come to notice. Embrace your inner strength. You can be a force to be reckoned with.” It’s funny he brought up those two planets. They rule over my 12th and 11th houses respectively. I’ve managed to get where I am because of my support system (11th house), but also because of myself (Saturn in the 1st). This is the trait that I’m supposed to give recognition to, which is difficult at times (12th house of strengths hidden from the self). Funnily enough though, it’s about the only compliment I’ll actually accept. I’m always getting back on my feet because, like the 7 of Inspiration mentioned, I know how to fend for myself. I have more power than I think and I’ll try to keep that in mind moving forward. 
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Finally, we reach the final tarot card that describes what part of myself I need to heal from. The beautiful Page of Inspiration steps up to answer this prompt. An elegant woman stretches and dreams up vibrant ideas and thoughts. A black cat, a creature of magic, looks out towards the sky with clear sight and vision - knowing what it wants to do and how. Dionysus speaks up. “You need to heal that colorful imagination of yours. You have so many wonderful ideas that you wish to implement, but you doubt your ability to bring them into reality. I’m not sure why, as you’ve accomplished so much in such a little time. I believe that if you allowed yourself to actually have faith in yourself and your dreams, you could actualize sooner rather than later. You’re too hard on yourself. Allow yourself the room to breathe. Tap into that creativity of yours and allow it run free. Then, start making plans. There are things on the way to help, but for now, focus on creating the basis for what you want to build up right now.” 
Jupiter, the planet that rules both fiery Sagittarius and watery Pisces, come to mind with this card. Pisces are known for their fantasies, getting lost in the glimmering images in their mind’s eye. Sagittarius is known for being adventurous and firing true, following their arrows with the faith that they’ll land where they need to. Jupiter is the planet of faith. It’s in Capricorn in my 10th house, which indicates that I have work to establish my dreams and genuinely have faith in them. Pisces is my Rising sign - showing off my worldview and personality. Sagittarius presides over my 9th and 10th houses, which are about philosophy and exploration and destiny and career respectively. Pluto lies in Sag in the 9th. 
All of that together indicates that my wound (Pluto) stems a lack of faith (Cap Jupiter) in my true path (10th house), which manifests in remaining stuck in my head with mere ideas (Pisces Rising) instead of actually bringing them into reality, which causes feelings of inadequacy (1st house Saturn ruling Cap) and not feeling sure in what direction to go (Sag). I need to overcome that by allowing myself to have faith in my hard work (Cap Jupiter) to prove to myself (Saturn in the 1st) that I can accomplish my dreams (10th house). That’s easier said than done, but I’m in the process of working towards healing myself. “We’re proud that you’ve started overcoming this obstacle. You really will be unstoppable once you allow yourself to believe. Take that leap of faith. It’ll be worth it.” With that final message from Apollo, we move to my charms. 
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This section will cover activities and ideas to focus on to expedite healing and moving forward on my path. We have the “I’m sorry” pin and Tohru. Immediately, I get the impression that it’s time to apologize to and forgive myself for not taking advantage of my full potential. Tohru is a character from the manga/anime Fruits Basket. She is known for helping others before herself and not noticing her own uniqueness and value (thus her being a rice ball). For so long, I’ve been focused on others' dreams and assisting them in those rather than staying in my own lane (Capricorn rules my house of friendship and society - the 11th). Now is the time to acknowledge, honor, and love myself - represented by the rose on the pin. I need to take it easier on myself and allow myself the space to accomplish what I want besides others. 
I can see how this ties into my Virgo Mercury, which is responsible for quite a bit of my attention on others (in the 7th house of relationships and sign of service) and doubting myself (perfectionist Virgo opposite my critical Saturn). Virgo has to learn how to have unconditional regard, something that Tohru learns to have towards the end of the story. Giving me space to be myself without judgement will go a long way in allowing me to relax and actually start realizing the 1,001 projects that I have in mind right now. It’s time for me to bloom through letting go of old regrets and shame for not completing past projects. Once I do that, I’ll find getting out of my head and into the real world a little easier. 
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The last section is an affirmation card to keep in mind as I move forward. My card is Awareness. It says, “Live in the moment. Be conscious of your thoughts. Look for signs and guidance.” Now is the time for me to remain mired in the present. Instead of allowing myself to agonize over the past or worrying over the future, I need to breathe, recenter myself, and bring myself back to the current moment. I do have a habit of being caught up in my thoughts, as the Page and the charms showed. Mindfulness is the concept that comes to mind for this one. Meditation, breathing, walking, dancing - activities like these will help me be grounded and rational, which will be useful in bringing my projects to fruition. 
“Keep an eye out for our signs. You know which ones we mean. Blessings are on their way and they will help you to stay the course when it comes to your business and spiritual practice. Have faith and surrender any fears you may have to us. Trust us to guide you in the right direction, lion heart. Take the time to rest and recuperate. Things will come in time. Don’t push yourself too hard. That’ll only make things more difficult in the end. Patience is key. Keep yourself busy in ways that aren’t exhausting. We’re standing in support of you. Let that rapid fire mind of yours be at ease. Music would be an excellent way to help you stay grounded in the here and now. Until next time.” Apollo closes the reading with that, which I feel is a good place to stop. 
In summary, my deities find me to be a passionate, creative, resilient, wild, warm, friendly, and innovative person. I have a tendency to downplay how much I’ve been through and should give myself more credit. I’m learning to heal from doubting my ability to actualize the ideas I have, which I can overcome by forgiving myself for mistakes and acknowledging myself as being capable. Meditation, walking, music, and other mindful activities will help me stay focused on the present and give my concerns up to the Divine.
 Thank you three for joining and encouraging me. I appreciate your help as always. And thank you for reading! Please let me know if you have any questions. 
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obutsuwrites · 4 years
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A Little Wicked (overhaul x reader)
Summary:  “Are you denying yourself your innermost wishes? Do you not quiver for my touch?” Overhaul countered, his gruff voice shrewd. The sorcerer tried to hide his morbid pleasure. Lips curled into a lustful grin. The knot in his stomach was hot. Touch-starved fingertips excited.
warnings: non-con~!
word count: 3,460 xxx basically a self-indulgent overhaul smut fic~! oops,,
my ao3 for more shitposts
my ask box is also always open 4 requests or wateva
Notes: 
numinous (adj.) - describing an experience that makes you fearful yet fascinated, awed yet attracted--the powerful, personal feeling of being overwhelmed and inspired
nemophilist (n.) - a haunter of the woods; one who loves the forest and its beauty and solitude
The young adventurer navigated through the overgrown forest, screeches of owls echoed over head; sounds of nature after dark. Thick trees obscured the woman’s vision. Mother nature was finally reclaiming lost land. However, this particular forest held a secret as precious as new life. A powerful sorcerer was said to inhabit this jungle of trees and predators. She knew man-eating animals roamed this land. The woman had grown up on heroic tales of would-be heroes besting creatures of the night. Heroism. Adventure. Glory. Tales she idolized. Titans of old seemed almost god-like to her. Abilities she had prayed for every night. However, her pleas fell upon deaf ears. 
After enduring this for years, she realized she must manifest her own destiny. The allure of magicks too tempting for her quest. She knew it was wrong. No respectable explorer had stood on the back of giants. No. They started small; stories eventually amassing to celebrity. Folk tales repeated for generations. The ultimate means of being remembered, she acknowledged. Mortality no longer applied to them. They gained immortality through legends. 
The young woman sighed. The lantern was her only light source in the decrepit grove. Thick roots ran along the leaf scattered earth. She had already tripped once, her lantern almost shattering. Tonight, even the moon hid. Just like the predators. The hoot of owls were the only sound in the moonlight. She wondered if the fabled Sorcerer of the Forest even existed. The tales of him on par with legends of heroics. Was it possible the man didn’t exist? The land showed no sign of recent travel. Untamed earth. 
She stopped. The sudden thirst hit her senses. Her mouth was like the desert. Quickly, slender hands grasped the gourd that sat upon a leather belt. The woman drank deeply; water trickling down exposed flesh. After a swallow, oxygen-starved lungs greedily inhaled. Earth and pine wafted through her nostrils. 
Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her. The rhythmic pounding of her heart threatened to leap out from her bosom. Primal fear seeped into her body. Goosebumps painted into her skin. The dame paused, her hand at her side, clutching the gourd. 
Breathe, she told herself, You are brave.
“Who is t-there?” The explorer called, her tone momentarily faulting. Anxiety ridden eyes waited. Could be a rabbit, right?
A gruff voice broke their silence, “Filthy mortal. You have been searching for me, haven’t you?” The man sounded perturbed. As if her very presence was a nuisance. “Well, here I am.” Ungrateful.
The woman blinked. Surely, this wasn’t the Sorcerer of the Forest? The male sounded no older than her. Far too youthful to be such a myth. 
“I don’t t-think you’re him,” she replied, slowly turning to face the owner of the voice. 
Foreign eyes observed her, his nose crunched with disdain. The young man was adorned in black; a pulled hood and avian mask blurring his features. A pristine cloak hung around his wiry frame. Leather gloved hands fidgeted. His posture betrayed his voice, uncomfortability spread throughout his spine.
“A sorcerer. You mortals ask for such frivolous things,” the masked man replied. Despite his age, the Sorcerer of the Forest never quite understood mortals. Useless stories amused them. Inspired them. This caused a problem for him. Rarely the man would receive dim-witted guests to his side of nature. Naive mortals that didn’t understand his terms. They would agree to his services, not realizing the peril. 
A laugh escaped from the woman, a nervous habit. Clearly, this man was mortal, too. Just has a little superiority complex. It wasn’t unexpected. Such a talented display of magic was too prideful. Like a secret to be shared. 
“...okay. Wait. You know what I need?” 
The words hung in the dusk. Disgusted eyes still trained upon her, memorizing her. He looked almost pensive. A leather gloved hand rested against a clothed elbow. The masked man’s dark brows furrowed together.
“Moronic girl,” he chastised, “you desire a strength potion. It’s rather bold to assume I’d stoop to such a vile practice.” The man was a sorcerer, not a desperate apothecary.
Another laugh bubbled from her. Genuine sounds. “You’re a sorcerer. Surely, you mix potions?” 
The woman’s tone was immature. Naive wonder spread across her face. She prayed he would remove the formerly intimidating birdlike mask. It’s shape provoked a primal fear within her. As if she should run as far as her legs would carry her. Instincts screaming.
The man stepped forward, dead leaves crunched under his boots.  
He scoffed, his eyes darting from her. The mysterious man smoothed invisible hairs along auburn hair. His hair looks soft, the woman noted. Perhaps he was an Adonis underneath the beak. With the distance between them shortened, she noticed brass goggles upon gilded orbs. The same contempt within them. 
“Do you even carry a sword? Perhaps a dagger. Oh, I know. You don’t do you?” he quizzed. The man clearly taking delight in her vulnerable form. 
The maiden softly gasped and dropped her gourd to the ground. Her hands now wrung in doubt. No legend about the Sorcerer of the Forest told of his scorn. He was the un-sung hero; the powerful force that provided the hero a winner’s edge. 
She didn’t reply. Horror locked the adventurer in place. Her eyes trained on the man before her. 
He closed the gap between them, the linen of his cloak brushed against the woman’s shirt. “What you desire will cost you.”
Xx
The young explorer had followed the mysterious, angry man to his hut. The design was simple, but presistine. Not a single ingredient or amulet out of place. His shack reminded her of the shaman huts in her village. The after smell of incense a permanent fixture. 
The two discussed their deal. An insistent voice spouted a word vomit of myths. Her eyes alight with passion. The possibility within her hands now. 
“...and that’s why I need this potion, talented Sorcerer of the Forest! I don’t care about t-the consequences.” The maiden stuttered, her excitement had gotten the best of her. 
“I have told you, mortal. I am Overhaul. This fantasy of the ‘Sorcerer of the Forest’ doesn’t exist. Merely stupid childish stories,” the man corrected. His tone stern. 
Overhaul.
Instantly, the woman realized the mistake she had made. The man before her was not the great Sorcerer of the Forest, but his antithesis; Chisaki Kai. A rumored lesser demon in fables. Overhaul being his preferred title. His deals the catalyst for despair in his epics. The being a play on devil’s advocate. A strong occultist that dealt in absolutes. In his parables, the heroes would receive their most intimate desires, but at the grievous cost of their humanity. Their soul.
