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galactictwilight · 1 year

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Past's Order & Future's Chaos Part 1

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I did not realize that there was a word cap, so I have to break this into multiple posts. Since I keep getting writers block when trying to make interconnected stories, I'm just going to put the plot point for each day and expand upon it in the other posts.

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I'm not really good with one word prompts so I'm just going to take all the Ectober prompts and try to fuse them together into an interconnected frankenstein fic idea. I might even use the free days to add some more Ideas. Though, there might be a bit of lore from my other DP AU making it's way into this story idea. Unfortunately, I suck at characterization so all of the characters are probably going to be OOC. I'll try my best to do the DP characters justice. Anyways, I hope everyone likes my fic dump.

Summery: As September gives way to October, Danny is visited by Clockwork at the stroke of midnight with some alarming news. The month of October will truly live up to the horror it's known for as a truly hellish amount of drama consume not just Danny's life, but also those of his friends and family. Family secrets, tragedies, and truths are exposed. Will the bonds of family be broken? Will love conquer hate? Or will another great tragedy strike the Fenton, Manson, and Foley families once again.

And to think, we haven't even gone into detail about what Clockwork told Danny yet...

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Past's Order Prompts

Witch - "Her name was Samantha..." Pamela whispered with grief.

Sam stopped her aggravated exit to turn and look at her mother with an expression of confused surprise as a soft involuntary "what?" trailed out of her mouth.

Pamela adjuster her position on the siting room lounge to lean over the opened scrapbook on her lap. The dusty box it had come from lay haphazardly by her leg where Sam had dropped it. Many macabre trinkets and books where held inside along with dark articles of clothing. The scrapbook itself contained a multitude of pictures with two teenage girls in a punk style of clothing.

The shorter one had puffed out blond hair with pink tips, light peach skin, and aquamarine eyes. A gold chain adorned her neck and she wore a 'Theater of Hate' shirt with a black spiked girdle. Only one of her arms had a black almost elbow long glove while the other hand was hidden behind her back. A black form fitting skirt went right above her ankles, where you could see sheer dark pantyhose, and black leather heels adorned her feet.

The taller one, on the other hand, had short black spiky hair, pale skin, Hazel eyes, and a spiked leather collar around her neck. She wore a no-sleeve crop top with a sheer cloth that draped down to cover her slim stomach. She had short-shorts on with ripped fishnet leggings and black boots. The taller girl also had a multitude of chains and spike tastefully adorning her body and completing her punk look.

Pamela lightly brushed one of her fingers on the image of the taller girl as she spoke in a quiet sad voice, never once looking up from the image.

"Her name was Samantha." Pamela repeated before looking her daughter straight in the eyes as she continued.

"And because of me, she died a Witch..."

Betrayal - Sam stared at her mother with a confused and surprised look on her face. Not quite understanding what her mother meant by 'died a Witch' or why she looked so miserable and grief stricken.

"Mom... What are you talking about?" Sam asked in a somewhat slow manner, a bewildered frown now present on her face. Her anger and frustration from earlier had been put aside now that she noticed just how much the items in that box had affected her mother.

Pamela didn't say anything for a moment. She just sat on the lounge and clutched the old scrapbook in her hands. Her eyes had fallen back down to the photo of the two happy punk teens, lingering mostly on the taller black hired one. Finally, she sucked in a shaky breath of air and responded to her daughter's question, but she couldn't bring herself to take her eyes off of the scrapbook.

"Her name was Samantha Moore and she was my best friend." Pamela said softly as her voice cracked at the end from a repressed sob. Her already tight hold on the scrapbook becoming a death grip as her fingers whitened from the presser.

Sam was shocked to see her mother in such a state and hurried to her side as a concerned 'Mom!' tumbled out of her mouth. Her concern only grew once she saw the tears flowing from her mother's eyes and the light almost unseen full body shaking as the tears silently ran down Pamela's face. And yet still, Pamela kept her gaze on the scrapbook, not even acknowledging Sam as she approached to lean down to get a better look at her face and touched her shoulder.

"Mom? Mom! What's wrong? Are you ok? Please, answer me! MOM!" Sam called in a panicked tone which gained a desperate edge at the end when Pamela didn't even twitch. Fearing that her mother was catatonic, Sam straighten up and fumbled for her cellphone. Once she had her cellphone in hand, Sam shakily started to dial her father's number and rambled to her mother in an attempt to keep calm.

"you-your going t-to be o-ok Mom, I-I'm just g-going t-to call D-dad and he-ll-l know wha-"

"No..." Pamela whispered in a hoarse voice, as her right hand released it's grip on the scrapbook to weakly put itself over her daughters left hand, which had been holding the cellphone. Sam jumped at the sudden move, before she quickly clutched the offered hand with her right one and began to speak to her mother.

"Mom! are you ok? What happened? Why don't you want me to call Dad?" Sam asked in a rush, fearful that if she missed this chance her mom might stop responding again.

Pamela sucked in a deep shaky breath and tore her red rimed gaze away from the scrapbook as her left hand shut it closed. she stared at her daughter for a moment, before looking away with a sigh. she then slid the scrapbook off her lap and back into the box it had come from before standing up. Pamela slowly walked to the fireplace with Sam in tow, still clutching her mother's hand.

