#tavern toni

[bi-files]

Something about +45 year old men/women (that are fictional characters) committing crimes really captivates me like:

Gruncle Stan from Gravity Falls: the gold standard of tax evasion and embezzlement.

Dr. House from House: Man has got a malpractice cases stacked up from here to Pluto.

Uncle Iroh from Avatar: He was a general, how can he not have killed many, many people.

Tony Soprano, Silvio, Paulie, and Junior, etc: These characters are just in the mob and there are many many scenes of them straight up killing people and that's not even getting into the other stuff.

Diana Taverner and Ingrid Tearney from Slow Horses: Government corruption and spies but it make a tense conversation about brutally murdering fellow agents from the comfort of an MI5 top office over a glass of red.

River Cartwright's Grandfather and Jackson Lamb (also Slow Horses): They are also spies and we know for a fact Jackson Lamb staged the suicide of another agent (Idk if that was government sanctioned, but he still killed a guy) and River Cartwright's Grandfather just gives me major villain vibes.

Editor's Note:

Only crap I forgot a great one:

The unhinged Enterprise Crew in Star Trek III: The Search for Spock saying f the law and stealing an entire ship just to get a dear friend back. There is nothing better than Uhura pulling a gun on that guy right after he calls her old and washed up and the rest of the crew breaking the law in cunty outfits.

There, of course, are more examples (please add/ let me know as this is one my favorite genres as I am always hungry for more) but I can't believe I forgot that beautiful example.

#gruncle stan #tony soprano #silvio #paulie #the sopranos #diana taverner #ingrid tearney #cartwright #jackson lamb #dr. house #uncle iroh #gravity fals #atla #avatar #slow horses #spock #kirk #mccoy #uhura #search for spock

[minervadashwood]

The Truth

Bucky x F!Reader (plus size/curvy/heavyset) Tropes: Fantasy AU, friends to lovers, confessions CW: sex, burn injury Word count: 2.1K Summary:

Playboy Bucky Barnes keeps insisting that he loves you. But he is not a one-woman kind of man. Or so you think. Fantasy setting in which Bucky and you are part of a small group of adventurers. You're not a front line fighter but a savvy alchemist. Maker of potions, poultices, and traps. One day, some of your traps are compromised, and you get hurt. Bucky is not pleased.

Notes: Inspired by a dream I had and this gifset. There are a couple of Russian words in there, but they are translated in the story.

You were bent over your alchemy table when your bedroom door slammed open. In walked Bucky Barnes, dressed in only a towel tied at his waist.

You flushed, taking in his sculpted body, the dips and planes of his torso. Heat overwhelmed you, and it had nothing to do with the burns along your right arm. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he demanded, stalking forward and taking your chin in his hand.

“The grenades were compromised!” You shouted back, twisting away from his grip. “ My grenades, Bucky! I sent you out there with something that could’ve killed Steve, Tony, Wanda.  Maybe even you.”

Bucky stared you down, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

Suddenly, with inhuman speed, he lunged forward, grabbing your arm and yanking you against him. His skin was damp, like he’d just come from bathing. Steve must have told him what happened. That you broke formation to detonate your traps before they could hurt your team. Thankfully the only casualty was you. Your burns had been treated, wrapped in cloth, and were healing nicely.

“ Lisitsa ,” Bucky warned. “You can’t scare me like that.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Vixen? Really? That might apply to all those women he bedded at taverns. Not you. Leave you to your potions, poultices, and fiery concoctions. Ved'ma would be more accurate. Witch .

You tried to twist out of his hold, but Bucky only gripped you tighter.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” he growled.

“No, Buck, I don’t. You bed every woman who looks your way.  There’s a different girl on your arm at every festival, every tavern crawl. How could I think that I’m any different? Shall I let you bed me and be done with it? So you can move on to your next conquest?”

You struggled in his arms, trying in vain to get away. Bucky easily controlled you, spinning you around, dragging you to your bed, and shoving you down on it.

You laid sideways, your butt at the edge, as you tried to scoot away from him. Bucky grabbed your legs, squeezing the generous, soft flesh of your thighs.

“There is no ‘next’ conquest, Lisitsa. Only you.” His towel fell away as Bucky made himself at home between your legs. With his strong hands and even stronger arms, he drew your legs apart, forcing your sarong open, revealing your lower half to him.

You froze in place, skin ablaze as his grip lessened and his hands trailed up your outer thighs, your hips, your sides. As he moved, he leaned over you, nestling his own hips to your pelvis, his taut stomach resting on your soft one, with his erection between you.

“If you won’t believe my words, then I will show you. Leave no doubt in your mind that I love you.”

“B-Bucky?” You whimpered, wetness gathering between your legs. He was a specimen of a warrior. Strong, agile, lethal. Of course you wanted him. He set your heart on fire, practically made your blood boil in your veins .   But you couldn’t give in to him. If you did, he’d be gone before the morning, taking with him his sexy, enigmatic smiles, his heart-pattering winks, his insincere confessions of devotion.

Bucky grabbed your wrists and took them in one hand to hold them above your head. With his other hand, he swept away the rest of your clothing. Leaving you completely exposed.

“Stop it, Bucky,” you whispered, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. “You don’t love me. You can’t .”

A devastating smile graced his lips. “Why not, Lisitsa? How can I not love all of this? All of you?”

“B-b-because…” you faltered as he traced his nose along your cheek as, his deep inhalation audible; he was just so close. You, too, took a deep breath, steeling yourself to answer. “I’m nothing like them. The women you bed. I am more; I am too much. ”

Bucky growled, deep in his chest. The hand holding your wrists tightened, and again he took your chin in hand, gripping it tightly .

“My love, you are everything .”

You gasped as Bucky lowered his head and kissed you. Now, there was no denying your body’s reaction to him. You moaned and writhed, wishing your hands were free so you could bury them in his hair. Wriggling, you sought purchase on the bed, but Bucky’s hips and torso held you in place. The sheer strength of him captivated you, entranced you. You could only wrap your legs around his waist and welcome him closer to your core.

Long minutes passed as Bucky explored your mouth and you his. The man was voracious, but so were you, gasping and kissing, a paired clash of teeth, lips, and tongues: both of you desperate for more.

With a moan, Bucky eventually pulled away.  “My Lisitsa,” he murmured, and rested his forehead on yours. Your eyes met again, and there he was, exposed, and soft…adoring. Was that the truth you saw in his eyes? Or another maneuver in his game? You’d seen him woo women, time and time again. Were you now just the next item on his ever-growing list?

“Don’t pull away, love,” he whispered, those soft, searching eyes pleaded. 

“Do you mean it, Buck?”

“With every word, Lisitsa. ”

He held still, his breath arcing across your face, evidence of his desire growing more and more rigid as it was trapped between your bodies.

There would be no way to know for sure, not until morning. But you had him now . Why not take what you could, trapped in his arms?

You lifted your head slightly, seeking his mouth, and then Bucky devoured you. His tongue danced with yours. Gods how he tasted, how he felt . How he was the only thing in the world now, aside from you.

Every inhibition forgotten, you kissed him back, fiercely, and he finally let go of your wrists. Instantly your hands were in his damp, shaggy hair, clutching him close to you as months, years of repressed longing were brought to the surface.

As you kissed, Bucky’s hand skirted down your body until it cupped your sex. His fingers traced along your wet folds, forcing you to whimper into his mouth as he kissed you. 

Bucky broke your lips apart, gasping in your face, his own cheeks and ears darkened, flushed.

“So soft and wet,” he told you, a single finger slipping between your folds and slowly stroking you. “Shall I stop now, love? Or do you believe me?”

“Please, Bucky,” you begged, angling your hips closer to his teasing hand.

He had the nerve, the absolute nerve to laugh at you, and back was that signature, indecipherable smirk. He kissed your nose, your chin, your jaw, and then his mouth was on your nipple, suckling and biting to send shockwaves of desire through you. You jolted beneath him, and then his teasing finger lingered at your entrance.

“Shh, doll, it’s all okay. You're mine now. Aren’t you?”

You nodded dumbly. “Yours, Buck.”

Bucky finally pushed his finger into you, and you sighed. The first finger was joined by a second, and Bucky hooked them both, moving languidly in and out until you were mewling, and whimpering, and begging, all in the same breath.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged. “You look so beautiful right now, it hurts. I can’t wait. Not anymore.”

“Then don’t.” You tugged on his hair, insisting that he continue.

He removed his fingers, using them to coat his erection with your wetness. Then, he perched himself at your entrance, sliding in just a bit before he lowered himself on the bed, holding his weight on his elbows as his hands cupped your face.

“Believe me now?” he asked, thrusting into you.

You clenched around him, the sweet sensation of being filled by the man you’d denied for so long. It felt like he belonged there, inside of you, filling you, stretching you, loving you.

He moved quickly, and you matched your movements to his own, raising your hips and chasing after his thrusts.

Sweat soaked his body, and you grabbed every part of him you could reach as he made love to you. You gripped his arms and then caressed his chest. You sank your fingernails into his back as you neared your peak, as Bucky groaned and panted above you.

You were on the edge now, faster than you’d ever been before, all because of the man in your arms. “I’m going to come, Buck,” you rasped, voice strained because of all the pleasure coursing through you.

“Go ahead, love,” he told you, nibbling your ear. “I’ll be gentle next time. Take my time with you.”

Next time .

You came, the promise of his statement letting you rise and fall while surrounded by Bucky Barnes.

His thrusts grew sloppy, urgent, and Bucky groaned, capturing your lips with his own, as his movements slowed and he spilled himself inside you, coating your walls with his warm seed.

Your bodies remained joined, you gazing up at him, and Bucky, eyes wide, staring down at you. Then, Bucky gathered you up in his arms, lifting and arranging you easily on your bed so that you rested on top of him. Both your bodies were sweat-slicked and shivering from the aftershocks.

“Did you mean it?“ he asked you, holding your chin once again. “Are you mine?”

Apprehension, suppressed while Bucky had his way with you, rose again.

He must have seen it because Bucky softened his grip and ran his thumb on your cheek.  “I’ll go Lisitsa, if you didn’t mean it. I’ll go and never speak of this again.”

You shook your head furiously, unable to bear the thought. “I meant it, Buck.”

“So do I, Love,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, and held you close until you both fell asleep.

*

You woke some time later, your injured arm burning and crying out for another poultice and a clean cloth. As you attempted to sit up, you realized you were cocooned in a pair of arms, with a blanket draped over you.

“Mmmph,” Bucky grumbled sleepily. “What is it Lisitsa ?”

Your heart clenched. “You’re still here?”