Her features were clouded by concentration. The temptation mulled over in her mind. Is… Is it immortal to sell my humanity for the greater good? Surely, heroism cancels out sins.
She offered her hand in a show of solidarity. “Please.”
A good handshake was the cornerstone for any business transaction. Even the resident smithy had a crushing grip. A truth the maiden had learned early, the concept of goodwill familiar to her. 
Golden eyes stared at her. His indifferent glare almost seeing through her. 
“Handshakes are informal. If you weren’t so naive, you would know.” Naive laced with venom. Ignorance was a sin to him. Cretins were beneath a messiah. 
Stand tall. Make your demand known.
The nervous woman straightened her back. Eyes meeting Overhaul.
“Sorcerer or lesser demon; I humbly request the potion. Please,” she asked, her hands clasped in prayer. Stubborn hands with steadfast faith. Illusions of adventure plagued her. The poison deep in her bones. She could taste her immortality in fiction. 
Overhaul almost pitied the woman before him. Feminine graces for deceit. The ghost of a smile stretched across his features.
“As you desire.”
Xx
The aspiring adventurer had inquired about a strength potion. A rudimentary task that would only require several days work for Overhaul. The reply caused a grin to break out upon the young woman’s face. Her face… almost cute. 
While working, Overhaul caught flashes of the maiden’s frightened expressions. A sick delight taking root into him. His psyche was a chasm of perverse thoughts. The mixture of worry and dread intoxicated him. Like an inch he couldn’t scratch. 
He felt on fire. 
Xx
She wandered aimlessly, soft footsteps echoed through the abyss of trees. This was her ritual now. Naively calling for Overhaul. The beaked man was behind on his promise. The confident woman’s belief in him wavered. A gourd still hung from her belt; a failed lesson. 
“You can be so damn loud. Do you realize that?”
The naive mortal’s expression tightened; the intimate reaction caused a flush to scatter across him. Foreign anxiety and a rush of dopamine through his body. Hot breath huffed against the hollow of his beak. The fervor burned like a wildfire. 
She averted her eyes; the earthen ground her chosen subject. Overhaul’s aura engulfed the young woman in anxiety. Instincts feral. 
The nemophilist beamed; fangs bared for prey. Sadistic glee painted into his face. Amber eyes studied her. Victim no match for an apex predator. 
“Sorry… I’m happy I found you, I think. You’re behind schedule, Overhaul, but it’s for good reason, right? Maybe you ran into a lack of ingredients?” the woman hoped, her heart unable to conjure the alternative. Panic surged through her nerves. A feeling she couldn’t ignore. Body hot with anxiety.
“Follow.”
Xx
Yet again, the young maiden found herself in the wooden cabin of the occultist. A scent of wood and flowers assaulted her nose. The smell less pleasant than before. 
Overhaul held the vial; gloved hands gingerly guarding her desire. She felt a pang in her bosom. The promise of immortality dangled before her. Breath caught in an eager throat, words cramped. 
“Please. I have money. Gold. I can pay you.” Desperation covered her tone. The zealous woman features pulled tight. Eyes glued to the vial. The key to her quest. 
The masked man laughed, placing the vial on the wooden table between them. His eyes stuck to her. Selfish eyes fixated. Overhaul’s chest hitched; the anticipation of her fear tantalizing. He felt drunk from her presence. 
“No… No money. As Overhaul we both know I’ll claim my due. For someone that prides themselves on mythos; you genuinely are stupid,” he sneered. His words overrun with acid. The man was merely prodding for her adorably fearful visage. An image that haunted him. Perhaps, he could coax the emotion out of the meek woman via insults. Overhaul knew the power he held. His veins burned with it. 
The woman nodded. Distinct horrible stories flooded her. The sparks of misery burning into her psyche. A terror she prayed to avoid. “Whatever, Overhaul. We made the deal. So drop the act. It’s embarrassing.” As soon as the words tumbled from her mouth; the ignorant mortal understood the weight of them. The nervousness in her back. 
“Take it before I change my mind.” 
An empty threat, or so she thought.
Xx
A week passed. The young explorer still felt as before. No obvious strength stockpiled within her. It took her three days to deduce that the willowy man she met had been a pretender. Merely a man fascinated with Overhaul. She was familiar with the insanity of it. The very same thing motivated her to find the Sorcerer of the Forest. A pretend man. 
Life for her was stagnant as before, too. No excitement lived in the heart of the village. Routine a sacred theme. Mundane. 
Despite this, the steadfast mortal had continued her prayer. Feverish belief burned in her chest. Perhaps faith was the secret to immortality in mythos. 
Xx
Soft knocks echoed through the woman’s door. A late night visitor. Panicky fear settled in her bones. After dusk visits only brought tragedy. Slowly, she rose from bed. Anxiety flowed through her muscles; simple movements a struggle. 
Delicate feet dragged across wooden floors. Tired eyes in a haze. She reached for the door knob, the brass cold against her. The young explorer cautiously opened the door. A sheepish plastered. One must be strong in misery. 
The exhausted mortal’s eyes dropped; Overhaul curiously before her. The man barely an inch from her. Just as before. The kindling of a blush erupted across her face. Pink, squeezable cheeks.
Overhaul’s urge to touch such a filthy creature was almost overwhelming. And yet, he restrained himself. A promise of fulfilling her desire fueled him. He ached to see her afraid again.
“What are you doing here?” She was unprepared for the gravity of her choice. No soul was worth heroics. Not even a naive mortal’s. Humanity was the last shred of chaos the woman had. Every aspect of her life routine. 
A smirk took root. “Moronic girl. I’m fulfilling your greatest desire. Follow.” 
A phantom hand guided the woman’s numb body through the village and into the forest. Overhaul only a few paces ahead. A haze developed over her; the extent of her actions a mystery. 
Xx
She had no memory of adventuring to the occultist Overhaul’s hut, yet, here she was. A dressing gown clad body sat across from gold eyes. The ghost of a smirk still lingered on his face. Her distressed frame was the source for his perverse joy. A sick knot settled into his stomach. 
“Do I give you my soul?” she inquired, a sniffle in her tone. Tears building inside her chest.The reality of her agreement attacked her. 
Overhaul stifled a chorkle. An unrealistic expectation mortals held. So side-eyed. He assumed nothing less from her. Naivety was an illness. “No, idiot. Strip.”
Her mind glazed over. Robotic limbs carried out the sorcerer’s demand. Dark magicks at work. 
“Please… stop. I don’t desire t-this.” The maiden stood before him; horror in wide eyes. She cowered. No memory of disrobing; her heart in her ears. Had he drugged her? Was the vial a love potion? 
Gently, gloved hands removed the avian mask and goggles; Overhaul’s face on display. She did not expect him to be handsome. His features carved from stone by da Vinci. The ironic nature not lost. How could a vile man be so beautiful? 
“Are you denying yourself your innermost wishes? Do you not quiver for my touch?” Overhaul countered, his gruff voice shrewd. The sorcerer tried to hide his morbid pleasure. Lips curled into a lustful grin. The knot in his stomach was hot. Touch-starved fingertips excited. 
He licked his lips. Pining yellow eyes burned into her. The man known as Overhaul drank from her vulnerability. The woman’s soft body was a treat. Only for him. 
The mortal blushed. Crimson obvious in the moonlight. “Not like t-this.” She was attracted to him, but every instinct screamed at her to flee. The man was suffocating. 
Overhaul reached out, pinching her flesh between his fingers. Tense skin responded to his touch. She shivered. 
“A brat like you doesn’t deserve to use my title, don’t you agree? Refer to me as Kai.”
The woman felt helpless beneath him. Even his thin frame towered over her. The height difference only incited Chisaki Kai. Her vulnerability was a luxury. A privilege. She shifted, a futile attempt to escape him. 
Kai suddenly grasp the woman; his hands finding purchase around her wrists. Her skin was a map of goosebumps. He pulled her to him; the heat of her body melted into him. A delicate form for him to break. He shuddered at the thought. A tapestry of bruises. Lilac suits you.
“O-Kai. Kai, please let me go. I won’t tell anyone. It hurts,” she pleaded, as purple blossomed on her wrists. The beginning of a bruise. Gloved hands ignored her cries. The filthy mortal’s request only riled up Kai. A throbbing ache formed between his thighs. An urge to bury himself inside her crawled from the back of his psyche. 
Lecherous eyes scanned her body. Kai’s body snug against the frightened woman. Clean linens. A faint bouquet of clean linens drifted to him. This must be the essence of the disrobed body before him. Simple fabric separated Kai from eden. The garments weren’t flattering, he convinced himself. That’s why a gloved hand detached from her wrist; her arm falling limp as the sorcerer examined dull cloth between disinterested fingers. Florcets of pink rested twisted into pure horror. Traces of anxiety now settled in her ribs; the woman’s throat choked shut. The lack of sound a disappointment to Kai. The inch on fire with arousal for terrified looks. 
“You don’t need this,” Kai whispered, his breath hot against the woman’s exposed skin. Unceremoniously, Kai ripped the brassiere. Fabric ripping the only sound between them. Quick, short breaths followed. The occultist felt overwhelmed. His fantasy before him. Saliva pooled; the man’s mouth flooded. 
Delicate skin winced in the biting chill. A free arm shot up in a frantic attempt to cover shame. Chisaki Kai frowned. Adonis features twisted. Fangs threatened in a snarl. “Show me.” 
She held steadfast, a lilac now settled into her wrists. The naive explorer refused to allow an erratic man the pleasure of her stripped bosom. A right reserved for lovers. Not a cruel con man. 
Gloved hands swiftly detached from her. He harshly pulled off the leather gloves and pathetically tossed them behind him. Kai was finally able to feel her. Feverish hands returned to exposed flesh. Sadistic hands roughly grabbed the numinous woman. A yelp sounded from her, his impatient touch a cause for surprise. In her nerves, she felt a spark.
Yellow eyes marveled at the beauty before him. Inspiration. 
“On your knees.” 
The mortal woman before him obeyed. Dread flowed through her body. Images of violence danced before her. Promises of Chisaki Kai’s power.
“Not such a bitch, now are we?” Kai teased, a cruel smirk upon his face. Satisfaction from her blind devotion. Warmth tightened against his pants. The compassion he held for her. A little gift for not misbehaving. Kai couldn’t spell his excitement; his chest heaved in anticipation. 
“Isn’t t-this enough? I’m begging you; please stop.” A chorus of no’s followed after as Kai pressed the dame’s face against his crotch. His throbbing need now stimulated by the friction. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural. Animalistic. 
Satisfied, Kai released her face. Feverish hands unbuttoned his pants. The furor caused slender hands to shake. “I don’t care. You desired this, wicked girl.”
The scared woman audibly gulped, terror and arousal swirled in her mind. Gentle hands found his hard cock. Length throbbed in her palm. The man’s very body craved her touch. She began to tenderly stroke him; her hand exploring veins. 
Kai growled, instinctively bucked into her. No time for shame. He could chastise the adventurer later. Her hands were heaven sent. Curiosity mingled with lust. A free hand snaked to her panties. The woman teasing herself. A whine fell from her lips. The syrupy sound encouraged Kai; the sorcerer’s sentence spilling out. 
“Suck my cock.”
She stopped pumping him, her hand poised around his head, foreskin pulled down. Innocent eyes viewed the brown haired man. A meek air engulfed the woman. Moist hands now covered the grove of rose upon her cheeks. The heat devouring her. Was she on fire?
Breathe.
Plump lips wrapped around his cock, veins pulsating. Kai’s pleasure was obvious. The flustered woman began to swirl her tongue around him; her hands caressing his manhood. He melted into her touch. The man’s bucking now at a  sweltering pace. An idea presented itself. 
He knew he had to be quick. Otherwise, she could bite him. A degloved hand shoved her head down him. The wet chasm of her mouth coupled with gagged sent Kai into ecstasy. The knot branded into his stomach, working its way to his chest. An orgasm approaching. 
