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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 1 year

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RECOMe again?

The reader must navigate interacting with their fellow recoms despite having betrayed them as a human! Does anyone know their secret?

A shorter one to get us started!

This is a multiship fic be prepared to get passed around a lil :3c

Chapter 1

Notes: Y/N (Your name), Y/LN (Your last name), na'vi dialogue in bold, fic will contain swearing, nsfw scenes in later chapters (I will warn specifically which ones), violence.

If there are any specific triggers people would like warned for let me know (^・ω・^ )

Tag list: @buzzing-honeybee

Everything seemed off when you peeled your eyes open. Beside the stinging and slight blur from the overhead light, something wasn't right. The ceiling seemed closer and almost bowed? Like a fish eye lens but subtler. When the two doctors hovered over, their voices too distant to distinguish words, they felt somehow far way, despite how close close presence felt.

You groaned trying to sit upright, you felt their... finger tips? The pressure pushing you down felt so small, isolated to tiny spots on your abdomen. You looked down and felt your world shift. Tiny hands, these doctors where absolutely tiny. You felt a sudden flush of embarrassment, like when you'd accidentally told your friend Jake Sully to 'get it himself' when the item in question was on the top shelf. Only these doctors weren't just short or people with dwarfism.

It only really made sense when your vision finally cleared enough for you to see your reflection in the mirror that covered the length of the room. You stared, unwilling to move from the bed, both doctors attention now shifted elsewhere in the room.

Yup. There it was. Your features distorted across a na'vi face. You felt suddenly off, sick, it felt like you'd been stretched out. Your arms and legs long and thin, your torso pulled like taffy, stretched into this new shape. You'd certainly had your fair share of image issues growing up but this was a new level of body horror. As your anxiety grew you heard a thumping at your hip and adding to your horror you saw your tail. You let out a squeak, feeling your new ears twitch.

You remembered it now. You'd gone down to the lab with several other important members of the military team. You'd played along, Max assuring you the whole time that this wouldn't blow your cover, that he'd take care of everything. You thought he'd meant destroying your file somehow so that the RDA would never figure it out.

You'd turned sides, helped them escape and agreed to pass on in-tell from the inside. You remembered all of this and were terrified at how much the RDA knew. You cast your mind back but at no point in the process had anyone really explained how they went about the memory implanting. Had anyone reviewed your memories? Maybe not, it'd surely be a long and wasted task to go through that with everyone's memories? Though if they'd ever suspected you, maybe they'd make that effort.

You realized that Zdinarsik was having something of a melt down at the other side of the room. This was buying you a lot of thinking time. You really couldn't remember anything further then the spinning tube, which made sense. It really dawned on you then, you were a copy, a half clone of Y/N mixed with Na'vi DNA. The real you was dead. You wondered how it'd happened, had someone found you out and put you down. Maybe even Zdinarsik, you cast worried eyes to her. She was hyperventilating but seemed to be calming down, she made eye contact, smiling shakily at you. You supposed for now it didn't matter, she was a copy too, none of the clones here would remember if anything had happened after that day. You smiled back, your lip catching your fangs and nipping the flesh open.

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You were brought through into a locker room with a now put together Zdinarsik. Three others were already in the room, changing into their military issued clothing.

"Think I might have gone up a few sizes now eh Y/N?" Zdog knocked into your elbow. She'd definitely collected herself somewhat but her smile hadn't reached her eyes yet. You grinned back, she'd been a friend before your betrayal, though in her mind this likely had never changed.

"Really? I think I've slimmed down somewhat." You sucked your cheeks in, posing dramatically. Zdog's laughter was joined by the others who'd shifted over to greet you two.

"Wow Y/N? Zdog? Gonna need name stickers at this rate." It took you a moment to recognize Fike but something in his smile made it click.

"Dunno Fike, I'd know that big bald head anywhere!" You shouted over to Lyle Wainfleet, his head whipped up, huge grin plastered to it. He stalked over leaning down to your face.

"All those height genes and they still barely got you past 6ft huh?" You gently pushed his arm, exaggerating a frown.

"How dare you! I'll have you know they measured me in at 8'2!"

"Still over a foot shorter! Midget! Come on, they want us all in when they wake the Colonel." You all saluted, before you and Zdog went to your lockers.

Colonel Miles Quartich. You'd hoped you'd have seen the last of him but fate really had it in for you. Brought back in enemy territory, surrounded by your past and with little idea when the other shoe would drop. You'd had a terrible plan to get some time away from him, time to deliver intel to Jake and the others. It was going to be extremely embarrassing but highly effective, you were somewhat glad you didn't remember how it had gone down.

See since your first days at RDA you'd had something of a strange relationship with the Colonel. Having made quite an impression by first tripping and falling right into him, causing him to have to catch you and then shooting down a viperwolf in the field that had jumped your group. You'd become something of a favourite of his and in those early days that'd only made your little crush on the man grow. It was a silly thing, he was about 25 years your senior at the time but you'd by lying if you said you didn't find him incredibly attractive. Too bad life had pulled you both in very different directions. You spent more and more time with the scientists you'd been escorting and had come to really love the forest that surrounded you. When Jake and the others had finally gone too far and got locked up, it only felt right to help them and when Jake asked you to stay you couldn't refuse.

So you'd planned to 'confess' to the Colonel. It was a ruse, he'd let you down or maybe even call for your dismissal. Either way you could use your broken heart or leave to excuse yourself from duty and run off to assist Norm and Jake.

You wondered how it'd worked, or if you'd even gone through with the plan, as you dressed. You ended up asking for Zdog's help as you'd tangled your tail up down a trouser leg and were having some trouble getting it through the tail hole. She laughed at you, showing off how she'd managed just fine. She came forward regardless, gripping your hips to still you there. She popped her bubble gum in your face smirking as she gripped the base of your tail and tugged. You hissed, Jake had told you they were sensitive.

"Ow!" You complained, pouting up at her. She'd been taller than you before and still had more than half a foot on you.

"Don't be such a baby, see all sorted." She took a step back watching as you swished your tail.

"This is so weird." You couldn't get used to it. You felt like you never would, like a whole extra limb with a mind of its own. Norm and Jake had both talked to you about what it'd been like, entering their new bodies for the first time. Both had been ecstatic, loving every new experience they'd had, though you supposed they had wanted this. You'd never planned for this.

"Yeah you said it, come one we're late!" Zdog touched your arm, gesturing you to jog after her. You weren't late, the Colonel was still unconscious as you joined Wainfleet, Fisk and now Prager in the room. The doctors administered something into his IV drip and he began to stir.

It was strange seeing him like this. You hadn't really noticed with the others but you were all younger now. You must have all been grown around the same time during the trip out. So Quaritch now looked closer to his mid twenties. You admitted to yourself he looked good, even with the more Na'vi features.

You were too lost in your admiring to really catch what happened. Lyle had come forward as he woke and it kicked off from there. Quaritch swung knocking him onto his ass as the rest of you rushed forward. Wainfleet recollected himself and began ushering the doctors out the room. Quaritch dropped Prager and threw something at Zdog.

"Sir please! Colonel." You stepped forward with your hands raised, trying to calm him down. He struck you across the cheek, flinging you back against the mirrored wall. Your head hit it and you stayed dazed on the floor as the rest of the team struggled to restrain him. He continued to fight them off, hissing and backing up before they managed to finally still him. He recognized Lyle first, who smiled through bloodied lips, before looking shocked at the others who restrained him.

"I'm alright" he drawled out. They let him go and he began to examine himself, pushing past Wainfleet to look in the mirror. He stood above you, baring his teeth and touching his fangs. You felt your heart race at his towering form.

"Well, ain't this a bitch." At this moment he noticed you, still dazed on the floor. "Private Y/LN?" You offered a weak salute, he reached down pulling you up by your elbows. You caught your reflection, he'd cracked you pretty good, your nose was bleeding and some swelling was already forming under your left you. You let out a light chuckled turning to your commanding officer.

"I'd say those motor control tests are obsolete, Sir." Quaritch straightened, dropping his hands. Had he been reaching for you again? A doctor returned now, with another officer who commanded your unit to follow.

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If being awoken into a new body wasn't strange enough, now you had to endure the last week of space travel. The zero gravity had always turned your stomach, even the novelty of floating around the room wore off and you were happy to be called into the areas of the ship with working gravity. You watched the video log provided, a short clip of your human self explaining the Recombinant program and soul drive to you, shortly after having exited the machine. It was odd to watch, these clips were past the memories you had, this you was a different you now. It hurt your head to think about it, you focused on her expressions instead. She seemed calm, collected, you were still in the clear here.

Every time you were called upon or came face to face with higher ups you were sure it was all gonna be over. You'd be found out, it was only a matter of when.

To add to your anxiety you'd been made to join the others in a na'vi physiology 101 course. Tail and ear reflexes, body language reading, don't touch your queue and worst of the worst new instincts. You felt 13 again and were flushing like it was sex ed. You kept face by joking with Zdog and Prager, giggling in the back about how these animal instincts were gonna take over. Prager doing a werewolf impersonation that ended with you all being scowled at by an exasperated scientist.

It was true what she'd said however. You'd began noticing the scents of your colleagues, tiny little changes in their smells that you were sure you'd figure out the meaning behind. You feared what this would mean for your cover, you'd been a decent liar as a human. You were sharp, could stick to your story and didn't crack under pressure. Now however you had to worry about your ears and tail giving you away.

You figured you could lightly test it, come up with a little scenario to lie in to see if you could get away with it. Opportunity struck the day before you reached Pandora. Mansk had requested sunglasses be added to his regular kit and it had been approved. He however was in the gym with the others when they arrived, giving you an opportunity to hide them. It needed to be a little inconsequential prank, something the others wouldn't think much of if uncovered but that could be played off as an accident if not.

You sat relaxed on a bench, you'd found that your tail followed you breathing. If you could keep a handle on that then the tail wouldn't thrash around. So it stayed still when the group entered from the showers and headed to their respective lockers. You continued pretending to read as you kept an eye on Mansk. He'd been expecting them and was told they'd be there by now, so when his locker remained empty he grumbled. He turned seeing you and began coming over. Perfect, you thought. You looked up when he got close, you'd positioned yourself where you could catch your reflection in a long locker mirror. Your ears had perked up at his approach but this was normal.

"You see anyone come in with a package?" He asked, his tone wasn't accusatory yet just curious.

"Nope, been here most the day." You lied. You kept eyes on him, feeling for any changes. Nothing in the tail and ears felt relaxed. He grumbled kicking his feet.

"You sure." He looked at you again. You felt the slightest twitch of your ear, pulling back a touch.

"Nope, maybe I missed 'em but I don't remember anyone." You kept your face neutral, uninterested. You tail felt tight, the muscles straining to twitch but you kept it still. Mansk just grumbled again before stalking back to get his clothes. You glanced to the mirror, you looked calm, no swishing or twitching. It worked, if you would maintain calm like before then there would be no tell.

You stood to leave, turning and bumping right into a broad wet chest. You glanced up to meet Quaritch's quirked eyebrow.

"Oh, uh sorry sir!" You felt your ears pin back now, tail swishing behind you. You were not calm anymore, your heart having jumped its way into your throat.

"At ease" Quaritch stepped around you, walking off to his own locker. His broad back dripping, you followed a trail down to his narrow hips and gulped. There was an odd musk to the room now and you decided it best to scamper off before your odd behavior could be remarked upon.

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So it seemed being snapped back in age and given a new body had reignited something of your old crush. Even in your human memories you'd remained nervous in front of the guy, so maybe you'd just been lying to yourself about being over it.

Even now sat amongst the other recoms awaiting Quaritch's commands you felt on edge. Though you could easily blame that on the tension of being caught. Maybe this was the moment, he'd been informed of your past self's crimes and they were going to rip you limb from limb.

His speech mirrored the one he'd given on your first day on Pandora. While they might not have been about to tear you apart you still felt your face pale, though you kept your expression neutral. You were all here to hunt down and kill Jake Sully, along with any other rebels and former RDA. So you were technically on the kill list.

The others cheered, clapping shoulders and getting excited. You smelt the change in the air, you recognized this scent change now, anticipation/excitement. You were still working on a catalogue of these, they'd be invaluable tells if you could pin point them.

Zdog gripped you, her scent was especially strong, mixed with something else. A musky smell you'd caught on her before, though you still couldn't place it yet. You gripped her other hand, playing along with the team, hoping no one else was picking up the scents as well as you. You must reek of anxiety.

#quaritch x you #quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #zdog #Zdinarsk #zdog x reader #avatar imagine #avatar #the way of water #my fics #recome again

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billyrussohaven · 2 years

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Into my Web

Chapter 5

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Cowritten with @the-cult-of-russo

Ratings: Explicit 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Although this chapter might not include it, this fic will include; Sexual situations, swearing, human slave, biting, blood, murder, obsessive thoughts, dub con, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting.

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Billy heaved a heavy sigh down the phone as he answered it, really not in the mood for the same conversation he seemed to always have.

"What's up, Frankie?" He muttered, leaning back against the sofa where he was sitting with you.

"I can't just call up my brother?" Frank grumbled down the phone.

"It usually ends up in a lecture about my morality," Billy bit out dryly, feeling tense. It was Frank's turn to sigh down the phone now and there was a long moment of silence. It never used to be this way with the pair of them.

"You still got your… human?" Frank asked hesitantly. Billy could hear the disapproving tone a mile away and rolled his eyes. He remembered when Frank found out about you, he hadn't heard the end of it for days about how immoral it was.

"Of course I do, bro. I don't know why you ask every time," he huffed.

"I'm just surprised. Thought she'd end up dead by now," Frank muttered, the disapproving tone even worse. Billy's jaw ticked as he glanced to you.

"Yeah, well… she's servin' me well so far," he replied, his mind thinking to just how good you've been serving him recently. Frank hummed thoughtfully before another long pause. Billy wished things were different with them but it's just how things worked out.

"When you comin' to see us, Bill? Karen keeps askin', she misses you… I miss you," Frank murmured sadly. Billy hated the pang in his chest at the words and he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He missed them too, especially Frank. It wasn't his fault they were so different though. He and Frank were best friends, brothers. Both turned in the Marines to become super soldiers. But Billy's bloodlust was a lot worse than Frank's, his morals a lot looser. After the loss of Frank's family, he turned into a vigilante and only fed off bad people. Frank didn't believe in hurting the innocent. He had a soft spot for humans since his own family had been very much human. Billy however had no qualms about hurting anyone. He wouldn't really hurt anyone he cared about and that was his only line. The Castle's, sans Frank, had been human but they'd been his family before he turned. He never once thought about hurting them. He loved them. But then they were murdered and Billy became colder and more savage. Something Frank didn't agree with when it came to innocent people. His last shred of humanity, decency, had died with the Castle family and he was better off without it. It was a weakness.

Billy didn't like putting up with the disappointed looks from his brother, his serious conversations about turning his life around and only feeding from bad guys. Where was the fun in that? Karen was a lot subtler but Billy knew she held a darkness in her she suppressed because of her love for Frank. She was sweet and deadly, wrapped in a pretty package. But she followed along with Frank's bullshit and his morals since she was in love with him. Billy felt sorry for her. He hadn't seen them in months and the prospect of going to visit them was not unlike when someone had to go visit their disapproving parents and put up with their bullshit on a holiday. But despite the annoyance, he did miss them.

"Soon," Billy replied, his voice a little softer as he thought of his little mismatched family.

"Micro and Curtis are gonna be comin' in a few weeks. Gonna stay a week. You should come too," Frank said carefully.

"I'll think about it," Billy sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It would be nice to see all of his family together like that and it would save him having to go see Micro at some point, being hounded with texts from the asshole all the time, and also save him going to see Curtis. Two birds, one stone.

"Alright… let me know. I'll talk to you later… I love you, man," Frank's words made something itch deep in his chest and he rolled his shoulder.

"Love you too, bro," he murmured before he hung up. He hated how sad Frank seemed every time he spoke to him. He felt like he'd disappointed his dad or some shit.

He tossed his phone onto the coffee table, running a hand over his face with a weary sigh. He supposed he might as well go and see them, he could even bring you if you'd been good. He knew Frank wouldn't like it but part of him wanted to spite Frank. Wanted to push his buttons for making him feel the way he did. For making him feel like a burden and a failure. A goddamn disappointment. He did wonder how Karen would react though. She would either be overly sweet, almost motherly, or he'd be fighting her for touching you. Either way would be amusing to him. Micro and Curt would be fine, leaving you alone because they knew what would happen if they didn't. Vampires weren't savages, they could behave and they had self control. Billy just liked to lean into his darkness, his more primal and animalistic side, when he felt like it. His family, however, were firmly wrapped up in Frank and his holier than thou crusade, so he wasn’t worried about your safety if he took you.

"Is everything okay?" You asked. You didn't hear the other side of the conversation but it seemed to make him tense and annoyed. You reached for his shoulders and started massaging them to untense him, not wanting him to become any grumpier. Billy hummed, glad you were here. This was exactly why he wanted a human pet. These little things you'd do for him to make his life a little better. You seemed to actually enjoy pleasing him since your whole arousal awakening, rather than the relecuant fear you'd normally show unless broken. He was happy you'd both finally crossed that line and he idly wondered if this meant you'd stop running from him.

"I'm gonna visit Frank in a few weeks. I'll be stayin' for the week. If you're a good girl, I'll bring you with me," he murmured, enjoying the way your hands felt massaging him. He'd told you about Frank and the others. He may have left out the fact they were vamps but during some of your conversations in the months together he'd spoken to you of his brother. You'd never met him or the others though. He'd never trusted you enough to take you anywhere.

"Ooh! I'd love that! I'll be super super good I promise," you said excitedly. You really wanted to go and see more of the outside world. You were nervous because you've barely been and seen the outside world but you really wanted to. You kept massaging Billy and thought of what you could that would please him. You moved to the floor in front of him and took one of his feet to massage on your lap.

"Is it far from here? Do we take a plane?" You asked, looking up at him and taking his sock off, massaging his bare foot, pressing your thumbs on the sole. He relaxed back against the couch as he looked at you. He wanted a drink. Maybe a whisky. He was enjoying your hands on him too much to tell you to fetch him one though.

"It's not that far, we don't need to take a plane. I'm only gonna take you if you're real good though. You gotta show me you can be a good girl for me. I won't have you embarrassin' me in front of my family," he muttered. Billy would already have to deal with Frank acting like he was fucking Satan for having a human pet. He didn't need you acting up and making it worse.

You nodded quickly and switched to the other foot. You were thinking, wondering what exactly would embarrass him. It made you kind of anxious not knowing.

“What exactly should I be aware of or...refrain from doing in front of them?” You asked in a small voice, wanting to please by asking beforehand and making sure you’d be good. Sometimes you’d do something that seemed completely normal to you and he’d have to compel people to forget and he’d get angry. You hated how dysfunctional it made you feel when that happened..

“So that I won’t do something like that time with the mailman,” you muttered embarrassingly remembering how annoyed he was with you. Billy almost rolled his eyes remembering how you answered the door completely naked to get a package. He'd had to compel the mailman to forget, resisting the urge to snap his neck for simply seeing you naked.

"Well first off, clothes on around others. Only I can see you naked," he huffed, still annoyed over it.

“I don’t mean to do these things... I’m sorry again,” you answered, seeing his annoyance at the memory. He waved a hand dismissively at you.

"You just need to be good. If I tell you to do somethin', you do it right away. I don't give a shit what anyone else says, you answer to me and me alone. You belong to me. Keep that in mind," he gave you a firm look and raised a brow at you.

“Yes, of course.” you answered promptly, nodding a few times. You put his socks back on and stayed in front of him on the floor.

"You also gotta remember that these people are my family. If you start cryin' and tryin' to ask 'em for help, they'll get real mad at you," it was a complete lie. If you turned on the dramatic victim routine to Frank he'd probably find a way to take you off him and Billy really didn't want to get into a real fight with Frank. They fought all the time but something serious would be lethal for everyone involved.

You blanched a bit at the idea, the last thing you needed was for Frank to be angry with you. Billy talked about him a few times and he seemed as deadly as him. Billy has been nicer to you in the last day, giving you back some of your freewill like books and netflix for example. It’s been a few days since you even thought about trying to flee, you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

“Did you have an activity in mind for the rest of the day?” you asked. You were done with your chores and Billy didn’t seem to be needed in his office. But you knew better than to take for granted you were dismissed. He was pleased that you seemed to take his words to heart and he hoped you'd be good if he took you to Frank's. He thought for a moment before his eyes drifted to the bedroom door.

"We can watch a movie. Why don't you go pick one from my bottom drawer?" He suggested with a grin. He'd purposely put some of his more intense porn at the top of the pile and he was curious what you'd pick.

You blushed slightly at his suggestion but you nodded and went to his drawer. You browsed through the DVDs and picked one that seemed different from the last one you watched. You walked back to the living room and presented him with the one you picked.

“Is that okay with you?” you asked for his approval before putting it on. He looked at it, a sly smirk tugging at his lips at your choice.