“‘Course I am,” he answered, voice still groggy with sleep. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You never stay the night with them. With…the others.”

He sat up, pulling you with him, and the blankets pooled at your waists. Outside it was still dark, the stars glittering the night sky.

Bucky pulled you into his lap. “There are no others.” Threading his fingers through your hair, Bucky forced you to look at him. “There is only you. I promise.”

In the darkness, you could not see his eyes or his smile. You only had his words and the feel of his touch to guide you.

“My bandage needs changing,” you murmured, trying to slip off his lap to get your feet on the floor.

“What here,” he ordered, setting you on the mattress as he got off the bed. 

“Buck, what are you--”

You heard the lighting of a match, then the soft glow of a candle filled your room. Bucky held it, and the tiny flame bounced off his body, casting shadows over his muscled form. He’d come into this room wearing only a towel, and he was barefoot and naked, making his way to your shelves of concoctions.

“Which bottle, Lisitsa ?”

“The green one, middle shelf.”

Bucky grabbed your healing poultice and a clean, rolled cloth, too, before returning to you. Unwrapping the cloth on your arm, Bucky tsk’d and sighed.

“No going where I can’t protect you. My heart can’t take it,” he said, focused on your injury. After setting the used cloth aside, Bucky scooped some of the poultice out of the jar and touched it to your arm.

You winced, not used to someone else taking care of you.

“Shush, love,” Bucky soothed. “It’ll feel better in a moment.”

Love . There it was again. He’d had what he wanted and still, he was here, tending to you, comforting you, loving you.

“There’s my good girl,” he encouraged, gently patting the poultice on your burns. He finished and put the lid back on the jar. You’d never seen him do such a thing. Not for Wanda, certainly not for Tony, not even for Steve. But he was doing it for you.

As he reached for the clean cloth bandage, you grabbed his elbow with your left hand and said, “I believe you, Buck.”

He gazed at you in the candlelight, it danced across his features the face of the man you’d loved for so long. And now you were finally ready to admit it.

“About time, Lisitsa . Now let me finish this so I can get back into bed with you.”

You let out a long-held breath as Bucky finished wrapping your injured arm. Bucky snuffed out the candle and found you in the darkness, crawling back into bed with and pulling you back into his arms. 

Outside, the sky turned gray with the rising sun. It was morning.

#mdop #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x curvy reader #plus size reader #curvy reader #bucky barnes #mcu #mcu fanfic #playboy bucky barnes

[georgiarose]

Some Fantasy AU designs!!

Dawn runs the local tavern that her and her husband Tony own, Natalie owns the town bakery, and Fenton is a guard/housecarl for the alchemist Gyro, who is unwillingly made Jarl of this village by King Scrooge. MD (Mad Ducktor) is there too as an assistant that Gyro makes.

I wish I could show you those designs, but they aren't quite ready yet. Anyways... I've been playing too much Skyrim.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #fenton crackshell cabrera #ducktales oc #natalie flores #dawn nicobar #duckverse #my art #fantasy au #ducktales au

[reggiejworkshop]

VHS 'Screenshots of ' Wakko's Springfield Score 3

"Come see the Warners and the Simpsons family as you've never seen them before! This Saturday on April 1! Only on Fox!" a proposed tagline. I honestly could have waited until it was actually April 1st, but I'll be out of town and away from a computer on that date.

These are more recovered, totally not fake, screenshots from a lost crossover special of Animaniacs and Simpsons made circa 1996. It was canceled mid production due to unknown production issues, and totally not by an artist who wanted to have another go at creating VHS screen captures again. No, it's not based on a crossover fanfic I still never got around to writing.

Okay, it is. Again. For the third time.

Since everyone seemed to like the last ones I did: More VHS 'Screenshots' Wakko's Springfield Score by ReggieJWorkshop on DeviantArt

I figured I'd do some more. I had honestly planned on doing more much sooner since I had gotten further along with writing the actual story. But I ended up catching writers block midway. I still plan on finishing it one of these days...

To recap from the last post, the story behind this would have been a AU crossover fic where Yakko and Wakko Warner are former street hustlers turned detectives who team up with Wiggum PI and Skinny Boy Skinner. 

What followed would be a series of hijinks; Wakko's bumpy relationship with Krusty; an entertainer who is on the run after being framed for a serious crime, The Wanrer Brothers searching for their missing Warner sister, who happens to get tied with the Springfield Mafia, and a few other familiar faces appear.

As you can see, the story would be goofy as far as plot goes but definitely darker and dramatic as far as tone goes. Lots of action, mystery, and definitely some slapstick violence. 

These shots along with the corresponding quotes ( from top left to bottom) give more insight into the TV special that was never meant to be. Or it will raise way more questions than answers. 

Wiggum PI: "...Okay boys, how bout we make a quick pit stop at Moe's Tavern?"

Yakko: "Ooh I've always wanted know what a seedy bar is like! How about you treat us for helping you take on those mafia goons last night?"

Skinny Boy: "No way, Im not getting a mai tai for a minor!"

Dot: "Oh, Tony..."

Fat Tony: "I believe our new associate has already told you she hates being called Dottie"

Mobster:"Ididn'tsayDottie,IsaidDot! Dot! Dot! Dot!"

All three Warners: "Come on!"

Wakko: "Say the line!"

Wakko: "Sorry, old habits die hard. No hard feelings, Huh Krusty?

Blown up Comic Book Guy: "Worst crossover ever!"

Krusty: "I can't feel anything..."

#cartoon #deviantart #pen and ink #animaniacs #fanart #the simpsons #lost media #screenshot #vhs aesthetic #corssover #yakko wakko and dot #fat tony #krusty the clown #comic book guy #fake screenshot #did I fool you? #art

[randomshyperson]

Mystery Club - Chapter Three - Wanda Maximoff x Reader Series

Summary: Returning to your hometown five years after leaving everything behind, including your best friend, is no easy feat. Getting involved in a secret club wasn't in the plans either. Or the one based on Life is Strange.

Warnings: (+18) high school au, best friends to lovers, mild/heavy angst mentions with happy happing, use of legal substances (alcohol, marijuana), violence, verbal aggression, explicit language, smut, triggers regarding sexual assault, mentions of death, grieving, hints of depression and anxiety, panic attacks, a lot of domesticity.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad || Series Masterlist

--//--

Chapter Three - Tavern, Tattoos, and Trust

Westview is a small town, which means there are few places to hang out. Odin's Tavern - yes, like the Norse God - is one of them. 

But old Odin died before you left Westview. His kids inherited the business, and together with their mother Frigga, transformed the place from a pool bar to a more family-friendly environment, yet considered funky with its good food and cheap beer. It was not the kind of place that the fussy folks from the Institute would go, for example.

And even if Wanda was a troublemaker now, she was still the daughter of rich people and lived in a house worth more than a year's salary of all the employees in that place. 

Maybe that's why the waiter was in such a bad mood when he attended to you.

"Maximoff, nice to have you here again." He greeted sarcastically. "Are you going to pay this time?"

Wanda didn't mind the rudeness, smiling mischievously as she walked past him to sit down. You cleared your throat awkwardly. "I left the money on the table, Bucky, if someone took it it wasn't my fault."

He buffs incredulously, shaking his head. "You really expect me to buy that one?"

But Wanda made an innocent expression, shrugging as she opened the menu. That Bucky guy sighed in defeat, turning his face to you to welcome you to the place as he pulled a small pad and pen from his apron pocket. 

As soon as you ordered your food, Bucky angrily warned Wanda that he was going to include the latter's price, and left dragging his feet. She rolled her eyes but didn't insist. 

You stared at her, your eyebrow raised in surprise.

"What?" she questioned.

"You have to pay for your food, Wanda. The staff members are the ones who pay for it when you don't." You reprimand her, but she snorts almost guiltily.

"Yeah, I know." She retorts, her fingers moving impatiently around the table - tapping, pulling napkins. "Charles had cut my allowance and I just needed a burger to make me feel better. Damn, I've been coming here since I was six, can't he hold a tab for me?"

You don't buy the story. "Why, because you're so special?" You retort with mild mockery that makes Wanda lock her jaw. Sighing, you move your unhurt hand to hold her anxious ones. "You can't take your frustrations out on others, Wands. And you can't expect to run from the consequences when you do things like this. Bucky could have called the police."

"Can we stop talking about this?" Wanda asks impatiently, pulling her hands away into her own lap. You swallow dryly, but don't take it personally. She never liked straight confrontations anyway. 

"What do you want to talk about?" your question makes her face light up softly.

"About us, of course! We have five years to catch up." She retorts. "I want to know everything you've been up to, and how you ended up back in this shithole that is Westview."

You chuckle, propping your elbows on the table before you start telling. You reminisce a little about Tony's heart disease, about the decision that you were better off living with Peggy and Steve in England, but that when your father's health deteriorated you returned to New York and stayed with him until he passed away. And then you mention the admissions letters for the student programs, and that when you saw the application to the Xavier Institute it seemed right to you.

Wanda chuckles at that.

"You should have picked a fancy academy in Paris, kotenok. Anywhere is better than this hellhole." She says, and you smile at her soft grimace. 

"Or maybe a Sokovian Exchange program, where I'd finally learn the language and be able to understand what so many nicknames mean." You retort but Wanda laughs mischievously, looking at you in a way that makes your face warm.

"Oh, don't be silly, my dear friend, you don't need an exchange program. I'll tell you now what they mean. I call you all the sweetest things, like kitten, sweetheart, darling, cutie..." 

You narrow your eyes at her with distrust because Wanda has a very suspicious little smile on her lips.

"I can't tell if you're mocking me now or not." You say to her, making her giggle. 

“I would never.” She guarantees without stopping smile, and that makes you even more suspicious than before. She seems ready to add something else, that funny look returning to her eyes, but your orders arrive next and Wanda forgets the subject when she sees the food.

You have the first bite at the same time, exclamations of satisfaction at the taste.

"Damn, I can hardly believe Frigga is still cooking so well." You comment as you finish chewing, reaching out for a napkin. 

Wanda smiles, murmuring in agreement as she chews. 

You eat in silence for a moment, but soon, you are stealing glances at each other, teasing and challenging one another in your gaze as to who will ask the first question of the afternoon. 

Wanda takes a sip of the soda, bites the end of the bio-degradable straw, and holds the glass with both hands, at least one ring on each finger. 

You only realize you are staring and absorbing every detail of her appearance because she lets out a short giggle, and you clear your throat, diverting as you are caught.

"I have to ask you something." You tell her as you regain composure, trying to transmit determination in your tone of voice even though your fingers are trembling from the way Wanda is looking at you as if she's going to eat you alive and enjoy it.