Sam waited for her mother to collect herself and talk. She was still a little scared for her mom, but the sight of the scrapbook being put away eased her panic and gave her hope that it was over. Sam took note of her mother's flushed face, ruined makeup, and red rimed eyes. There was a slight tremor to the hand Sam was holding, but it seemed to be slowly easing away as time past. Just as Sam was starting to feel a little awkward, Pamela began to speak.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Sammy." Pamela said in a raspy voice, eyes looking listlessly towards the fireplace rather then Sam. "I just wasn't expecting you to bring me that box." Pamela finished with a chuckle that sounded more like a wheezy cough.

"It's ok, mom. I'm the one that needs to say sorry." Sam said, feeling guilty for causing her mom such pain. Sam hesitated for a moment before adding "But, why did you react like that?"

Pamela frowned lightly as she softly spoke "I suppose it's time to tell you about your namesake and my side of the family. And Sammy, please, do not interrupt me. I don't know if I'll have the strength to start again.". Seeing her daughter nod her head in agreement, Pamela took a steadying breath and spoke.

"My family, the Callister's, have a history of dealing with the occult. You see, Sammy, we are descended from a long line of irish witch hunters and exorcists. Traditionally, the craft would be taught from father to son, but my father, Emerich, believed that all his children had a right to learn the family craft. From a young age, I and my four older brothers, were taught about all the things that go bump in the night and how to fight them." Pamela began in a somber tone.

Sam's eyes widened in shock as she listened to her mother talk about her maternal family. Sure, Sam wasn't too surprised by the revelation that there were more supernatural creature out there other than ghosts, but what she wasn't expecting was for her family to be the ones that hunted them. Especially since it was her mother's family. Pamela had never told Sam much about her side of the family, but Sam hadn't ever thought that this would be the reason for her mother's silence.

"Now, I am not going to go into to much details about the supernatural community. Other then that they exist, and have been slowly secluding themselves from interacting with humans since the industrial revolution." Pamela paused as she saw her daughter give her a pleading look.

"I know that you're interested in this, Sammy, but we can talk about that later" Pamela promised, before resuming her tale.

"It happened when I was thirteen years old. I was young, reckless, and going through a punk phase with my best friend. I had known Samantha since I was a young girl and considered her a sister. We would always get into the most ridiculous situations and cause my poor eldest brother, Avery, to have to come and rescue us. We even made these silly little code names for when we wanted to be sneaky. I was licorice and she was petal." Pamela reminisced with tears in her eyes. Her throat constricted for a moment in grief and she had to stop again to regain some composer. She tightened her grip on her daughters hand for support.

"Samantha had known what my family did for a living. I shared everything with her, and my parents treated her like one of their own. I just wished she had listened to our warnings on the occult as well as me and my brothers did. I wished that I had never shown her that stupid BOOK!" Pamela nearly shrieked at the end, her voice filed with self hatred, shame, and pain. Startling Sam with it's intensity and causing her to wince in pain from how tightly her mother was holding her hand.

"Mom?.." Sam weakly asked in concern, wanting to comfort her mother, but unsure if she would even accept it. Sam somewhat understood where her mother was coming from, but the differences was plain to see, Danny came back, while Samantha hadn't.

Pamela sucked in a shaky breath as her eyes clenched shut. She exhaled a moment later and her eyes slowly slid open. Sam flinched at how blank and hollow they looked. It horrified Sam that her usually preppy and cheery mother could make a face like this. That her eyes could look that dead.

"I'm sorry, Sammy, it seems I may have gotten a little ahead of myself. Let's start at the beginning." Pamela hollowly uttered, face now an impassive mask.

"At the time, my father had been contracted by the US government to hunt down and slay a particularly nasty coven of witches. They had made a pact with the Slavic forest god Berstuk. In return for the powers bestowed to them by the god, they had to kill anyone that harmed the forest or the creatures that inhabited it, whether they wanted to or not.

The only reason my father had even been able to get this information was because an initiate spell book had been found near an area where a group of game hunters had gone missing. Initiate spell books, Sammy, are how new witches are brought into an already established coven. Those books are already tied to their deity of worship and make the ritual to tie their new recruit very simple to do.

The book was being kept in a safe in our basement and would be burned after the coven was eradicated. My father and older brothers had been gone for two weeks, when I showed Samantha that book. I wasn't suppose to be doing it, but I had wanted to impress her with a real life spell book. Samantha had always been fascinated by the occult. I just wanted to make her happy.

But then, Samantha had wanted to try casting a spell from the book. We had a bit of an argument when I told her no. She didn't speak to me for two whole days, before she apologized and asked if we could have a sleepover at my house. I didn't think much of it, I was just happy that my best friend was talking to me again, so I agreed. The sleepover was uneventful, but I had a lot of fun and Samantha went home the next day.

Four days later, me and my mother got a call from my father. The coven was no more and he would be coming home soon. While my father and brothers where coming home, I was tasked with burning the spell book, but when I went to retrieve it from the safe, it was gone. My mother was horrified when I told her and immediately tried to call my father to ask him what to do.

An hour later, the police was knocking at our door. Two body's had been found near the wood and where identified as Samantha's parents. Samantha was nowhere to be found and they had come to our house to see if she was there. It was then that I knew where the spell book was." Pamela paused as her stoic mask began to crack, silent tears running down her face as full body shivers racked her paling frame.

Sam could only look on in growing horror as a realization slowly began to sink in. She could never understand her mothers pain, because it was nothing like what had happened with Danny. The only thing that she had in common was that both of their best friends had died because of actions done in youthful ignorance. Where Sam had nudged Danny towards his death, Pamela had dissuaded her friend from it. It was Samantha that had used her friendship with her mother to get close and steal the spell book, which ultimately lead her to her death.