"Yeah, that's fine. You wanna go make me a drink before you put it on? You can have one too," he smiled charmingly.

“Yes, thank you that’s very kind of you,” you answered before promptly walking to the bar, pouring him a whiskey and getting a glass of red wine for yourself. You gave him his drink with a smile and put the DVD on before sitting on the couch next to him with your drink. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him as he sipped at his drink. He was more than curious how you'd react to what you were about to watch and he was already preparing for questions. You always seemed to have lots of them. He didn't mind though. It gave him the chance to say whatever he wanted, warping your sense of reality to whatever he saw fit.

You looked at the screen and it didn’t take very long to realise this was somewhat different than the other one you watched. The man seemed to tower over the girl, a bit like Billy and you, as if she was his pet human too.

Who’s been a very naughty girl?

I’ve been, sir...

The man yanked the woman to his lap and gave her ass a rough slap. She whined at the pain and started counting the slaps as the man kept going over and over. You weren’t sure why she was being punished this way and not being locked up or something like Billy did when you displeased him. It showed on your face as you took a sip of your drink. He wasn't even watching the TV, his eyes were glued to you as he took in your reaction. The confusion on your face amused him and he took another drink of his whisky as he kept watching you.

“Why is she being punished like that? It’s different than mine,” you asked, turning to Billy for clarification. He chuckled, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger.

"It's a different kind of punishment. She's been naughty but not too naughty. Not like you are sometimes. The slaps hurt but it also feels good, she likes it," he murmured near your ear.

You nodded and turned back to the screen, wondering how it’d feel pleasurable. The scene changed and she was trailing after him on all fours with what looked like a leash hooked to her collar. Billy sure made you grovel at his feet like that before but a leash? Why though… so she doesn’t escape? Like your shock collar? The man yanked on the leash and had her bent over a table and roughly took her from behind which confused you instantly.

“Why is he behind her like that? Isn’t he supposed to be like..” your question trailed off as you tilted your head to one side almost upside down trying to understand their weird joining. He bit back a snort at your question. You were honestly adorable sometimes.

"There's lots of different ways to do it. They all feel good," he shrugged, his mind quickly going through all the various ways he planned on taking you once you were ready.

You jumped slightly when the man turned her around roughly on her back and slapped her face before grabbing at her throat and taking her with a speed and violence that shocked you. He seemed so angry with her and she seemed to greatly enjoy being hit like that. You were so confused you didn’t even know where to start… Billy was already hard. Both at knowing what was happening on screen and hearing the noises but also by your sweet innocent face as you took it in. He finished his drink off, setting the empty glass on the coffee table before moving back and putting his arm around your shoulder once more, the other hand settling on your thigh.

“Why is he so rough with her? Is that another thing I’ll learn?” you asked, taking a long sip of your drink and keeping your attention to the screen.

"Yeah. They both like it that way. She enjoys it 'cause she's a good girl and it makes her feel good. It makes her wet," he drawled next to your ear as his hand slipped under your dress. He'd put you in another sundress with no underwear. He quite liked you that way.

You turned your head at him, unsure where to keep your attention as you looked at him, your lap and the screen. His fingers brushed against your clit teasingly as he watched you, his dark eyes dancing with mischief. You moaned softly, feeling the warm and tingly pleasure wake up inside you. You kept your eyes on the screen, too curious about it all to look away. You opened your mouth a few times to ask another question, your thoughts slow and unfocused.

“Is that another w-way to please?” you asked panting a little faster now. He was still toying with your clit lazily as he turned his eyes to the screen, a brow raising. The guy on screen was throat fucking the girl roughly, a tight grip in her hair as he used her and had her choking on his cock. Billy's dick twitched, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he imagined doing it to you.

"It is. Only very good girls get to do it," he murmured, wanting you to think it was something to aspire to achieve. He started stroking you a little faster, rubbing circles around your clit.

“How can I take you so deep like she does? It seems to make me gag,” you said between little moans, with a small frown and a slight envy seeing her being so good. He smirked, loving the look on your pretty face.

"You just gotta learn. You can practice with me and with the toys when I'm busy," he said as he withdrew his hand from you, leaning back in his seat casually. You pouted a bit feeling his hand returning to his lap.

“When can we try more toys?” you asked, finishing your glass of wine, your cheeks flushed from it and desire. The scent of your arousal seemed to get stronger and it stirred something inside of him. He shot you a sly smile as he stood, grabbing your wrist and yanking you to your feet. He didn't wait for a reaction as he dragged you to the bedroom.

You barely had time to put your glass down on the table before being pushed down on his bed at a speed that you couldn’t keep up with. I guess you had your answer now. Billy pulled your dress off and tossed it to the floor carelessly. He smirked down at you as he slowly backed you up to the bed.

"Lay down on your back in the middle of the bed, sweetheart," he purred, leaning down near your lips but not kissing you.

“Yes, sir!” you answered like the woman did on the screen earlier, grinning slightly. You were excited to learn new things and be good to him. Your eagerness pleased him and his cock ached for you. He watched as you did as he told you before he climbed on the bed, moving your arms and legs out like a starfish. He gripped your jaw as his smile turned dark.

"Don't move your arms or legs," he murmured, using his compulsion on you.

You felt like you spaced out for a bit but blinked a few times and smiled back at him, biting your lower lip. You looked down at his lips and licked yours, wanting to taste them. He gave you a wicked grin before he leaned down, capturing your lips in a dirty kiss as his tongue dominated your mouth making you moan into the kiss. He moved away and got up, stripping his clothes off as he made his way to his drawers. He rummaged in the one with the toys in for a moment before grabbing the vibrating wand. When he turned back to you, he felt the wave of arousal hit him. Seeing you lay there unable to move, so helpless. It made his mouth water. It was only heightened by the fact he knew how excited you were. He could smell it and hear your heart beating wildly in your chest, despite how utterly vulnerable you were to him in that moment.

“What is it?” you asked, looking at the odd toy in his hand. You’ve never seen anything like it before.

"You'll find out," he smirked vaguely as he climbed onto the bed and knelt between your legs. He looked down at your pretty and soaked pussy and groaned. He switched the toy on, the buzzing floating through the room as he gave you a mischievous smile.

“Is it gonna help me take you?” you asked looking down at it but couldn’t see it properly with your arms spread out like that.

"Not this one. This is to make you feel good since you've been so good for me. I wanna treat you," he gave you a sweet smile as he felt his dick twitching in anticipation. He pressed it to your clit as he watched you with rapt attention. You gasped loudly, closing your eyes tightly shut with your mouth wide open. It wasn’t like anything you’ve felt before but you loved it. Your moans and whines filled the bedroom as you felt your climax buildup inside. He couldn't take his eyes off you. You were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen when you were like this. He didn't do anything, just kept the toy pressed against you as he waited for you to fall apart.

You tugged on the invisible bonds at your wrists and came loudly. Your voice was high pitched and whiny as you rode the wonderful sensations the toy gave you. He bit his lip with a deep groan, his free hand moving to his cock as he started fisting himself slowly at the sight of you coming undone. He didn't move the toy away from you after you came, he kept it firmly against you as he smirked, moaning a little as he kept pleasuring himself. You felt another wave of pleasure hit you not too far after the first one, making you gasp loudly, panting for air. The toy didn’t move an inch even after two orgasms, not one minute of respite. He was absolutely entranced by your blissful face and sweet moans and he fisted himself a little faster. He wondered just how many he could get from you, how far he could push you. He was unrelenting with the toy, not moving it as he greedily drank in the sight of you like this and drove himself further to release.

You started to shake and your body twitched slightly here and there under the relentless toy he was using on you. A sheen of sweat broke over your skin and your quiet whines were pleading for a timeout. You couldn’t believe it when you felt a third one slowly, very slowly build up inside you.

“Please...I-I” you could barely talk under all the shaking, twitching and panting. You were a mess and he loved it.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" He asked teasingly, still not moving the toy as he watched you squirm but not be able to properly move. You were overwhelmed by so many sensations and feelings you couldn’t find the right words. You sobbed, feeling the painful release so close yet not sparking up, just staying in place unable to catch fire. He let out a delighted laugh, your tears bringing him great joy. He moved his hand on himself faster as he felt his own release creeping up on him quickly with you looking like that.

“Help me,” you pleaded looking down at him, sniffing the tears you’ve never shown him before this moment. You weren’t really sad but your body just couldn’t take it anymore it seemed. He chuckled as he grinned sinisterly, soaking up your desperation. The toy wasn't overly big and he moved it, pushing it inside of you. Everything exploded, it hit you so fast it almost hurt. Your hips moved around the toy, your body knowing exactly what to do, what it needed.

“Oh god! yes-yes-yes!” you whined in pleasure, wanting suddenly more of it when you didn’t a minute ago. He almost came at your reaction and he let go of the toy, leaving it inside of you. He kept working himself over as his other hand started rubbing your clit furiously, wanting more from you.

"Such a good girl," he murmured with a groan, his dark eyes never leaving you.

A fourth and very final wave hit you and you just flopped down back on the bed, mumbling moans and gasps. His lips parted, eyes screwing shut as he let out a filthy moan and came hard, painting your stomach and pussy with his cum. He felt weightless and laughed lightly, pulling the toy out of you and tossing it to the floor after turning it off. He'd have you clean up the room tomorrow.

"Get a shower before you get ready for bed," he muttered as he flopped beside you on the bed, turning to you and gripping your jaw so you'd look at him.

"You can move now," he smirked. He could have been nice and cleaned you up himself but he was tired and felt too good to move. You felt your arms and legs untense but you couldn’t move yet. You were just so exhausted and fighting back sleep.

“Thank you,” you said softly, turning your head to look at him with sleepy eyes.

He rolled his eyes with a snort at the state of you. He supposed he couldn't be mad when he'd gotten you in that state. It soothed something primal in him that he'd been the one to do it.

"It's fine, just go to sleep. Get cleaned up in the mornin'," he murmured, reaching out and brushing your hair from your sweaty face. You nodded, moving your sore body up so your head would rest on a pillow and closed your eyes. The arm closest to him moved slightly to reach him and you caressed his skin sleepily with your pinky finger. He smirked to himself as he watched you fall asleep. He was really having a lot of fun exploring all of this with you and he wanted more. Wanted to push your limits and really see what he could get you to do.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfiction #billy russo imagine #billy russo fanfics #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #ben barnes #billy russo/reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo fic #billy russo smut #bin bons #dark!billy russo

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gobblepotgazette · 2 years

Text

Gobblepot Fic Recs

The fic rec event has come to a close, so thank you for contributing!

Let’s enjoy the submitted works now:

1. New Beginnings by @sunlitroom

2. Trust and other dangerous things by @whatwould-misha-do

3. Rough by @lalaurelia

4. Of Fish and Fishermen by Envoy

5. That's What You Call Me by Librarity

6. Revenge and Other Confessions by @sunlitroom

7. Lost in the Rain by @lalaurelia

8. Take My Hand, Don’t Let Go by @valentina-gobblepot

9. Bird Catcher by @thegreenfairy13

10. Dog Sitter by @thegreenfairy13

11. How to Lose Your Tail and Have Fun at the Same Time by @butterfliesandresistance

12. Al Dente by belial

13. Loud like love by @atcnm

14. I Promise - I Swear by HouseofMacbeth

15. Holiday Cheer by @ladyspock7

16. Only If for a Night by glowstick_of_destiny

17. Five Times Jim & Oswald Cuddled Platonically, and One Time It Wasn't by @pamdizzle

18. White Shirt Now Red (my bloody nose) by @eatamilkbone

19. It's Not Giving Up, It's Letting Go (and moving to a better place) by @eatamilkbone

20. A Valentine's Day at City Hall by @valentina-gobblepot

21. show me how you miss me by Edgebug

22. As the Driven Snow by fatal_drum

23. Stranger Things by TimmyJaybird

24. A Subtler Taste by @butterfliesandresistance

25. Midnight Delight by @lalaurelia

26. From This Night Not a Whisper by @sunlitroom

#gobblepot #gobblepot fic recs #fanfic

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 5 months

Note

Hii! I saw you mention in the notes of a chapter in your Phantom fic and I was curious to know what are your zodiac headcanons for the different versions of Erik?

What an amazing ask! I'm gonna have to think on this.

Update 2023-11-21

I'm sorry I took so long to respond to this, but I swear, nonny, I didn't forget you.

So first things first, I have actually changed Raoul's zodiac sign in my fic from Virgo to Cancer upon further research.

But onto the Eriks

Let me see here...

Well, I have already established that Gerik is, without a shadow of a doubt, a Leo in my mind. He's got the ambition, the pride, the flair for the dramatic. And I also see in Leo the qualities that he could have had of that hadn't been trampled out of him at an early age by *gestures largely* mankind. Friendliness and optimism. And the qualities Christine could resurrect in him (playfulness) and a few that survived it all-- with Madame Giry presumably getting a cut of the monthly 20,000 francs we see that he is generous. He's loyal, too, and has preserved some sense of humour, even if it's sardonic.

I would also accept Gerik as an Aries, though.

Merik is a tough call because interpretation varies. But I think most stage Phantoms fall under Aries, Cancer, Scorpio or Capricorn.

Aries would of course be explosive Phantoms that really let it all out in Stranger than You Dreamt It, and are bold with their touches in MOTN and PONR. Scorpio Phantoms would be similar, but their rage is a more quiet, seething kind that bubbles under the surface and never quite shows all of itself, even in Yr final lair. They also lean heavily into Erik's sensuality, but in a subtler way. Cancer Phantoms are your soft touches and crying types. You tend to miss a bit of the rage with these but the sheer weight of sad makes up for it. The last falls in with a fond headcanon of mind that Erik was born on Epiphany (January 6th). I think there's a cruel but significant irony to the idea of Erik's birthday going uncelebrated by his mother on a day that celebrates the acknowledgement of the Christ child--Erik is, instead, hidden away by his mother.

Cancer or Scorpio also seem like the most likely fit for Leroux Erik, but he is a many sided entity and tough to pin down.

Kayrik (Susan Kay's Phantom ) is a Capricorn, and NOT in a good way. Next.

We have the great good fortune of knowing for a fact that Erik in the 1925 Silent film Is a February Pisces. Which makes sense because February Pisces are Freaks.

Erik Destler is a Scorpio. Next.

If any Phantom is a Capricorn, its Herbert Lom in the 1962 Hammer film. This man 100% work focused, he just wants his Opera done right before he dies. Also to get revenge.

Erique Claudin (1943) is without a doubt a cancer. Whether or not you read it as him being Christine's long lost father, he's got the caring, nurturing, overly-sensitive streak.

Lmk if I missed one you wanted me to cover

#asks #poto #phantom of the opera #erik the phantom

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myscenic · 25 days

Text

Pairing: bf!mark lee x male!reader

Genre: smut, fluff at the end

Warnings: swearing, jealous sex, unprotected sex (always wear a condom b4 u do it!!), breeding, degradation, pet names, big dick mark, dom!mark, dumbification, size kink, nipple play, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia, possessive sex (i think), rough sex to fluffy sex idk, very messy💀

Word Count: 3.9k+

Synopsis: one day, y/n, mark and their friends hanged out with each other, but mark kept seeing y/n staring at his friend, making him jealous, so he taught y/n a lesson when they went home.

✎ Note: i think i went too far for this one?😭 and pls lmk if i made any mistakes in the fic :)

one sunny afternoon, a group of friends - jaemin, renjun, haechan, mark and y/n decided to embrace the warm weather and head to a nearby beach for a day of relaxation and fun. as they set foot on the sandy shore, laughter and excitement echoed through the air.

as the group settled down, their bodies basking in the sun's rays, a wave of warmth washed over y/n. his gaze wandered, drawn to the laughter and joy shared among their friends. but it was jaemin, with his radiant smile and his body, who captured y/n's attention.

jaemin had an irresistible charm, his presence exuding confidence and handsomeness. y/n's eyes traced the contour of Jaemin's muscular arms as he effortlessly engaged in conversations and playful banter. there was an undeniable allure to his physicality that stirred something within y/n. he knew he had a boyfriend, but still, he couldn't take his eyes off of him.

mark, observant as always, noticed the shift in y/n's energy. an undercurrent of jealousy washed over him, igniting his possessiveness. he felt a mix of anger and excitement flood his veins.

throughout the day, y/n and jaemin's interactions danced on the edge of innocence and flirtatiousness. their touches were subtler, their gazes lingering a moment longer than necessary. it was a game of tantalizing temptation that sent mark's jealousy into overdrive.

mark struggled to maintain his composure, his jaw clenched, and his hands tightly gripping the sand beneath him. he couldn't bear the sight of y/n’s gaze drifting towards jaemin, their laughter shared becoming increasingly intimate. rage and desire dueled within him, an explosive mixture that threatened to consume him.

he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as he watched y/n's eyes light up at the sight of jaemin's muscular arms. he couldn't blame him, jaemin was objectively attractive, but the way he was looking at him made mark's blood boil.

when the day had run its course, as the sun began its descent towards the horizon, y/n found himself questioning mark's decision to accompany him on his path home.

"babe, why are you going the same way as me?" y/n asked as they walked together, the rest of their friends having already gone their separate ways. "you didn't tell me that you were going to stay with me tonight."

mark gritted his teeth, trying to keep his anger in check. “i thought i'd walk you home," he said through clenched teeth. "and we need to talk about the way you were looking and being so touchy with jaemin earlier."

y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "i-i don't know what you're talking about," he stammered.

mark stepped closer to him, his voice low and dangerous. "don't lie to me," he growled, his breath hot on his ear. "i saw the way you were staring at jaemin, the way you touched him, like you’re begging him to fuck you. you're mine, y/n. you belong to me."

y/n shivered at mark's words, his heart racing in his chest. he knew he shouldn't find his possessiveness attractive, but he couldn't help the way his body reacted to him.

mark's hand reached down to grab his ass, giving it a firm squeeze. "you have no idea what you're gonna experience when we get back to your house," he whispered, his lips brushing against his ear.

mark's dominant nature took over as soon as they stepped foot inside y/n's house. without wasting a moment, he grabbed y/n by the arm, took him to the bedroom and forcefully threw him onto the bed. y/n's body bounced against the soft mattress, his heart pounding knowing what's coming for him.

mark, towering above y/n, his eyes filled with a dark intensity, let out a low growl. "you think you can give your attention to someone else, huh?" he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "well, let me show you who you really belong to."

“i-i'm sorry, it wasn't on purpose!” y/n said shakily.

“shut up.”

y/n's breath hitched, his body trembling as mark's words sent a jolt of excitement through him. mark's dominant presence was both intoxicating and terrifying, a combination that made y/n somehow feel horny.

mark wasted no time in shedding his clothes, his muscular physique on full display. his large, throbbing dick stood proudly, ready to claim what was rightfully his. y/n's eyes widened at the sight, he felt excited but nervous at the same time as he saw the huge length his boyfriend had.

“is this what you wanted?”

with a smirk, mark approached the bed, crawling over y/n's body. his hands roughly gripped y/n’'s wrists, pinning them above his head, as he leaned down and captured y/n's lips in a possessive kiss. y/n's mouth was claimed, his protests silenced as mark's tongue explored every inch, asserting his dominance.

"mm~" y/n moaned, his body arching against mark's touch, "mark... please..."

mark pulled back, a wicked glint in his eyes. "please what?" he taunted.

y/n's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but the overwhelming need for mark's touch compelled him to comply. "please... fuck me," he whimpered, his voice filled with desperation. "i need you inside me..."

“louder,” mark commanded.

“b-but-”

“hm?”

y/n sighed then proceeded to say it louder, “please fuck me, i need you inside me. please!”

mark's lips curled into a satisfied smirk. "that's what i like to hear," he growled, his voice dripping with dominance. "but remember, you're fucking mine. no one gets to fuck you like i do. safe word is blue."

y/n's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, but mark's touch and words ignited a fire deep within him. as mark's hand trailed down y/n's body, his fingers teasingly brushing against y/n's exposed skin, y/n couldn't deny the growing ache between his legs.

mark's dominant grip tightened on y/n's wrists as he positioned himself at y/n's entrance. with a forceful thrust, mark claimed what was his, burying himself deep inside y/n's tight, eager hole. y/n’s breath caught in his throat, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through him.

"fuckk!" y/n cried out, his voice filled with a mix of pleasure and surrender. "this feels so good~"

mark's thrusts were relentless, his hips pounding against y/n's ass, claiming him over and over again. y/n's moans filled the room, a symphony of pleasure and surrender. the bed creaked beneath them, a testament to the intensity of their connection.

"such a slut," mark hissed in y/n's ear, his voice filled with sadistic pleasure. "you love being fucked like this, don't you? tell me how much you want it."

y/n's dick twitched as he heard mark's words, he couldn't help but find his words sexy. "i-i'm your slut, mark," he moaned, his voice filled with submission. "i need your dick... please don’t stop."

as their bodies moved in sync, the room filled with the sounds of their flesh slapping together, mingling with y/n's moans and mark's grunts. the air was thick with the scent of sweat and hotness.

y/n's body trembled beneath mark's relentless thrusts, it was faster than in the beginning. as their bodies moved together, y/n's moans filled the room, a symphony of ecstasy and longing.