"Shoot." 

You clear your throat again. "Right. Wanda, why did you reactivate the mystery club?"

She frowns slightly, leaning over to take another long sip of her soda before shrugging. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" She retorts with confusion that you don't buy in the least. Not that Wanda isn't a good liar - she is, in fact, she used to be the best at it among the three of you when you were younger. - Now, she's barely trying. She seems interested in tormenting you for fun.

You huff softly. "Come on, Wanda." You insist, to the girl who has started spinning the rings on her fingers. "I know the club is back, and I also know that only you would have the audacity-"

But she cuts you off with a dry laugh. "And do you have evidence to back up that accusation of yours, milashka?" She challenges, and you stare at her in disbelief, biting the inside of your cheek.

At your hesitation, she smiles, pushing her tongue behind her teeth and looking absurdly beautiful with her eyes glittering with mischief. 

"I don't need to prove anything."

"Oh, but you do." She insists provocatively. "Have you forgotten how that works? If you have an accusation, you need proof. So the board can evaluate your statement."

You don't back down, leaning your arms on the table and staring back at her. "So you admit it? That the Club is standing?"

"I never said it wasn't. You accused me of being the person to reactivate it, and for this, you have no proof." She retorts with a little corner smile, and you roll your eyes impatiently, laughing with disbelief. 

"If not you, who else...?" You begin, but Wanda's gaze hesitates, and you understand. "Oh." Swallowing dryly, you try to meet her gaze again, but she pretends to be suddenly very interested in the fries. You clear your throat, and try more gently, "When did he do it?"

She shrugs, but you reach out for her forearm, and Wanda swallows dryly. It takes a moment, but she finally sighs and tells you, "As soon as we got into the Institute. Pietro always said it was meant for all three of us to be there, as we imagined it would be. He reactivated the club so we'd have something to remember you by."

"That's sweet..."

Wanda pulls her arm into her own lap, chuckling sadly. "It used to be." She says almost bitterly. "But we were growing up, Y/N. Our friends no longer wanted to participate in any silly scoter activities, or solve some childish mystery. They lost interest, and so did we. Pietro wanted to be popular, wanted to be captain of the team, and well, nobody wanted to be friends with the weird detective and his sister's little witch."

You frowned, shocked by the story. Wanda sighed, pinching her fingers in her own lap. "What happened then?"

She gives another sad laugh, "What do you think? The club was pretty much extinct, and Pietro figured it wasn't worth showing up for one last meeting. Instead, he went to a party with the soccer team. And well, the rest you already know."

"Fuck." You exclaimed in shock. Wanda cleared her throat, forcing a smile at you.

"We don't have to have these sad conversations at lunch, okay? I'll put on some music."

"But Wanda..." You started, but she was already getting up and walking away from the table toward the jukebox in the corner of the restaurant.

Since she was taking much longer than was necessary to choose a song, you glanced outside.

You saw Bucky putting out the trash, and smoking a cigarette with a blonde girl in the uniform of the gas station next to the restaurant. The name tag read 'Sharon Carter’. You looked forward to your table again, but you were no longer hungry.

Wanda kicked the jukebox softly, cursing low, and you sighed.

You searched your wallet for something to cover the bill, plus a generous tip before you got up and walked to the cashier.

"Hey, table 13." You said to the clerk with his back turned. Once the person turned, you choked softly. "Thor?"

"Y/N? Oh my god, look at you! All grown up!" He comments excitedly, moving a little closer to the cashier, gesturing. "I didn't know you were back in town!"

You giggle awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm studying at Xavier Institute for senior year. I got in last month."

"What? That's incredible!" Thor comments impressed. "But a month? I'm almost upset you didn't show up here sooner."

Your cheeks blush softly with embarrassment, and you give a lopsided smile. "Sorry." You mutter, but Thor chuckles, clearly not really angry. "But tell Frigga I came by, and compliment the food, it was incredible as I remember it."

"Oh, of course. Maybe next time you'll see her, just come on the twins' shift. You were lucky to see me here, I hardly ever stay at the bar, only when Loki has some unexpected event." He counters, pressing the cashier's button to open and check out your table. You hand him the money.

"And how are Loki and Sylvie?" 

Thor shrugs, smiling. "They're fine, when they're not running away from this job, they do some weird plays at the municipal theater."

You exclaim softly. "Are they still into magic?"

The blonde nods with a light chuckle. "Definitely, but magic shows don't pay as well. After they graduated, they went into theater. Sometimes they present stuff at your fancy school."

"I hope to see them there then." You say in a farewell tone, and Thor thanks you for coming one last time before you head back to Wanda.

Your cell phone vibrates midway, and you push the receipt into your pocket as you grab the device.

Kate has sent you dozens of messages, Yelena too. All about the fight. Peter tried to call. All wanted to know where you were and comment on what had happened. 

You could barely see the messages before Wanda reappeared, throwing an arm around your shoulders and almost making you lose your balance.

"Dude, will you get off your cell phone? Five years of not seeing me and you want to be typing with your rich friends." 

You laugh incredulously, placing a hand on her stomach and pushing her gently away. "You're my rich friend, grumpy." You mock and she grimaces but steps away. "My very possessive rich friend." You tease, though you put your cell phone down. "They're just looking for me because in case you've forgotten, I dashed off campus without notifying anyone after a bloody fight in the middle of the parking lot."

Wanda rolls her eyes softly. "Come on, who cares? No one saw you but me and Hill, and she didn't text you, I figure. The only person you owe an explanation to is me, and I'm right here, telling you to put down your phone and enjoy the afternoon with me." She bargains, blinking those lovely green eyes at you.

You don't know why Wanda is being so needy, but you don't really mind. You reach out your hand and pinch her nose in a way that makes her chuckle.

"Okay Maximoff, let's have some fun."

She leads the way outside, and you fail to realize that the music playing in the Odin Tavern is your favorite.

–//–

The leaves of the trees made sounds under your feet as you walked. The rays of sunlight streaming through the tall branches of the Municipal Park pine trees warmed your skin.

Wanda's jacket had been abandoned on the front seat, and her tank top didn't do much justice to covering the tattoo on her back, and you were biting your lip to keep from asking about it.

"I got it for my birthday last year." She declares without needing to explain why having caught you staring. "Not as nice as yours, though."

You snort in false indignation. "And I really believed that you weren't staring at me changing-"

"I wasn't staring!" She defends herself with a mischievous smile. "Although it was very difficult not to."

You chuckle shyly, patting her on the arm as you walk along the old Bear Trail - as you named it when you were kids because you could swear some of the bigger trees were shaped like that.

"I can't believe Captain Rogers took you for a tattoo, too." Wanda mutters.

You chuckle short, denying it with your head. "It wasn't him. It was Tony, before, you know. He wanted something for me to remember him by."

Wanda kicks a small stone on her way: "Kind of morbid, not gonna lie, the heart thing. But I suppose it's symbolic. And I didn't get a good look at it to judge-"

"My God, are you asking to see me shirtless?" You cut her off, stunned, and Wanda almost tripped on the way.

Her cheeks burning, she retorted indignantly, "What? I didn't mean it like that!" She defends herself, but you are laughing, and she sighs. "Oh, are you mocking me? Very funny, Y/N. Mature too."

She grimaces, and you step forward to mess up her hair, earning a loud grunt in return. Before Wanda can get her revenge, you were already running away from her.

You know the way like the back of your hand, and the trees begin to open up until you end up in an open plain, on the edge of what is both a park and an off-limits area. There are some old danger signs, and you bite your lips as you reach the low wooden fence.

" Slow down, Y/N! I smoke now, did you forget?" Wanda asks breathlessly a little further back, but you giggle, jumping over the wooden fence to continue the run.

The forested area gives way to dirty asphalt, but it is just as empty as the park area. You come out into a yard, and there is a row of houses ahead, all with thick timbers covering the windows and doors, with damaged and graffitied paint. 

A neighborhood nameplate lies destroyed on the ground, covered with mold and grass growing all over the place.

You stop walking to stare at the tall house in front of you, a half-breathless smile leaving your lips.

Wanda appears beside you, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulders.

"You don't have to rush, you know. Your old house isn't going anywhere." She complains, stepping out in front of you, and you sigh before following her.

"Of all places, why did you bring me here?" You ask curiously, but Wanda limits herself to a short laugh.

She guides you along the yard, past the musty pool to the driveway. You notice that the lock is new, and you are not surprised that Wanda takes the keys from the car keychain there. 

The inside of the garage doesn't look anything like the rest of the environment. It's practically all renovated, like a cozy, very comfortable lounge. Wanda put leather armchairs, bookshelves, and even a television that you had fun imagining her carrying there. There was a mini fridge, soccer table, and even a washing machine.

"How...?"

"Before the renovation, we could bring the truck around." She clears your doubts about transporting heavier items. You look around in complete shock as Wanda closes the garage door. "But then those idiots at Bishop Security got the warrant to destroy the bridge and now I can only access this place through the park."

You trace your finger through some lost belongings, loose magazines, decorative objects, and more traffic tickets. And you recognize the blank mystery club cards just like America and Kamala's.

"No one has ever tried to go back to this neighborhood?" You ask with your back to her, continuing to look around. 

Wanda laughs wryly. "After all that? No chance. Someone tweeted the news of the radiation evacuation, and the mayor kind of declared this area uninhabitable even without the reports from Osborn's people, who insisted that it was okay to live here. Just like your family, all the rich people fled these houses overnight."

You chuckled humorlessly, reaching out to reach for a picture frame on the bookshelf. It was the Maximoff twins on Halloween of their 8th birthday, adorable in their costumes.

"And let me guess, Pietro thought this was a perfect hiding place." You commented, looking at the mischievous expression on your friend's picture. 

Wanda smiled, moving closer. "Actually, it was my idea." She counters, and you look away from the photo to her. "Pietro wanted to do that in the attic of our house."

You laughed. "Your father would have found out in a week." You comment, but to your surprise, Wanda's chuckle is short almost sad.

"If he paid attention, of course." She mutters, and you don't know what to say about that, so you say nothing.

She reaches up to move something on the wall, pulling out a bulletin board hidden behind the washing machine. She places it on top, and you watch her cross out yesterday's date with a pen on the calendar.

Before you can see more of the scribbles there, she hides the item back, and as she stares at you, she has an eyebrow raised in your direction. "For members only, malyshka." She teases.

You snort in indignation. "I founded this club."

She leans against the machine, shrugging. "You've abandoned this club."

You roll your eyes. "That's not true! We came to an agreement for its demise, and it's not my fault if you and Pietro decided to bring it back on!" You defend yourself, but Wanda has a mischievous grin and shrugs again.