“Don’t fucking stop,” the auburn man mewled. Spit spewed from the asphyxiated woman; droplets decorating his hips. She needed to breathe, he reasoned. Hands clawed at thighs in a vain attempt for air. He released her.
Hungry lungs inhaled; the aroma of wood and flower heaven sent. 
“No more…” she rasped. Voice hoarse from the man’s violent bucking. Snot leaked from her nose, eyes brimmed with tears. 
She looked so broken, Kai realized. The fire within him a roaring blaze. A dire need exploded in his chest. The man roughly grabbed the woman’s face, shoving her against him again. 
An anxiety fueled mouth played with his length. Muffled cries juxtaposed against moans. Tiny streaks of fear now displayed down her cheeks. Pink cheeks shining. 
Orgasic euphoria burst from Kai. The abrupt event caused her to gag; a sloppy spray of hot cum and saliva ran from the woman’s chin, the final droplets resting against her bosom.
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Text
I Need You
Pairing: Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Smut Summary: The moment you fell in love with him was when he smiled at you as Robin. But now that Bruce adopted you, Dick has become your older adoptive brother who sometimes sleeps with you in the same bed. What will you do when your lust overpowers you, and you start to touch yourself while he’s right there, sleeping?
You didn’t have a tragic backstory.
There were no hungry nights, or abusive parents.
There were no parents, full stop. You never knew them. And you were really okay with that. Life happens. You didn’t blame them for anything, except maybe not considering birth control.
You were just an orphan, living in an orphanage, and doing orphan things like sneak out at night for little “adventures” as you liked to call it. The orphanage wasn’t bad either. The people who ran it were nice people, although perhaps just a little boring.
Which is why you liked to walk around at night. You didn’t have game consoles and the books inside the mini library you had read time and time again.
So there you were at 14, just wandering around Gotham at night, giggling at men trying to pick up prostitutes in cars, and avoiding the drunken homeless who liked to get a little aggressive when asking for spare change.
When you walked around, you felt like a different person. Your imagination was what kept you entertained, and honestly, optimistic about the world.
You could pretend to be whoever you wanted to be. That night, you were a secret Russian spy, walking by the blocks of loud club music and neon lights, trying to identify the man who was working with the Americans, planning to kill the Russian president.
You stood outside the club from across the street, waiting for someone to come out. Someone who would look like a traitor to the Motherland.
And there you found your culprit, a man in his mid-30s, with blond hair slicked back, a white shirt that plunged down to reveal his hairy chest, and a pair of sunglasses- at night. You thought he looked villainy enough.
Fueling your imagination, you followed the man from the club. He walked a couple of blocks down, and then turned inside an alley. Smiling to yourself at the excitement you felt, you crossed the road and followed him into the darkness.
You pouted.
You had lost him. The alley was empty except for a pair of cats hissing at each other in front of a metal trash can. Sighing to yourself, you decided to give up on your little fantasy and head back to the orphanage before anyone noticed you were missing.
“Why are you following me?” you heard the sudden threatening voice first before you felt a hand grab your arm tightly, spinning you around and pushing you up against the alley wall.
Your eyes widen and started pooling with tears when you saw the same man in front of you, holding your neck now with a hand, and the other, a gun pointed at your face.
“I’ll ask you again, bitch,” he spat, “Why are you following me? Who paid you? Tell me!”
You yelped out loud when he slammed your head against the wall.
“No- no one!” you sobbed, “I’m sorry! I was just bored!”
“The truth, before I shoot you in the knee!” he growled.
“I swear!” you cried, “Please, I swear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
Stupid. You were stupid. Curse your boredom, and curse your imagination. Who were you kidding? You weren’t a Russian spy, nor were you an undercover celebrity, or an investigative journalist. You were just a bored girl with no parents.
“I will shoot your cunt off,” he roared, “And then I’ll fuck whatever’s left of-”
The sound of sudden wind interrupted him mid-sentence. The pressure on your neck disappeared, and so was the man in front of you.
Instead, he was four feet in front of you, on the ground, face bloodied and unconscious. Over him was a tall, dark shadow.
You whimpered in fear, and backed into the wall, praying for it to swallow you up. You slumped to the ground, cowering up at the shape.
“Are you hurt?” a gravelly voice said, coming from the dark shadow.
You didn’t dare answer.
“B!” a chirpy young voice suddenly appeared from above you. A blur of red and green dropped from the sky and landed in front of the shadow.
“Why didn’t you wait for me, B?” the boy you knew was called Robin panted. That’s right. Robin. Then the tall, dark, shadow must be-
“Earth to Batman?” you saw the back of his head cock to the side. He turned around and finally saw you. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there! Are you okay?”
Robin walked over to you. He was taller than you, and muscular. He looked more like a man than Boy Wonder. To you that is.
“I’m Robin, and this is Batman. You’re safe now, okay?” he gave you a warm smile that made your stomach tighten. Even through the white lenses of his mask, you could tell that he was being genuine. He offered you a hand to help you up.
“O-okay,” you gulped, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up with strength you did not expect. You were standing closer to him now, and you realised that he couldn’t have been much older than you.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
You told him.
“Hey, I’ve seen you before haven’t I?” he queried.
“Robin,” Batman suddenly said in a cautionary voice, stepping forward. You finally saw him properly. Indeed, he looked exactly like the blurred photos in the news.
“No, no,” Robin shook his head, “We’ve seen her before. Around.”
Batman took a look at you.
“Yeah, I’ve definitely seen you. You’re usually alone, though,” Robin said again.
“I like to walk around,” you answered sheepishly.
“At night?” Batman disproved, “Where do you live?”
“At the orphanage on Murphy Street,” you told him.
Silence.
“Why were you following that man?” Batman broke the silence.
“Well,” you started blushing, embarrassed, “It’s stupid. I was just bored.”
“You like to follow people when you’re bored?” Robin chuckled.
“It’s not like that!” you huffed defensively. Even though it was kind of like that.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you,” Robin apologized.
“It’s okay,” you shuffled your feet, “I should get going before they find out I sneaked out again.”
“Okay,” Robin nodded, “Stay safe.”
“Th-thank you,” you looked at him, and then at Batman, “For saving me earlier, too.”
Batman gave you a quick nod, and you hurried back to the orphanage, unaware of the two jumping from roof to roof behind you, making sure you got back okay.
Bruce Wayne waltzed into your orphanage two days after that, with the proper paperwork to officially adopt you.
It was revealed to you after the first 6 months of living with Bruce Wayne and his adopted son Dick Grayson that they were Batman and Robin, the very same ones who saved you that night. You didn’t believe it at first, but they showed you to the Cave behind the old clock, and you couldn’t deny it anymore.
Fast forward 4 years later, you were now a Wayne, with an adoptive older brother and an adoptive younger brother. Bruce adopted Jason Todd two years after you, and he became Robin while Dick had moved on to being Nightwing. You weren’t interested in the vigilante life, despite your previous fantasies that you were one.
You were very happy where you were, as a normal girl in a not-so-normal household.
The four years you spent with Dick, you got close to him. He was still warm and chirpy outside as the day you met him, yet you knew that he had changed drastically inside. He aged- not in the physical sense. There was just a look in his eye that said he had gone through a lot.
Yet despite how busy he was as Nightwing, he always spent a lot of time with you. You were his dear little sister after all. He made you feel safe, as he had all those years ago when Batman had saved you.
You would watch movies together, fall asleep together, cuddle together in front of the fire during winter, and spent the summer splashing around in the pool outside.
Your relationship with the younger Robin was good too. You loved him dearly, and tried to be a good older sister to him, constantly giving him advice and being a listening ear if he ever needed one.
You were lucky.
You didn’t have a tragic backstory.
The only tragedy that you faced was the developing feelings for your older adoptive brother.
You probably fell in love with his smile the first time you met him. The smile that warmed you up and calmed you down. When Bruce took you in and introduced you to Dick Grayson, your breath hitched when you stared into his beautiful, perfect face and bright blue eyes.
And then your already wild imagination went ahead and got dirtier the more time you spent with him.
Summer was your favorite time of the year, because Dick Grayson during summer was a sight to behold.
The first reason was his skin. His skin got a bit tan during the summer due to the sun- and the fact that he liked to workout shirtless. He jogged shirtless, he swam shirtless, he helped Alfred mow the lawn shirtless. And so, the darker warm shade of his skin accentuated the contours of his muscles. At his face, his tanner skin made his blue eyes looked even more striking due to the contrast.
The second was due to the heat. The heat, on top of making him take off his shirt more, also made him sweat. His already tan, already magnificent body would glisten in the light from his sweat that made you feel like licking something. The sweat also made his musk stronger. It wasn’t body odour, but it was his smell. He smelt like citrus and candy lemon drops and for some reason, a scent that reminded you of rain. The heat also made him jump into the pool more with you, and you were able to appreciate him even more.
The third was his hair. Summer usually left you with greasy hair because of the excess sweat, but for some reason, Dick Fucking Grayson’s wavy hair was more alive and bouncy in the summer. It made you want to run your fingers in and pull and tug.
His hair was currently wet, though. Slicked to the back and dripping droplets of water down his defined cheekbones, you subconsciously licked your lips at the obscene way his mouth was slightly parted, panting as he finished his lap.
He looked at you from the pool and grinned widely, waving at you. You had just walked out to the pool to tell him something.
“Hey, sis!” he greeted. You hated when he called you that.
“Hey,” you walked over to the edge of the pool where he was and squatted down to his eye level, “Wanna watch a movie tonight? They just added this new horror movie on Netflix.”
You saw him frown and bite his lower lip, running a hand through his wet hair. It was the look he made when he was thinking of something, or deciding.
“Unless you have Nightwing duties,” you hurriedly added, forgetting that the rest of your family had their nights usually occupied.
“No, no,” he shook his head and smiled at you, “I can take a night off.”
“Are you sure?” you asked again, “I don’t wanna hold you back from your responsibilities, or anything.”
“Not at all, sweetheart,” he assured you, “I like to watch movies with you. It’s a Friday night after all. I don’t want to leave you alone on your favorite night of the week.”
There it was. You loved it when he called you that.
“Okay!” you made a star jump from where you were, giggling in excitement, “Let’s watch it after dinner. We can make some popcorn, too.”
“Sounds great, sis!” he grinned at you. You forced your smile to stay where it was until he dived back underwater to continue his laps.
Your heart ached whenever he called you that.
You stared at him longingly as he did his butterfly, his back muscles flexing in the sun.
As much as you wanted him to think otherwise, he still saw you as his little sister, and nothing you could do can change that.
Not the short skirts and low tops, not by being touchy and clingy, and certainly not by wishing.
*** You heard Dick’s soft snores in your ear.
You couldn’t sleep, your heart was beating too fast.
After the movie, the two of you fell asleep on your bed, legs tangled, heads on the same pillow. You were facing him. You saw the outline of his face barely illuminated by the moonlight outside. You smiled.
His sleeping face was adorable.
He frowned slightly as he slept. It wasn’t because he was having a nightmare, it was just how he was. His lips were in a slight pout, his lower jutting out slightly.
You gulped.
You always imagined his lips on yours, and how soft they must feel.
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
You always slept together like this, and some nights were harder than most. Most of the time, you could sleep soundly, even if he was spooning you from behind. You felt comfortable, and warm, and safe with him engulfing you into his heat.
Some of the nights, though, your brain went on hyperdrive, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Your imagination was running wild.
You imagined those lips on your flushed skin, or around your nipples, suckling, or kissing your sweet spot between your legs.
Your pussy was aching.
You opened your eyes to look at him, making sure that he was completely asleep. You then let your hand travel down your body and slip underneath the band of your shorts and panties, to between your folds.
You were surprised at how wet you already were. You didn’t expect to be dry, but you didn’t expect to be dripping either.
Your eyes were set on his lips as you rubbed your clit, sparking pleasure throughout your body. You wanted to close the distance and press your lips against his so bad, but your willpower was strong enough to resist.
You stopped rubbing, but slowly inserted your middle finger inside your entrance.
“Mmm,” you moaned before you could stop yourself. You paused in panic, and looked at Dick’s eyes, to see if they were open.
Thankfully, he was still fast asleep, his frown still evidently present.
You continued to take the risk and pump in another finger.