"f-fuck-," y/n gasped, his voice strained with a hint of desperation. "slow down... it's too much..."

mark's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing on his lips. "sluts like you don't get to talk," he sneered, his voice laced with dominance. "shut up and take what i give you."

y/n's plea fell on deaf ears as mark's hips accelerated, his pace becoming more punishing. the forceful thrusts sent waves of intense pleasure mixed with a slight twinge of pain through y/n's body.

the stimulation made it difficult for y/n to form words. each thrust hit his prostate perfectly. his mind was consumed by the sensations, his mouth unable to vocalize any protests. drool escaped from the corners of y/n's mouth, a symbol of his complete surrender to mark's relentless fucking.

mark's eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure as he gazed down at y/n, his grip on y/n’s waist tightening. "can't even form words, huh?" he taunted. "you're such a fucking slut. just a mindless, needy hole for me to use."

y/n's body convulsed with pleasure, his mind clouded by the intensity of the moment. mark's words cut through y/n's haze, further fueling the mix of humiliation and arousal that coursed through him. he was both mesmerized and surprised how the sweet boyfriend turned into a sexy and dominant one.

unable to articulate his thoughts, y/n’s moans grew louder and more desperate, his body arching to meet mark's punishing thrusts. each deep, forceful thrust made y/n felt so painful yet good at the same time.

y/n's body quivered as he came from the thrusts, his orgasm crashing through him like a tidal wave. his walls clenched tightly around mark's throbbing dick, milking him for every drop of cum. y/n's moans filled the room, a mixture of neediness and relief.

“shit, you're so tight.” mark groaned.

his eyes narrowed, a smirk spreading across his face as he felt y/n's release. "already? pathetic," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "each time we had sex you’d always hold longer," he continued, “but i don't blame you, i know my dick is too big for you to handle, but i don't give a fuck tonight.”

y/n's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and shyness, his body still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm. the harsh words from mark pierced through him, fueling a twisted arousal within him.

y/n and mark had set for a couple of times before, but mark had never gone this rough on him. mark always took it slow and nice. but this time, he could sense that mark was really angry, but there was a part of him that secretly enjoyed being put in his place.

mark's thrusts became more forceful, his dominance overpowering y/n's senses. Each thrust was a reminder of his angryness, "i could fuck you all day," Mark growled, his voice laced with dominance. "if you weren't being a brat today, i would've fucked you the way we always did."

little did he know, y/n was secretly enjoying this side of mark, the dominating, sexy beast.

mark's grip kept tightening on y/n's hips, his tempo increasing with every thrust, making y/n cum again. "i'm not done with you yet," he hissed, his voice heavy with superiority. "i'm going to fuck you until you're completely dumb. you'll beg me to stop, but i won't. you're mine to use.”

y/n's blushed at the harsh words, but he thought mark was sexy while he was saying them. he was trapped in a cycle of pleasure and degradation, unable to deny the satisfaction that mark brought him.

y/n's body quivered under mark's touch, a mix of pleasure and a secret thrill coursing through his veins. this side of mark, the forceful and commanding side, was new to y/n. he regretted that he didn't discover it earlier.

as mark's lips crashed onto y/n's, a surge of neediness and longing consumed him. the taste of his own tears mixed with mark's saliva, creating a heady concoction that both excited y/n. his body responded eagerly, aching for more of mark's touch, more of his control, grinding constantly.

y/n's resistance wavered as the intensity of the situation escalated. the raw power radiating from mark overwhelmed his senses, leaving him craving more. it was a dangerous dance of pleasure and pain, a dance that y/n was secretly enjoying.

mark's tongue teased and explored, igniting a fire within y/n that he had never experienced before. each touch, each lick, only served to deepen the connection between them. y/n's moans mingled with the taste of their passionate kiss, a symphony of desire that echoed through the room.

and then, mark's hands found their destination, his fingertips grazing over y/n's hardened nipples.

mark's smirk widened as he flicked y/n's sensitive nipples with his fingers, relishing in the power he held over y/n. he had always knew that y/n’s nipples were sensitive so he didn't tease him during their sex. but this time, he didn't care, he let his possessiveness get over him (it was a good idea). a gasp escaped y/n's lips, quickly followed by a loud, uninhibited moan that echoed through the room.

“no n-not there fuckkk!" y/n cried out, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure that surged through his body. the defiance and surrender collided within y/n, driving him insane.

“you know i-i'm sensitive there!” y/n protested.

“so?”

mark's eyes gleamed with triumph as he continued to toy with y/n's nipples, teasing and tormenting them with each flicker of his fingers. y/n's moans grew louder. the sensations radiated from his nipples, spreading through his body like wildfire.

mark chuckled, a twisted satisfaction dancing in his eyes. ignoring y/n's plea, he continued his ministrations, flicking y/n's nipples with his nimble fingers. the sensation sent waves of tingling pleasure radiating through y/n's body.

y/n's whole body tensed up, his muscles straining against mark's firm grip on his wrists. tears welled up in y/n’s eyes, his body overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

mark's twisted grin widened as he noticed y/n's tears. "aww, don't cry," he taunted, his voice filled with sadistic delight. "you know you love it. and i won't stop until i'm satisfied.”

y/n's breath hitched as mark's lips trailed down his cheek, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. it's like mark was trying to kiss the pain away.

"such a good boy for me," mark whispered, his voice dripping with condescension.

y/n's mind spun, caught between the overwhelming sensations and power mark held over him. the tears on his cheeks glistened.

"please," y/n gasped, his voice laced with desperation. "i can't hold it any longer if you keep doing that.”

mark's laughter filled the room, a sinister sound that sent shivers down y/n's spine. "but you will," he declared, his tone dripping with authority. "you'll cum when i say so. this is your punishment for being a slutty bitch in front my friends.”

mark's actions spoke volumes, defying y/n's pleas and asserting his dominance. it was a twisted game of control, and y/n found himself caught in its enticing web. mark's touch ignited a fire within y/n, a fire that burned away any lingering resistance and replaced it with a burning hunger for more.

"god, i love hearing your moans and squirming under my touch," mark murmured with a dark satisfaction, relishing in the power he held over y/n. without hesitation, he lowered his head and licked y/n's sensitive nipples, his tongue swirling and sucking with an expert precision.

y/n's breath hitched, a mixture of pleasure and frustration coursing through his veins.

"fuck, i'm cumming!" y/n gasped.

but just as y/n was on the edge, mark abruptly stopped, leaving y/n whining in frustration. "heyy!" y/n protested, his voice laced with need. "mark, please..."

mark's eyes gleamed with a wicked delight as he locked eyes with y/n. "did you forget what i said earlier?" he questioned, asserting his dominance over y/n's pleasure. y/n's pout only fueled mark's amusement.

y/n's body quivered with anticipation, the denial intensified the throbbing ache within him, amplifying his need to please mark and earn the release.

mark chuckled, a dark and alluring sound that sent shivers down y/n's spine. the power imbalance between them was palpable, as mark reveled in his control over y/n's pleasure, pushing him to the brink of desperation.

mark grin as he positioned himself between y/n's quivering thighs again. with a forceful thrust, not asking if y/n was ready or not, he plunged his throbbing dick deep into his tight, hole, claiming him with a possessive dominance that left no room for escape. the sound of their bodies colliding filled the room.

y/n's breath caught in his throat as the sheer intensity of mark's thrusts sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body. each powerful movement pushed him further, his mind consumed by the raw, unadulterated pleasure he was experiencing.

mark's hips moved with a relentless rhythm, his dick pounding into y/n with a powerful force. the room was filled with the sounds of their moans mixing together.

y/n's body arched in response to mark's powerful thrusts, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he surrendered to the overwhelming sensations.

mark's eyes bore into y/n's, a mix of dominance and lust shining brightly. he reveled in the control he held over y/n, using him as a vessel for his own gratification. each thrust was deliberate, calculated to push y/n to the edge. it was tormenting that y/n couldn’t cum.

the room was filled with the intoxicating scent of sex and sweat, the air thick with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. their bodies moved in perfect sync together.

"f-fuckk," y/n stuttered, his voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and surrender. "god, mark... you're so big," he gasped, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. drool escaped from the corner of y/n's mouth as his eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the experience.

mark's dominant presence loomed over y/n. "you like it, yeah?" he growled, his tone filled with possessiveness. "you're only mine to fuck, remember it," his words sent shivers down y/n's spine, he’d never seen his boyfriend that possessive before.

y/n's mind became a haze of pleasure, his thoughts fragmented and muddled. he could feel the heat of mark's body pressed against his own, the strength and power behind each thrust amplifying his pleasure to new heights. he was completely at mark's mercy, a willing victim to him.

“h-harder..” y/n murmured.

as mark continued to ravage y/n's body, his thrusts unrelenting, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against y/n's ear. "didn’t you want me to go slower earlier?" he cooed teasingly, his voice laced with a mix of mischief and dominance. "what happened, babe?"

y/n's breath hitched at mark's words, a mixture of embarrassment flooding his senses. he struggled to form a response, his mind consumed by the overwhelming pleasure mark was inflicting upon him.

"i-i... i can handle it," y/n managed to stutter, his voice quivering with a mix of defiance and submission. "don't hold back..."

mark chuckled darkly, delighted by y/n's response. "as you wish," he said. with renewed determination, mark increased the pace and force of his thrusts, fulfilling y/n’s request.

the room filled with the wet, slapping sounds of their bodies, the intensity of their connection pushing y/n to the edge. mark revealed in the power he held over y/n, his moans fueling his every movement.

mark continued his relentless assault on y/n's body, fucking deep into his prostate. the room became a haze of sweat, moans, and the intoxicating scent of sex.

y/n's fingers clawed at the sheets beneath him, his back arched in pleasure as mark's thrusts grew more urgent and forceful. he was surprised how mark hadn't come yet.

y/n's voice, dripping with desperation. "babe," he gasped, his voice laced with need. "please... let me cum. i can't hold it any longer."

mark's lips curled into a wicked smile as he maintained his punishing pace. "not yet, my baby," he cooed, his lips melting y/n’s, murmured between their kiss. “hold a little longer for me."

y/n whimpered in frustration, his body trembling with anticipation. he knew it was impossible, but he didn’t want to disappoint his boyfriend.

mark cupped y/n's face in his hands, his touch both possessive and tender. their eyes locked, a fiery connection sparking between them. "i'm almost there," he said, his voice filled with affection. "let's cum together, yeah?"

a surge of pleasure surged through y/n's body as mark's words washed over him. their lips crashed together in a desperate, passionate kiss, their tongues intertwining in a frenzy of love. the taste of each other mingled on their tongues.

as their bodies continued to move in unison, the room filled with the sounds of their moans and gasps. the wet sounds of their connection growing louder with each passing moment, they didn’t care if their neighbors heard them or not.

mark's thrusts began to grow sloppy, he could feel that he was close. y/n's body quivered beneath him, his moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment.

“shit, i’m close, baby,” mark groaned as he continued to thrust inside of y/n.

“give it all to me,” y/n cried out.

their connection reached its peak, mark's hips bucked uncontrollably, his dick buried deep within y/n's wetness. he could feel he was on the edge.

with a guttural groan, mark's body tensed, his grip on y/n's hips tightening as he surrendered to the climax that awaited him. y/n's body clenched around him, his walls pulsating as his own release washed over him.

as they came together, mark and y/n cried out in unison the room was filled with the sounds of their moans, their bodies writhing in pleasure as their orgasms collided.

for a few blissful moments, time stood still as they rode the waves of their shared climax. their bodies trembled in the aftermath, their breaths ragged and mingled. mark collapsed onto y/n, their bodies entwined as they basked in the aftermath of their connection.

as their breathing began to slow, mark's voice broke the silence, filled with sincerity and remorse. "i'm sorry, y/n," he murmured, his tone laced with regret. "i just couldn’t help but feel jealous when i saw you looking at jaemin. i shouldn't have gone so rough on you."

y/n's fingers traced soothing patterns along mark's back, his touch gentle and full of understanding. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth. "i know how much you care about me. i’m sorry too."

a small smile tugged at the corners of mark's lips as he looked into y/n's eyes, his expression a mix of vulnerability and adoration. "thank you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "you mean everything to me."

y/n's heart swelled with affection as he met mark's gaze, his own eyes shining with love. "actually… that was amazing," he confessed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "you always knew how to make me feel so good. but this time, it was… really good!”

a blush crept up mark's cheeks, his confidence momentarily replaced by a tender vulnerability. "i'm glad," he replied softly, his voice tinged with a hint of shyness. "you deserve nothing but the best."

with a shared understanding, they closed the distance between them and their lips met in a gentle, lingering kiss. it was a moment of tenderness and forgiveness.

after their gentle kiss, mark's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he suggested, "shower?"

y/n nodded eagerly, his lips curving into a playful smile. "sounds perfect," he replied, his voice filled with anticipation.

with a strong and confident grip, mark scooped y/n up into his arms, effortlessly carrying him towards the bathroom. their bodies pressed close together, their skin still flushed and sensitive from their passionate encounter.

#kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #kpop x male reader smut #nct x male reader #nct dream x male reader #mark lee x male reader #mark x male reader

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jeffandcyrusgetrevenge · 2 years

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This is completely a spoiler (if you can “spoil” a book that came out in 1969) but I feel so queerbaited by Ursula when Genly writes:

I expect it will turn out that sexual intercourse is possible between Gethenian double-sexed and Hainishnorm one-sexed human beings, though such intercourse will inevitably be sterile. It remains to be proved; Estraven and I proved nothing except perhaps a rather subtler point.

& then goes on for a couple of pages about why, exactly, they didn’t fuck, and delineating the exact degree of sexual tension between the two of them, and how it was the Entire Reason They Were Friends, but that “For us to meet sexually would be for us to meet once more as aliens” and I’m pretty sure that this was the point at which I threw the book down and shouted “COME ONNNN” when I read it the first time, when I was 16 or so.

Like. Ursula. You engineered the perfect slow burn, had one of them rescue the other from certain death, resolved all their numerous misunderstandings, and got them isolated together on a long and dangerous journey in which they are frequently snowed in and have to huddle for warmth. And you decided that…they SHOULDNT have sex?? They should just…really want to have sex??

In all the other Hainish novels, by this point whoever is even moderately attracted to one another is banging like bunnies, and the ones that really like each other are ready to take their wedding vows on top of that. Or swear a blood oath or something. But these two, who have literally nothing to lose by fucking, and one of them literally goes into heat once a month, including during the Long Ice Vacation, these two just…prudently abstain.

You’re not telling me it’s not because Genly’s not horny. He hasn’t gotten laid since he landed on the planet however many years ago! And Estraven is literally in heat. And they’re friends. And they’re honestly kind of epically in love.

This is the most frustrating thing about this novel.

It’s also the reason why I immediately googled “genly/estraven slash fic” after I finished the book back in high school. In 2006, all I found was a little blog post speculating about whether, if a Genly Ai/Estraven fandom existed, it would be considered slash or not.

#the left hand of darkness #ursula k le guin #genly ai #estraven #queerbaiting #I’m going to make a PICKET sign and protest over her TOMBSTONE #come back and FIX this

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quidfree · 3 years

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In LMV what’s the dynamic between James, Sirius, and Remus? I can see that Remus is into Sirius but doesn’t seem to be into James...I think Sirius is maybe into Remus and is definitely into James, I know he and Remus kissed but he seems to be preoccupied with James... are Sirius and Remus officially a thing?And James is married but is awfully attached to Sirius, but doesn’t seem to be into Remus. What do you see the relationships between the three of them as? Is this something that’s going to be explored? Thanks!

my main thing w the marauders (at least in LMV) is that it’s not like, per se, any of them are clear-cut ‘a thing’ or dating or whatever, notwithstanding the very in love married couple in the group. the dominant relationship at work (and the one that matters most to me) is the one between all of them, ie a bunch of people who are very close friends and all at least a little in love w/ each other. beyond that the degree and intensity of feelings varies. but LMV itself kind of traces the arc of everyone realising this, and just kind of gradually not caring about clean-cut social boundaries between them, instead favouring just letting whatever messy feelings they may have be known within the group. i think sirius and lily are the two people who have wised up the most to it by this point, as the story hopefully suggests.

to answer your question more specifically, like i mentioned above, there’s no 1:1 equivalence between any of the relationships in LMV- all of the individual relationships are kind of on their own page. so the core boys are all v tight friends, but beyond that their pairings are all very different from e/o. (sidenote it feels very weird to exclude lily from this discussion but fair is fair).

james-sirius is kind of the predominant one in LMV itself, which i swear is just me applying canon- yes, we barely see them interact in the books themselves, but the way literally every other character talks about it it’s obvious they were inseparable to the point of codependence when james was alive, so this translates into the fic. so yes, jamesandsirius™ does take precedence over most of their other relationships- which everyone else is fully aware of. the main disbalance in their relationship is just that sirius has a lot of familial hangups so he puts james on a bit of a pedestal (to summarise shocking amounts of meta i could write), and then james has lily whereas sirius primarily has james- though regulus is sirius’ Other Person in a sense. i think really james and sirius have been factually dating since they were like twelve but just don’t know it because they were so instantly on the same page they never went through the awkward motions. both lily and remus are at least subconsciously aware of this. so, increasingly (and to his horror) is regulus.

remus-sirius are also a very important relationship (to both charas) but on a different level than james and sirius are. from remus’ pov i think remus and sirius are to an extent closer than remus and james, even though james means more to remus, if that makes sense- they may not vibe as much but they understand each other. this last bit also applies to sirius. remus has a similarly pine-y feeling for all three other marauders (lily included as third, not peter, lol) but in a way sirius is the only one he feels like he can communicate this to (see: old married couple) bc he’s not so above remus’ cynicism. the same in reverse goes for sirius. the two of them didn’t kiss because they’re Now Dating, it’s more that after all the stress and drama surrounding the locket + their prolonged roommateship sirius kind of walks back into his flat, takes in remus’ presence, and is like. im now going to kiss you as revenge/thanks for caring about my survival. it’s definitely acknowledging a tension that’s been around for ages, but it doesn’t change anything about their relationship otherwise, yk? which i think they were both kind of worried about before but in the moment even as remus feels murderous he’s also relieved like oh, ok, this is normal actually.

remus-james is a relationship that’s unfortunately been placed on the back-burner by plot seeing as they haven’t hung out alone for prolonged amounts of time since the chapter where they hunted down the squib house. which is a shame bc they are also v close friends w a v interesting relationship! and remus is not immune to the james effect- he’s subtler about it, but he certainly hero worships him a fair deal, though unlike sirius he doesn’t have a giant blind spot about it. and james in return almost especially enjoys remus’ company because he’s the most closed off of his friends, even all these years later, so he’s still forever trying to worm his way into his head (heart having been long foregone) and their verdicts on things matter a lot to each other. i would say of the whole group they’re probably the least, hm, ‘romantic’ per se, but they are incredibly important to e/o, and probably best-suited to give each other advice that approximates the objective, despite their own biases. in a specific way they are the most self-aware of the dynamics of the group.

i hope that about answers your question- tldr this is obviously sort of a secondary theme to LMV that is gradually explored throughout the narrative, but my main point would be not to try and sort out clear-cut pairings because that is not what the story’s really about. they are just people who love e/o!

#qui repond #qui ecrit #lmv #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #ot4 #marauders #anon

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thought-42 · 4 years

Text

Clone Wars Fic Day Three

Today in the pointless modern au: Obi-Wan goes skating! And then he goes to a hospital! A fun Friday night for everyone. (also listen sometimes Easter falls in March) Part One

Part Two

Obi-Wan goes to the Starbucks team building mandatory fun skating night with full intentions of being present just long enough to cement his willing and enthusiastic participation. He can think of minimally six better things to be doing with his time on a Friday night, and he's only going because their manager had overheard Quinlan mocking the whole production and Obi-Wan had been caught in the fallout.

"Don't worry," Quin says, yanking the laces on his rented skates tight with a grunt, "I'll catch you if you fall."

"I'm perfectly capable of skating, thank you," Obi-Wan says primly. He's brought a pair of skates that he'd found in Qui-Gon's storage room, and wishing fervently that he had just spent the money to rent. The skates are stiff and rusted and slightly too small.

"Hey, I have actually been skating in the past six years and I'm not confident in my ability to stay on my feet," Quin says. "I'm just saying, there's no shame in falling."

Obi-Wan stares at him. Quin sighs. "Ok, there's a little shame. This is what I get for trying to be a supportive friend."

Obi-Wan gets out on the ice with only a slight wobble, and he and Quin take to one of the trails leading away from the main rink to attempt to distance themselves from the rest of their coworkers, all of whom have clearly pregamed with no thought to the consequences.

There are fairy lights strung up in the trees, and aggressively upbeat pop music being piped in from somewhere. Obi-Wan focuses on keeping himself poised and steady, only swerving to avoid the occasional small child. He hasn't skated since he was a teenager, and it doesn't so much come back to him as he watches the people around him, emulates what they do, and doesn't fall down.