"Really, Y/N, it's just protocol..."

"My god you are ridiculous!" You complain approaching to pick up the board but Wanda steps forward into your path and doesn't move out of the way. "Wands..."

A gentle nudge on your shoulders, and then another and another until you have taken enough steps backward to trip over the carpet and fall into the armchair.

"Dorogoya, here's what we're going to do." Wanda begins, raising a finger to her chin as she circles the armchair. "If you want to have membership privileges, you need to be recruited."

You huff impatiently. "I literally founded the club..."

"And as you remember, there are rules to being part of the group." Wanda ignores you completely, a mischievous smile on her lips as she circles the armchair. "Rule Number One, you need to be recruited by someone on the inside."

You make mention of getting up, but Wanda grabs your shoulder from behind and pulls you sitting on the leather again. Your speech about how ridiculous that was dies in your throat as she brings her mouth up to your ear level.

"But don't worry about that one, of course, I'm dying to have you all over me again." She teases huskily in your ear, and you shudder from head to toe. "Let's focus on rule two then."

Despite your nervousness, you handle retorting, "I got the rules out of an action movie, I highly doubt they mean anything..."

Wanda chuckles softly, pulling away to return to your field of vision. "Very little, but it's fun to watch you struggle with it. Consider it a welcome gift."

You roll your eyes. "Tormenting me is your gift?" You question, to which she only smiles. "I just want to know why our club is running again. Why don't you just tell me?"

You expected a smart or rude response, but Wanda stares at you seriously, and slowly leans in, giving you no choice but to back away until your back is against the seat. She rests her hands on the armchairs, her face at the same height as yours.

"You and I, detka, had our trust in each other shattered." She begins to explain, you swallow dryly. "So if you want to know my secrets, you're gonna have to prove yourself worthy of my trust again."

You stare into her green eyes and find no hesitation in them. That is until you let your gaze fall to her lips. But it only lasts half a second, and you are already staring Wanda in the eyes again.

"My apology wasn't enough for you?"

Wanda licks her lips. "Forgiveness and Forgetfulness are not the same thing." She retorts, clearing her throat softly when she almost leans in too far. Her gaze softens. "I want to trust you again, completely, like before you left, before the club ended."

You move a hand to hers on the chair. "Then just trust me, Wanda." You tried, but she shook her head.

"I need more than words, detka." She whispers. "You made promises you didn't keep, and I know it wasn't your fault, but I can't stop hearing them in my head. I need your actions to speak louder."

You swallow dryly, but nod in understanding. "Okay, Wanda, tell me what to do."

To your surprise, she chuckles, her frown frowning in fake confusion. "Tell you? Detka, have you forgotten how this works?" She teases, stepping away and standing properly. "It's the Mystery Club, baby. You solve a mystery to get in."

You bite your tongue, watching Wanda walk away to a locker. She stands on tiptoe to pick up a metal box at the bottom between the timbers, and it has to be on purpose the way she bends her butt toward you. You look away, your face burning, and she has a satisfied smile as she comes back to you.

She drops a card in your lap and crosses her arms. You take the item without opening it. "And what will you do for me?"

She sighs thoughtfully. "We could make out..."

"Wanda!" You exclaim in shock, blushing heavily. She laughs innocently.

"What? I'm sure you're a virgin..."

You grunt indignantly, getting up. "Fuck off if you're gonna keep making fun of me." You grumble angrily, making your way to the exit as Wanda tries to control her giggling.

You pull the garage door open, but before you can get out, she calls out to you.

"What do you need to trust me again?" She asks.

You sigh sadly, putting the letter away in your jacket pocket.

"I never stopped trusting you, Wanda."  You retort, and her posture breaks completely. She uncrosses her arms, and looks ready to say something, but loses her nerve. You hold the garage door open. "I'll be at school, call me if you need anything. Any time, any day."

A lump forms in Wanda's throat. She has a flash of memory - It's you at about eleven years old in her bedroom window, having gone to say goodbye to her on summer vacation because Wanda broke her arm and her father wouldn't let her travel. You are many centimeters shorter than you are now, but you look at her the same way and say almost the same thing: "I'll borrow my Dad's phone. You can call me, Wands, any time, any day."

The memory is gone at the same speed it came. You blink at her, and Wanda swallows dryly.

"See you soon, punk." It's your goodbye before you pull the door down.

Wanda thinks she's stupid for crying when she feels the tears on her face, but in five years, it's the first time it's been from happiness, so she doesn't really mind.

–//–

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #Mystery Club

[stuckyhistoricalfiction]

Teasers

Read some teasers of the fics coming out this December and January!

Bucky was frozen in place as time itself stopped, unable as he was to tear his eyes away from unknown warrior. Everywhere around him the shrieks of war ensued but he was silent like the clouds before a thunderstorm, rooted like a tree where others were slipping in the mud. The blood – not his own, for no one got close enough to hurt him – made the strong muscles of his mid-section gleam when the sun hit it, and his massive arms bulged each time the man swung his sword in ruinous circles. Man. Could he really be? A giant amongst them all, with no markings to show where he belonged. Neither blade nor ink had marred his skin, and he lacked the arm-ring that would prove him a Northerner. He couldn’t be theirs – he was fighting against them with a force so strong it didn’t seem human. All the breath left Bucky. He might not wear an arm ring, but he wasn’t wearing that damned silver cross either in a chain around his neck. All he wore was a golden crown.

“Are you done choking?” The voice says when Steve stops aspirating dried vascular plant bits. The hand once again grips his hair, pulls him up and another hand pushes him backward to sit against a tree and Steve finally gets a look at his attacker. His breath stops. Before him is a savage in leather and pelts, with wild black hair and strange markings down his left arm and shoulder, but Steve can’t pay attention to any of it because his face is painted. White and red and vibrant blue streak across forehead and cheekbones and the eyes are smeared pitch black. It makes the striking light gray irises stand out all the more. His teeth show in a predatory smile between blue and white lips. Steve has heard of Celtic witches. Fearsome stories, all of them. “First things first,” the witch sits down in front of him. “I would never hurt your horse, Roman.” Steve gasps. “Of course, you’re a Roman.” The man scoffs. “I could have picked your stance and build out of a thousand. You have soldier written all over you. You and that ridiculous haircut.” The hand is back in his hair, tousling this time, and Steve curses the fact that he did not have leave to let his hair and beard grow before the journey down. It is probably how the stranger in the tavern pegged him. All his offerings to Mercury were for nothing. “The question is not who you are.” The painted face before Steve becomes pensive. “And I can guess what you’re doing here, dressed like a commoner, skulking around my sacred altars.” Steve’s eyes widen in shock. These woods are consecrated. Tony sent him straight into the lion’s den, and like a sheep, Steve went. The predatory smile comes back, spreads across paint. “Boudica rising,” he whispers. “Is that not why you’re here.” Steve blinks. Bites his tongue. Tries to leave his face impassive, but the witch takes one look at him and once again laughs out loud. It is supremely unsettling. “Aaaaaahhhh,” he sighs, content. “I thought so.” Then he cocks his head left. “Your horse is coming back. Loyal beast that it is. When I sprung you and it bolted, I thought we’d never see the nag again.” Falconis steps into the clearing, snuffling and a little out of sorts, but none the worse for wear. He has not damaged himself in his flight through these woods and Steve is glad. He walks over to Steve and nuzzles his cheek, fluffing happily, and then turns— and does the same to the witch. Traitor.

As many things do, it begins with two corpses; one staining the quilt of snow it lays on a rueful shade of crimson, and the other encased in an icy tomb within the rotting carcass of a downed plane. In a way that defies both sense and science, both corpses are not truly dead at all — at least not yet. One corpse clenches his remaining fingers painfully tight, the knuckles paling to match the snow, grappling with the ledge of life desperately while his companion - his other half - readily lets go, ready to wearily sink under the waves of the quiet and the cold. One in denial and the other relieved. Even though they’re as good as, they’re not dead. Some would say it’s a miracle, a marvel, and that’s just the M’s; nevermind the rest. But, when it is stripped down to the bone, flesh and ligaments peeled away until the ivory skeleton of truth is laid bare, it is undoubtable that these icy graves and their icy corpses are inexplicably, irrevocably, and indescribably intertwined. Perhaps it’s fate, maybe one could go as far as to say it’s destiny. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But the one thing that is undeniable is that from the very second both corpses teetered on the thinning thread between living and dying, their orbits crossed. Over the next handful of decades, they are pulled into each other like stars, spiralling closer and closer until inevitably falling into each other in a stellar collision of a single epic, and irreversible mistake.

“Prince Bohemond VI has submitted to the Mongols.” Marshal Phillips announced solemnly. István looked up from the map. “Are we sending forces to liberate them?” He inquired. It was a larger campaign than they usually engaged in, but the Mongols were also a greater threat than they usually faced. Marshal Phillips shook his head and István felt a bolt of shock through his chest. Surely they couldn’t stand by and let Antioch fall to such a cruel adversary? “The prince claims he is submitting willingly. His father-in-law, King Hethum I, submitted over a decade ago, and has been encouraging other monarchs to do the same for years. He believes allying with the Mongols is our best chance to defend the kingdoms of Christendom from the Mamluks.” “If we submit to the Mongols, there will be no Christendom to defend!” István argued. But the other knights didn’t seem concerned. He thought of the scorched ruins he’d grown up around. The way his mother always choked up when talking about his father’s final stand against “the Tatars”. Desperate for understanding, his eyes sought out Jakab amongst the assembled archers. Jakab was already looking at him with a sweet, concerned frown. István felt a renewed sense of sanity as his friend gave a little nod in solidarity.

“You know you’re quite the informant,” Bucky said softly. “Let’s make a deal you keep talkin to me, and I’ll pay you enough, so you don’t have to walk the streets.” “I don’t need your fucking charity,” Steve growled. “It’s not charity.” Bucky grabbed Steve’s wrist. “You’re in the victim pool. You’re almost an exact match for what he’s lookin for. And you got a son—” “Don’t talk about my son!” Steve snarled. “Let me help you!” Bucky yelled. “I don’t need your help!” Steve yanked his arm out of Bucky’s grasp. “I don’t need anything from you—” “Goddammit, Stevie.” Bucky grabbed Steve and pressed him against the wall of an alley. But Nat’s words echoed in his mind, You’re all violent in your own way. Bucky didn’t want to be violent, especially not with Steve. He pulled back a little, giving the fae enough room to slip away if he wanted to. “I won’t force you,” Bucky told him with a sigh of defeat. “But I really do want to help. No charity, no pity, just help. And I need your help too. You know these victims, I don’t.”