'A death that was probably caused by my grandfather or uncles...' Sam thought with a growing dread. Her right hand has gone numb with how hard her mother was squeezing it.

"Oh, Sammy..." Pamela softly breathed out in a rough sad voice, "There is something you must understand about witches. When a witch makes a pact with an entity for power, they are giving more then their worship and service. They are giving their very souls and not all entity's are kind enough to give them back or allow their vassal's freewill. Berstuk allowed Samantha neither of those mercies, and since my family had just decimated his followers, he needed my friend to make a new coven for him." Pamela paused to take in a shaky breath as a numb feeling began to overtake her.

"As soon as Samantha had agreed to the pact, her fate had been seal."

"It was grandfather Emerich and my uncles that stopped her, right?" Sam quietly asked, unable to say 'killed' and hoping to end this conversation for her mother's sake. Only to be confused when her mother shook her head. Her confusion quickly became horror as Pamela spoke is a dead voice.

"I was the only one that could do it. My father and brothers wouldn't be home for another few days. And my mother was not trained to fight the supernatural like the rest of the family. I was the only one that had the ability to stop a novice witch. I couldn't allow that evil monster to control my friend, just the thought filled me with such fury.

So I took the family Scian and tracked Samantha down through the east woods of town. When I found her, her body was still changing to show Berstuk's ownership of her soul. Her hair had become long and shaggy with moss just starting to take root in it. Her eyes were that of a wolfs and she was just starting to grow a tail, fangs, horns, and claws. Even her voice was changing, bouncing back and forth between a bellowing elk or a hissing snake." Pamela paused to turn and look her daughter in the eyes, taking in their horror with her dead ones.

"It made what I had to do easier. I was killing a monster, not my best friend. As more and more of Samantha's human appearance was stripped away in our fight, the less I hesitated. It ended when I was able to get close enough to sink my dagger into her heart." Pamela finally finished in a monotone voice, and no more treas to shed.

Sam stared at her mother with horror and shock. She could not comprehend how Pamela had the strength to do what she did. Just the thought of doing the same to Danny made her want to throw up. Sam realized she knew so little about her mother and her family, but now she was hesitant to ask to know more. She didn't want to-

"Sammy, Please pay attention, I haven't told you about the rest of our family yet." Pamela suddenly said, knocking Sam out of her horrified stupor to look at her mother with a confused disbelief in her eyes.

"What?!?"

Order - The second task: the retrieval of the reality gems and returning them to their proper place within the Infinite Realms.

Box - "Is there any other secrets about our family that you, grandma, and dad haven't told me?" Sam questioned as she gave her mother a searching gaze.

Pamela looked at her daughter with a fragile smile, the sadness from their previous conversions still lingering, but seemed to be slowly draining away as Pamela pondered on the question. She leisurely strode her way back to the lounge and took a seat on the right most side. Pamela patted the open seat next to her with her left hand as a silent invitation, which Sam accepted as she moved to sit with her mother. With her right hand, Pamela delicately lifted a cup of tea, that had long since cooled, off the console table and took a deep sip before answering.

"The only thing that comes to mind is how I actually met your father and why we chose to live in Amity Park." Pamela said, voice still soft, but growing in strength.

"Wait! -So, that gushy story you and dad told me-" Sam began

"Was not the real story, dear." Pamela finished with an abashed smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, before she quickly continued when she noticed her daughters disgruntled expression and opening mouth. "We where going to tell you the truth when you where older-"

"what! When I'm old enough to live on my own!" Sam cut in with a slight harsh edge to her voice. Sam had a frustrated look on her face for a moment, before she took an deep breath and let out a sigh, her eyes closing as she forced herself to calm down. When she opened them to look at her mom and saw the guilty and hesitant look on her face, Sam had to look away as she spoke again to her mother.

"I -Sorry. Just -" a sigh, "Just tell me how you and dad met." Sam finally got out.

Sam hadn't meant to snap at her mom like that, but after all of today's revelations about her family, she is starting to reach her breaking point. It also kind of stung, Sam felt like she never really knew her own mother. When she had first found that dusty old box in the attic and looked at the scrapbook it contained, all Sam had felt was an indigent rage at her mother's hypocrisy. But after learning about Samantha and her maternal family, Sam doesn't know what to feel other than tired and sad for her mom's loss.

"It's ok, Sammy, I know that what we are talking about is a lot to take in." Pamela said, as she sent a sad understanding smile to her daughter. Sam didn't respond much beyond leveling her mother with an expecting gaze and a slight nod of her head. Needing no further prompt, Pamela began her story.

"I met your father when I was nineteen. My father had been called by Ganit Manson, your grandfather, about strange things that had been happening to his family for the past few months. They had tried moving to some of their other estates across the country, but the entity that was causing it was following them from house to house, getting more and more bold as time past. By the time Ganit had called, your father's arm was broken, he had multiple bruises and scratches, as well as having so many nightmares he was suffering from sleep deprivation." Pamela paused for a moment to take another sip of her tea to help settle her nerves.

"It was a dybbuk"

Silence rained between the two Manson's following that sentence. Sam stared at her mother for a moment, before the words truly register and her eyes widened in shock.

"How...?" Sam breath out, wide eyes still looking at her mother as a pit began to form in her stomach.