"Probably," Quin puffs out from ahead of him, "this is supposed to be romantic or charming or peaceful."

Obi-Wan, who can already feel his feet aching and is currently passing through a swarm of yelling children and their equally loud parents, says "You simply have no appreciation for the subtler, more sophisticated pleasures in life."

They make it down the trail, back up, across the rink, through smalltalk with the other staff, and to the edge of the rink before Obi-Wan's luck and/or skill fail him. An elderly man steps out onto the ice and teeters alarmingly, one arm flailing out to keep his balance. Obi-Wan's hands go forward to help and his head jerks back to avoid the waving limbs and suddenly he's staring up at the night sky and gasping for breath and his ankle is twisted up under his body in a way that shouldn't be physically possible. He uses the snowbank along the edge of the rink to haul himself first to kneeling, then, cautiously, to standing. Nothing feels particularly stabbed, so he thinks it's safe to say that he managed not to land directly on his blade. His ankle, on the other hand, stabs a bolt of pain up through his whole leg so sharp that he feels his stomach lurch. He stumbles onto the snow, and then over to a bench, swearing mentally because there are really just an unnecessary number of children about.

"Shit," Quin says, clearly less concerned with strangers' disapproval. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan says. "But I think that's quite enough skating for one night."

"Yeah," Quin says. "I'll get our boots. I needed to head out anyway."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan says, uncharacteristically willing to accept the unnecessary kindness. He undoes his skates and pokes gingerly at his ankle. The pain when he touches it is white hot and sharp, but nothing looks blatantly out of place, which is better than he was expecting.

Quin drops his boots and guards in front of him, already wearing his own, skates obviously returned. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan says, waving him off.

Quin looks unconvinced, but at Obi-Wan's reassuring smile he relaxes. "Ok. Well, I'm off to get fucked up with some old ladies for Easter Bingo, wish me luck."

Obi-Wan stares. "I'm really not sure *what* to wish you for this occasion."

Quin winces. "Yeah, I honestly have no idea what I'm walking in to, but I've been assured there'll be sherry and at least one other person under seventy. And how could I possibly refuse an offer like that?"

Obi-Wan chuckles. "Please do feel free to send updates as your evening progresses."

He waits until Quin is gone to stand up, just in case, and is glad he did when he has to catch himself on the back of the bench, shifting all his weight onto his uninjured ankle quickly.

"Well," he says under his breath. "This is inconvenient." He forces himself away from the rink, glad as he gets further away from the lights and crowd as he staggers along, swearing no longer kept inside his head. The footpath to the parking lot is slippery, and he almost falls again. Once he's gotten across the parking lot it's only a block to the bus stop. Practically nothing. Walking it off is probably the best thing he can do, anyway.

He's almost through the parking lot when he slips and has to catch himself on the back of someone's truck. Headlights flare in the dark behind him, and he hears a group of people coming up from the path, jovial and loud. He braces himself for his next step, sucking in air between his teeth.

"Obi-Wan?"

He freezes. It's not anyone he works with, but the voice is still definitely familiar.

"Obi-Wan! I wasn't sure if it was you, sorry. Were you skating?"

It's Rex's brother Cody standing behind him, all bundled up in a sensible parka and gloves, bright green hat tucked down over his ears and skates slung over his shoulder. He looks unforgivably happy.

"Yes, hello, I was," Obi-Wan says. His own skates are jammed awkwardly into his backpack along with his tablet and travel mug and three books and a bag of clementines he keeps forgetting to take out, and the weight is doing his balance no favours. He attempts to straighten up and has to bite down hard on his lip to stifle a gasp of pain. Even the brief moment of stillness has somehow made moving newly painful.

"Are you alright?" Cody asks, sharply.

"Fine, yes, just had a bit of a fall on the ice," Obi-Wan says, projecting gentle self-effacing amusement as hard as he can. "A bit of a sore ankle I've been walking off."

Cody frowns. "That seems like the exact opposite of what you should be doing with a hurt ankle. Can I help you to your car, at least?"

Obi-Wan waves him off, and forces himself to stand up straight. "I'm just going to the bus stop down the way," he says. "It's very close, I'm quite alright."

"I can drive you to whatever clinic you're going to," Cody says.

"That's very kind, but I'm quite alright. A good night's sleep and I'm sure it won't even hurt." He means to illustrate this by walking calmly away, but instead he stumbles over a chunk of ice that's fallen off the nearby truck and in catching his balance puts all his weight down hard on the offending ankle. The edges of his vision go hazy for a moment, and suddenly Cody is there, arm going around him to support his weight and steady him.

"Yeah, you definitely seem fine," he says. "If you don't want me to drive you, is there someone I can call? Qui-Gon?"

"Good God, absolutely not," Obi-Wan says, aghast. "I really am fine, just a bit of a stumble--"

"Oy! Codes, what're you doing over there? It's bloody cold out here!" a young voice shouts from across the parking lot.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you're suffering," Cody calls back. "Listen, Boba, can you get a ride with dad? I've just met up with a friend and I'm going to give him a lift."

"That's fine," another voice joins in. "I'd be happy to drive forty-five minutes out of my way, thanks for volunteering me, son, you were always my favourite. Don't mind me, just a tired old man..."

"Cheers," Cody says, sunnily, and begins hustling obi-wan down the row of cars to a tiny Prius.

"Truly, there's no need for a clinic," Obi-Wan says, half falling into the car.

"mmhm," says Cody, texting intently with one finger. It's possibly more painful than the ankle having to watch his slow progress.

The phone vibrates a few seconds later, and Cody nods. "Kix says you should get a doctor to take a look."

"Fucking pardon me?"

Cody shrugs, tosses his phone in the cup holder, and starts the car.

They get stuck waiting a good two hours before anyone will see Obi-Wan, but he takes a few Tylenol and pulls out his tablet when it becomes clear Cody doesn't plan on forcing smalltalk.

About an hour in to their wait, his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, hoping for ridiculous photos from Quin, but it's Anakin's name that graces his lock screen.

'did you seriously break your ankle'

"Really?!" Obi-Wan hisses, then types back

'It's not broken, Anakin. Sprained, at the most. How did you find out?'

'Rex told me', Anakin says, and then, 'don't worry I texted qui-gon'.

'You absolutely did not.', obi-Wan responds, a pit opening up in his stomach. Before Anakin responds, a different thread pops up on his screen. It's Tahl, this time.

'Obi-Wan! Which clinic are you at? Have you been seen yet?'

Furious, Obi-Wan types back. 'I AM FINE, DO NOT BLOODY COME TO THE Clinic I ASSURE YOU I AM AN ADULT.' He sends it in capslock because he knows she's at a library fundraiser dinner and will be using her braille display to text under the table instead of the screenreader on her phone, so the full effect of his rage will be appropriately communicated.

beside him, Cody says "You're not secretly on the run from your family, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"Rex may have... gotten ahead of himself in sharing information."

"I'm already aware," Obi-Wan sighs. "If Qui-Gon's wife skips out on work to come sit in a chair beside me in a waiting room I'll never hear the end of it, but no, I have no serious problem with them knowing. And calling them my family may be a bit of a stretch."

"I'm just going to let that one pass," Cody says, briskly. Obi-Wan's name gets called, finally, and Cody stands to offer support before Obi-Wan can stop him. Deciding his dignity will take a harder hit if he has to stumble his way across the room, he accepts Cody's assistance. The nurse doesn't seem interested in offering her own help, nor does she seem concerned that Cody is accompanying Obi-Wan into the exam room.

Obi-Wan scrambles, undignified, onto the bed, paper crinkling under him. Cody glances around uncertainly, shifts towards the door, then shakes his head, straightens his back, and sits down in one of the two extra chairs in the corner. Obi-Wan thinks perhaps it would be rude to ask him to leave, and there's no particular reason to do so. Perhaps it will even be helpful if Cody hears from a medical professional that he hasn't fucking broken his ankle.

"It's a hairline fracture," the doctor says. Cody arches an eyebrow. Obi-Wan glares. "Keep weight off of it for a few days, then slowly start increasing use. Nothing intense for the next two months, and if you even suspect the pain is getting worse or something doesn't feel right, come back right away. This isn't serious, but it could be if you don't take care of it right."

Cody's eyebrow, unencumbered by the laws of physics, gets higher. Obi-Wan is going to break his face and nobody will believe him when he explains that it was justified.

Humiliatingly, the doctor gives the proscription and care instructions to Cody.

Back in Cody's car, Cody says "We can drop this off at the pharmacy and pick up a few ice packs while we're there."

"Oh, no, no, you don't need to worry about-- what makes you think I don't have icepacks? Or at least ice. Frozen vegetables. I am an adult, contrary to what everyone this evening seems to think."

Cody pulls out of the parking stall and clicks the dial to connect his phone to the car's bluetooth. "Well, do you?"

Obi-Wan glares. "There's plenty of snow and ice built up on my balcony, and I have a plastic bag full of plastic bags like any respectable human."

"what's your address?" Cody says.

Obi-Wan says, "I'm fine, honestly--"

Cody coasts to a stop at a red light and types out a text so quickly Obi-Wan wonders for a moment if he'd imagined it. "Never mind, I'm asking Anakin," Cody says. Obi-Wan slumps in his seat.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Commander cody #Codywan #tumblrfic tag #star wars why?

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years

Text

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Three: Reference Guide

A quick guide for everything I intentionally referenced in The Six Siblings, That’s Not How the Story Goes.

{ao3} {tumblr} {part one reference guide} {part two reference guide}

Without further ado…

Chapter One / Prologue - in which the Baudelaires get lost at the train station

“We’re dead as heck.” Nick shrugged.

Considering the younger age of the children here, they use much lighter swear words.

Klaus had his hands over his ears, and he looked on the edge of tears. “It’s too loud! It’s too loud!”

Klaus is overstimulated.

They were in some kind of shoeshop, and a ginger man glanced at them. “Oh, hello!” he said. “Are you- where are your parents?” [...] “When did you see them last?” [...] “Why don’t you have some snacks? It’s all vegan, if-”

The shoemaker that helps them out is Drumstick from File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents, who is noted to have made money repairing shoes.

“Lilac is almost-nine,” Klaus said, “And she’s got two braids cause she wants to be like Wednesday Addams on TV.”

The Wednesday Addams reference should be obvious, though I should point out that Lilac wants to emulate the 1960s Wednesday, which is the one she’s seen on TV; the older show once again makes the time period ambiguous.

“Oh my God.” Beatrice was saying. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.” “Kids, are you alright?” Bertrand asked, the second they pulled away. “Did anything happen?”

Pretty clearly, the Baudelaire parents were terrified that VFD had abducted their children while they were separated.

“No! No, we’re gonna be fine!” Lilac said quickly. “We just need to find Klaus and Nick. I… I’ve gotta find them. I’m in charge. I’ve gotta find them-”

Ah, Lilac’s already got Anxiety™.

Rest of the fic under the cut.

Chapter Two - in which Violet saves everyone’s asses

No major references in this chapter.

Chapter Three - in which Sunny cusses quite a bit

“Their species can completely freeze over in cold temperatures.” Solitude assured him. “So they may stop moving, almost look dead, but they’ll be alright, and they’ll unfreeze when we get somewhere warm. We’ll have to catch them up on whatever happens.”

Babbitt’s based off of a wood frog, which do freeze in low temperatures.

Also to note: by this point in the fanfiction, Solitude no longer uses babytalk, and instead speaks in full sentences.

Chapter Four - in which the Baudelaires join the Snow Scouts

“Oh, yes.” Klaus said. “Those snow gnats behaved like Violent Frozen Dragonflies.” “Guys…” Nick whispered, but none of them heard him.

Nick is not a fan of VFD at this point, but his siblings are too busy trying to get help from this scout that they don’t immediately notice his discomfort.

As her story continued, Nick pulled on Klaus’s sleeve, gesturing that he wanted to talk, but Klaus shook his head; the other Snow Scouts would notice them leaving.

Trying to tell Klaus something about VFD.

“I mean it.” Nick shook his head. “Things can’t ever go back to the way they were. Even if one- or both- of our parents is up there, and they shove Olaf off a cliff and take us home… it’s not going to be the same. We… we know too much.” His siblings remained silent, processing this, as Nick wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “They won’t protect us.”

Nick knows how VFD recruits its “volunteers”; his fear is that their parents are alive and consented to them being recruited, and will just turn them over to VFD.

Chapter Five - in which Nick gets to climb something again

She hmmed, brushing her bangs out of her face as she considered what she could make with all of this.

Sunny already has long hair that she’ll need to tie back while thinking, like her big sisters.

Sunny held out the mug of orange juice, and said, “Aurantiaco,” which meant, “Chip away at the juice until you have shavings, so I can make orange granita.”

“Aurantiaco” is derived from the Latin adjective “aurantiacus”, meaning “orange.”

Chapter Six - in which Sunny makes a signal

Quigley gave her a smile, and then looked back down, as the Baudeaires crowded around him- all except Lilac, who was still staring at the smoke. “Well, we’ll have to go back through the Vernacularly Fastened Door, down the Vertical Flame Diversion, hike the path the Snow Scouts are taking- and they might notice we’re gone by now so we’ll have to come up with some excuse, Duncan always said you could never go wrong with an exit pursued by a bear-”

A reference to a famous stage direction from William Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale.

Chapter Seven - in which Lilac goes feral

Nick bit his lip and pushed a charred novel back onto the shelf, before moving to scratch his arm.

TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM MENTION

Once again, Nick’s arm scratching occurs whenever Olaf or his troupe are mentioned.

Klaus walked over, too, and he pulled his siblings into a hug. “We’ll protect each other.” he said. “Okay? No sacrificing ourselves, no kidnappings, no separations. No more.”

Klaus really wants to make sure Lilac doesn’t try to trade herself, like she tried to do with Nick.

“Lilac, seriously, I can’t breathe-” “Then suffocate.”

A reference to the popular meme:

“We hate to interrupt!” came Lilac’s voice, and Violet and Quigley turned to see her and the twins run back into the kitchen, “But we found something!”

Lilac: Y’ALL BETTER NOT BE FLIRTING IN HERE

Chapter Eight - in which the Baudelaires raid the fridge

Solitude looked up. “Sure, hon.”

A reference to the meme:

“I was making them an anniversary present- a map of all the places they’d traveled.” Quigley sighed. “And I never got to tell them that I don’t…” he hesitated, and then said, “I mean, Duncan and Isadora came out to them, but I never told them that whenever I was doing astronomy class and called myself a space ace…” Violet laughed, and Quigley flinched. “No, no, I’m not making fun of you, it’s a good pun, I’ll have to make sure Nick knows it.”

Quigley and Nick are both asexual.

“I think my parents found out when I told them I wanted to marry both Elizabeth and Darcy.” Violet smiled. “Lilac and Nick teased me about that for years. I don’t even know if they remember now.” Quigley stared at her. “Holy shit. Vi… I said the same thing.”

A reference to Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.

Violet is bisexual, Quigley is biromantic.

Nick slid against a half-collapsed wall, screaming into his lap, hot tears springing to the edge of his eyes and streaming down his face.

TRIGGER WARNING: PTSD, SELF-HARM

Nick goes away to have a panic attack without his siblings worrying about him; it’s also explained in this segment how his scratching is him desperately trying not to slip into a flashback.

Chapter Nine - in which Lilac and Nick are very pissed off

“Nocere!” Sunny said, which meant something like, “I’m alright, they haven’t done anything too bad.”

“Nocere” comes from the Latin verb “noceo”, meaning “to hurt.”

“Uncus!” “The hook-handed man made it so I didn’t freeze.”

“Uncus” is the Latin word for “hook.”

And then she asked, “Senio?” which meant, “Where are the others?”

“Senio” is the Latin word for “six.”

“Nosra,” Sunny said, which meant, “A man with a beard but no hair and a woman with hair but no beard; they’re arsonists who burned down the Headquarters.”

“Nosra” is “arson” spelled backwards.

“Coquus.” Sunny said. “I can do that. There’s enough ingredients to make spinach rolls in the trunk, including an eggplant that’s about as big as I am.”

“Coquus” is the Latin word for “cook.”

“I know, Vi! I know what they’ll do to her, what they’re probably already doing to her!”

Obvious reference to Nick’s time as a captive, but subtler reference to the fact that Olaf tortured him with the information of what he’d do to each sibling in turn.

“Yes, she is!” his voice broke. “I was helpless! I thought I wouldn’t be, but I was! And she’s a baby! I was almost thirteen!” Tears streamed down his face, as he pushed her again. “I was almost thirteen, and I was wrong!”

Reference to a similar line spoken in every All the Wrong Questions book.

Chapter Ten - in which Nick spills some Bitter Tea

Title is a reference to Kit’s quote, “Tea should be as bitter as wormwood and sharp as a two-edged sword.”

“Sure.” Nick said. “We can be Volunteers who want to recruit our innocent little baby. They’ll believe that.”

A reference to VFD recruitment tactics.

“Isa had a huge collection of what me and Duncan called ‘goth poetry.’” Quigley said, smiling. “She likes to recite, too. Verbal stim.”

Isadora (and all the Quagmires in my headcanons) is Autistic. Nick has ADHD and also stims with recitation.

“It’s not. Snicket’s real. And he…” Nick shivered. “Let’s just say he’s definitely real. Maybe even still alive.”

“He’s real and he fathered my oldest sister.”

That’s when they heard the crash, and Esme’s scream. They all fell silent for a second, and then Nick let Quigley go.

An intentional combination of the Book version of this scene - where they decide to warn Esme- and the Netflix - where she traps herself.

There was a flash of recognition, and then she smirked. “Well, well, well.” she said. “If it isn’t Beatrice’s little angel.” Nick’s hand flew to his necklace, as his glare intensified. “Fancy seeing you here, I thought you were supposed to be smashed at the bottom of the mountains.”

Something Olaf called him in Chapter Fourteen of Part Two; Nick was very close to Beatrice, whom Olaf and Esme both despise, so you can bet they took a lot of their anger on her out on him.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Nick said. “I thought you were supposed to be somewhere in the second circle of hell, but I guess you can’t have everything, can you?”

In Dante’s Inferno, the second circle of hell is the circle of Lust.

“Why he’s here doesn’t matter.” Nick said, and then he smiled very coldly and said, “What matters is you’re our hostage now, so I’d suggest you shut the fuck up and do what we tell you to do.”

Was going to make this more obvious in the text but decided against it, so here’s a fun fact: this is something that was said to Nick during is captivity. He’s getting a lot of joy out of saying it to Esme.

Chapter Eleven - in which Carmelita gets adopted

Nick took a deep breath, and then said, his voice breaking, “Don’t act like I don’t know what you’d do to her. If you have laid a single fucking hand on my sister, there will be hell to pay.”

Once again, a reference to Olaf torturing Nick with information on what he planned to do to the other Baudelaires.

“Why are you recruiting us, too?” Colette asked, peering from the net. “We already work for you.”

Changed from Fernald to Hugo, Colette and Kevin in order to explain their absence in TGG.

Esme glared at him. “We don’t need that ugly girl. Having an infant servant was fun.”

TRIGGER WARNING: CSA MENTION

Esme knows about Olaf’s attraction to Lilac/Violet and is jealous, instead of being, you know, disgusted and horrified.

Carmelita just smiled and gave Esme a hug. She turned towards Olaf, starting forwards, and just then, Nick thrust Solitude into Violet’s arms and raced ahead of her, pushing her back.

Even though Nick hates Carmelita, he doesn’t want her suffering like he did.

Chapter Twelve - in which Lilac is a Disaster Lesbian

“No- she can curl up inside a diving helmet! Aye! The helmets have a tiny door on the neck just for such a purpose! Aye! I’ve seen it done!”

Though this doesn’t happen in-fic, this did happen in the original book lol.

“Actually,” Nick sighed, laying his head on Klaus’s shoulder as Soli wriggled around to try and get a good view of the captain, “He’s the researcher, I’m an… well, I…”

Nick’s having an identity crisis brought on by the PTSD; he’s not sure who he is anymore.

“Come on, Lilac will be fine in a minute.” Nick said, elbowing Klaus. “She just needs to time to adjust. You know. Like Sappho.”

Sappho - a famous lesbian poet.

Chapter Thirteen - in which I bang my head against a table because I have to pay attention to Widdershins

“No, no, we do!” Fiona looked ecstatic, and Lilac let out a squeal as Fiona grabbed her hands. “One of our previous crewmembers, the one who later turned out to be stealing information on VFD headquarters, she stockpiled a shitton- oh, sorry, I mean a lot of coffee.”

The “spy” may-or-may-not have been an anti-VFD Ellington Feint...

“Now, I’m sure you have lots of questions.” Fiona said as they walked. “Definitely.” Nick said. “Number one, how d-”

A reference to the meme/quote from “The Office” (US) 4x11:

Chapter Fourteen - in which the Baudelaires encounter a Great Unknown

“Let Violet work on the wheel,” Klaus suggested, “And maybe Fiona can help Lilac with the telegraph.”

