#I am rotating him around in my mind like a microwave

[justagaycryptid]

Haven’t finished Hannibal yet, on episode 4 of season 3, but I fucking hate how Hannibal is just... good at everything. 

Like the bitch doesn’t just play music he composes his own music too. He’s an excellent artist. He’s a gourmet chef. He’s a talented surgeon. A master of words. Somehow just knows fuckin everything. He even swims for gods sake. 

I want to see him be bad at something. 

Like I want to see him put on a pair of skates and then immediately eat shit. 

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie x fem!reader (reader wears lingerie, no other descriptions of reader given except mentioning hitting that spot just right)

Contents: lingerie, both are a lil pervy tbh, humiliation, crying, praise kink, sub!Eddie, this is literally just horny ramblings

18+ only

It wasn't every day you came back to your house and your best friend had broken in. Maybe, every other week at best.

Usually, Eddie would be high eating your snacks (you were thinking about getting a lock for the cabinets). Or he would be watching whatever show you recorded and tease you about spoiling it (you threatened to use the VHS to beat him over the head and strangle him with the VHS ribbon if he did).

But, you had no clue Eddie was even in your house today. His van wasn't parked in your driveway when you came home. His shoes weren't in a haphazard pile at the front door. You had 0 clue he was there.

Not until you heard a thump coming from your bedroom. Which, your first thought went to the knickknacks you had that someone could be stealing (they wouldn't cause to a normal person it was junk but to you they were memories).

You grabbed a knife from the kitchen (you weren't gonna die without a fight, besides you learned a thing or two from the horror movies Eddie made you watch). You quietly pushed your bedroom door open and-

Shit.

Eddie was standing in your room in front of your mirror. Miles of pale skin just on display, scattered with contrasting dark tattoos he had. Nothing on, save for your lilac lingerie.

The palest purple lace bra, you can see from the back isn't even clipped correctly, missing the hook entirely. But the color is striking on Eddie. The lace thong cuts high on Eddie's ass, and you try not to gawk at the little black heart tattooed on his cheek. Eddie's scars seem softer amongst the lace.

How often did Eddie do this? Come over and put on your lingerie? Stand in front of the mirror and rub his fingers over his one hardened nipple. You couldn't see from where you were, but you knew his cock was hard. He'd be leaking all over your underwear, marking them.

Eddie lets out a little moan and it ignites a fire in your gut. You lick you lips as you watch Eddie, which maybe makes you a pervert but really it is your house and he is wearing your clothes so if anyone is-

Fuck why is it so hot?

"So-" you clear your throat. Eddie let's out a screech (that you are pretty sure ruined your eardrums) as he whirls around. He tries to cover himself with his arms, curls in on himself. And Holy cow he is hard.

He is big, so big, the tip just peeking out of the waistband of the panties. You can see the pearly translucent precum already dripping onto the underwear.

"I- fuck, I'm aha listen I can exp- i can explain!" Eddie fumbles over his words. You blink a few times tearing your eyes away from his massive dick (oh it would feel so good it would hit every spot just right).

Eddie's face is red, tears welling up in his eyes. "Oh Baby, no," you rush over, pausing when Eddie flinches. You gently put a hand out on Eddie's shoulder, drawing him into a hug, " It's- it's okay. Please don't cry." "Don't hate me." You gasp in shock, pulling back to look in his eyes," I could never!"

Eddie's eyes are wet, filled with unshed tears. His nose is turning a bit red, from embarrassment, shame, or sadness you can't tell. But his cheeks are such a pretty pink you think it'd look nice elsewhere on his pale skin.

Eddie hides his face with his hair, shuffling his feet a bit. "So..." you pause unsure how to ask it politely so you just go for it," I can see this is a kink thing...but like, what kind?"

Eddie shrugs," Wanted to feel pretty..." You frown," You are pretty Eddie." Eddie shakes his head and gestures to his abdomen," Not with these."

Eddie really should not be drawing your eyes any further south then his face. Cause your pulse kicks up and the fire inside you lights back up your spine. You can't help but notice his dick is still hard as a rock.

"You are too pretty." "Not really." "Yes!" Not-" You shove Eddie lightly, causing him to stumble back and fall onto the bed. Eddie's eyes widen in shock as he peers up at you.

"Don't talk about my best friend that way! You are too pretty. And handsome. Funny. So talented," You sigh and step forward, into Eddie's parted legs. Eddie leans up on his elbows and blinks rapidly at you. "You're so fucking pretty Baby." You murmur, hand reaching out lightly touching his thigh.

Eddie let's out a whine before looking startled at himself. You can't help but notice his dick twitch under the pale purple lace. "You like being called pretty?" You smirk. "Like when you call me Baby," Eddie replies softly.

You aren't sure who moves first, but suddenly your arms are wrapped around each other. Your lips meet Eddie's without hesitation. His are slightly chapped but still soft, molding perfectly against your own.

You run your hand down Eddie's neck, to the pale bra strap and snap it. He gasps and you take the chance, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of weed, mint gum, and just Eddie.