"Your grandfather had bought a dybbuk box at a privet deceased estate auction he was invited to by a family friend. He thought it was just a wine cabinet, and when he had opened it, there hadn't been anything glaringly obvious to point out it's true purpose. My family hadn't discovered this important fact for another month and a half." Pamela paused to take a deep breath and collect herself. The next part of this tale was always hard to talk about.

"The dybbuk... was targeting your father. It wanted to possess him and make him do... terrible thing, before it killed him. We had grown closer as the investigation had gone on and I hated what that thing was doing to him!" Pamela hissed, as her hands tightened into fists startling Sam out of her stupor from the intensity of her mother's ire.

Hesitantly, Sam put her hand on her mothers clenched left fist and leaned into her shoulder to try and offer her mother some emotional support. Pamela's fist quickly lost it's tension and instead turned to hold Sam's offered hand in a gentile, but firm grip. Sam felt her mother lean towards her as she relaxed. Mother and daughter stayed like that for a few moments, before Pamela straightened up and turned to look at Sam with a loving and appreciative smile.

"Thank you, Sammy." Pamela said in a loving tone, eye's filled with gratitude. Pamela breathed in deeply to steady herself before she continued with her tale.

"Now, where was I...Oh, yes! By the time we had found out it was a dybbuk, your father was already under it's power and needed to have it exorcised. It took three weeks of constant prayers and exorcisms before Jeremy was free of that monster. By the end of the investigation almost everyone closely involved had been injured by the dybbuk, but it was the Manson's that needed to be hospitalized.

Your grandfather had internal bleeding as well as a lot of fractured bones, specifically around his chest. Your grandmother had a bookcase dropped on her from behind, which had caused a spinal injure. But poor Jeremy had to be in a full body cast from the way that thing had twisted and contorted his body. I did my best to visit him as much as I could until he regained consciousness. And, oh!~ did he say the most romantic thing when he woke up.

He had said 'Oh, Pamela! it was only the thought of being with you that gave me the strength to keep fighting.'. And it was in that instant, I knew, he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with." Pamela finished with a happy sigh, eyes aglow with nostalgia as her cheeks dusted a light pink.

A small smile appear on Sam's face at the sight, happy that her mother was somewhat back to her preppy self after seeing her truly miserable for the last few hours. Sure, Sam is probably going to need a lot of time to absorb everything her mom had told her, but that can be dealt with later. Although, privately, Sam thinks her dad was really cheesy when he said that, Romantic, but cheesy.

Wait, Sam thought, Am I forgetting something?

"What was so special about moving to Amity Park?"

Banshee - A very particular ghost tells Danny what his final task is. (Clockwork had been the one to tell Danny what the last three tasks were, how strange...)

Freeze - Danny, Sam, and Tucker goes to the Far Frozen to ask for Frostbite's help in preparing Danny for his coronation.

Purify - In the aftermath of the battle for the thrown, the Fenton's rush to the Far Frozen before it's too late.

Night Terrors - Tucker has been woken up by his mother's screams and rushes to his parents bedrooms.

Shallow Graves - Jack and Maddie are staring at their ghost portal in the aftermath of Danny telling them the truth. They start to question if their ambitions are worth the shallow grave it had left in its wake.

Harvest - The night of the ritual has now arrived. Sam and Pamela are running out of time...

Thirst - Danny learns an unbelievable truth about the cola that went into the creation of Plasmius.

Way of Life - Pamela tells Sam that Amity Park is a place people go to retire from the supernatural world.

Restored - Danny restores Pariah's Keep in preparation for his coronation.

Haunted House - Danny is instructed to find his lair. His lair has something living in it...

Will O' Wisp - Using a tracking spell in the form of a turquoise flame, Tucker follows it through Nicolet National forest WI, praying that he gets to his parents in time.

Grimoire - A witch and her love making the final preparations on a mysterious ritual within her old and mossy spell book.

Hope - Jazz and Danny have a heart to heart about the recent drama that October has brought. This leads Danny to decide to tell his parents the truth with Jazz supporting him.

Eyes - Danny and Clockwork visit the Observants to sign a few legal documents.

One - A lone Observant betrays his oath and feeds information to Plasmius in the hopes that Phantom won't become king.

Fight - Vlad begins his plan to seize the thrown by attacking the Fenton family during the last task.

Coronation - Danny is crowned High King of All Ghosts on the blue moon of All Hallows Eve.

Myosotis - As Sam's maternal family wins the fight for their lives and the spirits of the coven's former members start to fade, Pamela is approached by a familiar face...

Grudge - Vlad finally vents his anger and rage at Jack after his secret is revealed, before throwing him into the Great Depths.

Past - Tucker is forced to unlock the memory's of his past life as Pharaoh Duul'Aman in an effort to use the knowledge of that life to accelerate his magical prowess as the threat of the blue moon draws ever closer.

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Future's Chaos Prompts

Potions - Using his magic and Fenton tech Tucker is able to subdue his parents long enough to administer the moonshift cure to them, hoping and praying he hadn't been to late.

Trust - Danny tells his parents his secret.

Chaos - The battle for the ghostly thrown has begun. But wait! an unexpected challenger approaches the battling half-ghosts?

Staff - Danny's first of four tasks he must complete before becoming High King. He must return the Scarab Scepter to Pharaoh Narmer of Sḫt-Jꜣrw. Sam and Tucker help him while Jazz covers for them.