#stucky historical fiction 2023 #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #upcoming fics #teaser drops

[endingboyhansel]

Welcome back to this whole analysis business. Today we’re talking about Alan Partridge and his repressed bisexuality. He’s definitely an interesting character to talk about when it comes to his attitudes with anyone queer!

I’ve probably missed out other stuff, or gotten things wrong, so if that’s the case, feel free to add on or correct me!

It is no surprise to anyone that has seen the Alan Partridge franchise that Alan in his early days is a bigot. He occasionally followed remarks with “and please don’t write in saying that is [discrimination], it’s not” and has a general very dislikable attitude towards those that are minorities. Later on in the franchise he does adopt a much more polite attitude, though keeps quite a bit of stereotypes when discussing minority groups.

His attitude towards queer people, however, is very interesting. Alan describes himself as a “homoskeptic” - thinly veiling homophobia - and acts negatively towards Glen Ponder when he finds out he’s gay. Alan has also shown transphobia, such as dismissing a trans woman on KMKYWAP - though in more recent shows he seems to have become more relaxed.

However despite this open attitude, Alan has a lot of telling facts about him that hint towards the fact he is heavily repressed in his own sexuality.

Let’s talk first about his attitude to trans people. In the I'm Alan Partridge episode Watership Alan, it is revealed Alan watched a short bit of a porno film titled “Bangkok Chickboys” to which he denies to the staff of the hotel. As the conversation goes on, it becomes more and more obvious that Alan watched this on purpose.

Now it’s important to understand the meaning of “chickboy”. Chickboy in this refers to the term kathoey. In English it has two meanings - trans women or effeminate gay men. In Thailand, the term can also mean being intersex.

Another thing of note is that the term is also named “ladyboy” and this is how they are referred to throughout the series. It is made very clear that the meaning of “ladyboy” to Alan is trans women. Alan seems to express some sexual interest, if the above example and his fascination suffice.

—

One of the biggest mysteries of I'm Alan Partridge is what is in the drawer of Alan’s desk.

Episode 1: Lynn: For example, in this drawer… (opens the drawer and pauses, shocked) You, er… you have, er, things, and um… sometimes, you have too many things. (Later in the conversation) Alan: They were there when I moved in.

While Armando Iannucci says that the contents of Alan’s drawer are of magazines of fat women on the toilet (in Dutch) this doesn’t really seem to make sense given Alan’s disgust of “water sports”.

Steve Coogan, Alan’s actor, says in contrast in the commentary for the show that the contents of the drawer is a plastic cock.

However it should be important to know that it was never decided what was really in the drawer. Honestly it’s completely up to interpretation of the viewer, though it very much leans towards something that implies Alan’s repressed sexuality.

Throughout season 1 of IAP, Alan has daydreams where he is acting as a stripper for someone important, most of the time Tony Hayers. Alan seems perfectly willing to let himself act this way in these daydreams, despite the fact that in the real world he has a clear hatred for these people.

Episode 1: Daydream Alan: Would you like me to lap dance for you? Daydream Hayers: (offers money) Daydream Alan: Nuh-uh. I want a second series.

Alan seems to also have some kind of celebrity crush on Roger Moore. He notes him in KMKYWAP as his favourite Bond actor and keeps a framed picture of him in his room at the Travel Tavern. It is also revealed that he keeps this portrait of Moore in his daydreams.

One thing that’s important to know regarding Alan’s sexuality is his relationship with Michael.

While Michael never refers to Alan other than “Mr Partridge” and Alan treats Michael with some disdain, the two have a notably strong bond, with Alan even calling him a friend.

In This Time, we look at Alan’s photo gallery. While his gallery contains photos of, among several things, pictures of Noel Edmonds and Alan posing with a car, one of the photos in Alan’s gallery is Michael, followed by a drawing of him.

The fact there’s a drawing of Michael is very telling. Michael tended to not have any real friends apart from Alan, so it can be implied this is Alan’s own drawing of Michael. But then, why did Alan draw Michael? It seems a tad odd.

When Alan and Michael finally reunite after the latter being missing for a decade in From the Oasthouse, Alan is clearly very happy to see him.

Alan: Oh my god. It’s ringing. I think I might have solved it. … nah, he’s absolutely going to hate- Hello? Michael: Hello? Alan: Michael? Michael: Aye. Alan: Oh my god, oh my god- Michael… it’s- it’s- it’s Alan. […] Michael: Oh hello Mr Partridge! Alan: Yeah, that’s me! Yeah! I knew you’d remember! Michael: Aye. Alan: I- oh my god, I can’t believe I’m talking to you. Michael: Aye. Alan: I can’t believe I’m actually speaking to you. […] Alan: It’s actually you. You didn’t drown then! Michael: Me? No. Alan: Are you alright? Michael: Aye. Alan: Oh I’m glad because we- we used to have fantastic chats didn’t we? […] Alan (after the call is over): Ah, that was amazing. I got goosebumps again now.

While Alan has had friendships (Simon) and rivalries (Simon & Clifton), Michael is the one friend he’s had permanently over his time in the franchise, and is one of the few main recurring characters - alongside Lynn.

—

Anyway thanks for reading my lil analysis on this silly little pathetic guy /aff. Hope you enjoyed reading, and I hope it gave you something to think about.

#alan partridge #hänsel analysis #sexuality analysis

[camerica]

@lamentingwclf

Steve hasn't slept properly in weeks though he's tried. The world's gone dark on HYDRA and James Buchanan Barnes. They call him The Winter Soldier and every time he hears it, his insides feel like becoming outsides. He can see how they'd get it wrong, can't really blame them, can he? They don't know what he knows.

It's been a month and a half already and the silence is deafening when he walks in the room and has to relive the broadcast of the event over and over and over again. You'd think a guy would be desensitized by now, how much news channels love to play it back and analyze it like they know who they're talking about.

Steve doesn't think he'll ever get used to the cold indifference on his best friends face. Then the terror. They'd left him to kill or be killed, left him to hang there and plummet with their failures into the Potomac.

But he hadn't. Even better, he'd saved Steve Roger's life. There had to be something left in him of the man they tried to strip down.

So when Tony tentatively shows him a distorted video of a piss poor excuse of a camera in some far away place that was taken three days ago, they don't have to exchange a word. He's suited up and hunting down the lead like he can sniff out the scent.

The lead is a dead end, of course. They always are. Bucky's a ghost in the wind every single time. But at least ghosts leave behind stories. Sightings. Bucky doesn't. Every track is disguised as someone else and he's not half as smart as the man himself but it leads him to a small little town, a village really, high up in the mountains where it's always cold.

He'd caught wind someone looking like Bucky had been sighted in a tavern recently, and though his gut is telling him this is just another god damn dead end, he's sipping his pint in a quiet and dark corner waiting.

#lamentingwclf

[pers-books]

Far away and long ago, when dragons still existed and the only arcade game was ping-pong in black and white, a wizard cautiously entered a smoky tavern in the evil, ancient, foggy city of Morpork...

A truly unmissable set of unearthed stories from the pen of Sir Terry Pratchett: award-winning and bestselling author, and creator of the phenomenally successful Discworld series.

Twenty early short stories by one of the world's best loved authors, narrated by David Tennant, Claire Foy, Steffan Rhodri, Jon Culshaw, Derek Jacobi, David Jason, Katherine Parkinson, Paterson Joseph, Hattie Morahan, Indira Varma, Tony Robinson, Nigel Planer, Maggie Service, Stephen Briggs, Rhianna Pratchett, Jason Watkins, Richard Coyle, Mathew Baynton and Rob Wilkins. With a foreword by Neil Gaiman, and an introduction by Colin Smythe.

These are rediscovered tales that Pratchett wrote under a pseudonym for newspapers during the 1970s and 1980s. Whilst none are set in the Discworld, they hint towards the world he would go on to create, containing all of his trademark wit, satirical wisdom and fantastic imagination.

Meet Og the inventor, the first caveman to cultivate fire, as he discovers the highs and lows of progress; haunt the Ministry of Nuisances with the defiant evicted ghosts of Pilgarlic Towers; visit Blackbury, a small market town with weird weather and an otherworldly visitor; and go on a dangerous quest through time and space with hero Kron, which begins in the ancient city of Morpork...

A STROKE OF THE PEN is a must-have collection for fans of all ages.

Out October 10, 2023.

#GNU Terry Pratchett #Audiobook: A Stroke of the Pen #Hattie Morahan #Rhianna Pratchett #David Tennant #Derek Jacobi #Claire Foy #Jon Culshaw #Tony Robinson #Indira Varma #Paterson Joseph #Mathew Baynton

[theodoresgirl]

Welcome to my Master List Link 2 Pinned/Intro

What I Write - GirlxGuy sfw/NSFW

What I will try to Write for you - GuyxGuy sfw/NSFW GirlxGirl sfw

What i can't write - GirlxGirl NSFW

I tend to write from a female or gender neutral POV unless its stated otherwise. Below is a list and links to my already written story's, and below that is lists and or ideas of who I write for.

Flynn Rider / Eugene Fitzherbert

Secret Romance - Sleepy!Eugene x F!Reader Villagers AU / Secret Romance

Moon Light - Eugene x Fem!Reader Part 2 , Villagers AU / Secret Romance

Bucky Barnes

Love Triangle - You and Bucky have a 6 year old daughter, But your love didn’t really work out on both ends.

Killian Jones / Captain Hook

Tavern Waitress - Killian Jones x Fem!Tavern worker!Reader / Killian and his crew come into your fathers tavern.

Lady Edith - Killian Jones x Snows!Daughter!Reader + 3 year old daughter

Odd Cat - Killian Jones x Cheshire Cat!Reader / Killian meets the Cheshire cat and he's completely in love with her strange personality and creepy appearance.

Just Shut Up - Killian Jones x Cheshire Cat!Reader / Killian and Cheshire meet again in story-broke after kitty falls into a body of water.

Theodore Nott

Burn - Theodore Nott x Female!Reader Hamiliton au 🙏🏻 / Reader finds out about Theodores affair he made public.