“Fuck,” you hissed. You were being reckless at this point, really. You knew that you found it hard to keep quiet when pleasuring yourself, yet here you were masturbating right in front of your adoptive brother.
You thanked whatever higher being there was that Dick was a heavy sleeper and miraculously have not woken up yet despite your heavy breaths, occasional moans, and squirming.
You felt your juices leak even more at the prospect of getting caught by him.
It was stupid, beyond insane, but somehow you were even more aroused that you were fucking yourself in front of him while he slept.
Your thoughts were hazy, a fire was pooling slowly at your core, and you knew you were going to come soon.
You sped your fingers up, closing your eyes.
“Ah, Dick,” you groaned softly, chasing your high, “I need you.”
But suddenly, you felt a hand around your moving wrist that forced your eyes open and made you jump.
“What,” Dick was looking at you intensely, his eyes hooded from sleep, “Are you doing?”
“Dick,” you breathed in panic, “Not- nothing. I was scratching my leg.”
“It didn’t sound like you were scratching your leg,” he said in a low voice.
Fuck.
“I was,” you lied desperately, “Sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep.”
You hurriedly turned your back towards him, your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest.
“Hmm,” you heard him sigh behind you. He snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest.
“How do you expect me to fall asleep now, sweetheart,” he muttered, hand suddenly gripping your hip so tight that it almost hurt.
You gasped when you felt something hard poking your ass. You heard him groan in frustration.
“This isn’t fair,” he choked, grinding his hard on into you once more, “This isn’t fucking fair.”
You’ve never heard him like this before. You’ve heard him mad, frustrated, tired. But not this. This was different.
“What isn’t?” you dared to ask.
You felt him still, a tired sigh, and then-
“Nothing,” he released you and then turned his back towards you too, “Go back to bed, sis.”
You remained quiet.
It took you almost the whole night to finally drift back to sleep.
***
You blinked yourself awake and immediately cringed at the light that poured through your pulled curtains. The warmth you felt behind you last night was absent, which meant Dick must have woken up earlier and intentionally pulled back the curtains for you. You groaned in your pillow at the reminded of what happened last night.
You got ready for the day and went down for breakfast, which you had in the kitchen on the island that Bruce made into a sort of breakfast bar.
When you were close to finishing, you heard the main door open and close, and in came Dick Grayson shirtless, sweaty, and panting right after his morning jog.
You made a point to ignore him and looked at your phone while gobbling up your scrambled eggs.
“Good morning, sis!” he chirped, pouring himself a glass of cold orange juice from the fridge, as if whatever happened last night didn’t happen.
“Mornin’,” you mumbled back with your mouth full.
“What’re you up to today?” he asked, pulling up a chair next to you. You tried to reel in your nerves. There was no reason to be jittery. If he was going to act like nothing happened, then you’ll gladly follow his lead.
“Nothing much,” you shrugged, “Work out a bit. Read a bit. Watch some TV?”
“Don’t you have friends to go out with or something?” he jested.
“Hey, I like staying home and lazing around,” you defended, finally turning away from your phone to look at him.
An action you regretted instantly.
He was looking at you with a slight smirk on his lips- which was glistening with orange juice. His hair was damp, some curls sticking to his sweaty forehead that made him look more boyish than usual.
The warm light that entered through the windows added on to his overall glow. He was like a bubbling ray of sunshine that made your breath hitch.
You tried hard to maintain eye contact, pretending to give him a slight glare by narrowing your eyes at him.
“Oh, really?” he teased, “And here I thought it’s because you don’t have any friends to go out with.”
“I do,” you huffed, “They invite me out sometimes. I choose to stay home.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart. But it’s okay if you don’t. I’m here. I’ll be your friend,” he grinned, adding a flirty wink.
Wait, a flirty wink?
You rolled your eyes at him and went back to your phone.
No, Dick is naturally flirty, you convinced yourself. He doesn’t realise it, but he’s like that to everyone.
“Anyway, I think I’ll be down in the Cave for a bit,” he told you, “If you need anything, just text me.”
“And what would I need from you, Dick Grayson?” you raised an eyebrow condescendingly at him.
He didn’t answer right away. His gaze had changed to that of an intense stare, his jaw clenching and unclenching. And then-
“If you need someone to lift anything, or open jars, or do anything manly,” he suddenly changed into his usual cheerful self, even flexing and kissing his biceps for exaggeration, “These guns will help you out.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Whatever, Dick,” you shook your head at his idiocy and went back to your breakfast.
You did exactly what you said you would. You worked out, you read, and now you were lounging on the sofa in the living room watching TV. It was already in the late evening at the time Dick came and joined you.
He sat next to you, further away than usual.
After about ten minutes, he said, “Why are you so far away? Come here.”
“You’re the one who sat down far away,” you muttered to yourself, yet cuddled up next to him anyway.
You rested your head on his chest and leaned into him, as usual.
Another ten minutes passed by.
“We should talk about last night,” he suddenly brought up.
You tensed.
“What about last night?” you cautiously replied.
“You know,” he simply said.
You pulled away from him to look at him directly, showing him your fake confused face.
“I don’t?” you lied.
He sighed in frustration.
“You can’t lie to me, you know that right?” he told you, “I’m trained to detect lies, remember?”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied. Deny, deny, deny. You didn’t care if it was obvious or not. You needed to keep denying.
“Okay, how about I start over then,” he gave you the same intense stare as before, “We should talk about how I caught you touching yourself.”
Your brain short circuited. You hadn’t expected him to be so blunt and straightforward about it. But you needed to respond before he realises that he hit the mark.
You burst out into laughter.
“Is that what you thought I was doing?” you chortled, “Holy shit!”
He narrowed his eyes at you.
“What?” you continued to force yourself to laugh, “It’s funny! I told you that I was scratching.”
“Do you usually moan my name when you scratch yourself?” he snickered.
You almost dropped your smile the way your heart dropped to your stomach.
“Dick,” you smirked, “What dreams did you have last night? Are you sure you were even fully awake?”
“I’m pretty sure I can differentiate reality and my dreams, sweetheart,” he assured, “But you know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up anyway.”
He grabbed your head with his hand and pushed your head to his chest like you were before.
“There’s nothing to even bring up Dick,” you bit your lip in worry now that he wasn’t looking at you, “You’re delusional.”
“Don’t push it,” he quipped.
You couldn’t help but chuckle.
***
The next time Dick ended up in your bed was 2 weeks later.
It was again, after a movie. The two of you fell asleep after under the covers, just like usual.
Dick had been acting normally, and in turn you did as well. It was as if that night had never happened. So, you could drift to sleep easily, despite him being there.
But something woke you up that night.
Your mind was still cloudy from sleep, and you weren’t sure whether you were dreaming or not. Now, you couldn’t tell if it was the slight movement of the bed that woke you up, or if it was the sounds you thought Dick was making.
Your back was facing him, so you couldn’t see him even if the moon shone a little bit brighter that night. But the bed was shaking very slightly, as if someone was absentmindedly jiggling their foot while lying down.
You frowned in the dark. Dick never really had the whole restless leg syndrome. You jiggled your knee while sitting down way more than he did.
But then you heard his soft sighs and moans. And then the haze in your mind cleared up completely, like a rush of cold water that woke you up, and you knew exactly what he was doing.
“Fuck,” you heard him whisper in a desperate tone you’ve never heard before.
Your heart was racing, thumping against your chest as if it was going to burst. You couldn’t believe what he was doing. He was doing the same thing you were two weeks ago.
You strained your ears even more.
You heard it now, the slick, wet sound of what you assumed was him jerking off his cock. You bit your lip. You wanted so much to see it.
Wait a second, a thought occurred to you. It wasn’t fair that he caught you and then acted all smug about it. No, you wanted to get him back as well.
You hurriedly thought hard about a smart thing to say that would leave him just as embarrassed as he made you.
“You know that I can hear you, Dick,” you finally voiced out, internally smacking your head for such a boring opening line.
You felt Dick still behind you.
“How long have you been listening?” he rasped.
“About a minute,” you gulped nervously.
A beat. And then-
“Shit,” he groaned, “That’s hot.”
He continued his movements.
Your eyes were opened wide, your mouth gaping at the shock of how easy he took it. That fucker even continued masturbating.
You’ve never witnessed this side of him before- ever. You didn’t even know he had this side. You thought he was just sunshines and rainbows, the warm older brother who incorrectly thought you were this innocent little girl he sworn to protect.
“Surprised?” he chuckled, “I wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t in the first place.”
You made a move to turn around to face him.
“What are you- no, no, don’t,” Dick panicked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my eyes up here,” you replied, now facing him.
He was lying on his back. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness and you could faintly see the outline of his face, his mouth slightly parted, panting. You were lying on his left side.
You saw a movement on his right, and then you heard the wet sounds again. Another sigh from Dick.
“You’re shameless,” you told him, “I wanted to embarrass you the same way you embarrassed me.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he stated, “Masturbating is healthy.”
“Masturbating in front of your adoptive sibling is healthy?” you chuckled.
“Only if the feeling’s mutual,” he gave what you thought was a smirk. It was hard to read his face in the dark.
“Fuck,” he swore again, and then a little calmer added, “But you’re right. I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Then why aren’t you stopping?” you whispered.
“Because,” he paused, “Because it’s especially fucking hard to stop now that you’re watching.”
“Craving the centre of attention, just like always,” you teased.
You were surprisingly keeping it cool despite feeling wetness gush between your legs. If Dick can do it, why can’t you?
You brought a hand down under your waistband.
“No,” he suddenly protested, “You can’t do it with me.”
“Why not?” you moaned when you rubbed between your folds. You’ve never been that wet before.
“It’s wrong,” he choked.
“Oh, now it’s wrong?” you scoffed, “Fuck off, Dick. I’m going to touch myself with you.”
“Fuck,” he gasped, “Don’t say it like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you sound sexy,” he breathed hard, hand pumping harder.
“Mmm,” you hummed, feeling yourself getting slicker and slicker as you circled your sensitive nub.
You watched him intensely with hooded eyes. He was frowning as if he was deep in thought, and was now biting his lower lip.
“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart,” he groaned again, “You’re going to make me come.”
“Isn’t that- fuck- isn’t that the point?” you retorted, breath hitching.
He sped up even faster, and pumping even harder now that he didn’t need to hide it from you. You wanted so much to glance down, but you promised that you wouldn’t look. He was panting as if he was sprinting now.
You copied his actions, spreading your legs further apart to rub yourself. You felt the familiar heat pool at your lower stomach, the tingling in your toes.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he whined.
“Me too,” you echoed.
“Don’t come with me,” he urged, “Please, don’t come with me.”
“I’m going to come, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m going to come with you.”
“No,” he protested, “Shit! I’m- fuck. Fuck.”
You felt his pumps became more erratic and messy, and he was moaning and groaning- as were you. The heat from your centre burst into waves of fire, feeling you clench and unclench your pussy.
You watched as Dick came. His eyes were shut tight, his eyebrows furrowed, and his sound, god.
He didn’t come with a groan or a moan. He came in whimpers and whines. It sounded vulnerable, and desperate, and needy.
And then the two of you were panting in the darkness, wrapping your head around what had just happened.
You felt the bed shift, and saw Dick take off his shirt to wipe what you assumed was his cum from his stomach. You wanted to steal a look at his cock, but he had already pulled his sweatpants up. He threw the shirt to the floor and got beneath the blankets again with you.
Silence.
He sighed, and then pulled you closer to him. You rested your head on his chest and he slung an arm around your waist.
“I’m disgusting,” he whispered sadly.
“Then so am I,” you replied.
“It’s just- I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself,” he confessed, “When I heard you that night, moaning my name. Fuck. It wasn’t fair.”
Now you knew what tone of voice he used when he said that. It was him holding back, repressing himself.
“I don’t understand what you mean by it’s not fair,” you stated.
“It’s not fair that you can just- just go around looking like you do,” he elaborated, “Walking around with almost nothing on, squatting in front of me in your skirt while I’m in the pool, fucking masturbate next to me while I slept. It’s not fair that you can affect me so much, and I can’t do anything about it.”
You were so shocked by his confession that you couldn’t even think of retorting him by saying that he did the same.