Wraith - The last task Danny must complete is the destruction of a large group of wraiths that had gathered near the Great Depths. Danny's family helps him with this task. (Tucker is dealing with his parents curse and Sam is visiting relatives and is suppose to be back by Wednesday evening.)

Burn - Vlad's thoughts on the look Maddie sent him just before she made her escape with her catatonic son and devastated daughter.

Infect -Tucker learns how his parents were infected with lycanthropy.

Sleep Paralysis - Sam and Pamela's sleep is interrupted halfway through the night with sleep paralysis. In the morning, both Manson's decide to leave the hotel to spend their last few hours in North Carolina with their family. The two only realize something sinister is afoot when they find the large homestead ransacked and empty.

Deep Tombs - The third task: Danny must retrieve the royal regalia from the Tomb of Fathomless Horrors without any aide from his allies.

Hunger - A familiar face appears in Amity Park.

Drown - All she can hazily remember was how hard it had been to breath. It was like she was underwater, because no matter how much she coughed and inhaled, no air could reach her. And then the torture. just. stopped.

But where was she?

Cause of Death - As Jack flouts down(?) within the Great Depths, with a 'Fenton Jack-O-Lantern' as his only barrier between him and certain death, a being comes to him with a deal he can't refuse.

Abandoned - The prologue of the story where a large portion of Casper High is destroyed by a ghost attack, thus causing the school to be closed down until repairs are finished. To mitigate the loss of education to the students, the parents are given the option to either send their children to the high school in Elmerton or sign them up for the hastily put together online courses provided by Amity Park's board of education.

Danny was able to convince his parents to let him try home schooling to see if it would help him keep his grades up. Sam's parents wouldn't allow their daughter anywhere near Elmerton. It took Tucker a few days to convince his parents to allow him to be home schooled.

Costume Party - Danny enlists Queen Dora's help in setting up the annual Royal Costume Ball. (The counterpart to the Christmas truce. It is only sponsored by the High King, while the truce is done by the people.)

Jack O' Lanterns - Jack reveals his newest ghost hunting invention to his children. (A.K.A. little portable personal ghost shields shaped like pumpkins (with Jacks face or the Fenton logo as the 'carving'.). They fit in your pocket and are surprisingly long lasting. Only downside is that the batteries are difficult to make and charge, so there are still a few kinks he needs to work out.)

Sacred Text - Tucker pours through the books of magic kept in the Archives of Thoth in the hopes that there was a cure for his parents affliction.

Despair - Danny's thoughts about what happened at the Great Depth's and being unable to save them.

Teeth - Tucker noticed that his parents have fangs during what should be a typical Friday night dinner. The normalcy is unknowingly shattered by a terrible revelation once he comments on it in passing.

One Hundred - Sam and her family must fight a coven 100 strong to survive.

Flight - Tucker bursts through his front door calling to his parents in restless excitement that he had found a cure. But he is met with silence and a horrible realization as he finds an envelope addressed to him from his parents.

Coup - Vlad gathers allies to usurp Danny's thrown before he even takes it.

Foxfire - Sam and her mother descend into a mine that is lit by foxfire growing on the old wooden support beams lining the wall. Both are armed to the teeth and hope that they are not to late.

Absolve - Pamela has a sit down with Sam near the end of their reunion with her side of the family to both apologies and show her support to who her daughter wants to be.

Future - In the aftermath of the tragedy at the Great Depths, the remaining Fentons find Shelter in the Far Frozen.

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Ectober Week Prompts

Forest - While exploring the woods around her grandparents town, Sam hears whispers that lead her to an old mine shaft...

Six Feet - Sam meets her maternal family for the first time and is overwhelmed by their introduction.

Soul Shredder - Danny learns the history of the soul shredder while talking to Frostbite about what he will need to address as king.

Trickster(Cursed) Knight, Shade Knight, Mage Knight, Tempest Knight

Scream - The sight of his parent's screaming and writhing forms as their body's twisted and contorted into a more wolf like shape momentarily froze Tucker in abject horror.

Lobotomy - A few days after being told the truth, Jack has a heart to heart with his son.

Shiver - The events that occurred in the lead up to the blue moon of Halloween still makes a shiver run down the trio's collective spines.

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Halloween

Folk Tales - Pamela tells Sam about her maternal family, their profession, and family history.

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birlwrites · 2 years

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[spoilers] the noble and anciente house of rosier<3

as requested on ao3 by people who wanted spoilers afhslghsljfhgsjkdhfj - i'll be tagging this type of post as 'atfhv spoilers' so you can block (or search for) these posts as desired!

if you do NOT want spoilers about what's going on with evan, then do not click the read more. i'm not going to fully unpack it because i do want to leave some things to be discovered, but it's going to be a LOT of information way before you'll find it out in the story

okay, with that disclaimer, hERE WE GOOOOOOOO

okay SO. this might not make sense if you haven't read chapter 27 of ttdl. i mentioned in the comments that i think now people have enough information to potentially call evan out on a very specific lie, which was......... a true but slightly misleading statement

so here's the thing: that lie is not a lie evan ever told us, because regulus told it for him way back in chapter 6:

The Rosiers are one of very few Dark families that claim not to have a family magic. Evan insists that for them, practicing Dark Arts is really more about being friends with the right people. He attends every meeting of Regulus's Dark Arts study group and spends the whole time chatting with the other members instead of working on anything. The other Dark families are collectively skeptical about whether the Rosiers really don't have a specialty or whether they're just pretending, because they're one of the oldest families in the network—they've had generations upon generations in which they could have developed a family magic. And maybe there is a specialty. But as far as Regulus knows for sure, Evan's practice of Dark Arts extends only to flipping through Regulus's books sometimes and pointing out spells with funny names.