These kids are gonna get Lilac a girlfriend if it kills them.

“Don’t worry,” the captain replied, “We’ll find a spouse for the others, too! Aye! Perhaps we’ll find your long-lost brother, Fiona! He’s much older, of course, and he’s been missing for years, but if Klaus can locate the Sugar Bowl he can probably find him! Aye! He’s a charming man, so one of the girls would probably fall in love with him, and then we could have a double wedding! Aye! Right here in the main hall of the Queequeg! Aye! I would be happy to officiate! Aye!” “Okay, well,” Nick said, as everyone stared at each other incredibly uncomfortably and he finally made his way to stand beside Klaus, “That’s not going to happen, for a number of reasons. First of all-”

First of all, Klaus is gay.

Second of all, Fiona is gay.

Third of all, Lilac and Fiona are the ones flirting.

Fourth, everyone’s too young to get married.

Fifth, Nick is aromantic.

Sixth, “your older long-lost brother” is not a good phrase to throw around to a group of children who’ve been trying to escape a man who tried to marry Lilac.

Seventh, your children are not fucking prizes to hand out???

Eighth, what the fuck dude.

Chapter Fifteen - in which Lilac and Fiona are Gay as Hell

“I mean, you could call them King stropharia. I just like the scientific names. They’re fun to say.” “Oh, that’s completely valid.” Lilac smiled. “I learned Russian when I was younger just because the boys read Anna Karenina and all the names were fun to say.”

Autistic verbal stims!!

“Lentinula Edodes.” Fiona said, smiling at some fungus growing on a hardwood log. “Also known as Shiitake Mushrooms.” “Shiitake?” “Don’t start.” Fiona giggled.

It sounds vaguely like “shit.”

Lilac and Fiona returned to the dorms very late, arms linked together as they chatted about a book they’d both enjoyed, about another sugar bowl whose contents were actually very well known.

A reference to We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson.

Nick, meanwhile, was passed out on a chair near the door, almost having fallen over; Lilac recognized this position quickly, from the many times he and Klaus or Violet would sit at the bottom of the stairs waiting for their parents to come home late at night. “He was waiting for us.”

Nick was waiting up to talk to Lilac, probably to tell her about the Snicket Thing.

She carried him to a bunk, lowering him onto it. “Go back to being five years old, okay?” Lilac whispered, reaching over to grab a blanket. “We’ll lock you in the closet again and then make ice cream towers.”

“Lock you in the closet” is a reference to the one-shot.

Ice Cream towers are a reference to the prologue of part two.

Lilac sighed and pulled the blanket over him. “You’ll be okay. You want me to sing?”

All the references to Lilac singing someone to sleep are reference to the song “Asleep”, performed by Emily Browning, Movie!Violet’s actress.

“Good or bad cry?” Lilac shut her eyes. “Both.” she admitted.

Chef’s Salad.

Chapter Sixteen - in which the Crew goes swimming

They heard what sounded like a very suspicious watery noise, and Nick said, “If this submarine is flooding, I’ll take one for the team and die first.”

Reference to this line from Part One, Chapter Four: “Do you think if one of us died, the rest’d get transferred somewhere else?” Nick asked, hanging upside-down from the rotting couch. “I’ll take one for the team.”

“Nobody’s dying.” Lilac sighed, not looking him in the eye.

Nick’s lowkey suicidal remark scared her quite a bit.

“How about some of us stay here and do more research,” Violet suggested, squeezing Nick’s hand, “And the rest of us look for the Sugar Bowl? I can stay with Nick and try to work with the submarine. Nick, maybe you can dig through books and see if you can find anything on the Gorgonian Grotto, or the Great Unknown, and read it to me while I work.” [...] He’d found something that seemed to be filed under the Great Unknown, but it was probably misfiled as it just talked about a tearoom and a roadster.

Probably my most blatant reference to Movie!Klaus’s actor, Liam Aiken, narrating the All the Wrong Questions audiobooks.

“Ekab!” Sunny said, which meant, “I can stay here and cook!”

“Ekab” is “bake” spelled backwards.

“I’m sure someone did, aye.” Widdershins waved his hand. “Whoever got assigned the job. Perhaps R, or her daughter, they may have been nearby at the time. Or Larry, aye! We weren’t told about who was in charge of you, just that we needed to document information and track the Sugar Bowl!”

A reference to Jacquelyn (the Duchess of Winnipeg, making her either R or her daughter) and Larry Your-Waiter following the Baudelaires in the Netflix series.

“Don’t you worry, Nicholas! Everything’s for the Greater Good!"

While Widdershins usually calls him Nick, he slips up here, much like Poe always does; Nick hates being referred to as Nicholas.

“Besides, VFD wouldn’t abandon you! Aye! You’d be a great volunteer! You’re a dedicated researcher! Aye! You’re a saint! Aye! You’re an angel! Aye! You’re a-” Nick stared at him in horror, and then said, “I have to go!” and took off running.

Nick was already put on edge by this victim-blaming conversation, the revelation that multiple people could’ve helped him, his siblings leaving, the VFD cult stuff, and Widdershins’s constant bullshit, but the use of the word “angel” sets him off the edge; it reminds him too much of being referred to as “Beatrice’s Little Angel.”

“Okay, so, I found a box of rubber bands.” Lilac sighed, sitting atop a chest. “And half a gun, a broken mirror, what might be a microphone, and a scattered notebook with sketches of some kind of snake.” Solitude peered over her shoulder, her arms full of bottles. “I don’t recognize it.” she said sadly. “Also, it’s not a snake. It’s got legs, see there?”

Lilac found sketches of the Bombinating Beast.

Chapter Seventeen - in which Violet doodles

“Precisely.” Lilac said. “It’s something that’s not a choice at all. Our Mother used to give us Hobson’s Choices. She’d say, ‘Lilac, you can dust the furniture, or I can play polka music all night.’”

A reference to Lemony Snicket’s dislike of polka music in File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents.

“She’d do that with the others, too.” Lilac recalled. “Violet could clean her room or we’d stand in the doorway and sing Row Your Boat, and Nick could be nice to guests or be made to read that third book about those kids in a maze, and Sunny could have a bath or a pink dress.”

A reference to The Maze Runner: The Death Cure by James Dashner. I hated the entire series, but the third book was the worst.

TRIGGER WARNING: Following references for Chapter Seventeen discuss Nick’s self-harm in detail.

She ran a hand over her ponytail, and then she said, “Nick, I will be right back, but you have to promise not to lock the door.”

She is scared he’ll lock her out and continue self-harming.

As soon as she was out of Nick’s sightline, she buried her head in her hands, struggling to remain calm. Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. Help him now, freak out later. You need to help, Vi. Just keep moving.

Violet knows freaking out in front of Nick will just make him feel worse

Do the scary thing first, get scared later.

“No come in!” Sunny shouted. “Surprise!”

Sunny’s preparing Violet’s cake.

“Nodnaba,” Sunny said, and Violet heard her sliding from the counter. “He and Widdershins stepped out a moment; they’ll be back soon.”

“Nodnaba” is “abandon” spelled backwards.

Widdershins and Phil have “stepped out”, and either right now or very soon will be abandoning ship.

“Crayola,” Sunny said, which meant, “There’s a whole box of markers right here, for writing labels on cannisters. Can you bring them back when you’re done?”

Very obvious reference to Crayola art supplies.

“Alzatadispalle,” Sunny said, which meant, “Eh, fine, I don’t care about this submarine much anyway.”

“Alzata di spalle” is Italian for a shrug.

But she swirled the marker- a light blue color- around her brother’s arm, until there was just a jumble of color. Then, an idea finally coming to her, she took a black marker and drew some squiggles above it, mirroring the shape of their Uncle’s prized snake, the Incredibly Deadly Viper. It felt like a lifetime since they’d seen him.

A reference to Ink swimming through the sea at the end.

Violet took his hands, squeezing them softly. “When you feel… feel like you want to scratch without an itch, I want you to take these markers and draw where you… where you want to hurt. Do that instead. It should help. And if it doesn’t, I want you to tell me, okay?”

This is a legitimate coping mechanism for self-harm; drawing on skin with pens or markers.

Violet waited until he met her eyes, and she admitted, “About two years ago, I asked Father why he had pen drawings on his arm.”

Bertrand dealt with depression and self-harming tendencies, as well. Violet was the only kid who knew, and only because she asked.

Chapter Eighteen - in which Solitude catches a cold

“I found a newspaper scrap.” Lilac said. “I, uh, read a bit. Maybe we could discuss what we’ve read while we eat.”

She read the stuff about Fernald starting the fire.

“Like… ‘poached egg’ means ‘half the battle.’” Klaus said. “Remember when Nick used that metaphor and we punched him for it?”

A reference to a tangent Lemony went on in this section of The Grim Grotto.

Soli nodded, passing Klaus the wasabi and Lilac two cannisters, and soon they put on their diving helmets, suiting up for their return journey. Solitude hmmed as Fiona helped her put her helmet back on, saying, “Sand’s inside, I think.”

The spores.

“Senso-orario,” Sunny said, which meant something like, “I fell asleep in the kitchen, and when I woke up, Phil and Widdershins still hadn’t returned, and now I can’t find them anywhere.”

“In Senso orario” is an Italian term for “clockwise.” “Widdershins” means “counterclockwise.”

Chapter Nineteen - in which Olaf is a dick

“Ha ha ha heepa-heepa ho!” came a villainous laugh from the hallway, and within a few moments, Count Olaf entered, dressed in a similar suit of slippery material, only with a portrait of Edgar Guest instead of Herman Melville. “Tee hee tort tort tort!” “No, no,” Violet looked up, giving him a glare. “Don’t do that.”

A reference to me not wanting to write Olaf’s villain laughter for like three chapters.

He stepped closer, putting a hand on Fiona’s chin. Lilac gasped and ran forwards, slapping his arm away. “You must be Fiona.” he said. “Why, you’re all grown up! The last time I saw you, I was trying to throw thumbtacks into your cradle.” Nick shot up his head, giving Olaf a glare that could have killed him. “Get away from her!”

OLAF 👏 IS 👏 A 👏 CREEP

Lilac and Violet glanced at each other, and then around, trying to spot an escape route. This, however, was a mistake; Olaf figured out very quickly what they were planning, and before they could do anything, he reached forwards and ripped Nick out of Klaus’s grasp.

Once again, Olaf knows the kind of effect he has on Nick, and how protective of him the others are, and uses this to his advantage.

“My henchperson will simply torture the information out of you.” He smirked down at Nick, who was shaking uncontrollably. “Isn’t that right?” Nick didn’t respond, barely keeping himself from sobbing.

Nick’s been captured again, with his siblings. Olaf is taunting him, heavily implying that he’s going to follow through on his threat to torture Nick’s siblings in front of him before killing him.

“Umore,” Sunny said, which roughly translated to, “God, that’s a mood.”

“Umore” is an Italian word for “mood.”

“What did we tell you, you little beast?” she hissed. “You can’t get away from us.”

Most of Nick’s worst trauma came from “punishments” from when he tried to escape, which is why he panics whenever they’re about to be caught.

“Holy fuck,” said a girl at the oars, “What the hell is wrong with you all?”

Not really a reference but I just want to point out that none of these recruits have any context for this so they’re probably just. seeing all these crazy shits saying whatever they want

“I’m getting tired of this.” Olaf said, waving his sword and gesturing at Nick. “You all get to see the first brig, it’s deluxe, as it comes with a noose. I think we should put this one in the second brig for-”

A reference to Netflix’s The Vile Village: Part Two.

“I think,” Olaf said, pressing his sword against Nick’s throat, “We should put those two little rebels in with our little Nick.” Nick finally started to cry, tears streaming down his face as he almost collapsed, and Violet shouted, “You bastard! Leave them alone!”

Once again, Olaf’s planning on following through on the threats that scared Nick so badly. Violet, the only one who knows about what Olaf threatened him with, is the first to start panicking.

Chapter Twenty - in which Lilac leads a jailbreak

The title itself is a reference to Chapter Sixteen of Part One: in which Solitude leads a jailbreak.

Her younger brother finally pulled away, but only to run off to the corner of the small brig, where he leaned over and vomited onto the floor, barely keeping his own balance. Lilac jumped to her feet and dragged him towards the wall, as he shook more and clung to her arm. [...] Nick shuddered beside her, and he finally choked out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Nick knows exactly what Olaf’s threatening, and he’s falling back into a pure traumatized state; he doesn’t think they can escape, he thinks he’s going to die while Olaf torments his siblings, and nothing is going to stop him.

“I…” Lilac slid onto a hard bench, where Nick sat beside her and refused to stop clinging to her side. “I glanced at the locks on our way in. They’re ordinary enough pin-tumbler locks, so- hold on a moment. Nick, Nick, please-”

A reference to a repeated phrase in When Did You See Her Last?

And then Lilac quietly sang, “Pretty when the window blows, I love my tree in autumn… Like I love my tree in summer, like I love my tree in winter… They put me in a room, and I thought of you in autumn…” She shut her eyes, humming the next line, and then she picked up again. Fiona kept working on the lock, and Nick kept clinging to Lilac, terrified to let go, and she kept singing. “Pretty when you sing me a new song in autumn, or a new song in winter, or a new song in summer…”

The song is “Pretty When The Wind Blows”, sung by Emily Browning, Movie!Violet’s actress.

The line she hums is one that would definitely not cheer Nick up - “And I’m sad I won’t see you again.”

Violet leapt in front of her siblings, and Klaus reached out to grab Sunny, who honestly didn’t look too worried.

Sunny is friends with Fernald, she knows he won’t do anything to them.

“We could pretend the Great Unknown showed up and is about to eat everyone.” Violet said. “I’m sorry, do you have a small black statue that can imitate its call?” Fernald said. “Why would I-”

A reference to Violet and Klaus’s escape in Netflix’s The Grim Grotto: Part Two.

A reference to the Bombinating Beast statue from All the Wrong Questions.

“Smelled like horseradish.” Sunny nodded.

Sunny, the chef, would remember.

Chapter Twenty-One - in which Fiona is Volatile

“I-” Nick stuttered. “I know TS Eliot.” “Macavity,” Sunny said, which meant, “Wasn’t that from your musical phase?”

A reference to a song/character from Cats the Musical, based on a poetry book by TS Eliot.

“I’ll make this simple.” Olaf smiled. “I could torture you until you tell me, or we can trade information- or a lack of information, if you so prefer.” Then, in a sickly sweet voice, he called, “Nick?” [...] “We don’t make deals with bastards.” Lilac crossed her arms. Olaf smirked, eyeing her in a way that made her incredibly uncomfortable. “Interesting choice of words, my dear Lilac.” Nick sat up, horrified, as Olaf took a step closer to his oldest sister, and then he shouted, “It’s in the kitchen!”

TRIGGER WARNING: CSA MENTION

Nick is terrified of Olaf hurting/assaulting Lilac, as well as outing her as Snicket’s daughter to everyone.

Sunny sighed and said, “Cruciatu,” which meant, “Can they kill us now?”

“Cruciatu” comes from the latin verb “crucio”, meaning “to torture.”

“I’ll be fine. If we get caught, we have a potential escape plan that involves a seaside town, a train, and a vineyard.” Fiona said. “And releasing a bunch of wild new recruits to perform chaos.”

Firstly, a reference to the Thistle of the Valley train that goes out of Stain’d-by-the-Sea.

Secondly, a reference to Netflix’s The Grim Grotto: Part Two.

As she moved slowly towards the controls, Violet at her heels, Nick curled up on his chair, and he whispered to himself, “But they were fucked up in their turn, by fools in old-style hats and coats… who half the time were soppy-stern…” He hugged Solitude very close, shutting his eyes and trying not to think about everyone who had left. “And half at one another’s throats.”

The poem later recited by Olaf in The End - “This Be the Verse” by Philip Larkin.

“Mr Poe,” Klaus said, looking from the taxi to Poe, “Have you ever heard of a Hobson’s choice?”

“You can either get in the taxi, or go with Mr Poe.”

The woman smiled at Lilac, as if she’d asked the right question.

Another All the Wrong Questions reference.

Chapter Twenty-Two - in which Kit cannot drive

“So,” Nick said, kicking his feet and glancing down at Soli, “Are we in agreement that we are ‘fucked’, a word which here means, ‘holy shit’?”

Obvious reference to Lemony Snicket’s way of defining words.

They looked to each other, thinking hard. “Well,” Lilac finally said, “In the few minutes we’ve known her, Kit Snicket has broken at least nine safety laws, driven into a hedge, and seems intent on recruiting us to spy for a secret organization.” “I like her.” Violet decided. “Me, too.” Klaus added. “Same!” Sunny said.

A reference to similar lines in Netflix’s The Penultimate Peril: Part One.

“Mother said she purchased it during intermission.” Lilac said. “She said it was the most interesting time she’d ever had at the opera, and she never wanted to forget it.” “I’m sure it was interesting.” Nick muttered, curling up a little.

Nick knows about the murder.

She moved behind Lilac, tying back her hair for her. “You look just like your father.” Kit sighed, not noticing the flinch Nick made as he reached for some food to pass to Soli. [...] “Really?” Lilac asked, smiling a little. She’d never told that she looked like her parents.

She looks like Lemony.

Violet and Nick shared a quiet look, one that their siblings didn’t quite understand, but the two of them read perfectly.

Violet and Nick, after Widdershins’s shit, are very anti-VFD.

“That’s fine.” Lilac assured her, reaching for a cup. “I like my coffee bitter.” “That is surprising.” Kit said absent-mindedly, still looking through papers.

Considering Lilac is Lemony’s daughter, and Lemony doesn’t like coffee (All the Wrong Questions), this comes as a surprise to Kit.

“That’s why you’ll be together.” Kit said, putting her hand gently over Nick’s. “I’ve received reports on your progress, Baudelaires, and while I haven’t been able to reach you, I have seen that you take care of your own.” [...] Kit gave them all a reluctant and sad smile, and then repeated, almost to herself, “You Baudelaires take care of your own.”

A reference to a line from When Did You See Her Last?: “We Snickets take care of our own.”

Chapter Twenty-Three - in which the Baudelaires enter the Hotel Denouement

Nick bit his lip, thinking about everything. VFD. The secrets. The Sugar Bowl. That reminded him of a book Lilac read him. “We’ll live on the moon.” he said quietly, his voice almost blank. “And we’ll have flying horses.” God, he wished he was still young enough to believe that.

A direct reference to We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson.

When it was time to go in, Klaus and Lilac immediately threw their hands over their ears.

Overstimulation.

Exactly six bells were ringing- the extra bell, 371, 547, 674, 781 and 954.

371 - Dewey Decimal Classification (DDC) Education and Social Sciences.

547 - DDC for Organic Chemistry; Colette’s mission involves her sneaking in here.

674 - DDC for Lumber processing.

781 - DDC for Jazz is 781.65; Ellington’s career has something to do with jazz.

954 - DDC for India and neighboring countries; it’s an Indian restaurant.

Chapter Twenty-Four - in which the first three bells ring

The woman smiled, and while Lilac did not recognize the white coat or black uniform underneath, she did recognize the woman standing in front of her, even though she wasn’t bending in any unusual positions. [...] “You see, I am a brilliant chemist, as you can tell from my outfit, but I’m afraid some of these fumes have gone to my head, and I’m having trouble recognizing some words here.”

A reference to Cleo Knight, the brilliant chemist from All the Wrong Questions, who only wears black-and-white to honor the family ink business.

“I told you they’d judge us.” Kevin said. “I should’ve just called up my old gangmate.” “She wouldn’t have gotten here in time, she lives on the other side of-” Hugo began.

A reference to the theory that Kevin is Kevin Old from File Under: 13 Suspicious Incidents; his “gangmate” would be Florence Smith, who had a special interest in reading and thus have a large vocabulary.

Lilac narrowed her eyes. She recognized the chemical compounds- her and Violet had gone through a celebrity crush phase on a chemist about three or four years before- but she was having trouble figuring out what they combined into. “What is this for?”

Another reference to Cleo Knight.

He doodled the shape of a pegasus on his arm, beside the moon. He remembered that book. What else had Merricat thought would be on the moon? Rose petals. He could draw roses next.

Once again, a direct reference to We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson.

“Can I help you, concierge?” Hal asked. “Um.” Nick froze a moment, panic clutching his chest. You’ve been caught! You’ve been caught! You’ve been caught!

Once again, Nick is immediately put into a panic by being caught, due to his trauma from his captivity.

Chapter Twenty-Five - in which the next three bells are answered

The door swung open just as Klaus stepped back, and he saw Charles exit, blinking over at him in a bathrobe. “Sorry,” he said, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to call someone just to take me down the hall, but my eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and I’ve recently developed a phobia of optometrists.”

This entire scene is based on a scene that had to be deleted from the Netflix adaptation due to Rhys Darby (Charles) being stranded because of a hurricane during filming. It can be read here.

“Don’t step on the crack, or you’ll fall and break your back!” Soli sang, laughing a little as she jumped down to Room 781, trying to imitate Babbitt’s hops.