WIP’s

Tangled

Flynn Rider/Eugene Fitzherbert Rapunzel Mother Gothel

The Little Mermaid

Ariel Eric ( 1989 & Live Action ) Possibly Ariel's Sisters

Frozen

Anna Elsa Kristoff Hans

Beauty and The Beast

Belle Beast Gaston

Once Upon a Time

Killian Jones

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

Golden Trio era

Draco Malfoy Ron Weasley Fred & George Weasley Hermione Granger

*FAN CASTS* Matheo Riddle Theodore Nott

The Marauders era

Regulus Black

Marvel

Bucky Barnes Steve Rogers Natasha Romanoff Peter Parker/Tom Tony Stark Loki Laufeyson Thor Odinson

Scooby Doo

Shaggy Rogers Fred Jones Velma Dinkley Daphne Blake

Twilight

Jacob Black

The Vampire Diaries

Damon Salvatore Bonnie Bennett Jeremy Gilbert

NCIS

Jethero Gibbs

Law & Order: SVU

Elliot Stabler Dominick Carisi Rafael Barba Nick Amaro Odafin Tutuola

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid Derek Morgan Aaron Hotchner

My Hero Academia

Dabi Katsuki Bakugou

Dividers, repost divider By saradika

Word Dividers by CafeKitsune

#last updated: Jan 5th 2024 #disney x reader #fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #harrypotter x reader #marvel x reader #disney x yn #flynnriderfanfic #flynn rider x reader #flynn rider x yn #tvd #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diaries x yn #tvd x reader #tvd x yn #beauty and the beast #frozen #frozen 2 #elsa #anna #hans #scooby doo #scooby doo x reader #scooby doo x yn

[still-single]

CHICAGO TUMBLRS … trying to get this whole enterprise started again before the next pandemic claims us all. Come out, dance, have fun, let me help you with that. Schubas Tavern, upstairs in the lounge, Friday night.

This week’s radio show is as follows:

HOUR 1

Sandy Bull – Gospel Tune

Tetuzi Akiyama – Don’t Forget to Boogie

Big Blood – Infinite Space

Wireheads – Persistent Resistance

Andrea – Lush in End (Drum Version)

Max Berlin – Elle et Moi

Faizal Mostrixx – SandMan

Alternative – Anti Christ

Sweeping Promises – Can’t Hide It

Maximum Joy – Building Bridges/Building Dub

Colin Stetson – One Day in the Sun

Magnum Force – Get in the Mix

 

HOUR 2

San – Show Me (Club Mix)

Mya & the Mirror – Hesitation

Omni – Out of My Hands (Love’s Taken Over)

Codek – Tam Tam (Daniele Baldelli & Marco Dionigi Remix A)

Loose Joints – Tell You Today

Croatian Amor – Dancer

M. Sage – Map to Here

The Buoys – Timothy

Michael Rother – Feuerland

Maoupa Mazzocchetti – Robert Likes My Texan Hat

Cabaret Voltaire – Spread the Virus

B-Movie – Nowhere Girl

Jeff Beck – The Pump

 

HOUR 3

Arthur Russell – In the Light of a Miracle

Equiknoxx Music – Your Ears Are Not Very Small

TLC – Creep

The Particles – Truth About You

Lewsberg – Without a Doubt

Louise Huebner – Seduction Spells From Around the World

Bruhaha Babelico – Bruhaha II

The Fucking Champs – ROM

Fuzzhead – Stay Sane

Tony Joe White – Stud-Spider

The Toads – Gimme Little More

Dzyan – Time Machine

HOGG – Mucus

Syd Barrett – No Good Trying

#mosurock #chicago #chirpradio #heathendisco #schubas #djing #live #dancing

[reforgedzine]

@hddnone is one of our amazing guest writers for the zine! Check out this preview:

The tavern was busy, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief as his lone entrance went unnoticed. As he waited behind the crowd at the bar, he cased the room for its important points: back door, no guards, and a man in a blue coat nice enough to impress a sneak.

Check, check, and—with one woman in his lap and another at his shoulder, together almost blocking the blue of the coat—check.

Tony paid for two mugs of ale and forced his way over to the Blue Coat Man with sharp smiles and sharper elbows.

It was promising. The man was broad and burly enough to be a believable sailor. The coat was nice—like Harley said—and spoke of money, though not enough for Tony’s usual level of society. And for the conclusive piece—There. A flash of a silver hook where a left hand should be marking this man as Bucky Barnes, first mate on The Avenger, and Tony’s ticket out of this blasted port before the bars clanged shut on his cage.

SHOP NOW

#winteriron #tonybucky #buckytony #bucky x tony #zine #fanzine #marvel fanzine #fanfic #charity fanzine #bucky barnes #tony stark

[jules-has-notes]

Beauty & the Bieber (Unexpected Musical) — PattyCake Productions music video

Continuing their signature style of combining childhood classics with modern music, the PattyCake guys decided to tackle a tale as old as time for their next project. In addition to Justin Bieber's melodies and the musical motifs from the 1991 animated film, they also included elements from the forthcoming 2017 live action remake.

Details:

title: Unexpected Musicals — Beauty and the Bieber

performers: Jamie Fritz (Belle); Earl Elkins, Jr. (Beast); E. Michael Evans (Gaston); Joey D'Angelo-LaJoie (LaFou); Alexander Browne (Lumiere); Brad Pettitt (Prince Adam); Leah Lowman (village girls); Anita Wakim (Enchantress)

original songs / performers: [0:15] "I'll Show You" by Justin Bieber; [0:53] "Baby" by Justin Bieber, feat. Ludacris; [1:09] "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber; [1:21] "Never Say Never" by Justin Bieber, feat. Jaden; [2:12] "Boyfriend" by Justin Bieber; [2:36] "Company" by Justin Bieber; [3:30] "Beauty and a Beat" by Justin Bieber, feat. Nicki Minaj; [4:10] "Sorry" by Justin Bieber; [4:22] "Let Me Love You" by DJ Snake, feat. Justin Bieber; [4:44] "Cold Water" by Major Lazer, feat. Justin Bieber & MØ

written by: "I'll Show You" by Justin Bieber, Michael "BloodPop" Tucker, Sonny "Skrillex" Moore, Theron "Neff-U" Feemster, & Joshua Gudwin; "Baby" by Justin Bieber, Christopher "Tricky" Stewart, Terius "The-Dream" Nash, Christopher "Ludacris" Bridges, & Christina Milian; "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber, Benjamin "Benny Blanco" Levin, & Ed Sheeran; "Never Say Never" by Adam "Messy" Messinger, Nasri Atweh, Thaddis "Kuk" Harrell, Jaden Smith, Omarr Rambert, & Justin Bieber; "Boyfriend" by Mike Posner, Mason Levy, Matthew "Blackbear" Musto, & Justin Bieber; "Company" by Justin Bieber, Andreas Schuller, James Wong, Leroy Clampitt, Jason "Poo Bear" Boyd, James "JHart" Abrahart, & Thomas Troelsen; "Beauty and a Beat" by Max Martin, Anton "Zedd" Zaslavski, Savan Kotecha, & Nicki Minaj; "Sorry" by Justin Bieber, Michael "BloodPop" Tucker, Sonny "Skrillex" Moore, Justin Tranter, & Julia Michaels; "Let Me Love You" by William "DJ Snake" Grigahcine, Justin Bieber, Andrew "Watt" Wotman, Ali Tamposi, Brian Lee, & Louis Bell; "Cold Water" by Thomas "Diplo" Pentz, Justin Bieber, Karen Marie "MØ" Ørsted, Benjamin "Benny Blanco" Levin, "King Henry" Allen, Philip "Jr Blender" Meckseper, Ed Sheeran, & Jamie Scott

arranged by: Layne Stein & Tony Wakim

release date: 17 March 2017

My favorite bits:

combining the rhythmic strings and the villagers' greetings from "Belle" with the melody for "I'll Show You"

Belle explicitly giving Gaston the brush-off

the tinkling minor motif from the animated movie as Belle enters the castle

Earl's fantastic growl at the end of "Never Say Never"

LaFou's gleeful fawning over Gaston and dancing on the tables

the sneaky ♫ "May-be" ♫ from "Company" overlapping with the tavern scene and leading into the "Be Our Guest" instrumentation

the Beast's lovely vulnerability during the dinner and dancing

using the crunchy horn motif from "Battle on the Tower" to create menace in this version of "Let Me Love You"

Earl's voice being layered over the final lyrics after the transformation

Trivia:

○ The obvious starting point for this project was Jusin Beiber's "Beauty and a Beat", which Tony and Layne had performed as part of VoicePlay's "Wow! Vol. 1" medley during the 2015 Sing-Off tour, but one song does not a full plot make. The guys delved into his extended catalogue to find songs that fit certain story beats and would blend well with the animated movie's score.

○ This was an incredibly ambtious undertaking. According to the PattyCake guys, preparations took five months, and filming spanned "six long days" (and nights, clearly).

○ All that hard work paid off, though, since they were able to time their YouTube release for the same day that the Emma Watson movie hit theaters.

○ VoicePlay recorded a Beauty and the Beast medley for "Once Upon an Ever After" (2012), their first album with Tony as a member of the group. Excerpts from that arrangement later appeared in their music videos "Be Our Guest", "Aca Top 10 – Disney Sidekicks", and "Aca Top 10 – Disney Villains". They also included "Belle" in their "Aca Top 10 – Broadway" countdown.

○ "Love Yourself" was the first song in VoicePlay's PartWork series, which they started as preparation for Tony leaving the group.

○ Layne occasionally used "Baby" as his interruption at the end of VoicePlay's "Road Trip" medley / comedy sketch.

○ On top of their usual studio work, this production required multiple location shoots:

The outdoor village scenes were filmed at the Casa Feliz museum.

Beast's castle interior was the Ballroom at Church Street, which closed in 2019, and was demolished 2023.

The tavern was an actual bar, the Tap Room at Dubsdread.

○ Between the main cast and dozens of background folks, they needed so many costumes that Tony enlisted his sister Anita to help wrangle them all.

○ There are several of Tony's fellow "Beetlejuice Revue" alumni among the main cast:

Michael (Gaston) played Dracula and Frankenstein's monster.

Joey (LaFou) played Wolfman and Dracula.

Brad (Prince Adam) was a dancer in the final "Mashup" iteration of the show.

○ There are also many friends and family among background cast and crew, including several cast members from previous Unexpected Musicals. Olivia Adkins and Leah Lowman are among the village crowd as Snow White and Cinderella. Rachel Copeland and Matthew Buckner are in the tavern crowd, but not as their previous characters. Many of the other villagers were clubgoers in "Hocus Heathens".

○ This video got a nice write-up on Huffington Post.

#PattyCake Productions #series: Unexpected Musicals #music video #jukebox musical #music medley #music #video

[nightmdic]

He's here to visit someone - more specifically, Marie, whose recent letter had stated she would be traversing nearby. It's been near years since he's properly seen her, & though the tavern itself is one that's familiar to both himself as well as some of the other Gyptian men around him, there's a curiosity to some of the patrons there.

The lioness daemon at his side seems to be doing just the same thing, looking from daemon to daemon as other's pass by.