now, regulus *is* aware that this might not be true, but frankly, he doesn't devote a lot of mental energy to it, because he has a lot of other shit going on and evan just doesn't seem to. care that much? about practicing dark arts? (which renders his interest in joining reg's side a little unexpected, hmm??)

let's get into the lie. as you've probably guessed by now, it's about the rosier family specialty, which absolutely does exist and has been cultivated for centuries to be as subtle as possible, much like the family image. evan's used it before - evan uses it a LOT, actually, although there are a lot of details about its use that i'm not going to get into on this post (feel free to ask if you want the whole rundown on how it works but this post is really about evan not the family magic).

but the first time evan uses it really blatantly in front of regulus is in chapter 27, and here it is:

He trails a hand along one row of books like he's looking for something, speaking faux-absentmindedly, but it doesn't stop almost every person in earshot from looking at least vaguely interested. Some people even blatantly look up from what they're doing. Evan has distinctly become the center of attention, without even needing to talk particularly loudly.

aaaaaaaand some more:

Regulus is interested despite himself—he knows Evan is making all of this up, and yet something about how he's saying it makes Regulus want to know more, as if this is real information that Evan is sharing with him.

regulus is interested despite himself. he KNOWS it's fake, but the magic evan is using is catching regulus along with everyone else in the room. regulus just doesn't notice it happening. (this is a little bit of an unusual use for the rosier specialty - it's not out of the ordinary, but it's very blatant compared to how they normally use it)

as for what type of magic it is....... you know how regulus is good at runes because he learned them very young for the black specialty? yeah<33

okay now go reread chapter 12 and take a look at how long it takes for regulus to start telling evan things

#atfhv spoilers #dark lord wip #you can ask more questions if you want #i'm just ending it here so i can kind of. separate out the spoilers #so people can micromanage what they want to know about sjflsghkfjk #atfhv worldbuilding

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themoomoorn · 2 years

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Scarlet Blaze Salt Mine Highlights Because I Feel Like It(tm)

There's going to be so much petty salt that you'll probably need to get your blood pressure checked. Enjoy!

EDIT: Finished Scarlet Blaze, so I added more images. Part 2 is here.

The Sun Should Have Never Set on Our Empire(tm)

Somehow they made Faye but even worse. And unlike Faye, Monica is a garbage unit. Seems hard to pull off in a Musou game, but her spell list is a mess, as are her stats, and her personal skill is even worse.

They tried to erase her wanting to kill Rhea, but then she still says she wants to kill Rhea anyway. But devs said she's happier and nicer guyz.

Lorenz has siblings now I guess. Note that in his Lysithea Support, Hubert also mentions having a brother and a sister. but he's still the eldest. So why was he stuck to Child No. 9 again???

Labrunda was found in the Stockpile of Convenient Sacred Weapons That Exist Now(tm).

Not only does she still belittle the guy and think him unworthy of her time like in Houses, but come Chapter 14 (providing you kill Byleth's disaster dad), she apparently genuinely was upset that he betrays her. But then again, he happily licks her feet on Golden Piss, so meh.

...am I supposed to feel something right now

I'm beginning to suspect that the Koei devs were pissed that Byleth the Local Churchgoer was more popular than Edelgard.

Aegir has claim to a stretch of sea that doubles up as their trade route to Morfis. This specific trading relationship is also mentioned in one of the books that shares details about the Empire's territories.

Claude: "BUT FODLAN HATES FOREIGNERS AND THE MEANIE CHURCH SCREAMED AT THEM TO NEVER INTERACT WITH OUTSIDERS Now shut up Dimitri and let me raid your treasure vault you're only being ignorant of my customs."

Only Edelgard's feelings are allowed to be hurt, remember?

Also, whomever calls Byleth a block of wood again should probably take a look at Shez on SB, because calling SB!Shez a block of wood would be an insult to wood.

There's so much disturbing dehumanization of the Nabatean characters (and Byleth by extension), but sure, Arval's soooo sympathetic because he cares about his War Boys, I guess. Oh, and he denounced Thales! What a good lad! /s

Duma take the wheel

Cry about it

Look, I know a macaron is technically a type of cookie, but can't you just call it a goddamn macaron!? Bear in mind that this is the same game that conflates coffee with teff, and the localization actually made a good change by just calling the stupid drink coffee.

I murderkilled Byleth's disaster dad for this go-around and Byleth tips off Claude about...something. Of what, I don't know, but it makes Claude opt for an ill-fated betrayal. He lays it on thick with Byleth, and while Edelgard may get an extra chapter and a marginally better outcome by letting Walmart Greil live, the "what-if...ing..." if you will, is played up the hardest with Claude, which is really saying something considering the original game. And honestly, the what-if-ing does make a level of sense with Claude...but then, you have aspects of him that have nothing to do with Byleth at all perverted by the narrative, as detailed in this post.

Like seriously, even with something like having to murder a half-sibling who repeatedly says to your face that you're a mongrel who deserves to d*e looming over you, like...instead of making something potentially interesting, they derailed him so badly. Honestly, I feel for his Japanese VA struggling to get a good read on the character.

Anyway, end rant.