“And then I’m in the same bed as you again,” he continued, “And you’re just there in your shorts and your tank top, and all I can think about is how you sound when you moaned my name. How long have you been touching yourself to me?”
“Uhm,” you hesitated, blushing slightly to yourself at the embarrassment, “Maybe one or two years.”
“Fuck,” he swore, “And I thought you were so fucking innocent. I felt bad for having dirty thoughts of you.
“Far from it,” you giggled.
He sighed again.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this, Dick,” you tried to assure him, “We’ve only met 4 years ago. There’s nothing relating us to each other except documents. You don’t even have the Wayne name.”
“Still,” he weakly argued back, “I’m still as much your brother as Jason is mine.”
“But you don’t see me as a sister,” you debated.
“No, I don’t. Just- just go to bed okay? I love you,” he kissed you on your forehead.
“Love you too, Dick.”
And so, it started. Whenever Dick slept in your room, the both of you would sometimes masturbate together, never looking anywhere but each other’s faces. But sometimes you would sleep throughout the whole night, and sometimes you would end up touching yourself alone and once you were done, you would feel Dick press up his hard on against your ass but do nothing about it until the both of you fell asleep again.
And during the day, you would act like how you always acted. Like there was nothing going on at night between the sheets. Dick would be his usual cheerful, brotherly self. You didn’t have any other talks like you did again. It was mainly silence or single word answers, swears, and moans and his needy whines.
The longest sentence exchanged between the both of you at night would probably be Dick’s “You done? Go back to sleep.” He would, of course, cuddle up against you and maybe grind himself on you a few times.
But then that night happened.
The two of you had been doing this for 6 months already.
One night, you were in bed, not sleeping soundly but not fully awake either. You faintly heard the door opened and close. You opened your eyes and voiced out in the darkness.
“Dick?” you mumbled.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied softly, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
You heard his footsteps come closer to your bed. You blinked yourself awake.
“No, I wasn’t really sleeping,” you explained. He was standing by the side of your bed dressed in a plain white shirt and boxers. “What’s wrong?”
“I- I need you,” he whispered, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
“Of course,” you immediately sat up and pulled the covers, “Get in here.”
He snuggled up next to you, now lying down on his side facing you.
“What time is it?” you asked.
“Almost four in the morning.”
“You just got back from patrol?” you enquired.
“Yeah,” he simply said.
Your eyes darted across his face to see him in the dark. You noticed he had a butterfly BandAid across a cut on his right cheekbone. Your hands immediately went to caress it.
“Oh my god,” you whispered excitedly, “Nightwing got injured?”
“I’m not invincible you know,” he scoffed.
“Could have fooled me,” you smiled softly at him.
He didn’t reply, but you could feel his intense stare. You continued caressing his cheek.
“So who did it? Pyg? Zsaz?” you paused before you jokingly added, “Condiment King?”
Dick let out a chuckle at that.
“No,” he replied, his smile faltering, “It was Deathstroke.”
No wonder he had his panties in a bunch.
“Oh,” you simply responded, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” he sighed, wrapping you with his arms and pulling you into his heat by your waist, “I just need you.”
You were so close to him, you could feel his warm breath on your face, his chest rise and fall against yours. Your lips were inches away from each other, and you suddenly felt some sort of pull.
You knew the term electricity sparking between two people was cheesy and overused, but it really was how you felt then. It was like some sort of static that pulled you in closer and closer to him, all the while your heartbeat felt like like it was drumming in your ears.
You suddenly felt hot, too hot. You had your air conditioner switched on and yet you felt like you were sweating. You were suddenly aware of his arms around you. He’s cuddled you like that many times before, but it seemed different tonight.
You noticed his toned biceps flexing around you, how his large warm hand settled at your lower back, burning the small patch of skin that was exposed from your shirt hiking up. You noticed one of his thighs were in between yours, and that your leg had subconsciously found its way up to his hips, almost straddling him sideways.
And you noticed how your core was pressed against his thigh, the pressure making you feel tingly. As if he read your mind, he pressed his thigh between yours harder.
“Dick,” you moaned.
“I need you,” he breathed, and repeated the action again.
You were both staring at each other’s lips. You saw his tongue quickly dart out to wet his lower lip. You both knew what was going to happen next, but it seemed like forever before he actually kissed you.
It didn’t really start out as a kiss at first. He simply pressed his lips against yours gently, like he was testing to see if it was okay. When you reciprocated by adding pressure to the kiss, then he started to ease into it, taking your lower lip into his mouth, adding small licks here and there.
But when you opened your mouth to give him access, it was like he snapped. He thrusted his tongue inside your mouth to taste you, and suddenly flipped you over, climbing on top of you.
He grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, all the while tongue fucking your mouth. You started mewling at the growing intensity of the kiss, and how he completely dominated it.
He broke off the kiss to rasp “I need you” once more, and then started going lower to suck and lick on the skin above your pulse. You felt him let go of your hands only for him to start feeling you up from beneath your shirt, bunching it up in the process. You let out a groan when he started massaging your breasts, playing with your nipples.
In one swift motion, he pulled your top over your head and tossed it onto the floor. He then immediately went to your nipple and took it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, all the while pulling and pinching the other with his finger.
He traveled lower again, and forced your thighs apart with his hands, immediately burying his face in between your thighs. He started mouthing you over your sleeping shorts, making it grow damper with both your slick and his saliva.
“Dick,” you begged.
He took them off smoothly.
“Fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You felt your face heat up when he complimented you. You felt a bit vulnerable, your legs spread and fully exposed to him. But all the nervousness disappeared when he licked a strip from your hole to your clit, making you shudder in the intense, unfamiliar pleasure.
“I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he teased, his hot breaths sending bolts of electricity over your pussy. He dove in again.
He groaned around your sensitive bud, his vibrations almost completely unraveling you. Suddenly you felt him insert a finger into you while lapping at your clit.
“Oh, God,” you whined, “Fuck, Dick, please.”
He curled his finger upwards to massage the sweet spot inside you, causing you to thrash about, your hands flying from above your head to his soft curls. You tugged on his hair as he continued to drink you up, making him moan as well.
He added a second finger.
You felt the familiar heat build and build as he worked your pussy with his mouth and hands.
He added a third.
“Dick,” you choked, “I’m gonna-”
And then everything you felt was gone. Dick was now kneeling on the bed in between your legs, suddenly shirtless and grinning, his mouth glistening with your juices.
“No,” you whimpered, “More.”
You started bucking your hips in vain to relieve some of the tension that he built.
“Not yet, sweetheart,” his voice was suddenly at your ear, “I need you. I need to feel you. Can I?”
“Please,” you whined, canting your hips to meet his. You felt his hard on poking at you through his boxers, begging for attention.
“You want my cock, baby?” he purred, “You want me to fill you up?”
“Please,” you repeated, your mind was hazy, and it was like the only word you knew how to say.
“Okay, baby, I’ll give you my cock,” his breath tickled your ear.
You felt the bed shift, and you didn’t even realise that your eyes were closed. You opened them and saw Dick position himself between your spread legs, his shorts gone. Suddenly, you felt nervous again.
“Uhm, Dick?” you voiced out.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replied, one hand wrapped around his leaking shaft, the tip wet and reflecting what little light there was.
“Is… that normal?” you pointed to his cock.
“What?” he asked, confused.
“Is it normal for a penis to be that big?”
He grinned at you and chuckled.
“Don’t worry, babe,” he winked, “I know it’s your first time, so I’ll take it slow, okay?”
“O-okay,” you stuttered.
He aligned his cock at your hole, pushed in slightly, but then took it away to rub it between your wet folds.
Your breath hitched.
He repeated what he did, pushed in a bit more, only to take it out again.
“Jesus, Dick,” you gasped, “I know you said to take it slow, but-”
You let out a long moan when he finally pushed it in beyond the bell of his head, causing you to wince slightly at the stretch.
“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, still pushing it in dangerously slow.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you panted, “Oh fuck, you’re huge. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He stilled as soon as he bottomed out in you, a thumb rubbing your clit to distract you from the almost pleasurable but still painful stretch.
But god, the sensations you felt.
You felt so full, and so good, and like your whole body was on fire. The way he filled you up meant that he was touching every single spot inside you that gave you pleasure.
You weren’t the only one who was whimpering.
You saw Dick with his eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowed, his lower lip bit. He was breathing hard.
“Fuck,” he choked, “Fuck. You feel- fuck.”
“You can move, please,” you instructed.
“You sure?” he whispered.
“Yes, Dick, please.”
He pulled out slowly, but not completely, and he pushed back in.
“Your walls are clinging onto my cock, fuck,” he described.
Indeed, you felt it too. It was like your body didn’t ever want his cock to leave you.
He leaned over you and propped his elbows at either side of your face, his hips still thrusting in and out. You could see the droplets of sweat on his forehead, and smell his familiar citrusy scent along with his salty musk.
You adjusted to his size quickly enough, because soon, you needed more.
“Faster, please,” you told him.
His pace quickened ever so slightly.
It was better, but still not enough. You wanted to feel him, every inch of him. You were greedy for his cock, and greedy for your high.
“Faster,” you pleaded.
He obeyed, but it still wasn’t enough. You knew he was still holding back.
“God dammit, Dick Grayson,” you angrily cried out, “I’m not going to fucking break, so go the fuck faster.”
“Fine,” he panted above you, “You want fast? I’ll give you fast.”
He snapped his hips, and you got the breath knocked out of you.
He started pummeling into you, drilling his cock violently into your pussy.
You bit your lip so you wouldn’t scream your lungs out at the intense pleasure you felt as he pounded you.
“This fast enough for you, sweetheart?” he breathed.
You couldn’t form a snarky reply, hell, you couldn’t form any words at all. The only word you knew was his name and ‘Please’, which you chanted like a mantra, all the while not even knowing what you were pleading for.
The sound of the room was filled with your heavy breaths and vulgar sounds, the slapping of his cock into you and the wet slick that you knew came from your dripping slit.
“Fuck, I need you,” he suddenly crashed his lips into you, violating your mouth with his tongue, his thrusts never faltering.
You felt the previous orgasm build again, but this time it was different from any other you’ve felt. You felt like your vision was getting narrower, like you were seeing white light, slowly building and building its intensity.
“Dick,” you choked.
“Me too, baby, me too,” he muttered, his rhythm now getting sloppy, his moans and groans now replaced with new sounds, the sounds you knew he made when he came.
And then it finally came, you felt yourself flutter around his length, a hand covering your mouth which meant that you must have been making a lot of noise that you didn’t notice.
And then you didn’t hear nor see anything but white static, and an electrical fire that burst throughout your whole body. When you were slowly coming down, you heard him.
His whines and whimpers.
You felt him pull out from your cunt, the sudden emptiness slightly surprising you, and he came all over your stomach in streaks of white.
Your vision was still cloudy, but you could see clearly that he was still hovering above your body, propped up with one arm next to your head, sweating with his eyes closed and breathing hard.
With a groan, he sat up and took his shirt he discarded from before to wipe you clean.
He collapsed next to you and pulled you close, giving you a kiss on the nose.
“That was- wow,” he chuckled.
“Agreed,” you giggled, looking at him endearingly. He looked completely wiped out.
“I love you,” he said, “But no one can know about us, okay? At least, for now.”
“Okay,” you nodded, “But, Dick?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want us to pretend like this never happened in the morning,” you whispered, “I don’t want us to act like normal even when we’re alone.”
“Me neither,” he sighed, caressing your cheek, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that before. I just wanted to live in denial. I didn’t want to face my issues.”
“I know,” you smiled softly, “It’s okay. I know it’ll take time for you to get over your guilt or whatever.”
“Or whatever?” he scoffed, “It’s complicated, you know, seeing that I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”
“Whatever,” you lightly teased, “As long as you stop calling me ‘sis’, I’ll be good.”
“Yeah, I only called you that to try to tell myself what you’re supposed to be for me,” he confessed, “But now that’s obviously out the window, I’ll stop.”
“Thanks, Dick.”
“No problem, bro.”
The last sound you heard him make before you drifted to sleep was a yelp that you elicited from him by smacking him on his head.
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harringroveheart · 4 years
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Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren Summary:
Cantonica welcomes Kylo Ren with a storm.