It's when Tony's gaze flickers to Asriel that it halts, head tilting rather curiously. Most around here were locals; a traveler or two wasn't entirely uncommon, but enough to have anyone curious to newcomers.

@asrielbelacquaaaa get a tony mcashten!

#asrielbelacquaaaa

[rotworld]

27: Strictly Business

what do hitmen get up to when they aren't on the job? you know. you wish you didn't.

->explicit. contains noncon, organized crime, gore, implied murder, graphic descriptions of corpses, workplace harassment, emotional sadism.

.

.

.

“BODY IN SUITCASE IDENTIFIED AS POLICE INFORMANT,” screams the biggest, boldest font on the Tuesday front page spread. The photo is quietly unnerving, an artsy still life shot of waterlogged, conspicuously stained softside luggage sitting on a pier, sunset sparkling on the metal zippers. Hazel’s fingers are blocking the juiciest bit of the story as she ignores it entirely to scoff at the opinion column, her gray hair twisted into a bun and her flour-dusted apron crumpled on her lap. You drift by with a washrag to tidy up the crumb and spilled pop remnants of an eight year old’s birthday party. The evening news plays at an inaudible level above the bar. 

“It’s nothing to worry about, hon,” she says. She’s been watching you scrub at the same spotless corner of the table for a minute straight. There’s a reporter on TV gesturing at a dock blocked off with yellow tape, and a blue-striped police boat cruising through the harbor.

“That’s close to here,” you say. 

“Anything worth talking about happens close to here. The Waterfront District’s a busy place.” 

“Busy,” you scoff. Busy is standstill traffic and half-hour restaurant waits, not corpses that have to be fished out of a lake or blood and brain matter on public restroom mirrors. You wipe down the bar counter in front of her, glancing at the newspaper with a tight frown. “I don’t know how that stuff doesn’t scare you.” 

“If I got scared by every old thing, I would’ve died of heart failure by now,” she says. She folds the paper so you stop looking at it, fishing another candy-wrapped wad of gum from her pocket. She’s trying to quit smoking, gradually replacing the ashy tobacco scent of her clothes with Dubble Bubble. “You a narc?” 

“What? No,” you sputter. 

“Then don’t worry so much.”

Easy for her to say. She grew up here. Her face is smiling in the faded photographs along the back wall with the original waitstaff from the 70s. You just got here a couple years ago for school and it feels like somebody’s getting killed in new, gruesome ways every time you look up. Things go in cycles. It’ll be uneventful for months at a time and then it’s like the city gets restless, churning out half a dozen bodies in just a few days. Last month, your biggest concern was finals, and now four bodies have turned up in the Waterfront District in a little under a week. 

“It’s business, I’ll bet,” Hazel says absently, glancing at the TV. “That’s why it always picks up around the same time of year. Their version of downsizing or something.” Her response isn’t all that unusual. Most people are either completely numb to it or relishing in it like the shock jocks on the local radio shows. A few weeks ago, it turned out that some abandoned shack on the north side had been converted into a torture chamber, complete with drawerfuls of surgical equipment, chains and shackles affixed to the walls, and something so unspeakably bad in the bathroom that even the crime scene photodumps that ended up online came pre-censored. 

You came into work a little jumpy and sleep-deprived Hazel had been sitting at the bar with her pile of empty gum wrappers, glancing over the story in the paper with no more perturbation than someone who’d smelled something mildly unpleasant. 

“Customers,” Hazel tells you. She calls it five whole seconds before the bells over the door jingle. 

You smooth out your apron and march to the front with your best customer service smile, happy to have a distraction. “Welcome to the Goldilocks Tavern! Are we dining in toni—?” Your voice catches behind a lump in your throat that refuses to budge. 

The man is a regular. He looks absurd standing in a family restaurant wearing a tailored designer suit that belongs in a board meeting, slipping off his sunglasses and glancing at the TV in the corner. Mid-length wavy hair tickles the base of his neck, slightly tousled from the wind outside. He smiles at you and that blinding enthusiasm, the cheerful little wink, makes your stomach twist. “Evening,” he says. “Table for three, please.” 

It’s Valerio fucking Burke and he brought friends. 

“Mr. Burke! Where’ve you been lately?” Hazel calls. She sees you floundering and swoops in to the rescue, ambling over to make conversation as you collect yourself. You collect three menus with numb, shaking hands, completely on autopilot. You’re not ready for Valerio on a good day, let alone a day when the news cycle has been nothing but mob atrocities. The problem isn’t that he’s a bad customer, because he’s not. He’s perfect. He’s patient, he’s polite, he tips great, he’s all smiles the whole night, and it bothers the fuck out of you because you know. You know and you have to pretend you don’t.

“Oh, you know. Always a little hectic this time of year,” Valerio says mildly. “You’d be surprised how cutthroat it gets. Hard to find company loyalty these days. Lots of employee overturn, lots of new hires. I’ve been putting in a lot of overtime.”

Yeah, you fucking bet he has.

Hazel keeps him talking while you fumble for the silverware and napkin sets, and you sneak a few glances. You’ve never seen the other two before. The guy on his left is massive, taller, wider, eyeing the tavern with a nasty scowl like the place owes him money, dark hair tied in a low ponytail. The guy on his right is shorter and the only one dressed remotely appropriately in sneakers and a striped jacket and pants from mismatched tracksuits. Sandy bangs hang in his face and there are freckles on his cheek and across the bridge of his nose. He’s got a round, boyish face, admiring the kitschy tavern decor with a small smile. 

You’re completely unprepared for his gaze to flick to yours with magnetic speed, like he knew you were staring all along. He stares blankly for a minute, sizing you up. His eyes move down and back up again, a smirk slowly creeping across his face. 

Hazel’s stalled as long as she can and she’s jabbing her elbow into your side as subtly as possible. “Right this way,” you tell the men. Valerio smiles. The big guy looks at you with something you can’t quite call a glare, but it’s intense and uncomfortable and makes you feel threatened. The other one flashes you a grin. The same instinct that would warn you not to turn your back on a snarling wolf kicks in hard but you make yourself walk, leading them to a quiet table in the back. You’d love to get through this as quickly as possible without a lot of chit chat, but when you get to the table, Valerio’s got that look that tells you it’s not going to work that way.

“I don’t think you’ve met my coworkers,” he says as he slides into his seat. He’s graceful like a trained dancer, dextrous fingers quickly unrolling the napkin and arranging his silverware in a few blurred movements. “This is Ezra Doroshenko. We’ve been in the same department for—has it been a decade now?”

“A long, long decade,” Ezra mutters. He’s still almost-glaring as he studies the menu. He cracks his neck so loud that it makes you flinch. He lets out an amused huff while skimming the specials. “Could never get Miguel in here. He’d have an aneurysm over the pizza.”

“Miguel can suck a dick, they’ve got Neapolitan on every fucking corner around here,” the other guy snaps. He flashes a smile that is, admittedly, disarmingly cute and rests his chin against the back of his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says, his eyes flicking down to your nametag. He purrs your name in a way that makes your face feel as hot as the sun. “Val’s been holding out on us. I woulda been here months ago if I knew the waiters were cute.” 

“Brooks Macbride,” Valerio introduces him with fond exasperation. “He’s new. Apologies in advance, he’s mouthy.” 

“Shut the fuck up, I am not.” 

You inch away from the table just slightly and freeze like a deer in headlights when all three of them pin you in place with their eyes. “How’ve you been?” Valerio asks smoothly. “How’s school? You’re almost done now, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, uh.” You glance from him to Ezra, who seems to be making an active effort to ignore you, and Brooks, who’s way too interested and watching your every move. You’d rather they know as little about you as possible. “Um…well, it’s going alright…”

“Hazel, can you turn it up?” Ezra calls across the restaurant. You’re surprised to see her at the bar still. Normally, she’d be in the kitchen already, but she’s fussing with the counter that you just cleaned, watching you with muted worry. Your heart skips a beat. You’re not in danger, are you? Valerio’s never done anything particularly threatening, but you don’t know the other two from a hole in the wall. Hazel nods and grabs the remote from under the bar, cranking up the TV volume until you can hear the matter-of-fact tone of the newsroom anchors. 

“…statement this afternoon said that while this is unquestionably a homicide investigation, they believe that the murder is ‘unlikely’ to be connected to organized crime. This is the second body to be recovered from Lake Michigan and the fifth found in the Waterfront District…”

“Unlikely,” Ezra snorts.

“Well, Chief Davis said there’d be fewer mob murders on his watch,” Valerio muses. “Wouldn’t look great if that wasn’t the case, now would it?”

Brooks groans. “You guys need fucking hobbies. Can we not talk shop over dinner?” 

They’re distracted. You try to make your escape as casually as possible, but you’re speedwalking by the time you get to the bar. “They’re talking about it,” you tell Hazel in a hissed whisper, “right in front of me!” 

She pours three glasses of water and pushes them across the counter. “Ignore it,” she says.

“How?!” 

There’s no time to strategize. Valerio’s waving you back over with a sickly sweet, “Excuse me!” and Hazel frowns tightly but sends you back to their table with the water. “You’ve got to try Hazel’s onion rings,” he’s telling the others when you get there. “Could we get a large to split, please?” You scramble for your notepad and pen. “Are you alright? You seem a bit frazzled.” 

“Yeah!” you say quickly. “Yeah, I’m good. Right, onions rings. Anything else to get you started?”

Say no, you plead silently.

The news has shifted to an interview with a terse police detective begrudgingly giving up a few details on the recent murders, and all you can hear is an unentused murmur of, “…broken bones, partial flaying, trauma to the groin area, and we know the victim was alive for the majority of the time…”

Valerio lets out a long, thoughtful hum, perusing the menu way too long for someone who has it memorized front to back, and finally, finally says, “That’s all for now, thank you.” 

You give Hazel the order and hide in the bathroom. You just need a minute. You take deep breaths until your pulse is back to normal and slump against the sinks. He’s toying with you, he has to be. There’s no way he can’t tell how uncomfortable you are. In all your time at the Goldilocks Tavern, Valerio’s never threatened you, pushed you around or even made thinly-veiled threats. But he loves seeing you squirm. He pushes for conversation more on nights where you’re already stressed and run ragged, and you’d assume he was trying to make you feel better if you hadn’t dealt with him so many times. He knows he isn’t helping. He doesn’t care. 

“You okay, cutie?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin. You didn’t hear anybody come in, but Brooks is standing right behind you, impish smile reflected in the mirror. You lunge for the bathroom door but he’s faster, yanking you back by the wrist. If Valerio’s a dancer, Brooks is a fucking assassin. He has you shoved up against the sink, the hard counter digging into your back, and a pocket knife right up against your throat faster than you can scream. He presses his index finger to his lips and you take that as your one and only warning to keep your mouth shut. 