Even Byleth thinks he's laying it on thick.

I feel like this alleged duress of signing a pact with the Empire would've landed better if it actually was done in the span of days or even weeks, but GW and SB both state it took about four months, which would've been well after any dust settling from Shahid's second raid of the Locket.

Claude, the country you rule has like...almost zero culture.

Sigh.

No shit.

Fuck off, Claude.

Pictured: A "commoner's revolution designed to overthrow an opresuve sistum"

...seriously, why does this dude hate the Nabateans as virulently as she does? It's actually pretty ironic - folks will haw about Dedue or Catherine having no minds of their own, but it's Hubert who's really the most mindless one of all. He mostly lacks the rich inner lives and backstories the other two have.

Sylvain, 90% of the time, is C-Tier. 10% of the time, like right now though? SSS-Tier. Absolutely brutal. Wish we had even more of him.

YA THINK!?!?!?

Because I couldn't be bothered (and because the only Deer with exclusive Eagle Supports/incentives are Lysithea and Lorenz), I only got Shez whining about Claude betraying Egg. Most of the other Deer have unique dialogue doing the same. It's kind of sad how little most of them think of Claude, but then again, he can be a massive dick.

TBC Since I hit the image limit!

#few3h diskhorse #3nopes #egglegard #clob von riggles #garbage #its kind of astounding how they crafted some actually cool lore and then try to say that its actually bad lore #also imperialism good because cute girl #scarlet blazed

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thegayhellhound · 2 years

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This pinned post is about my blog topics. Check my bio to know about me. I never decided on an internet name.

I reblog mostly:

Plants, animals, fungi, and ecology in general

Autism, disability, and mental illness content

fandom things- mostly kids' cartoons, random books, probably night in the woods

HOWEVER.

There's also going to be scary political things I feel obligated to reblog because

It contains information that might genuinely help change something

It's an argument/perspective I haven't heard much that's interesting, so I've added it to my script for explaining the cause to people

Or it contains a guilt trip and I fell for it (sorry).

I try not to reblog donation posts anymore because I've gotten scammed so I'll leave that to people with better discretion. Also I have no income.

There might be otherwise triggering things because I have a couple of rather serious mental illnesses. I'm learning how to separate what I talk about where. (For the record I'm pro recovery everywhere).

I try to tag things but it's almost useless when I don't know which tags people are filtering. What I tag depends more on what I know how to tag than the severity of the issue.

I currently tag the following for content filtering:

#politics for things about the government and rights for certain groups (but not internal politics of tumblr or a specific community)

#undescribed for images that either don't have an image description or put it in alt text

#tw [thing] as a format for things like racism and terfs where I don't want people to find my blog through it

Just #[thing] for something like spiders that I fully support

I don't have an nsf-something tag, but there's also not much of that on this blog, as I am asexual and sexual things bother me, aside from vague comedy and scientific discussion.

I think #i didnt fact check this and don't currently have the energy to is self explanatory and if it isn't I don't think I can do a better job

#gif for a gif and #video for a video because I can't judge what counts as flashing or not

I gave up on tagging swearing because I remembered it is in my username and heading. I'm sorry.

If you have a specific tag you'd like me to put on posts with corresponding themes PLEASE let me know- that would be so helpful. In an ask is fine, I'll turn on anon if it isn't already.

I'll block people for using threats or telling someone to do something bad to themself. Even when doing that to express an opinion I agree with. Even if it's to someone I don't like.

#im going to regret this arent i #the tone doesnt sound right. i cant make the tone sound right #i swear i can speak internet in the real world. my family hates it #just not here where its useful >:(#this reads like an autism mommy tshirt with all the different text styles #i was trying to break it up for readability but...#ah whatever itll get like 3 notes anyways

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apollogivesmevisions · 7 months

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~~PINNED INTRO POST~~

Heya! I'm Vee. I'm a big big queer nerd that spends too much time online and is terrible at social stuff. I'm mostly on here just to reblog things I like and scream into the void

Stuff I'll blog about:

I'm a minor but I'm not that far from adult, so expect some horny jokes, some explicit content, gore and horror media, etc. I try to tag what I think needs to be, but please ask me if you'd like something else tagged!!

I reblog memes and art and sometimes political stuff about anarchy, france, queer-related, anti-capitalism, etc. I don't want to have any argument with people here, so you're warned that I block very easily

Anyways, my current obsessions interests are:

Adventure Time, Dungeon meshi (New!), Mortal Engines (book series), This Is How You Lose The Time War (not enough people talking about this), a bunch of indie games, Signalis, sometimes music, HATSUNE MIKU MY BELOVED, my bass Fred, and Monsterhearts 2e (please lmk if you know mh2e). And the random movies my brother probably found in an abandoned warehouse and forces me to watch

My Things!!

I do a lot of writing but most of it is in french, and I haven't found a french writing community here. You might see some random poetry though.

I draw a lot, and that's going to be something I'll be posting more of soon

PLANNING on making an art account to actually post more stuff, but feel free to ask to see what's the latest thing I'm working on

Random rants, personal posts and a few drawings will be tagged with #veesprophecies

Answers are tagged with #prophetsanswers

Sideblogs

Currently only one:

@sayitagainbutslower is my image and video describing blog. It's not updated too often though :/

OKAY OKAY!! That's all for now. Don't hesitate to ask for a book or movie recommendation, I always have so much

#veesprophecies #prophetsanswers

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scythedom · 3 years

Photo

Jude looked up at him, and in her eyes, he recognized a hate big enough and wide enough and deep enough to match his own. A hate you could drown in like a vat of wine.