While this is a slight variation on a popular children’s game song, it’s specifically a reference to the scene between Ducky and Littlefoot in The Land Before Time.

The woman looked at her very, very carefully, and then said, “It’s alright. That’s a fake, anyway.” “Fake what?” Solitude turned to look at the statue, as the woman knelt to put it back. “It looks like a snake, but there are those little claw-shapes there, suggesting hands.” “Well, it’s a replica, made by my foster-brother-in-law’s sister-in-law. Just in case we need to switch out.” “Switch out what?” The woman glanced down at Solitude, smiling and brushing the young girl’s hair back; it had fallen a little from her hat. “It’s a long story, and you probably have work to do. I’m sure you have more important things to get to.”

The woman is clearly Ellington Feint from All the Wrong Questions; she is still very into Jazz music (hence her room), and may-or-may-not have access to the Bombinating Beast statue.

Her foster-brother-in-law (Kellar)’s sister-in-law is Ornette Lost, implying Ornette married Lizzie Haines.

Solitude blinked. This woman couldn’t know her; Soli didn’t recognize anything about her, except the record currently playing. She hesitated, and then pointed to the record, saying, “That’s a pretty song.” The woman smiled slightly. “It is, isn’t it? Do you know the name?” “Do you?”

The song is “Solitude” by Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong; aka Ellington’s song in All the Wrong Questions.

“Really?” the woman sighed. “Okay, sweetheart, you run along. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my wife before she can fistfight Geraldine Julienne in the lobby.”

Her wife is Moxie Mallahan, a journalist who would definitely get kicked out of the hotel for fighting Geraldine Julienne.

“Plumber,” Sunny said, which meant, “Yeah, but she writes those shitty articles from The Daily Punctilio about us, so she deserves it.” “I thought that was Ms Poe.” Soli said confusedly.

A reference to Katherine Plumber, the journalist from the musical Newsies.

A reference to Eleanora Poe and Geraldine Julienne being combined into one character in the Netflix adaptation.

“Klaus Louis Baudelaire, are you suggesting that we have not been having a good time?” Nick said.

Klaus’s middle name is taken from his actor, Louis Hynes.

“I mean,” Nick said, considering, “The whole ‘VFD’ thing totally explains that weird-ass letter they sent us from Europe.” “What?” Lilac narrowed her eyes. “You remember?” Nick said. “When they went to Europe for, like, two weeks, and sent us that fucked-up letter about how they loved us and that even if life sucked we’d always have each other and all that bullshit?” Lilac, Violet and Klaus groaned. “Oh, fuck, you’re right!” Klaus said. “That makes so much sense now.” Lilac said.

A reference to “The Letter That Never Came” scene from the 2004 film.

Chapter Twenty-Six - in which the harpoon is fired

The Baudelaires sighed, and then Nick said, “Yeah, a little suspicious, isn’t it? Your parents burned to death the same night VFD saw fit to drag you all out.”

Highkey reference to the theory that Volunteers kill the parents who don’t want to give their children up for recruitment.

Violet nodded grimly, while Lilac and Klaus gave Nick careful looks, and Solitude and Sunny gasped quietly. Dewey scanned him with his eyes. “You would get along with Ernest.” he said finally.

The implication here is that Ernest joined the firestarters partially due to speculation about their parents’ murder, or at the very least, Ernest is incredibly critical of the way VFD is run.

“You can’t rely on associates.” Count Olaf said. “More comrades have failed me than I can count. Why, Hooky and what’s-her-face double-crossed me just yesterday and let you brats escape, and then stole my submarine!” “Good for her.” Sunny said, almost unfazed, too furious at Olaf to feel much fear at the moment.

A reference to the meme from Arrested Development:

“How do you know us?” Lilac asked, putting an arm around Violet. The man looked at her sadly. “That’s the wrong question.”

A reference to All the Wrong Questions.

Chapter Twenty-Seven - in which Nick finally spills

“Diviso?” Sunny asked, which meant, “What if they try to split us up?”

“Diviso” is a Latin adjective meaning “divided.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight - in which Everything Goes to Shit

The title is a reference to many of my other fanfictions: In the Stranger Things Superhero AU fic Shatter: Pirouette in the Dark, Chapter Nine was titled “Everything Goes to Shit”, and Chapter Thirty was titled “I already used the title ‘Everything goes to shit’ but I need to use it again”, and people thought that was so funny that it became a running joke in basically all of my fics.

“Lilac Emily Baudelaire.” “Violet Malina Baudelaire.” “Nick Liam Baudelaire.” “Klaus Louis Baudelaire.” “Solitude Theodora Baudelaire.” “Sunday Theo-dora Bau’elaire!”

The first four children have their middle names from their original actors- Emily Browning, Malina Weissman, Liam Aiken and Louis Hynes.

Solitude and Sunny’s middle names are both Theodora, to further confuse people as to what the S stands for. See: S Theodora Markson, All the Wrong Questions

Nick took a moment to respond. “E-Explorer?”

Identity crisis! Getting a bit better though.

“He murdered…” Lilac bit her lip. “He murdered Jacques Snicket!”

Lilac’s realizing here that that was her uncle.

They all turned to look at Olaf, who didn’t even look uncomfortable. They wanted him to be uncomfortable. They wanted him to be scared.

A reference to a line from Shouldn’t You Be In School?: Someone cleared their throat and we both looked back at a tall, masked figure, watching us calmly. Too calmly, I thought. I wanted him worried.

Sunny and Soli were crying, too. “Audit,” Sunny said, meaning, “People never listen to children.”

“Audit” comes from the Latin verb “audio”, meaning “to listen.”

They stood up, with Nick lifting Solitude and Violet moving to lift Sunny, and then they walked back together, holding their heads high and ignoring the stares and whispers and chills. They sat again in the front row, still holding onto each other and refusing to let go.

“Bene?” Sunny asked. “Is that good?”

“Bene” is the Latin word for “good.”

The elevator shot down to the basement, and as it did, Nick and Violet leapt onto Olaf, pummeling him with their fists and trying to rip Justice Strauss away. Olaf shouted, and Lilac and Klaus immediately jumped help, managing to pull Justice Strauss out of his grip as Soli and Sunny screeched and started biting at his ankles, with Babbitt jumping over to the judge so they didn’t get squashed. The siblings had been waiting for this a long while, and they weren’t going to waste time.

a reference to the original shitpost that inspired this au.

Chapter Twenty-Nine - in which Sunny turns to Arson

“Alexandria,” Sunny said, which meant, “Unless she has a backup, you son of a bitchass motherfucker.”

A reference to the Library of Alexandria.

Chapter Thirty - in which the Baudelaires have had ENOUGH

“And the only fucking reason,” Lilac said, sitting up and grimacing as her stomach wound flared up, “That we haven’t thrown you overboard already is that we might need bait to catch larger fish to eat.”

A slight reference to “Shipwrecked” by The Gothic Archies, which was inspired by The End.

“Cazzo,” Sunny said, which meant, “Which won’t be long, dickhead.”

“Cazzo” is an Italian curse word.

Chapter Thirty-One - in which Nick is not taking Ishmael’s bullshit

“You cannot force me to wear white.” Lilac said.

A reference both to Lilac being incredibly goth, and to her trauma from the Marvelous Marriage, where she was forced into a wedding dress.

Nick said. “Listen up, you- someone cover Friday’s ears.” Klaus reached forwards and slammed his hands over Friday’s ears. “Alright. Listen up, you bitchass motherfucker.”

I’VE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT, SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG IS A BITCHASS MOTHERFUCKER-

“I was drugged up once, it’s not fun.”

I left this to be interpreted in separate ways: one, like Duncan guessed in Part Two: Chapter Twenty, Nick was drugged as part of his torture. Two, like Klaus said in Chapter Twenty-Four, Classical Literature Camp was wild.

“Yeah, it’s not.” Violet agreed.

Reference to her being drugged in The Hostile Hospital.

Chapter Thirty-Two - in which the Baudelaires make camp

“I feel like we weren’t supposed to do that.” Violet said, as they walked away from the beach.

A reference to me going very off-book.

Sunny nodded, as they placed them in front of her. “Crusoe,” Sunny said, which meant, “We can drink the milk inside, so long as we don’t allow it to ferment, and I can make us toasted coconut flakes, if you give me some room around the fire.”

A reference to Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe.

“Sandstone,” Sunny said, meaning, “Can someone get me something like a bowl?”

A reference to her first line in the Netflix series: “Can you find a rock that’s not sandstone?”

They were silent again, and then Lilac said, “Um, speaking- speaking of hard things to tell- oh.”

She was going to tell them about her biological father.

Nick’s face fell. “You’re right, we don’t wanna kidnap.”

Don’t wanna emulate VFD.

Chapter Thirty-Three - in which the Baudelaires begin to heal

“Wait.” Friday narrowed her eyes. “Bears don’t live on beaches.” “I know!” Klaus laughed. “Shakespeare had no geographical knowledge whatsoever.”

Once again, a reference to a famous stage direction from William Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale.

“Yeet!” Violet shouted, as she threw herself beside her siblings, and after a second, Lilac flopped over, too.

A reference to the vine/meme.

Chapter Thirty-Four - in which Friday goes off-book

“Kit Snicket?” Lilac shouted. “No, Kit Kittredge.” Solitude sighed.

A reference to the American Girl doll, Kit Kittredge.

Friday sighed and stood up, taking a few steps forwards. She looked at her mother, and her mother’s outstretched arms, and then out at the crowd. Watching her. Waiting for her to listen. And then she stepped back. “No,” she said. “No, I don’t think so.”

A quick rundown of Friday’s mentality here.

Chapter Thirty-Five - in which the Baudelaires plan a mutiny

Klaus nodded. “Cinderella. East of the Sun and West of the Moon. The Juniper Tree. Little Match Girl- might skip that one, actually. Do you want to try to read it?”

Skipping “The Little Match Girl” because she dies at the end.

“Suit yourself.” said Olaf. “But you know what? I bet those islanders won’t let you back onto Olaf-Land, now that you’ve recruited one of their own.”

Intentional use of the word “recruit” here, just to taunt them.

Chapter Thirty-Six - in which we go surprisingly more off-book

“I know this.” Nick was the first one to move, stepping towards a tall fish statue, the red paint slightly peeling. He shook quite a bit as he ran a hand over it, and Klaus rushed over to put an arm around him. “We were trapped in here. How… how did we fit in here? Klaus, how did we fit?”

A reference to the fact the Red Herring statue can be seen in the arboretum in the Netflix adaptation.

Nick turned to Klaus, eyes wide. “We did fit? We were in here? I didn’t make that up?”

A very lowkey reference to We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson; Uncle Julian sometimes doubts the traumatic arsenic incident that paralyzed him and killed the rest of the family really happened.

Chapter Thirty-Seven - in which Lilac has a costume change

“Why would I-” Violet asked as Lilac grabbed a knife, drew it up to one of her braids, and chopped it off. Violet leapt to her feet and gasped, while Nick’s dropped his marker in shock. Soli and Sunny let out tiny shrieks, as Friday stared and Klaus said, “Lilac!” “I need to think.” Lilac said, and she grabbed another braid and chopped it off. “And this hair is getting in my way!” “Lilac-” Klaus started forwards, but she held up a hand to stop him, and then grabbed her loose hair and started cutting. Her braids fell to the floor of the tree, as she kept cutting to get rid of the strands that could reach her face. Within a few moments, her hair was cut even shorter than the boys’, with only a small, thin braid on the side of her head.

Firstly, a reference to the fact the dramatic haircut is my favorite trope of all time.

Secondly, specifically and heavily inspired by the scene in IT: Chapter One when Beverly Marsh cuts her hair.

“Oh, fuck yeah! Deus ex Rana to the rescue!” Klaus said, rushing over first.

“Rana” is the Latin word for “frog.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight - in which the Medusoid causes a ruckus

“Hey!” Lilac shouted, stepping forwards. “What in the nine circles of hell is going on here?”

A reference to Dante’s Inferno.

“So are you, my dear.” Olaf said. He eyed her with his shiny eyes. “Why’d you do that to your hair? It makes you look much less pretty.”

Unfortunately, another reference to Beverly’s haircut in IT: Chapter One: this was the response it elicited from her abusive father.

Chapter Thirty-Nine - in which man hands on misery to man

Solitude looked to her, narrowing her eyes, a seemingly insignificant memory floating back to her. “Question mark.” she said, “Beast.”

When she realizes some stuff about Ellington’s statue.

Kit looked at her, and Lilac saw in her eyes that her choice not to take the apple had nothing to do with her child.

TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE

It’s often theorized in canon, and confirmed in this fic, that Kit was suicidal, which was why she decided not to take the apple.

Chapter Forty - in which the Baudelaires go on together

“We didn’t.” Sunny said, putting a hand on Lilac’s leg. “We have each other.”

A callback to “We lost everything.” “Except each other.”

“We don’t need to escape.” Violet said. She turned to Lilac. “Do you remember that musical, based on that movie, based on that movie, based on that book-”

The song they proceed to sing, “Finale”, is from the musical The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which is based on the Disney movie, which takes a lot of inspiration from the 1939 film, which was based on the Victor Hugo novel.

Also I made a gifset with those lyrics and I’m still very proud of it.

“I know.” Violet nodded. “I… I guess we can’t lock you in the closet anymore, huh?” Her smile only lasted a few seconds. “I’m sorry. Just trying to cheer you up.”

A reference to the one-shot.

They never told Bea she had the same shine in her eyes as her father. She didn’t need to know.

Bea is biologically Olaf’s daughter.

Solitude found all the herpetology books, which Klaus and Friday read to her. She furnished Babbitt’s habitat, and let her hair grow out so that she could braid it.

Just like her big sister Lilac.

“A statue normally wouldn’t mean anything,” Violet had told Friday, “But, well, Nick found some interesting accounts, didn’t you, Nick?” “Li’s Dad is a wordy motherfucker,” Nick said, tossing a file that had been slipped into a bowl of honeydew melons, “But yeah, I did.”

Huge reference to All the Wrong Questions.

Chapter Forty-One / Epilogue - in which Beatrice leaves the island

“Well, maybe we only have to last a year until Lilac turns eighteen, and then we spend our fortune on pop tarts and Pokémon cards.” Solitude said.

A reference to this Alex Hirsch tweet:

“We’ll have to come up with fake names.” Solitude giggled. “I’ll be Sensible.” “You will not, I called dibs!” Sunny shouted.

A reference to Netflix!Sunny’s name in @ornettelosts‘s Nine Baudelaires AU. Love ya, Sammie! :D

“I still wanna know how Babbitt had-” Nick began, but Klaus slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I still wanna know how Babbitt had sex.”

Lilac ran her hands over the title. “Yeah. Let’s leave this behind.” She smiled and said, “Time to go. Sound off! One!”

They’re leaving their series of unfortunate events behind.

Lilac smiled and said, “Let’s go find something new.”

There’s always something.

Perhaps, in ten years, Beatrice would have a much happier message for her uncle than he expected.

A reference to The Beatrice Letters and, lowkey, the happier version of it in Netflix’s adaptation of The End.

#asoue #asoue netflix #asoue movie #a series of unfortunate events #six baudelaires au #six baudelaires official fic #six baudelaires reference guide #six baudelaires bonus #mine

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raspberryparker · 5 years

Note

🕷️👔🍵 -spider thot anon

jesus christ okay, forgive me for i have sinned… and keep in mind i’ve been too busy lately to let loose ya know 👀 so this dream was just my body getting sick and tired of my bullshit

OKAY SO THE SUIT (this is gonna be fucking long and really N0T SAFE 4 W0RK i’m so sorry) (i’m also writing this while i’m having breakfast in the dining hall so my face is so fucking red lmao)

ya’ll know how the raimi suit, the og spidey suit from the tobey movies, had the web design pattern but in such a way that it like sat on top of the suit fabric itself? and the tasm suit was like this too where the whole thing is like covered in ridges? i was thinking about how the mcu suit isn’t like that—instead the web pattern is like indented? i’m explaining this really bad. ANYWAY,

the ridges are still there but they’re like subtler. the most important thing to note is that they’re all over the hands of the suit. you following me, you still with me? hell yeah.

okay so picture this:

peter’s room in the mcu at night. i don’t remember which version of it because there are like three now so take your pick. i was like sitting on his bed and looking out the window for whatever reason. maybe i was waiting for him to come back, maybe i was staring out the window and pretending i was in a dramatic music video. both equally as likely. but because dreams are choppy and weird, the next thing i remember is like… sitting in his lap? but like he was hugging me from behind so his arms were around my waist and my back was up against his chest. real cute shit. i vividly remember the smell for some reason. i guess my brain decided that peter smells like this specific marc jacobs cologne that i can’t remember the name of right now but every time i go to sephora i spend like ten minutes huffing it. it’s my fav lmao. so yeah real cute, real domestic coupley shit. excEPT IT STOPPED BEING CUTE EALLY FAST BECAUSE FOR SOME REASON I ALSO WASN’T WEARING ANY PANTS? OR ANYTHING?

and he was still in his suit. i’m thinking that my brain made up this scenario where he was coming back from patrol or something and i was waiting for him. you know, the classic fic scenario. but then he was like… touching my thighs? on the inside and just like running his fingers along the skin there. it felt so fucking real. and i don’t remember if he said anything, he probably did, but i was having a fucking stroke so i Cannot Recall. and remember those ridges i talked about? remember those beautiful things? oh they felt so good. and he wasn’t even really touching me like his was holding his fingers up a little bit so they just barely brushed the skin and i swear to god i combusted.

please remember that i was not wearing anything. this is crucial. because then i remember feeling those fucking ridges on my tits. and he was being a little shit because he kept running his fingertips over the nipples and idk if i imagined this or smth but i swear the fabric of the mcu suit has these little grippy things on the hands? to help him hang on to stuff or something? imagine that shit pinching ur nipples. yeah. but oh my god it felt SO REAL and so good and then i dont remember much but he had one hand on my clit and the other on my breast and i guess he took his mask off or something bc his breath was on the back of my neck and i was grabbing his hair like my life depended on it.

let me tell you, i have a damn good imagination when i’m dreaming. like too much. this wasn’t my first wet dream by a long shot but this was the most detailed. the fucking !! material !! of the suit !! the ridges on my skin, they tingled in the most delicious way and i swear it actually happened. pretty sure i started moaning in my sleep or something but my neighbours aren’t around this week, thank fuck. when i woke up i was like… was that a dream? or a memory? like things you remember from your childhood that you ask other people about and they go ‘what the fuck that never happened’ but you swear it did and it turns out you dreamt it or imagined it but you grew up thinking it was real. it felt like that.

i woke up sweating and shaking because i didn’t get to finish (the stupid fucking wind woke up me because it was howling like goddamn wolf) but oh my god.

that’s the dream lmao

#spider thot anon #answered #I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG BUT IM A WRITER I CANT NOT DESCRIBE THINGS IN DETAIL

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gobblepotgazette · 4 years

Text

Gobblepot Comfort Fic Recs

Thank you to everyone who submitted their favourite comfort reads through our form! There’s a lot of amazing fics, so we’re sure you’re going to find a nice one to snuggle up to this weekend! :)

Please find the list below the cut.

1. From This Night Not a Whisper by @sunlitroom

2. Bewitched by @emmageddon

3. Lost in the Rain by @lalaurelia

4. I Promise - I Swear by HouseofMacbeth

5. show me how you miss me by Edgebug

6. Too Great and Difficult by @sunlitroom

7. Rumor Has It by @ladyspock7

8. Dreams of Lace and Satin series by @pamdizzle

9. A Cashmere Throw by @itsclydebitches

10. look away by @miscreantahead

11. Imagination Infection series by @lalaurelia

12. thought of you by @marcceh

13. Pictures of You by GhostOfDorothyStreet

14. In Vino Veritas by @sunlitroom

15. Saint Jim's magic cock - an Essay by H. Bullock by nishiki

16. All In a Summer by @kateera-writes

17. Granted by druxykexy

18. Tell Me When by @pamdizzle

19. Floriography by @emmageddon

20. soft on you by Edgebug

21. A Little Snow, A Little Peace by @butterfliesandresistance

22. The Road by Basingstoke

23. A Series of Negotiations by @sunlitroom

24. Where No-One Goes by Angryangryowl

25. Solstice by @lalaurelia

26. Only If for a Night by glowstick_of_destiny

27. Five Times Jim & Oswald Cuddled Platonically, and One Time It Wasn't by @pamdizzle

28. Cease-Fire by @ladyspock7

29. First Times by @sunlitroom

30. (i'm) where villains spend the weekend by Edgebug

31. Amalgamation by @lalaurelia

32. Waltz of the Snowflakes by Midouri_Aidoru

33. Oz and Jim Go to the Seaside by @cobblepotscomfort

34. A Subtler Taste by @butterfliesandresistance

35. Dark Light by @sparcina

36. New Beginnings by @sunlitroom

37. Snowstache by @miscreantahead

38. Road Trip by tunglo

39. Half-doomed and Semi-sweet by @lalaurelia

#gobblepot fic recs #gobblepot #gotham #fanfic

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filippoinzaghi · 5 years

Note

Director's cut for the shower scene on the Gigi/Rino fic, please?👀👀👀

Way to be direct, I see 👀!