-- Or --
The First Order is broke and Hux forces Kylo to go on a fundraising campaign to Canto Bight. Clone shenanigans ensue.
Chapter One
Cantonica welcomes Kylo Ren with a storm, the wind rising up around him hot and hard, tearing at his hair and cape, urging him with rough intent towards the edge of the flight pad and the sea boiling hungrily some five hundred feet below. Far away, out on the purpling horizon, a spider leg of lightening touches the rind of the world – a smattering of applause and bell-like laughter from the city behind him, one monster waking to greet the other.  
Canto Bight.
The city is just now beginning to rouse, her lighted windows cutting inviting shapes against the darkening sky. Distance turns the nascent sounds of celebration melancholy, almost wistful — tinkling glass and sudden bursts of music, amplified and then snatched away by the unfurling storm — and then drowned out entirely by the deafening beat of repuslorlifts as the First Order shuttle drops out of the atmosphere above him.
The transport bobs gracelessly, engine whining as it struggles to land against the surface’s fierce updraughts, scoring the night air with the metallic taste of ozone. The flight pad, like most things Canto Bight, is more decorative than functional and it had been a welcome validation of Kylo’s piloting skill that he had been able to land his fighter without skating off the platform and into the sea. The rest of the port is empty, the yachts and pleasure cruisers of the galaxy’s wealthy elite stowed away for safekeeping. A shame. Kylo would have liked to see them.
He shakes his head slightly, trying to parse the intrusive memory from his own thoughts.  
Canto Bight had been a favorite story of Ben Solo’s. He'd asked for it again and again as a boy, enraptured each time, tucked into bed by droids the approximate shape of his mother: a city within an island within a tempest — or so the stories went. Kylo sneers half-heartedly at his own nostalgia, a clammy cast on his skin he can’t seem to shake off. In the stories, the city itself was a fortress of jewels, polished and moulded by the desert planet’s fierce winds during the day, glittering as bright as a new star at night, a beacon to greedy trespassers and hungry-hearted adventurers from all corners of the galaxy. In the droids’ stories, the real treasure was always something insipid — a friendship, forgiveness. Love. Now, looking at the city, Kylo is fairly certain the only real treasure of Canto Bight is to be found in a lucky hand of sabacc.
Credits, Kylo reminds himself fighting his distaste for the place and his purpose here. Billions and billions of credits.
The transport has drawn attention, the city unfolding and preening as obvious as an old dame waiting for an audience before putting on her earrings. The house musicians find cohesion, a warm brassy tune soaring to life, fighting the dull blast of landing gear. The streets flood with light, shifting gold and purple, a string of halo-lanterns springing to life along the perimeter of the race track and all the way down to the landing platform. Some of the casino’s early guests drift out onto balconies and terraces in pursuit of the smallest entertainment, opera glasses and libations in hand. The brutish utilitarian shape of the Order transport is an unexpected delight for them, Kylo gleans, a divertissement during the spell of unfortunate weather.
His hand twitches at his side, the feathering of his nervous system in response to the rising thrum of excitement and expectation of the men assembling at his back. He breathes in their nervous energy and turns his attention to the city, its domed plume-like buildings and broad curving balconies, its stepped amphitheaters illuminated by strings of rosy halo-lanterns, its secretive lovers’ gardens and sparkling fountains. The opulence leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Kylo wants to run through every last topiary with his lightsaber.
The stormtroopers are in awe. They have been conditioned not to dream, but this, they think, this must be what dreaming would look like. This is almost as beautiful as the firing of the superweapon.
Kylo allows them their petty fantasies. Under their boots the galaxy is shrinking, planet after planet, almost subdued, and one day this pretty little casino town will be too — even if it won’t look so much like a jewel when they are done with it. And in any case, their childish excitement tastes better than their confusion and their disquiet — both of which Kylo knows the exact rancid smell of. But the salt flats of Crait are far behind them all now, the hollowing ache of doubt soothed by a dozen more recent successful campaigns and a merciless propaganda drive. They have learned to bury their disappointment and their failures in the dirt, under the salt.
There are no graves deep enough to hold Kylo’s failures. He scrubs brine from his lips and turns to survey his company over one shoulder.
Two squads. A token show of force, unnecessary and inescapable. Behind the stormtroopers is an even larger group of non-militants huddled together against the weather: officers with their caps stuffed under their arms; Kylo’s terrifyingly intuitive attendants; the dozen or so bookkeepers and bodyguards in the employ of Jessamine Sphess of Kuat Entralla Industries; and Sphess himself, still ambling down the transport ramp at a glacial pace, a droid at each elbow to prevent the frail old relic from blowing away.
The sight makes something sour in him. In the stories the droids told him the little force-sensitive hero was always alone, always brave. He always stole into the city by himself.
“Orders, sir,” the squadron leader asks at his back.
“Follow,” Kylo says quietly, not bothering to make himself heard over the blowing wind.
A ripple of excitement goes through the ranks regardless, plastisteel rattling as they snap to attention; ready, loyal, their minds gelling one into the other, an expanding mass, a wave of will surrendering to him louder, deeper than the first roll of thunder on the horizon, except for—
There. A sudden splinter of irritation; a familiar itching annoyance, pinching at Kylo’s awareness: Hux, elbowing his way out of the throng of troopers and crew to stab Kylo in the abdomen with his latest weapon of choice: a triple ring binder full of funding requests.
“Excellent flightmanship, Supreme Leader,” Hux says acidly, his face already ruddy with windburn. “How would you like me to account for the excess fuel spend for the venture? As a scouting detail or a joy trip?”
“It’s just called flying, Hux.”
“Oh,” Hux says, all faux-surprise, “Is it? Is that what we train our pilots to do?” He waves a hand behind him at the two black-clad pilots fussing over Kylo’s idle TIE fighter. “I had no idea.”
The wind hardens, whipping around them in a flurry so that the edges of Hux’s greatcoat slap against Kylo’s boots. Hux keeps one arm banded firmly over his chest to keep it snug across his shoulders, determined to look impressive, but the wind has flattened his hair over his forehead, somewhat mitigating the effect.
Kylo scowls down at the binder Hux had just attempted to disembowel him with and shoves it uncaringly at his hovering ensign. “Find it,” he says. The young man bobs out an awkward curtsy under the weight of the thing. “What’s this one then?” he asks Hux disinterestedly.  
Hux sniffs as if he isn’t already pitching a tent over the opportunity to rant about his latest project. As if he hasn’t been staring daggers at the back of Kylo’s head the entire past week, rehearsing.
“An essential initiative, Supreme Leader,” Hux says, falling into step as Kylo takes off over the long spindly walkway towards the city proper. “A non-active asset that will vastly augment our latent military firepower. In layman’s terms—"
Kylo hands over his pilot’s gloves to a valet who has run up alongside them, swapping them for a lighter smoother pair. “I’m not a layman.”
“Of course not,” Hux says slickly. “A pseudo-orbital quantum converter then.”
“What’s that?” Kylo says absently, already intent on not listening – his usual approach to anything Hux says that came with an explanatory memorandum.
“I’m so glad you asked, Supreme Leader—”
The sad thing is, Kylo thinks as Hux launches into one of his characteristic, jaw-droppingly boring speeches, is that he genuinely is. Glad. To have the opportunity to brag about his work, this latest and completely transparent attempt to spend their dwindling reserve of money on an outlandish and improbable feat of technology that will vault his name into the annals of galactic history. Hux has a lack of conversation partners aboard the Finalizer – something which he convinces himself is because of his unmatched intellect, but in truth, Hux just lacks the social skills to recognize that his colleagues don’t enjoy being assaulted with all the glorious minutiae of invention in their rostered lunch break.
His old master, Snoke, pre-bifurcation, had often laughed about it behind Hux’s back – how easy it was to reel the general in with a little flattery, to make him feel singularly intelligent, visionary. Unique. He had only trusted Kylo with that little joke. Only Kylo had been true enough, worthy enough, to share in his master’s contempt…
“—sized reactor that could potentially harness an unprecedented amount of kyber extract—” Hux is saying, working himself into a lather, his pupils turned to pinpoints. Kylo increases the length of his strides so that the man has to skip every fourth step to stay alongside him. Hux has frustratingly long legs, but his commitment to good posture and his uniform typically keeps his steps tight and choppy. Kylo can usually escape him.
“—and with reduced full-power recycle we can achieve pinpoint accuracy, or as I like to call it, pin-planet accuracy.” Hux is chuckling to himself now.
The long crossing from the flight pad to the city has no guardrails and narrows at points. If they continue to walk side by side he can make it look like an accident.
Stars, Hux would just love that. The man has a dozen contingencies in place for his canonization in the event of a wrongful death. He’d probably have to spend the remainder of his leadership staring at a life-sized carbonite statue of the prick.
“What’s the shape?” Kylo asks abruptly, already knowing the answer.
Hux gives a little cough, his rant coming to an abrupt halt. “Spherical,” he says, too neutrally. “A sphere.”
Kylo raises his eyebrows. “Death Star-shaped, would you say?” He holds his hand out without looking back. The ensign passes him two pages of flimsi from the brief.
“Chapter twelve and again in the appendices, sir,” he yells over the wind, grappling with the cumbersome binder and its wildly fluttering pages. “He’s word-replaced Starkiller but there are several truncating inconsistencies, including ‘Untitled Project-Killer Base.’”
Hux scoffs, turning red. “The capabilities of my weapon—”
“You’re not getting funding for Starkiller Two.”
“Of course not. I would never be so on the nose as to call it that,” Hux lies.
The ensign pipes up from behind them, “He’s got Captain Peavey executed again, sir. At page 300 — and again at 313.”
Kylo rolls his eyes. “Remove it.”
“A terrible oversight,” Hux concedes, already holding out a sheaf of replacement pages, paginated and in laminate. “Why kill a man twice.”
“Why kill a man at all,” Kylo mutters.
“Yes, that sounds like sound logic, Supreme Leader,” Hux says snidely.  
“Ensign, announce General Hux’s immediate demotion.”
“Very well, but I would like my binder back,” Hux says.
“Ensign, destroy the binder.”
Hux makes a sharp gesture. “Belay that, Ensign—” His words terminate in an uncharacteristic gasp. In making the gesture he has released his grip on the lapels of his coat and it rips off his shoulders in a whirl, shooting out over the churning water like a giant black bird. Kylo catches it without thinking, a reflex, drawing it back into his grip with the force and shoving it at the general’s chest, taking off towards the city once more before the other man can comment on it.
It only takes seconds for Hux to catch up. “You might at least consider allocating a measure of funds to the commission of some more fitting regalia.” He sounds breathless but his disdain is clear, and Kylo doesn’t need to look to know Hux is eyeing his usual dark clothes with distaste.
“Of course, General,” Kylo says, flip. “Yellow robe or gold?”
Hux levels a scowl at him. “I suppose I should be thankful you’re not in combat blacks. These are friendly negotiations you will remember.” He eyes the lightsaber hilt hooked to Kylo’s belt pointedly. “I’d hoped you would represent the Order in something a little more…diplomatic.”
“That’s rich. I seem to remember a suggestion from your direct superior — that would be me, Hux— that you wear your new dress uniform to the negotiations.”
Hux blanches. “It’s ceremonial.”
“I would prefer you wear it,” Kylo says benevolently.
“I would prefer it weren’t orange.”
“It’s not orange,” Kylo says, enjoying the displeased turmoil of Hux’s emotions. The general preaches against vanity and yet is quite preoccupied with the trappings of his own status. Whenever Kylo grows bored or suspicious enough to tune into Hux’s private moments he more often than not finds the general reverently stroking the rank bands on his uniform sleeve or polishing his jackboots with a fervour unique to the deeply sexually repressed. “I’m surprised, General. I thought you would be well pleased to wear the color of your precious order.”
“My order, sir?”
Kylo clenches his jaw – and then consciously unclenches it, wary of the remaining half-life of his adult teeth. He settles instead for the usual fantasy of Hux being slowly trash compacted to death and shouting ow ow ow quite satisfactorily.
“Our order,” Kylo amends. “That I rule over.”
“Oh yes,” Hux says snidely, ignoring Kylo’s dark tone of warning, “I suppose that’s why you took the title of Supreme Ruler.”