How The King Of Elfhame Learned To Hate Stories | Illustration by Rovina Cai

#the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories #htkoecths spoilers #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories spoilers #i'm probably going to be posting more images from the book so block that if you want #OH AND OFC #jurdan

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cherryblossomtease · 3 years

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Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

#zemo x reader #bucky barns x you #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #buckybarnes/zemo #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #winterbaron fic #baron helmut zemo #zemo #self insert #yacht life #these two #i love them so much #also ouch

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literallycreativelylit · 2 years

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Me, Writing Poetry? [Please Help!]

[Scroll to the end for the TL;DR]

You read that right, folks! I have entered a poetry contest for the first time!

To be completely honest, while I've entered writing competitions before, they've always centered around either fictional short stories or personal tales. I've never submitted any of my poems to a Vocal contest before last weekend, and I wasn't even sure if I should. I'm confident in my world-building and story-telling, but not my rhymes. I'm a baby poet, an absolute novice when it comes to poetry, even though I've dabbled in it since I first learned about it in grade school.

There are a number of reasons for this: for one, my poems tend to be short pieces, and the minimum word count for a poem on Vocal is a hundred words. Thanks to this limit, I've had to post multiple Sisters of the Shadows poems/entries in the same post to avoid them being shot down, and I didn't think it would be fair if I submitted entries that had anything other than poetry. Another reason is that all the poems I'd previously posted were sad or angry--none of them fit the theme, which was to describe a "love at first sight" scenario.

So... After careful consideration and random bursts of inspiration, I wrote four FIVE love poems pertaining to this topic last weekend, and I've submitted all of them to the "From Across The Room" challenge on Vocal!

Now, just so you're aware, Vocal moderators need to review and approve each story before they can go live on the platform, so while I've written and submitted four separate poems, only one of them is currently available for you to read. The others will go up soon, and I'll be updating this post with their links once they do.

Dream Things

Photo by Илья Мельниченко on Unsplash

"I'll find you someday."

A poem inspired by a recurring dream I have. Of my four submissions, it's probably the one with the most hopeful ending--if only because of its open-ended nature. It was also my first attempt at writing a poem for this contest, and I have to admit that as little confidence as I had in my poems, I believe that each of these pieces is better than the one that came before it. So what I'm saying is: if you enjoy this one, then you'll probably like the next three even more.

Read it here.

Another Victim

Photo by Bruce Hong on Unsplash

"It's either you or me."

An unrequited take on the "love at first sight" concept. This is the second poem I wrote for this contest, and like the first, the story it tells and its meaning should be easy to interpret upon your first read. I took baby steps with these first two, testing the waters as I eased back into poetry. I was more daring with the next two.

Read it here.

Shades of Blue

Photo by Pawel Czerwinski on Unsplash

♡ Lucia & Leonardo ♡

A short poem inspired by my original characters from Aquarius: Book One of Saturn Rising. They have a very complex relationship, so I was hoping to shed a bit of light on their first night together as well as try out another love poem idea I had been thinking about. Of all the characters I've created, they're two of my favorites, so their interactions are very precious to me. It's a short read with some lofty lore implications, so I hope fans of TCoLD enjoy it.

Read it here.

Twinkling Stars

Photo by Javardh on Unsplash

"Bittersweet Love."

In my opinion, this is the best poem I wrote for the challenge, and the one I think will make it as a finalist. The image above is one I found while writing the first poem on this page; I liked the photo so much that I knew I wanted to include it in a story or poem. Once I submitted the first three I returned to Unsplash and just stared at that picture with the words "twinkling stars" in mind. The rest is history.

Read it here.

Beneath the Cheshire Moon

Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash

"A poem for lost souls and wandering nyctophiles."

When I completed Twinkling Eyes, I knew I wanted to try my hand at more poetry--especially poems that don't adhere to a strict rhyming scheme--but I had hit a block, so I put it on the back burner. I never expected to look up at the night sky last weekend and suddenly be struck with inspiration. Then again, I've always had an affinity for the moon, the stars, and dark nights. The moon on this night, in particular, was a crescent cradled on its curve, reminding me of the smile on the Cheshire cat. I was spurred on by the sight and thought up a singular phrase: "beneath the Cheshire moon." A few days of ruminating later, and voila! I submitted the best* poem I've ever written to the challenge.

Read it here.

*Yeah, okay, I know I said that Twinkling Stars was the best poem I'd submitted to the challenge, but that was before I wrote Beneath the Cheshire Moon. This last poem came far more naturally to me, and it felt as if I didn't need to try so hard in order to get it out there.

As I mentioned in my last blog about Vocal contests, the amount of likes and reads a submission has can help the judges decide which piece should win. Engagement is important, especially for small creators, so I really hope you'll help my poems get noticed! Feel free to simply click on the button above and read the poem--or, if you have or are willing to sign up for a free Vocal account, you can help further by liking the poem and subscribing to me on Vocal!

Share this with your friends who enjoy reading or writing, or even just supporting small creators. Thank you so very much, and I hope you enjoy my work.

Stay safe.

Natty P. 💙

TL;DR: please check out the poems I recently posted on my Vocal page. Read, like, share them with your friends--and, if possible, please consider subscribing to me on Vocal and either leaving a tip or making a monthly pledge. Every little bit helps!