So, let’s see. I had just gotten out of the previous chapter which had obviously drained me emotionally with feels™ (might be my fave chapter with number 6 !). I was crying almost once every day because of finals coming up and that new master degree they compltely fucked up and the lack of communication from teachers. A hellish month tbh and that fic really was an escape to just try to calm down and focus on something else for a little while.

I had basically the rest of the chapters mapped out from chapter 3. Since I decided it would be a 7 chapter fic, linear and a Friends to Lover, I had landmarks on chapters. Chapter 1 served as the meeting, 2 as properly meeting, 3 as being friends and also contrast Rino’s and Gigi’s career with Italy NT while they’re actually the same age (can you fucking believe asedrftygh ! And same month as that ! Should exploit that piece of info next time !) : with Gigi having been precocious, debut in 1997 and 3rd gk in 1998 while Rino mainly played with Andrea with the U23 and pretty much had his debut with him (not the same game but the same year. The amount of games I researched on football database to have the exact dates, games and month the three of them were with Italy, I swear aqzserdtfygh).

Chapter 4 was inevitable. When I saw the progression of my fic, I just knew I had to talk about the 2003 and then the depression that followed since I sticked with Gigi’s POV throughout that fic. And so, chapter 4 was the growing closer part, the first sign they might care more than they think. I had a brief moment of hesitation of putting the first kiss in that chapter but I quickly decided against it as the was neither the right time nor the right place to do so. The focus was essentially on the depression, on recognising that that’s what it was and finally realising he needs help, as in therapy (as seen with that piece of dialogue : “And I can’t help as you need to.”).

So yeah, all these paragraphs (see I can’t stop talking when you launch me), to say that in the logical course of action, the kiss needed to happen in chapter 5. Since I already had the ending (chapter 7 and what a fucking blessing for Sandro Nesta to marry in 2007, t’was the best gift to my timeline !) and obviously the 2006 World Cup indulgement. I also must say that seeing you thirsting for that first kiss after chapter 4 was a pure delight and boost zqasedrftyg. Now, I had no fucking idea how to put the kiss into action, looking at the prompt lists. My only clear point was that “Gennaro” was to be used. If you followed closely, I’ve tried to play on names and how Rino he’s referred to by Gigi as the fic goes on. He’s first “one midfielder of Perugia” and “Gennaro Gattuso” full, matter-of-factly, then it’s “Gattuso” when they have lunch with Pirlo. And from chapter 3 on, he becomes “Rino”. That was also another, more subtler, way to show the evolution of their relationship. So, even though I didn’t know yet how I would write the kiss, I just knew that Gigi would use his first name and not his nickname in the crucial moment (aka… seconds to the kiss, lips only centimetres apart). I thought there was something intimate in play here in using his full first name and not just the nickname as everybody else does, like a secret only Gigi knows of and has the right to utter. Rino didn’t use “Gianluigi”, though but mainly because in the first “Gigi, I…” he’s not yet sure of what’s gonna happen, it’s “Gennaro…” that prompts the whole thing and makes Rino abandon any doubts he may had had still; and in the second “Fucking hell, Gigi…” he’s not really thinking straight (pun intended 👀) obviously and utters the first words he can comprehensibly forms, the first thought that can come out of his mouth. That’s to be made up for in chapter 6 with the use of “Gigione”.

(my god where’s my option to turn that ask into an audio post, it’s beginning to look like a dissertation azsedrftgy)

I chose the showers as setting because I had the first sentence of the fic, looking once again at the prompt lists and I just knew then that would also be my closing sentence after the kiss. The rest pretty much wrote itself, trying to keep up links in between chapters to keep the linearity of it all. The Rino popping in in Turin from time to time and taking the couch, the fact he now has his reserved blanket in Gigi’s home and the “A couple of times, Gigi had woken him up and asked if he could come sleep with him…” was kind of a wink to your (and a lesser extent my small contribution) Chiello/Monto Domestic fluff challenge. Turin and Milan are truly close, after all and I just love the trope of the popping in of one “by accident” (yeah sure) to take care of the other. I also like to imagine Rino on the phone and trying to be all grumpy and threatening to bribe some of the Juve players (mainly Zambrotta (and Alex but he didn’t need that to check on Gigi) who then spread the word to the others) to pop in into Gigi’s flat and have them tell him how he’s doing. It all added to show again how their bond evolved again and the process of them thinking about the other more and more, even when they’re not together.

And so the shower scene (yes, finally zqasedrftgyujik). I just love them, honestly (and I had no idea you did to !!). There’s the symbolic of water washing away not just dirt on your skin but whatever else : here, thoughts, trying to calm down for Gigi and for the kiss, it’s more about stopping to fool around, wash away the masks, the doubts, the uncertainties that comes with the “I might like him a lot but does he like me back ?” and stuff like that. There’s also the nakedness which reinforces the fact that, they’re bare, no place to hide, that’s them in all they have to offer, in their whole honest and truest way. Which is why I tried to make it as much non-sexual as I did (although, re-reading it, I may have insisted on that point too much which kind of spoils it, but I tried and that’ll be helpful to remember in the future). I made the shower booth as small as possible because… Reasons obviously (also, the showers in my taekwondo club are fucking small, I can barely wash my feet without murdering my knees every two seconds, so they were obviously an inspiration). Then I asimply had to use hot shower because a) that’s always more agreeable, b) it fits with the whole “Rino’s energy burns Gigi and he can’t get enough thing, and c) THE STEAM™ ! With the steam, there’s the whole point we already discussed in the comments of blurry lines, ethereal atmosphere that comes into play. It was also a way for me to show it all seemed like suspended in time, as if the steam hid them from the rest of the world.

I must add that I did not exactly meant flip-flops when Rino enters the showers as for me flip-flops are, well… flip-flops with the thing going between your big toe and second toe. But what I actually meant was this kind of sandals which are basically a sole and a strap below the toes (like this) because that was a fucking hilarious image to me and considered a mood-killer/most unsexy thing for some. The fact that Rino joined Gigi was just… Logical. Well, obviously for reasons since otherwise, there wouldn’t have been any kiss. But that’s also the level of comfortable they get with a) the dressing rooms and b) their evolving bond and so yeah, considering the two of them, it’s no biggie for Rino to share the booth, however small with Gigi. I mean… The water’s already hot and running, why use another booth 👀! Also I’m a sucker for wet hair and the glory that was Rino and Gigi’s hair at the time just needed to be wet and highlighted here, that’s all.

Anyway, that got long, sorry (or not) ! Thank you so much for the ask

#My fics #ask stuff #answers

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anon-e-miss · 6 years

Text

Mitigation 3 - Smut of the Month Club

Some not really smut, smut. I swear that is coming... next.

Edit: Chapter title edited because I can’t keep track of my own bloody fics.

Prowl outright glared at him, and Meister knew he had not hallucinated, he had not misheard. Well... this was an interesting development. Had he been trapped with a friend, he would have suggested interfacing early on, but Meister had not even considered with Prowl, not because he would have expected the Praxian to refuse but because he had not himself been inclined to take that kind of risk. The realization that Prowl had been masturbating, though not successfully, right next to him over the course of two mega-cycles was more hilarious than it was disturbing. It took every last bit of self-restraint the saboteur had in him to keep from cackling like the lunatic he most assuredly was. Of course he was a lunatic because this idea seemed brilliant to him, and not awkward as all frag.

Then again, Meister had always been good at rolling with whatever life threw at him.

“So... ya been tryin’... with those doors?” He asked.

“It was the least obvious method,” Prowl huffed.

“Yer doorwings are pretty scuffed up,” the Polihexian said, and at least in part to confirm this fact for himself, he eased the blankets off Prowl’s back. The scrapes had not healed much over the course of two dark-cycles, and though he was no expert on doorwings, the locations of the scrapes led him to this the Praxian did not have a hope in the Pit of revving himself up. Meister took the nanite gel from his subspace and put it down between them. “Those scrapes are lookin’ gnarly. More gel’s just what ya need... ‘N a different method.”

“Proceed,” the tactician replied.

His doorwings were flat, maybe in resignation. As he had the first mega-cycle, Meister applied a thick layer of gel to the scrapes along the edges of Prowl’s doorwings, and he did so without mockery. He could feel the Praxian’s field seething under his servos, though he could not teek any one specific emotion. Mockery, Meister though was more likely to lead to a gun to his helm than a lightening of the room, and that was not a good gamble to make. As an added touch, once he had the scrapes covered with the nanite gel, the saboteur applied a self-adhesive mesh to further protect the damage, and to prevent the gel from rubbing off.

“Probably gonna be easier if I give ya a helpin’ servo,” Meister suggested. “The whole bit’s sensitive, right? Ya can’t reach’em, but ya can tell me what to do.”

“That... may be agreeable,” Prowl said. “Doorwings are not as delicate as stories would have you believe. If you do not set out to damage me, you will not.”

“Thanks for the vote o’ confidence,” the saboteur replied, not quite able to keep the laughter from his voice this time.

This was not something he had ever considered doing, and he had a very active imagination. Meister heard the sounds of a transformation sequence, and watched as the tactician flattened his chassis, and lay face down on the blanket, arms folded in front of him. Though he took Prowl’s glyphs to spark, when the saboteur finally touched the Praxian’s doorwing, he did so very lightly. Prowl did not react immediately. The tension in his frame was impossible to miss, Meister was tense too, though he hoped he was hiding it a little better. Slowly though, he gained more confidence in what he was doing, and slowly the plating under his servo began to heat up. It was not a surprise that Prowl was not making even the softest sound. He trusted the mech would let him no if he pressed to hard, or otherwise hurt him, but there was no way in Pit Prowl would tell him it felt good. Pleasure was more of a means, instead of an end goal.

The tension in the tactician’s frame did not ease even as his core temperature rose, though Meister’s did. Just as he had said, Prowl’s frame was throwing off more and more heat as the Polihexian slowly revved him up. But it was a slow process. Tense and the Praxian was, it was hard to heat him up and really keep him there. It was common sense, Prowl needed to relax, but Meister could not think of any single thing to do or say that would actually help. Distracted by this problem, his servo slid just under the Praxian’s back plate, and his digits brushed Prowl’s doorwing joint. Both mech froze as the Autobot’s engine audibly kicked up a notch, and a wave of heat poured off Prowl’s frame. Despite the physiological reaction, the Praxian still managed to keep silent. Meister looked up to the mech’s helm, and found it bowed, Prowl’s face hidden in his arms. His field agitated but without defined emotion. The saboteur cracked a smile. He did not need to feel embarrassment to know Prowl was feeling it. How exactly he was able to conceal from his field so well was something Meister thought he would like to learn. It seemed like a useful trick.

“Is this okay?” He asked, digits barely brushing against the smooth joint.

“It is effective,” Prowl’s reply was breathy.

It had been unexpected for the Autobot to as he hunched his shoulders at the sound of his own voice. He hunched his shoulders and unintentionally pushed his back up against Meister’s servo. The Praxian’s exclamation was so quiet, an average mech would not have heard it. But like many of his framekin Meister had above average hearing. Wisely, he did not let on. Instead, the saboteur withdrew his servo and sat back. With the heat Prowl’s frame was throwing off he really did make an excellent space heater.

“Ya weren’t kiddin’,” Meister said. He left the discharged blanket over their frames, but deactivated the one still outputting and set it aside before reclining again. This was actually going to work. Weird and wild as the tactician’s plan was, it was going to work. “Are ya alright?”

“I am fine,” the Praxian replied, he turned his helm. Apart from the bright optics, his expression was blank. The only really hint as to his actual state was the beads of condensation on his faceplates. “Are you prepared for a game?”

“Sure,” the saboteur said. “Think I might have an unfair advantage.”

“True,” Prowl agreed. “I will considerate it a training exercise.”

Meister chuckled at the idea, but as the game began he realized Prowl was completely serious. Concentrating while revved up was not an easy thing. He did not go into the game convinced the tactician would fumble again, and the Polihexian was soon proven to have been right. It was not as solid a game as he had first seen Prowl play, but it was slick enough. His own game was not at its best, Meister could not deny, Prowl was not the only one distracted. Some mechanisms might be able to masturbate another without feeling a buzz, and it turned out he was not one of them. Still, the saboteur kept his cool, kept his field on lock down, and played the game.

When Prowl stopped throwing off heat as his charge dropped within normal parametres, they paused the game. Meister was doing everything he could to be clinical about this, but it did not come easy to him. He had a healthy interface drive, and it was reminding him of its good health, on repeat, much to his exasperation. Ignoring said drive, the Polihexian did not immediately go for the joint, figuring it was not unlike valveplay, it was better overall if you worked your way up. Prowl was even quieter this round, and the twitches as his frame headed up were subtler. It was a marvel to think how much self-control this mech had. Making the tactician come undone completely would be a battle of wills, and a very entertaining one. Though it would have been more fun to explore all the different spots that might heat Prowl up, Meister limited himself to the smooth panelling and concealed joints. Quite simply, it came down to respect. If it suited him, the Praxian could let him freeze, the fact that he was willing to act as a space heater by being brought to the edge of overload over and over, the operative was smart enough to feel grateful.

“Enough,” Prowl order, softly. Meister watched him as he withdrew his servo. The tactician did not move for a bream. When he did, he did little more than turn his helm to the side.

“Think ya need to fuel,” Meister declared. The statement roused Prowl, and the Praxian pushed himself up on his arms.

“We need to ration appropriately,” he said, voice not so much soft as breathy.

“It’s appropriate to keep ya properly fuelled,” the saboteur declared, and he pulled out a cube, and put it down next to Prowl’s elbow. “Ya burning through energon. We got enough cubes between us to last. Drink.”

“I suspect you fully intend to pour it down my throat if I do not,” the Praxian replied. He did pick up the cube, and take a long drink.

“And give ya slag the whole time,” Meister promised. It pleased him in no small way that Prowl was smarter than he was stubborn, though he did not know yet how close the race between the two was. “Wanna get back to the game?”

“Crown,” Prowl said as he put the cube down, and took his game piece, and cornered Meister’s. The Polihexian could not help but laugh.

The mega-cycle continued on much the same vein. They played, focusing their conversation on Triad. Prowl did not say another glyph about trying to recruit Meister to the Autobots, to the operative’s relief. He thought about it, more about the disbelief the offer had been, and by this mech no less. Autobots stood for the Prime, and the old guard, and the status quo, Meister was not. Very few Polihexian had allied themself to the Prime’s ranks, even to this new Prime. His were a frametype decried as thieves, addicts, and conmech. Though it was true enough that Meister had been, and still was a thief as his contracts required, the Fellowship did not make up the majority of Polihex’s population. Most were poor and starved as Straxus tightened his grip. At one time most had been artisans, artists, musicians, overall hardworking mechs. It had not been so long ago, Meister remembered dancing in the streets during festivals as a sparkling, and he still remembered as those festivals had become fewer and fewer, the streets quieter and quieter, and the once clear skies murkier and murkier.

No, the operative could not ally himself with the Decepticons, but Straxus was not alone to blame for the Empties, and the silent streets. Straxus had only come to power after Sentinel Prime had cracked down on Polihex, blaming them for the assassination of his predecessor, Straxus had promised to bring Polihex back to prosperity. It had been a lie. The assassination, that had been the work of a Polihexian, it had been the work of Meister’s originator in fact, but the job had not come from within Polihex, it had come from within Iacon. Meister did not mourn the mech, he had been a Functionist slagtard. He only regretted the mech’s death had been used as an excuse to crush his framekin. Even if these were not the crimes of Optimus Prime, it was impossible to imagine swearing fealty to to him and his “cause”.

Meister was glad for the distraction of the game, and his Praxian opponent. They paused their games three more times before the dark-cycle. Each time the saboteur stroked and kneaded smooth black and white plating until Prowl called him off. After each round, Meister insisted the Autobot fuel. Though Prowl won that first game, he lost the next, and the next. He could hardly be blamed for being distracted. Edging was enough to wipe a mechanisms processor, The fact that Prowl could play at all, and that the Polihexian was not outright creaming him said something for his processor power. But as the dark-cycle descended, it was clear to Meister that the mech had had enough. So he felt a little guilty when Prowl rolled onto his chassis, and flattened his wings.

“If we can limit the use of that blanket our situation will be less precarious,” the Praxian said, flatly.

“I’ll set an alarm, make sure we don’t freeze while we recharge,” Meister replied. “Use the blanket if we gotta.”

It did cool as Prowl’s frame stopped throwing off heat. Though they could likely have survived the dark-cycle without the blanket’s use, joors before sunrise Meister grabbed the blanket, turned it on, and pulled it over their two frames. He was in recharge again in a matter of kliks. When he woke again, he stayed curled under the blanket, and listened to the storm. Wishful thinking would have had him imagine that the winds were weakening, but in reality the Polihexian thought they were howling as loud as the mega-cycle before. Another mega-cycle of Triad did not sound all that appealing. The cave was beginning to feel claustrophobic, and he was irrationally annoyed at the lack of music.

He scrolled through the collection he kept uploaded to his processor. Praxus had not been a sterile civilization. The music had been profoundly different from the music he had learned in Polihex, but there had been music, and not only the singing crystal’s from the Helix Garden. To his regret, Meister had not uploaded the collection he had purchased on one of his early assignments there. But he thought the collection of folk songs he had saved might be unobtrusive enough for the Praxian. With Prowl still dead to the world, Meister selected the first file, paused to adjust the volume from his speakers, and set it to play. Prowl recharged another joor before he stirred. He froze, and the saboteur did with him, his helm cocked minutely to the side.

“It is a marked improvement from the storm,” Prowl declared, and Meister relaxed. “I don’t recognize the dialect.”

“Ol’ Polihexian,” Meister explained. “Almost extinct, like common Primal Vernacular.”

“I never left Praxus,” the tactician said. “Not until the Autobot search party pulled me from the rubble... I apologize.”

“Nah, it must of been a livin’ Pit,” the Polihexian replied. “I can see why ya didn’t leave. It was a beautiful city.”

“I was bolted to my desk,” Prowl said. “My entire life was built on the framework of the Enforcers. Others stopped badgering me to take holidays after the first millenia.”

“I suppose that don’t work for the Hatchet,” Meister guessed.

“It does not surprise me in the least you know Ratchet’s reputation,” the Praxian replied, tiredly. His field was less closed off than it had been, ripples less ambiguous. There was a whisper of grief, but also one of hope. “I am expected to work the joors he defines as reasonable, and I am required to take regular mega-cycles off. My life is fundamentally altered, in some ways, improved. I will always mourn Praxus and the mechanisms I failed to save.”

“Ya didn’t fail’em,” the saboteur said. “Tellin’ ya that straight up. Ya didn’t wait for someone to come ‘n save ya. Ya tried.”

“I did not succeed,” Prowl countered, without any heat.

“Not the same as failin’,” Meister replied.

“You would have your own definitions,” the Autobot said, and blatantly changed the subject. “We should fuel. And save the blanket.”

Both mech knew what Prowl actually meant. Meister felt unexpectedly happy that Prowl had found something in the Autobots. They were not, he knew with absolute certainty what the mech had wanted, but he had a place with them, a medic at least that cared enough to fuss over him. He had a life after Praxus. Could he have a life after Polihex? After the Fellowship? As much as the saboteur hated to considerate, Prowl’s offer had old and near fears spinning in his optics. There was no way he could be a Decepticon, but if the Fellowship folded, he would have no safe place to run to after a mission, no guaranteed income. Work as an independent hire was considerably more risky, which is why he had never made the jump.

“How do ya feel ‘bout comparin’ notes?” He suggested after they had fuelled, and after the blanket had been said aside. His servo lazily brushed against Prowl’s back. “’M curious if ya tagged me for all my... jobs.”

“I would be interested,” Prowl said, and he dropped his helm into his arms. “I have wondered how you bypassed all of our security protocols.”

“I think I can let ya in on a few of my tricks,” Meister replied.

They were skirting dangerous territory, the operative thought as followed a now familiar map over the Praxian’s back and doorwings. Or perhaps it was just Meister. The temptation to flirt and tease was becoming stronger. Ric had hassled him non stop for having a crush on an Enforcer he had never even seen, something the elder twin had vehemently. Meister preferred to think of it as admiration, and irritation. Prowl had cost him some lucrative contracts, but it had been impossible not to admire the mech’s intelligence. Pit, the former Praefectus could be as devious as Meister himself, of course he respected the mech. But had he seen Prowl back then, the Polihexian thought he probably would have fallen into serious lust. Beautiful, and brilliant, there was no better combination.

But if he was lusting after the Praxian a bit here and now, well who could blame him? Meister had been listening to that engine hum, felt the heat of arousal under his servos, been the one to draw it up in fact, of course he was getting a bit hot under the kibble. He did not let on, however. As the tactician’s plating warmed again, the Polihexian stroked the mech’s doorwing joint. Prowl tensed, and squirmed unexpectedly. Concerned that he had let something slip into his field, Meister sat back on his peds and put his servos on his knees. The Praxian suddenly flared his doorwings and swept them back, he pushed himself up off the blanket, plating clattering. When he realized Meister was staring, Prowl sat.