“Actually, I like that. Ensign,” Kylo calls over his shoulder. The young man continues hop-skipping awkwardly to keep up with the two taller men, head buried in his work. “Start new dictation: new call sign and rank: Supreme Ruler.”
Hux’s face drops. “Ren, you— Don’t be absurd. We don’t alliterate.”
“Ensign. Further dictation: Head-General Hux.”
“Stop it, please.”
“Admiral Armitage?”
“Is that an official promotion?”
He’s circled in front of Kylo eagerly, walking backwards, completely undeterred by the wind that pushes him to stagger from side to side. Kylo uses the force to keep him from gaining too much momentum and marching himself right over the edge. Hux doesn’t notice this kindness of course, too busy running his mouth and ruining Kylo’s good mood.
“You know, if the negotiations here go well we may be in a bargaining position with our generous investors to ask for an advance on more than another weapon. We may even be looking at enough security for” — he licks his lips — “fleet expansion.”
“We have a fleet.”
“Not a very big one,” Hux says, his voice lowered, so that only Kylo can hear. “I’m just saying, if you could find it within yourself to be civil to our new business partners for the next few days, you may find we catch more flies with honey than with poison.” He punctuates this statement with a completely fraudulent and objectively terrible smile at someone over Kylo’s shoulder — probably Jessamine Sphess, who, incidentally, Hux is poisoning to death.
“Vinegar.”
Hux looks confused. “How do you kill a man with vinegar?”
“No, that’s not—” Kylo sighs. “Remind me how someone with your backwater upbringing made it up the ranks so fast.”
“The same way as you did, Supreme Leader,” Hux says, slippery as an eel. “With hard work and determination.”
“More like nepotism and assassination,” Kylo mutters.
“Yes. As I said, the same as you.”
Kylo shoots him a warning glance in place of a hand on the other man’s throat. “Careful.”
A small congregation of officials from the Barosi trade delegation have come out to meet them and they huddle together under a gazebo, their vestments snapping on the wind like flags. Their clothing is sheer, Kylo realizes as they draw closer, designed to move and flow with the weather.
“Well, great, everyone’s naked.”
“A cultural eccentricity, Supreme Leader,” Hux says, spinning on his heel to face the delegation, falling back into step at Kylo’s side. Kylo can hear the distinct nasality in his tone that means he is suppressing a smile.  
“You could have warned me.”
“But I did, Supreme Leader. During the initial brief. If I recall correctly, you were ‘just resting your eyes’.”
“Sire!” one of the sheer-robed attendants yells, breaking away from the group to greet them. He bows prettily, his whole cock and balls exposed by an errant gust of wind.
“I believe it is a Barosi custom to exchange greetings in the form a kiss,” Hux says, as insincere as a junker orphan.
Kylo rolls his eyes. Hux and his counterfeit patrician values, assuming that such small intimacies could possibly embarrass Kylo when he’s spent a whole other lifetime bending to kiss papery-dry hands and powdered cheeks at the behest of his mother, and later, to lick blood with adoration from the boots of his master.
“Don’t embarrass me in there,” Kylo says without looking back. “This isn’t Arkanis. People don’t eat with their hands.”
He doesn’t bother to turn to see if the barb lands, already stepping forward to receive the first kiss. The force beats like a second heart under his ribs, quickening to purpose.
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xathia-89 · 5 years
Text
One of Fourteen Million, Six Hundred and Five Ways
This is a commissioned piece by @muggzc who asked me for The Doctor interfering with the Avengers during one of the failed scenarios that Dr Strange saw. 
This is a long piece, but one I am very happy with. Just a reminder that I am open to commissions, and I believe I don’t have anything in the works either. So please feel free to message me to find out what I do! Because not even my blog holds everything. 
Angst warning. Endgame Spoilers. And introducing my OC Darcy.
When he had offered me a chance to go for a trip in his TARDIS after doing a particularly elaborate dress that even Queen Victoria would have been jealous of, I couldn’t yell ‘lunch break’ at my boss and colleague quickly enough before grabbing my bag to get in. This was my third version of the Doctor to work for, but only one of the rare chances that he didn’t have a companion already with him, and when I didn’t have any rush jobs to work on. I worked as a costumer, with a specialisation in restoring clothes. Not that many people these days had the clothes to restore, but my knowledge of Victorian and Georgian styles did mean I could make the clothing accurate. Add in the popularity of period dramas and such; we were rarely out of work to do. The first version I had met spoke with a refined accent found mostly around London, dark brown hair that was usually styled into a quiff, and seemed to have more than a few companions. He was always out and about, demanding everything almost last minute and bringing back things for repairs with burn holes, bullet holes, bloodstains along with the usual rips and tears in fabrics. Then when I met the next incarnation, it blew my mind to learn that actually, he wasn’t anything like what we usually catered to. Then he began to describe my mother and grandmother and how they had been just as talented, and it must have been a family trait when he recognised my surname. The change from suits to a tweed jacket and the bow tie was surprising, but then it wasn’t as though they were the same person. Each incarnation was a new generation was akin to how the Doctor explained it, though it didn’t change how the outfits would come back to me for repairs. My boss and colleague were more than happy to let me deal with the incidents and problems that occurred with sorting out the clothing from the man, as long as there wasn’t a higher paying customer to prioritise since the Doctor had a TARDIS to time travel about with. 
Then the grumpy Scotsman turned up, claiming to be the Doctor. It didn’t help that my first name had escaped his memory, though the bright pink hair I was partial to stuck in his head, and he started pointing and yelling at me the second I was seen from the back of my head. My boss was less than willing to hear him out until he started calling me a ruin and we all began to then ask questions about what work we had done in the past. His companion then appeared, and I would recognise Clara anywhere. 
Not that he appreciated my demands for him to settle his account before we began any more serious work as I took measurements for them both, and then tightened my tape measure around his waist when he began to object. Clara was amused at least, and we got the money we were owed. 
Something had changed, but he wasn’t one to talk about it. He was on his own, Bill was gone, Clara wasn’t there, and I wasn’t sure he wanted to go on an adventure by himself. 
Landing on a military base in the 1970s America wasn’t my idea of an adventure, but the TARDIS had decided it was where we were needed. Quite literally. 
I was tipped out and tripped all sorts of alarms. We were surrounded in seconds, and naturally, the TARDIS fled the scene of the crime. They couldn’t arrest us quickly enough, and then we were marched off to a holding cell, where two somewhat familiar faces were already present. 
“You can join back with your buddies here, while we decide what to do with you all anyway,” the guard chuckled, highly pleased with himself as the door was locked behind us and then our cuffs were taken off. 
I rubbed my wrists, the metal had dug in a little with the overly enthusiastic handling of the men while trying to convince myself that I wasn’t sharing with who I thought I was. There just wasn’t the chance of it being genuinely possible. 
“So we have you two to thank for the alarms going off then?” It was a voice that made so many women swoon, as a character that just oozed power, money and control. It would have panties dropping anywhere he went, but that was his character, not the actor. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
“Well we didn’t really get to choose where we were dropped off,” the Doctor wasn’t going to let this slide. I was trying to hide behind my hands, willing to wake up at any moment and stop my brain from exploding. This was more than a crossing of times and space, this was heading for the fantasy realms, and my reality would not allow it to be true. 
“How long before the tesseract is lost to us?” The blond man stepped in, separating the other man from the Doctor, and confirmed what I knew. This was not the universe I knew for sure. 
“I don’t know, the longer we’re here then, the better chances of us being stuck here instead of going back to 2019,” Stark eventually replied, glowering with ferocity at us for the disruption we’d caused. 
“What’s happening in 2019 that’s so important? When is this?” The Doctor liked his questions. They always did as I dared to speak for the first time in an age. 
“Thanos, he happens in 2019,” I whispered, before tilting my head back to stare at the ceiling. “Thanos makes half of the planet just disappear, and there isn’t anything anyone can do about it.” 
Having the attention of three very ‘powerful’ men wasn’t something I was used to. I liked working in the back to avoid the spotlight. Then it was the usual service. 
“Well, we need to get out of this cell anyway. We can’t stop anyone from in here,” the Doctor replied, throwing his arms out as though to command the situation. 
“Great idea, how are we leaving then?” Tony Stark sarcastically invited the Doctor to inspect the door with a flourish of his arm. Not that the Doctor would remember about his sonic screwdriver being back in action anyway. 
“If you give me a minute, then maybe we could be on our way,” this wasn’t going to end any time soon as I threw my hood up to try and hide myself from the scene. “It looks like a fairly simple lock to bust, a little bit of a twist with some wire and we should be free.”
“Only this is S.H.I.E.L.D. we are talking about; nothing would be that simple. We would be triggering an escape alarm at the very least, and possibly inviting for us to all be shot on sight,” Tony scorned. 
“I don’t see you coming up with a better idea,” it was akin to watching two children as I tried to make myself a little more comfortable on the cement bench that was trying to pass as more comfortable than the floor to sit on. I was playing with the toggle of my hoodie, while Steve was watching them with a slightly amused expression on his face. But from my experience and knowledge of the man, then he was also feeling the same level of exasperation that I was as Tony was now trying to bait the Doctor into the trap. 
“Why don’t you two make out if your feelings are mutual?” I finally had enough of trying to tune them out and snapped a little, sharply tugging on my cord and snapping the plastic bead off the end with the force I used. It clattered to the floor before I stood up, and began instantly frisking the Doctor’s interior coat pockets. I held up the sonic screwdriver to him with raised eyebrows. “That should be able to override the security systems, and as much as I know, the 1970s doesn’t really have any quality camera recordings.” 
“I knew I had that,” the Doctor frowned, snatching the sonic back off me and tutting as he turned towards the door. 
It took a few seconds, but I was confident in the screwdriver if not in the Doctor’s abilities that it was all overridden now. 
“Where do we go now?” The Doctor was trying to think out loud, inviting the other men to intervene and hoping that they knew where we were more than we did. 
“I forgot to memorise the map of this place,” Tony laughed. “I knew I should have paid more attention to things,” he was playing antagonist now and agitating the Doctor. And I knew that he wouldn’t just leave things be either. 
I took a deep breath before barging out of the door and taking a sharp right turn. There wasn’t any way to guarantee we were getting far as my mind was already trying to replay the successful storyline over in my head. Tony and Steve would need to get the tesseract away in the briefcase and past Howard Stark and all of the security team. How they had gotten caught was puzzling, but it wasn’t going to be solved by sitting in the cell and listening to Stark and the Doctor argue. A quick glance backwards and I knew I wasn’t on my own at least; Steve must have felt something similar to be going with a complete stranger out of the cell he had been held in. 
It didn’t take too long before the four of us were joined up like some band of misfits, though it was a strange thought for me to possibly be seen as dressed in the weirdest of combinations given our location and timing. The Doctor could pass as an eccentric old man, and Steve and Tony were dressed for the era. Though my mind was dangerously close to exploding at processing where we were. 
“Just who are you two anyway?” Tony wouldn’t let it drop. “And more importantly, why do they all assume the four of us were together before we ended up in that cell?”
“Statistically it’s less likely that they have one group of four people breaking in than two groups of two people, so it follows some common logic to group us all together,” the Doctor rambled off as we waited in a storage room for a chance to ascertain where we were aside from just knowing it was the ‘detention level’. 
“Otherwise known as ‘Hi, I’m the Doctor, and this is my current companion, Darcy’,” I smiled extra brightly over my shoulder at Stark, knowing that the Doctor certainly wasn’t in the mood to introduce us to them. 
“So, how did you get here? And how did you get the alarms tripped to the point we were arrested as well?” Tony was persistent; I had to give him that. 
“The TARDIS decided to tip us out, quite literally in the compound, in front of all of the soldiers, I have no idea why they assumed we would be working with you,” the Doctor wasn’t here to make friends today, apparently, as I hung my head dejectedly. 
“Will you try to play nice?” I asked, tilting my head now back towards the Doctor, with a forced smile on my face. It did seem to get my message across as I began to work my way deeper into the room. People would keep all sorts in storerooms because they didn’t want to part with them, or they were too confidential to risk doing anything but burning. Not that they would handily have a bag marked ‘confidential waste’ for us, that would be far too simple and only happen in the movies. 