“Pants off,” he orders. You swallow hard. His smile is absolutely frigid as he moves the knife right under your jaw. Trembling, you do as he says, holding his smoldering gaze as you lift one leg out, and then the other. The fabric puddles around your ankles. Brooks turns you around, shirt and apron still on, and bends you over the sink. You let out a whimper when you hear a zipper descending and the knife comes back against the side of your neck.

“Valerio gets off on it, y’know,” he murmurs. “When you look all scared and shit, he fucking loves that. But he’s not gonna touch you. He’s gotta keep up his reputation or whatever.” Brooks chuckles, grabbing your ass and squeezing so hard you’re sure it’ll bruise. “I sure as fuck don’t, though.” 

He blankets himself against your back and knocks your legs apart, grunting as he wraps his fist around his soft cock. You can’t do anything but sit there and listen to him pant and moan as he strokes himself, the knife hovering dangerously close to your flesh. You try to keep your gaze down—on the sink, on nothing, but Brooks stops jacking off just to grab your hair with his precum-slicked fingers and force you to look in the mirror. 

“Uh-uh. You’ve gotta watch,” he says, laughing at the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. He likes that, you can tell, because he starts fucking your thighs with his half-hard cock from the sight alone. “You and your big fuckin’ doe eyes. You can’t go around looking like a prime cut of meat like that! Somebody’s gonna come along and take a bite.” Inevitably, he ends up grinding against your sex and you’re hyperaware of the twitching veins along his length, how they feel rubbing on your sensitive flesh. A miserable noise that’s almost a moan slips out and you hear a cackle before he sets the knife down on the counter.

“Yeah?” he coos. “You like that? You want it in you?” He grabs your hips with both hands and you start squirming when he lines himself up. That earns you another harsh, scalp-burning tug on your hair. “I’m going easy on you,” he says. He strokes the knife handle with his index finger. “Okay? So calm down. If I did what I really wanted to do, you wouldn’t be walking out of here. But I’m gonna be nice, because Val said I have to be. I think he liiiiiikes you.” 

He sees the desperation flicker across your eyes in your reflection and the knife is in his hand again before a cry for help can slip out. You don’t doubt that he’ll stab you and leave you here to bleed out, no matter what Valerio said. Brooks seems satisfied by your soft, stifled sobs, tears gathering on the counter under your cheeks. He doesn’t prepare you. He holds you at knifepoint while he shoves his cock into your clenched entrance, forcing past your resistance with hard, violent thrusts. The slap of skin echoes in the bathroom and your nails scrape over the counter, desperate for something to hold onto and get you through the pain. 

“Fuuuuuck, you feel good,” Brooks moans. He brings his free hand down across your ass, the slap as sharp and startling as the sudden, stinging pain. It’s humiliating to see your tear-streaked face in the mirror, gasping and flinching in time with Brooks’ punishing thrusts. He’s utterly shameless, a crooked smile on his face as he pumps his hips and squeezes your ass, digging his nails into your flesh. “When Val finally works up the balls to fuck you, be sure and tell him I broke you in first. Goddamn you’re tight.” 

His pace is breakneck and absolutely merciless, no buildup, no slow easing, and he keeps changing it up without warning. Just as you start getting used to the constant pounding, he suddenly surges forward and keeps you pinned and still against the counter, his thrusts slow and deep. You can’t hold your voice back anymore but he doesn’t seem to care. The knife is just part of the experience, prodding and scraping dangerously against your throat. He stops and you’re shivering, gasping, trying to catch your breath, as he runs his hand down your back in a mock-soothing gesture. 

“Fuck yourself on my cock,” he murmurs. You don’t want to. You lie there shivering, crying silently against the counter. Brooks drapes himself against your back again, his lips hovering beside your ear. “Wasn’t me, y’know,” he says. He thrusts shallowly, making you whine. “The suitcase? Not my gig. See, ‘cuz I’m not—how the fuck does Val say it? I’m not in their department.” He snickers. 

His hand slithers between your legs and he touches you for the first time. He’s mean about it, too hard, too rough to really feel good, but a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine all the same. You see yourself, your watery, miserable eyes, and Brooks hovering right beside you, smirking. “I work the warehouse,” he says, and your blood runs cold. He watches the expression you make through the mirror, his smirk widening. “Yeah. You get what I’m saying. So when I tell you to do something, I think you should suck it up and fucking do it. You don’t want something bad to happen to you, do you?” 

You shake your head frantically. Brooks coos and kisses your cheek. 

“You’re so fucking sexy when you’re scared,” he says huskily. “So…fuck yourself on my cock. Don’t make me ask again.”

It’s a struggle. Your body is timid, unwilling to go further than light, fleeting passes that just barely kiss his tip. Brooks makes an unimpressed sound in his throat and taps your cheek with the knife. 

“Like you mean it,” he says. Your hopes that he’s just bluffing, that he won’t risk leaving a mark, are dashed when the blade digs into your skin and blood bubbles to the surface, dribbling in thick beads down your chin. “C’mon, cutie. You’re not gonna make me do something messy, are you?” 

So you do it, burning with humiliation. You move your hips and take his cock the best you can, clumsy, shaking, spearing yourself on his length. Brooks is finally satisfied and you’re rewarded with a sensual caress up and down your side before he’s touching your sex again. This time is better. He’s actually trying to make it good and you’re ashamed that he’s succeeding, working you with his fingers in time with your movements. You’re not going to cum, but he is, and that’s all that matters. You just want it to be over. 

Brooks takes over when you start losing pace, your exhausted body drooping against the counter. “Guess I picked on you enough today,” he says. He drops the knife and suddenly he’s gripping both of your arms, tugging them behind your back. You’re dragged upright and straight into his unforgiving, jackhammering pace. You hear your bodies meeting, the rhythmic slap of his hips against you filling the bathroom. You look like a wreck and Brooks is utterly blissed out, eyes half-lidded as he bites his bottom lip to stifle a moan. He pounds you into the counter and you know there’ll be bruises all over your thighs and stomach when this is over, maybe even your ass with how hard he’s thrusting into you. 

You don’t get much of a warning when he cums. His thrusts get uneven and then he’s groaning, yanking you back against him hard and holding you there, squirming and gasping, while he fills you. You end up with your face against the counter, shoved forward with such hard, punishing movements that you’re driven onto your toes. He doesn’t stop until he’s spent everything he has, and then he staggers back, softening cock slipping out of you with a trickling ooze of cum. 

You can’t move. You can’t really think, either, except that it’s over. It’s over, and the counter is smooth and cool against your sweaty skin, and you lived through that somehow. Brooks snatches his knife and you don’t look at him, don’t want to know what the fuck he’s doing. He zips his pants up, washes his hands, and then leans against the counter. He doesn’t leave. 

“Soooooo,” he says, hands in his pockets. “What nights do you work?” 

He’s out of his goddamned mind if he thinks you’re going to tell him that. You might fucking quit. 

“Fiiiiiine, whatever,” he sighs, like you’re the one being an unreasonable brat. He unlocks the bathroom door and you hear him mutter, “Bet Val knows,” as he leaves.

You’re dressed and vaguely presentable in seconds, rushing back to the table to catch him before Valerio says a fucking words. But you’re too late. You know it just by looking. Ezra looks vaguely amused while Brooks and Valerio are bickering, louder and more aggressively than you’ve ever heard either of them speak. Brooks catches your gaze and winks. Valerio turns and you expect—you don’t know, maybe his usual cool, calm demeanor, a little self-satisfied smirk, maybe feigned concern.

You don’t see any of that. His lips are parted. His pupils are blown. He looks hungry. It takes him a second to collect himself and smooth his expression over with something more approachable, but there’s a sharp edge to his smile that wasn’t there before. 

“I think we know what we’d like for dinner,” he says, his voice noticeably lower than earlier.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #original #paging evil twink anon i was thinking of you today lol

[helianskies]

7, 8 and 17 for the ask game!

[ ask game here! ] - ty cake >:D

7. what's the last thing you read that made you cry?

my mark for my first spanish translation coursework uhh i don't actually know off the top of my head. i haven't read many fandom things recently, and certainly nothing that has actually brought on tears... maybe this is a sign haha

8. bed sharing or roommates au?

bed sharing, probably. it's just funnier to me. throwing their hands up in the air because 'WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE'S ONLY ONE, WE BOOKED A DOUBLE' 'yeah a... a double bed it seems, not room...' (i'm writing that down, nice one helia) and i don't think i've ever done a roommates au myself. the tension's just different (and juicier mwahaha)

17. describe a fic that is still in the 'ideas' stage

i'll be here for a decade. and that's just picking the fic lmao. but... sure! i spun a wheel for this haha :')

so, a fun idea i've had that comes and goes is a highwayman au. i feel like it's an aspect of english history that i've not actually seen done in fandom, but i think it suits Arthur nicely - similarly to how the pirate image suits him. it's that romanticisation of the dangerous and deadly. the rogue who ventures the english countryside on horseback, holding carriages at gunpoint, stealing from the rich, running from the law... it was one of my favourite things from studying GCSE History: Crime & Punishment. will always recommend Horrible Histories' Dick Turpin song for something silly and light-hearted lmao.

back to the fic: of course, one night, mr. highwayman Kirkland might just happen on the carriage of, say... the son of a foreign ambassador. and perhaps Arthur does his work as normal, and perhaps his victim gains a morbid fascination with the perpetrator... or maybe Arthur finds himself not wanting to steal away money and jewels, for once, but a far greater prize. how much would a ransom be, he wonders...

my instinct would naturally be to go with engspa for this fic. maybe that's obvious in hindsight haha. Antonio would be the kind to put up some kind of fight, wanting to defend his family, his honour, his wealth, etc etc. he wouldn't just hand anything over. the back-and-forth would be funny, but Antonio may also see some kind of charm in this mysterious rogue. it's the sort of exchange that could see Toni slung over a horse fairly fast,, wink wonk ;3

but i also think it could lead to an interesting dynamic with Port, who i feel would almost just hand over what he has to Arthur because frankly he doesn't want to be in the miserable country anyway so maybe this will convince his father to let him go home (finally). which is actually quite funny. and if Arthur could promise him adventure, or prove that England isn't all misery, maybe, for a night, Port might just follow him to a tavern, or to a room above an inn...

two options. anyone steal it and i bite your toes >:)

(anyway, i'd say it'd be something short, but you know me. if i start it, it'll unravel and become a 50 chapter work somehow haha,, a whole adventure!)

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