“I cannot...” he hissed, and he brushed his servos down his arms.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure somethin’ out,” Meister replied. “Did I hurt ya?”

“My sensors are on fire,” Prowl said. “Or rather they were. Thank Primus I can adjust their feedback.”

“Did I?” The Polihexian asked.

“Just... over stimulation,” the Autobot said, he looked down, realized he was still rubbing his servos against his arms, and stopped. “I hoped I could ignore it.”

“Why don’tcha relax,” Meister suggested. “We’re okay right now.”

“I would like to meditate,” Prowl said, quickly.

“Have at it,” the saboteur replied.

Prowl inclined his helm, and stood. He walked to the alcove and sat with his legs crossed. Though the mech obviously needed to regroup, Meister was not about to let him freeze like this. The cave was cold, that much had not changed. Leaving him was blankets had been considerate, but the Polihexian was not going to let this brilliant moron be any more self-sacrificing that he had already been. Meister took the half spent blanket from where he had set it aside, and carried it over to Prowl, and draped it over him. It was still off, but like the ones the saboteur returned to, it was decent enough insulation, so long as it did not get any cold.

He said nothing as he returned to the blankets spread out on the floor, and made himself comfortable. Meister would let Prowl meditate, however long he needed to, and maybe by that time the Polihexian would have a satisfactory plan. Though he had pretended to, Meister had not missed the beads of lubricant trickling down the sides of Prowl’s interface panel. It was not meditation the Autobot needed, he thought, but an overload. Now, Meister asked himself how exactly was he going to convince Prowl of this little fact?

#valveplug #maccadams #ficlet #smut of the month club #tf prowl #tf jazz #wing job #cave in

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winchester-or-whateve-blog · 6 years

Text

The Castle We’ve Built Won’t Cave- Chapter One Excerpt

Read it on AO3.

Sam was just laying there, mostly asleep, nothing but the sounds of Jessica’s slight snores and the faint light of the street lamps from outside their window filtering in through the curtains keeping him from falling completely asleep, when he hears it, a faint click of the deadbolt being unlocked and the slow opening of the apartment door. He sat up slowly, so the bed doesn’t creak like it often does and alert whoever just broke into his house and so he doesn’t startle Jess awake. He rolled off the bed and stands, all in one smooth motion, silent and still and listening, just like Dad taught them, him and Dean, when they were kids. The noise was still there, near the front door, so Sam moved toward it, quiet and patient and tense, ready to strike. His eyes swept the room, which was clear, so he ducked around the corner, right by the entryway to the apartment now, and that was when he saw it, a shadow of someone, possibly something, kinda tall and pretty well built, and he pounced. He grabbed whatever it was, got in a few punches, and, next thing he knew, he was pinned underneath them on the floor, which was surprising, since the only one who’d ever been able to best him was Dean, not even Dad could do it.

“Little out of practice there, Sammy?” The figure above him says, and, God, how could Sam not have noticed before, it was Dean. Dean, who was six one and well built and suddenly here and pinning him to the ground and smiling like it was the good old days and they were just sparring, instead of Dean breaking into his apartment in the middle of the night after not so much as a phone call in two whole years; Dean who still made his heart flutter and his knees weak.

“Nope,” Sam says, breaking the moment and rolling them over, pinning Dean beneath him for a moment before he lets up and gets off his brother to offer him a hand in getting up, which Dean doesn’t so much as glance at as he springs up, cocky grin still firmly in place and the whole thing just strikes Sam as a moment out of the past, before this rift between them came up and Sam left. “What are you doing here, Dean?” Sam is a little upset, but he doesn’t sound it yet, still so shocked from the whole Dean showing up in the middle of the night thing.

“Sam?” Jess is awake and flipping on the light on them before Dean could answer, and now she’s standing there in her sleep shirt and a pair of underwear, and Dean is looking at her up and down and then at Sam.

Sam could see him trying to reconcile the information he had on Sam with the current situation and Sam doesn’t know how to explain that he is in fact still gay and that he’s with Jessica but she’s not his girlfriend to Dean, who is mr.one-night-stand and a very black-and-white, clear cut kind of guy who barely understands a relationship that doesn’t extend past a couple of dates and some hot sex. So, instead of trying to explain their relationship to him in the middle of the night when he doesn’t even know what Dean is doing here, he just says, “Dean, this is Jessica. Jess, Dean.”

“Dean? Like your brother?” Jess says it completely nonchalant, but her eyes are looking at Sam with a question: Dean like the one you talk about constantly and shouldn’t be in love with but are, that Dean? And Sam regrets that he let slip that he was in love with a Dean and shouldn’t be, because, while she didn’t put together that Dean-his-brother was Dean-the-guy-he-was-in-love-with, at least, until she flipped on the light to find him looking at his brother like he was a man lost in the desert for days who had just found water.

“Yeah. Listen, sweetheart, I need to borrow your boyfriend here for a second to talk about something. Family business, you know.” Dean is grinning his charming smile, the one he has when he’s laying it on thick, trying to pick up waitresses or sweet talk information out of a pretty someone for a case.

For some reason, that smile being used on Jess strikes a nerve with Sam, and he finds himself moving to stand next to Jessica and giving Dean a hard look, not unlike the looks he used to give Dad when he gave him an order that Sam didn’t want to follow. “Actually, Dean, anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Jess.”

Dean’s still smiling, but his eyes are harder now, he isn’t happy that Sam isn’t jumping to get back into whatever mess Dean, and probably Dad, was involved in now, “Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Sam snorts, “Nothing unusual, he’s probably had a little too much to drink. He’ll be back in a few days. He always is.” He feels Jess’s hand on his back at that, quietly offering support, she knows how much his Dad’s drinking and disappoint in Sam get to him.

Dean’s smile is less now, less charming, almost willing Sam to understand, “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a couple of days.” Sam goes cold. Yes, it was like Dad to take longer than he said on hunting trips, but it wasn’t like Dean at all to come to Sam, all worried like this.

“Jess, could you give us a second?” She looks at him, trying to check that he’s okay, and nods. He squeezes her hand in a way that she knows means don’t worry about me, I’m alright and I’ll explain later, I promise in a language that the two of them have built for themselves over the year and a half of their relationship, and she nods again, subtler this time, and goes back to their bedroom.

“This isn’t the first time he’s gone missing on a hunt, Dean,” Sam is hissing at his brother in his own living room, not wanting Jess to overhear, “So why are you dragging me off like this here, now.” He’s still whispering, even though his brother is pulling him out of the door of his apartment and toward the stairwell.

“He’s been gone for a month, Sam, and he won’t answer his phone, not for days.” They’re halfway down the stairs when Dean suddenly stops and turns to him, “I haven’t talked to you, haven’t seen you, haven’t asked you for a thing in two years, Sam. Help me find him.”

“I have to be back by Monday,” Sam says, heading back up the stairs to tell Jess and pack a duffel bag with some stuff for the weekend.

“That a yes?” Dean’s smirking a little, now, because he knows Sam well enough to know that that was as close as he’d get to Sam agreeing.

“Like I said, I gotta be back on Monday.”

Sam heads into his apartment, closing the door quietly behind him to find Jess standing in the living room, hands on her hips, waiting for an explanation as to why his brother showed up here in the middle of the night and needed Sam to go with him. He moved past her into their bedroom, knowing she’d come with, to start packing a bag.

“You’re going with him? What about everything you’ve said, about hating being moved around a lot, how much your Dad doesn’t appreciate you, wanted you to stay gone if you left.” She sounds a little angry, and Sam knows most of it isn’t directed at him, but a little was because she thought he was doing something stupid. He knew she was right but he kept silent as he threw stuff into his duffel. “What about Dean?” And the way she says it, he knows she’s put the dots together, that the two Deans he mentioned before were the same one, his brother, and she doesn’t think that running off into the night with him is such a good idea.

“He’s why I’m going. Dad’s probably in a cabin somewhere, drinking himself stupid, but it matters to Dean so now I have to help him bring him back.” Sam sighs, knowing Jess is right about this, that he shouldn’t leave with Dean, but he can’t ignore something this important to Dean, even though he knows getting mixed up with him and then leaving again will probably break him. “I’ll be back on Monday, I swear.” Sam looks Jessica in the eyes when he says it, to tell her he means it, that he’s not running off with Dean and never coming back.

“I’ll be here.” He knows she means more than just that she’ll be home when he gets back, but also that she’ll be waiting to pick up the pieces when he comes back and Dean is gone again to God-knows-where and, God, Sam has never loved her more.

“I know, Jess.” He stops packing and hugs his partner, tight and full of thanks for being there and for not hating him after finding out that the two Deans were the same guy. She kisses him on the cheek when he lets her go. “I gotta go, now, Dean’s probably a minute and a half from barging back in here and dragging me off with him.” They hug once more and then he’s out the door and on his way down to Dean and whatever mess he’s waiting for him to drag him into with Dad.

Tagging:

@67obsessions

If anyone wants to be tagged in future posts about this fic (or other fics or whatever), just let me know, I guess?

#wincest #wincest fic #fic #season 1 to 3 #castle weve built wont cave #my writing #long fic #angst #fluff #romance #hurt/comfort #slow burn #writing

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chiliadicorum · 6 years

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Two Dead Husks and a Random Mithrandir

A/N: This is my gift for @datcilly for the @tolkiensecretsanta2017! A fic between two friends is what I came up with. Gandalf and Elrond were requested, with some fluff and fun. This kind of turned out with a little less fluff and fun than originally planned, so I hope you don’t mind that too much! But I loved writing this and hope it’ll make you happy if just a little bit! Merry Christmas! :D

(If reading on my blog is difficult, let me know and I’ll give you a link to a better page)

He had been sitting on that stretch of hilltop for at least an hour. Prone as he was to losing himself in his musings, he was not so lacking as others as to lose sense of the passage of time. And even if so, his grey palfrey happily obliged to remind him of the nearing midnight hour, growing more annoying with each persistent nudge to his shoulder with her muzzle. She did it again and Elrond leaned away, glaring up at her.

“I know! I know we must go. Stop reminding me.” He eased his voice to gentleness, too fond of the horse to be too flustered, though he still refused to pet her. Maybe she just wanted an apple. Maybe it was a sign that the living beings in Valinor were softer than those in Middle-earth, because he could swear that their horses and other such endearing creatures were more demanding of treats than in life before. Or maybe he was just being bitter.

“Elrond, Elrond, where has your warmth gone?” The familiar voice came from behind, warm itself and carrying great fondness.

Elrond frowned as he twisted around. “Mithrandir?” he said with a little surprise and in no little confusion. He had not seen him since their disembarking on the bays of Tol Eressëa all those years ago, when the joys of reunion for himself and all those who sailed with him had grown rapturous and the Maia had gone his own way. Elrond stared at the whitened hair and full beard, at his stooping frame and the wise, olden features of his face. His frown deepened. “Why do you yet clad yourself in that form? Say not you cannot leave it.”

He added the last more in jest and Mithrandir chuckled, shifting his robes before lowering himself to hunker down next to him in the ankle-deep snow. “Hardly. But in my true form, even as I appear to you mirroanwi, you would not be speaking with one whom you know, would you?”

Elrond gave a small smile. “Think you I am so shallow?”

Mithrandir’s own smile deepened, reaching up to his bright eyes. “Ah, I have missed you, my friend. And no. But I know from my Ages of dwelling with you Elves before my coming to Middle-earth that it takes some time to adjust, even though it has been years. For all your life, my People were but names recorded in your lore and seeing us in person is quite different, even one whom you saw in likeness of a Man.”

“It has been years.” Elrond glanced suspiciously behind him at his mount, who was now leaving him be and just swishing her tail. “Years since last we spoke, long enough I no longer count the years.”

“Years you deserved to rest in with your Celebrían,” he said warmly. “But come, you did not answer. What do you here all alone? Are you not supposed to be in Lórien?”

“Yes.” Tension he had not even been aware had left at the Maia’s arrival returned swiftly and it was an effort to not let it rise to the surface.

Mithrandir regarded him calmly, his eyes shining in that all too perceptive way Elrond was never sure if he liked or not. “Hm. Yet you are not.”

Elrond glanced at him and resisted a sigh, looking back out to the sight of legend before him. “I had a disagreement with Lord Irmo’s Master Healers.” He could not resist the sarcastic lilt in his voice. Yes, petty, but he was alone, unhappy, sitting in wet snow in the dead of night, so he did not care.

“Oh? Care to share? You know I will listen.”

Elrond lifted an eyebrow at the tone, the small smile reappearing. “You sound as if you already know.”

“Perhaps I do, but I can see it festering in you. You know talking relieves much restlessness, if you want to.”

“No.”

Mithrandir let out that subtle, rumbling chuckle deep in his chest, one so familiar that it sent Elrond off kilter for a moment. “Oh Elrond, so long has it been since I heard you so aggravated.” He looked both amused and endeared at the same time. “I will speak of it no more tonight, save only to lecture you to be of greater cheer. The Merendë Andohrívëo is in three days and your current mood is hardly one of celebration.”

He sighed truly this time, in chagrin and a little tired. “I know. I am returning to Tol Eressëa to spend it with Celebrían. Gil-galad wrote he is planning a few hearty festivities of his own, so I look forward to it.” He squinted off into the distance, contemplative. “I am surprised Lord Irmo allowed me to leave. I was hardly polite and I do not believe he approved of my departure, at least in the way I did it. I know not if I am angrier with him or his healers.”

Mithrandir squeezed his shoulder. “I would say his healers for I know Lord Irmo better than you, but let it go for now, my friend. Take joy in the festival and try to spend it in peace.”

Elrond nodded. “Hence my return to Tol Eressëa.”

“And quite the detour you are taking to see yourself there, if I may say, riding this far northward.” Mithrandir turned to him fully, his expression turning serious, maybe even a little concerned. “Why did you come here? This is hardly a place of celebration, or a place to inspire such.”

Elrond looked back out to Ezellohar, at the two dead husks of gigantic proportions standing coupled together on their mound mantled in white. Even from this distance Elrond could easily discern which one was Telperion, for its shade of color was a little subtler, a little more grey even in death than that of Laurelin’s. No one was here, the vast expanse of snow undisturbed save where he had guided his horse. The snow was falling slow and steady and he knew there was a solid layer of it on his hair by now. His exterior was as cold as the snow he sat unmoving in, his clothing soaked through and his rear growing numb, though whether from the position or the chill he could not tell. The Two Trees alive and dead were visions he could only ever conjure in his imagination. While that was still true for the former, the rottenness and gnarled scarring in their lifeless husks went beyond anything he had envisioned and were hardly a sight to induce any good feeling. Mithrandir was right. This was no pleasant place, even in the peaceful snowfall of winter.

“Elrond?”

He gave a small shake of his head and his voice was soft. “Think not it is something profound, Mithrandir. This is not my first visit to Ezellohar, though it is in winter. I was merely curious, trying to guess at the sight of the Two Trees in all their glory during this particular season. How their Light might shine in the snow, in the snowfall….It is a wondrous sight to imagine.”

Mithrandir regarded him for a long moment, pursing his lips. “Winter did not exist in their lifetime, Elrond,” he pointed out. “You are a master of lore as few others. I should not have to tell you this.”

Elrond smiled fully at his laconic tone, his heart lightening. “I know that,” he drawled. “Elladan and Elrohir asked it when they were only three.”

“Did they?”

“Yes.” The smile remained, turning into one of soft affection. “When they learned that Glorfindel had lived in the Light of the Two Trees, they pestered him for details, as far demanding what it looked like during the winter months. In which Glorfindel then explained that there was no winter, which my boys could not understand, which then led Glorfindel into having to explain just why there was no winter.” He harrumphed. “Fathom clarifying that to two children of only three years. He did his best. I cringed. Erestor laughed. It was a good day.” Warmth spread through him at the memory. “I just recalled it all of the sudden today.”

Mithrandir’s voice was tender. “You miss your sons.”

Elrond looked away, hands briefly clenching where they were wrapped around his knees. “Of course I do.” He was quiet for several moments and the lance of pain was sharp in his chest. “It feels so long now that I cannot speak. Nor does Celebrían, but I know her heart, the turning of her thoughts. There are times I am furious I did not remain, regardless of how worn I was. Furious with myself I did not drag my children onto that ship with me. All of them.” His chest tightened and it was all he could do to keep it all at bay, just all shoved down and away. “Arwen decided to stay. My boys know nothing but Middle-earth and their love for those lands is great. A love I know, for I would have stayed a while longer if I had not been so weary.” He closed his eyes tight, the swelling in his chest moving up to his throat and he forced in a deep, shaking breath. “It has been so many years.”

“Many ships have yet to come. I am sure Glorfindel will convince them to board one if they are uncertain. Do not despair yet, my friend. Though you picked a fine place to dwell in despair if such was your goal. You always were good at that.”

Elrond found himself grinning in spite of himself and he looked at the other in mild appreciation. He shook his head, trying his best to shake off the melancholy. “You Maiar do not help. I have seen it enough, one of you approaching an Elf or another to tell them of family who is sailing. Whenever I see one I find myself expecting, hoping the message is for my wife and me, only to discover that it is not.” He paused, turning a curious glance on Mithrandir. “Is it always like that? You coming to us Elves?”

He nodded, beard bristling. “When someone is sailing, the Valar will send one of us to bring the good tidings to the Elf’s friends or family, simply to ensure that they may be greeted by someone known to them when they come ashore. To be escorted, if you will, into this new land and people.”

Elrond was nodding, turning his gaze back out to the Two Trees. “A courtesy any host would bestow upon newcomers.”

“Precisely. That it causes such joyous reunions is but a coincidence, you understand.”

He snorted in good humor. “Coincidence, sure.” Mithrandir’s soft laughter warmed him and the corners of his mouth quirked upward. “Is it also a coincidence you bring such tidings to them on days of festivity more often than not, such as the one in three days and others throughout the year?”

“No. Can you name better days for such announcements?” He grinned cheekily, which quickly relaxed into one more sincere. “It gladdens us when we may deliver true means of celebration. We brought word to your sweet lady of your own voyage across the sea during the Merendë Yavanniëo and she mayhap remembers it every year after on the day.”

Elrond looked over in mild surprise, eyes softening as he thought. “She did not say.”

“No matter.” Mithrandir suddenly stood, evidently not bothering to shake off the snow from his attire, instead holding an aged hand out to him. “Rise, Elrond, and return you home. Sitting here alone with only morose thoughts for company and after what happened in Lórien does you no good. The Merendë Andohrívëo is in three days. Go and make merry with those friends and family you do have with you at the moment. If you continue your journey now, you will just make it.”

Elrond grasped the hand and rose, brushing himself down from the clinging snow, though there was none to sweep off his rear seeing as all of it had melted into his leggings. He raised his eyebrows at Mithrandir, a glimmer of amusement brightening his eyes. “Is that why you are here, to shoo me off?” The palfrey clopped forward at a gesture and he made quick work of clearing the dusting of snow from her back. He mounted, adjusting the saddlebags back into balance.

“Well, you were not listening to your friend.” He gestured towards the palfrey and she jerked her head up with a snort, as if in agreement. “I could only encourage her so much before she began to grow annoyed with me.”

Elrond made a face, though he patted at her neck fondly. “She is annoyed easily.”

Mithrandir reached out to fondle her snout as he looked up, his grey gaze solemn. “If you find it within you to hear me, put your quarrel in Lórien behind you for the nonce. Let it not soil what joy you may find this week, dear one.”

“Perhaps I shall.” Elrond grinned. “Celebrían would not let me remain so sour as it is.” He bowed his head. “Farewell, Mithrandir. I hope to see you again. Soon and more frequently, mind you,” he added pointedly.

He chuckled. “And happily so, Child.” He jerked his head eastward past the Trees. “Off you go.”

And he did. With a fond smile and a wave, Elrond clicked his tongue and the horse responded, going slowly at first to descend the slope of the hill.

Mithrandir stood there, snow dancing around him as he watched him go, riding on and on until he was barely visible in the haze of white. He nodded to himself, humming under his breath. And then his form shifted, growing brighter, taller, both younger and older, beautiful of cosmic proportions and eyes of such radiance they eclipsed that of the stars.

He hummed again in consideration. “And perhaps a fellow Maia with news will be visiting you in three days,” he said quietly. A smile creased his ethereal face even as he faded from sight, the scent of apples and mint lingering on the air.

Merendë Andohrívëo: Winter Solstice celebration, lit. “Festival of the Gates of Winter”

Merendë Yavanniëo: “Festival of Yavanna”, taking place in Autumn or in our September

Mirroanwi: incarnates, those “put into flesh” [Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth MR.350]

#gandalf #elrond #lord of the rings #tolkien #tolkiensecretsanta2017 #datcilly #fanfiction #gwedhiel #merry christmas!

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