The vents may get us a better view; it wasn’t something that tended to be alarmed yet. Even in facilities like S.H.I.E.L.D., there was still a limit to what technology was ongoing. The sound of footsteps meant the boys were silent for once; it was the only peace and quiet I was ever going to get until we got out of here and successfully completed the mission. I had the feeling that the TARDIS had dumped us here as part of the millions of scenarios that Doctor Strange had seen. I wasn’t expecting to need to use my film-watching skills to get us through anything; it was usually the Doctor taking control and making the decisions. We were all holding our breath, anyone could quickly come in here and ruin everything we had done, but we were counting on someone having our back in some deity. Even if it was just to see how far we got before we screwed it up. 
I frisked the Doctor’s pockets again before he could stop me. I knew that coat as well as he did, I’d repaired it that many times, so I knew exactly where his hidden pockets were as I lifted the sonic screwdriver off him. 
“Just what do you think you’re doing with that?” The Doctor was getting exasperated as I began to climb on board of a dusty old desk behind some filing cabinets. 
“Getting into the vents,” I shrugged, shoving the sonic towards the screws, disabling any possibility of the system being hooked up to them already. “And I can’t see anyone else fitting into here so let me go and find out where we are and how to get out of here,” I argued, before pulling myself up into the metal ventilation system. “I would love to swear I am currently not here, and this is definitely a movie thing, but I am currently in a fricking movie!” I muttered to myself before making the decision to try the vent going in the opposite direction from where we had come from the cells. It was all worth a shot anyway. 
Every chance I had to try and pinpoint us, it was all looking the same. I was overseeing desks, or boxes and filing cabinets, there was nothing distinguishable for me to see. I could be going around in squares for all I knew as I was trying to keep any noise I made to a minimum. It was hard to shuffle about quickly without raising suspicion. I heard the occasional mutterings about the venting being noisier than usual, but no one seemed to deem it a necessity to investigate at least. I was starting to feel desperation sink in; this was a top-secret military base, why would they mark anything? It was all for the need to know, and infiltrators were definitely not need to know. 
“They aren’t in the cells,” a crisp voice caught my attention, coming from nearby as I crept slowly forward, panic began to set in. “So do us all a favour, and find them, now,” I caught sight of someone I definitely hadn’t been expecting to see. 
Loki, in that freshly pressed and neatly kept suit. He looked authoritative; no one would want to question him, ideal for him to get onto the base without a thought. I couldn’t see who he had given the order to, a lackey of sorts but we weren’t alone in this, and Loki knew what we were doing. 
I had to just forget about the part where he was a God. 
That smirk, it was swoon-worthy in the cinemas, to know that it wasn’t Tom Hiddlestone playing the part and had locked his sights onto me in the ventilation system, it was terrifying as I was frozen in place. It took him seconds to break through the metal grate; I couldn’t get out of his grasp as I tried to find something to hang onto, anything to hold to stop him carrying me off like I weighed nothing to him. 
“What’s this?” He was holding the sonic screwdriver alight, studying it with intrigue, before he smiled back at me. His eyes were black, they were pitless, and there was no hope in it for me. “Well then, I think you need to come with me,” I had been struck by fear keeping me still, but the thought of being carried off terrified me more. 
All of my struggles did nothing for me. Loki had me hoisted over his shoulder, bound and gagged with that magic of his, and strolling away like this was normal. I knew that Loki was the God of mischief, he was able to impersonate individuals from a glance, and no one would think to question one of the top star generals. Even if he was carrying a woman about in a strange manner. All I could do was not to give up. I kept pounding my wrists into his back, flailing my legs about wildly until I nearly cracked my head on the pavement. 
I couldn’t pin the other man I was facing, but I had a strong feeling that the tesseract was in the briefcase in his hands. The compound around us was intrigued momentarily; then it was almost as though we didn’t exist. Eyes would glass over us, people would walk past, and the three of us were in a one-way mirror. I would have guessed we were invisible, but I was doubtful of anyone having the ability to do that even in the Marvel Universe. But I had two sets of eyes on me, and the sonic screwdriver was in Loki’s possession. 
“Intruder alert! Be on the lookout for three men and one woman who have infiltrated the base and broken from their holding cell! Assume they are armed and extremely dangerous.” 
The speakers all crackled to life and set every personnel on fire. Guns were everywhere, but not one of them was pointed at me. I was already trying to think of what powers were available, and how I could shatter it, but the other man picked me up and passed the briefcase to Loki. The Asgardian God was looking so pleased with himself. I couldn’t let it end like this. Loki with the tesseract would bring about so much destruction; he had already proven that several years previously in bringing the Chitauri army through a portal made by it to New York. 
Then a door bust open behind us with a loud explosion, and Chris, Tony and the Doctor were all in the centre of the chaos. It removed the magic or whatever for long enough for the three of them to lock eyes onto our position, and then the TARDIS captured the attention of the base. 
I didn’t want to think about what S.H.I.E.L.D. could do with the technology of a TARDIS. I knew they were secretly Hydra, hiding out until they could gather enough power to be able to call the likes of Captain America a threat to security and freedom. The possibilities were endless. They would be able to take themselves to whenever to gather all the technology to ensure they won. The thought of that was making my stomach drop through my feet, nevermind if Loki decided he wasn’t satisfied with the sonic screwdriver. 
I wouldn’t stay still, I was fighting the magic binding me together, trying to pull my wrists apart, or my ankles now that Loki had taken the leg flailing of earlier to be something to cease. I was acting out of my terrified imagination. The three of them were trying to figure out where we were until Loki just calmly walked off base without a thought. He wasn’t concerned; it was going according to his plan. He’d even gained some extra shinies, as whatever it was keeping us out of sight was dropped. 
I wanted to scream; I was trying to break the gag. I didn’t know what it was made of, and I didn’t care right now. I needed the Doctor to know that Loki had the tesseract and the sonic. I didn’t want to think about how much power was at his disposal. I saw the TARDIS disappear, and that was when Loki had his interest in that old-looking wooden box. 
“What was that?” He asked his ‘friend’, though it was obvious who was in charge. 
“Ask her, I have no idea,” the man shook his head, gesturing wildly to me before turning to the control panels of the ship that they had commandeered.
The magic disappeared, allowing me to breathe freely, but the demanding pressure of God didn’t mean I could feel easy. 
“Answer me, girl,” Loki’s tone would have frozen Australia during a heatwave. It made me stiffen without a thought. I had been in less intimidating situations with the Daleks, and I would take the thought of the Cyberman trying to make me one of their own instead of being anywhere near Loki. “I said, answer me!” His foot stamped down straight in front of me, making the floor under me vibrate, and my entire mental system was in panic mode. 
I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. I was ashamed of myself at the moment. I knew what he wanted to know, but I couldn’t even bring myself to think of replying. My mouth was dry and frozen shut, and I was shaking with fear. I focused on the ground, trying to pretend that if I couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t see me. 
“You will answer me when your friends are the ones under my boot, like the tiny ants they are,” Loki sharply replied, spinning around to navigate the strange man to someplace. I was left without the gag but bound up on the floor. It was easier to tilt my hips, and fall onto my side, the pins and needles easing after I was able to straighten my legs and move them a little before rolling onto my back. If either of the men cared, it didn’t show. Not that I was sure why I would think that they would care. There wasn’t much for me to do; I didn’t know where I was or where the Doctor was. I knew the sonic screwdriver was with Loki, and I dreaded to think of the possibility that it would be passed into the hands of Thanos, along with the tesseract. The thought was terrifying, and this wasn’t my timeline or story to persevere with. 
I was sharply hoisted by the back of my jacket, a gag weaving around my mouth the moment we had landed. I was being carried off the ship with no grace, and then I saw the TARDIS. Relief, the smallest of hope in me as I saw the Doctor jump out with a determination in his step I only saw when he knew he had others depending on him. Tony and Steve came out with the same expressions everyone wore after their first trip in the TARDIS, disbelief that it was that size as they both spun around to check that it hadn’t grown in size before spotting Loki with me in hand, and presumably the tesseract in the briefcase in his other hand. 
“I believe you have something of mine!” The Doctor would never let anyone get away with his things. “And I need it back.”
“The girl? I can give her back straight away,” Loki laughed back, thrusting me out, so I was dangling over the edge of the structure. I had no idea where we were, but I was not safe at this height. Hitting the ground from here would kill me, and it wouldn’t be pretty. I would have seconds of terror before a sad end. “Oh? You seem to want for me to keep her alive; she did have this intriguing little gadget in her hand. I had to take that into my possession, of course, it would have been foolish to allow her to keep it when I don’t know what it does, and she won’t tell me.”
“I need her and my screwdriver back,” the Doctor was already several steps ahead of me. “It won’t work for anyone else.” 
“So why did she have it then?” 
The scorn in Loki’s voice was evident before I was carelessly tossed to the other man. 
“Make them talk,” Loki ordered, taking the sonic out of his coat pocket to inspect the device. “I want to know what the box is, as well.” 
“Why are you doing this?” I didn’t know where my voice came from, the gag shattering against all my struggles. 
“Why not?” Loki’s smile was the most terrifying thing in existence. Being in such close quarters to it was only confirming that I had no idea about what fear truly was. This was no ordinary man; he was a God. “Mysterio is twisting all of your friends’ senses. They think you’re hanging off the edge, held by the throat and gasping for every breath, the second it looks like you’re about to pass out, he brings you back just to regain your consciousness before repeating it. I’m sure you’re a smart girl. I could have him do that for real.”
“Why don’t you then?” 
I had no idea where this bravery was coming from. I had no inclination to die, but there had to be a reason why the other man was casting illusions instead of using me as the actual bait. 
“Because I need you to keep them in one place. We are going to learn what this device is, and leave with it and the tesseract, you will be far enough away that they cannot chase us,” Loki’s plan made complete sense. “I will let you all live in exchange for the information; you could stop it right now by telling me.”
“You’re bluffing,” I croaked, trying to keep that tiniest of flames of hope inside of me. “You think that the Doctor will let you just walk away with his screwdriver?” 
“I do, actually. In exchange for your life. You, humans, are so sentimental.”
“He’s not human,” I snapped, glaring at him with everything I had. “He’s a Timelord, and he will not let you get away with this.” 
“I don’t know what a timelord is, nor do I care. I know he will give in to the sentiments of keeping you alive.”
“Please, I will tell you what you need to know, just don’t drop her from there,” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Loki’s expression changed to one of victory, a wide smirk at me as he opened his arms wide in triumph before a cackle began. It was the day the Doctor lost. 
“That is a sonic screwdriver; it can unlock anything electrical, it can tell you anything you want to know about where you are, it can hack into virtually any system. It can deflect most powers and attacks, it can interception teleportations, it can send out its own communications, it can burn or cut most substances, disarm weapons and computers, control atoms and molecules, make a force field for protection, download a person’s consciousness and transfer it to a computer, it can do so much even I don’t know the extent of its abilities. Please, don’t drop Darcy.” 
He sounded so broken; he’d needed to bow down to someone else in possession of his sonic, in lieu of a companion’s life. 
“Only if we are walking away from here with the sonic screwdriver, and the tesseract,” Mysterio finally made a declaration. I could see it was pushing him to keep going with the maintaining of the illusion. Loki had kept me close enough that all I would need is a shove off the building, and I would be plummeting to my death. 
“No, the tesseract-” I forgot that Steve and Tony were with the Doctor. 
“This is not up for negotiation. Are you willing to bet her life over this? Could you do that?” Loki was enjoying himself, basking in the glory of the moment as my tears couldn’t stop falling down my cheeks. 
“Yes, please, don’t hurt her,” the Doctor was desperate, all over me. I had caused this. 
The illusion was dropped, and I had to watch Mysterio and Loki just walk away, my binds still holding me together as the three men dashed back into the TARDIS. There wouldn’t be enough time to stop them, as the stolen vessel began to take off, and threw the blue box out of its intended stopping point. It was on its side and shattered into a million pieces, the Doctor, Steve and Tony all realising the same thing as they picked themselves out of the wreckage. 
Maybe this was one of the scenarios where Thanos wins. 
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