Eddie moans against you, hips bucking forward seeking friction. You pull back, gasping for air. Eddie let's out a whine," No, come back-" "I ain't going anywhere Baby."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut as he bites his lip. He hums as you kiss his jaw, lightly nipping at his pulse point. He shivers against you, hips bucking forward again. You suck lightly as you decide to give him some relief.

Your hand snakes down, grasping him firmly. You lightly squeeze through the lace, giving just enough friction as you move your hand.

"Look so good in my lingerie Baby, you should wear it more often." You murmur between kisses. Eddie nods absently, gasping and moaning beneath you. "Got a red pair that has some nice straps, you'd look so metal and so so pretty."

Eddie freezes, mouth falling open. His brow wrinkles slightly as he moans, pleasure overtaking him. His hips spasm, even his thighs twitch, as he comes. You can feel your underwear get soaked along with part of his stomach.

You stroke him through it, extending his pleasure until he whimpers and pushes at your hand. You pull back, smiling softly at his face. Eddie's eyes flutter open, darting down to your lips. "Kiss?" He asks quietly, unsure. You simply smile and kiss him again.

[dandylovesturtles]

31 and 36 for the ask game 🏄‍♂️

Okay so I’m going to answer these in reverse because while I was thinking of the answer to 31 I ended up having a whole tangential rant and I’m going to put that part of my answer under a cut lol

36. I think Mikey is the hardest one for me to write. He’s easy enough as a side character, but when I try to make him the main character I have a harder time delving into his flaws and problems and what makes him tick as a driving force of the narrative. It’s something I would like to change, though, because I love Mikey a lot. I’m grateful to the people who write Mikey-centric fics because I can read those and learn more so I can better rotate him in my brain microwave haha

31. So it’s not necessarily that I dislike Donnie’s Gifts as an episode, but I do tend to pretend it didn’t happen most of the time, because I have no idea what to do with it lol. It’s definitely not meant to be taken too seriously and I think that’s fine, and I don’t really like taking it too seriously. But I am usually writing more serious-flavored fics, so bringing up that time Donnie put a shock collar on his brother feels…. well, it breaks the tone haha

I have enjoyed the occasional fic or comic that DOES choose to take it seriously but I prefer to just pretend it’s not there for my own work.

Mind Meld is kind of in the same boat but this is where I ended up going on a whole tangent so I’m going to put it under a cut

The thing with Mind Meld is I feel like they had a good idea but then lost the through line. I THINK they wanted the ultimate lesson for Donnie to be that he prefers his brothers the way they are, even if that means they don’t think and act like he does. And I don’t think this is a bad issue to tackle with Donnie. Overall I kind of like the idea of him using a machine to make his brothers more like him as a thing he thinks at first will be beneficial, so that’s not really where my problem is.

My problem with the episode is… it works? Like, they do the mission properly. And then the bros end up being even smarter than Donnie and better at doing things. So by the end it feels like Donnie isn’t reverting his bros because he misses them, it feels like jealousy. Especially because they start being actively hostile toward him.

If I were writing the episode, I would have them bungle the mission the second time too. And Donnie would not understand, because how could four of him have messed it up! But of course, it’s BECAUSE you have four people who all think the same way that it falls apart. They all get caught up in Classic Donnie Overthink and everything goes to shit. Mikey can no longer razz his tazz around an obstacle and Raph doesn’t want to use his fists for smashing and Leo is thinking straight forward and not in 4 dimensions.

Donnie having to come up with a THIRD plan, one that properly took his brothers’ strengths and personalities into account, and then convincing his Donnie-fied bros to think that way and thus accomplish the mission, would show that Donnie has learned the error of his ways and has come to fully understand the strengths that each of his brothers has even if they aren’t the same strengths Donnie has. Which is what Donnie’s Gifts was trying to do too but if they’re going to do the same story twice anyway might as well do it better the second time.

Anyway in conclusion Nickelodeon should hire me /j

Thanks for the ask!

[rocksibblingsau]

i'm gonna be real honest right now, and this is gonna be long....your I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home fic has had me in a choke hold since i found it like a week ago. it's so good and i love it and i've always loved the Rock Trolls (probably because thats the genre i've gravitated to the most since i was a kid) but i just adore the characterization, the exploration of Branch growing up in a different culture, exploring Branch's trauma. Barb being a big sister, Branch actually having a dad.

just i am in love with all of it.

i have so much i want to say but i don't know how to put it into words. it's also nice to see this one and another fic of Branch being raised as Rock called Burning Branches AU where Branch loses his memory and gets adopted by Thrash. like i don't mind the AU's i've seen of Branch being like half Rock or something but having Branch be in a sort of Cooper situation, adopted into another genre, just hits what i've wanted to see.

this fic has me chomping at the bit for more, and i can't wait for more.

and i will say this as well....Trolls has been a sort of guilty pleasure of mine since i saw the 1st movie on Netflix back in like 2017. it was something that looked like a fun time and an escape from college assignments and i liked it well enough. when, World Tour was briefly on Netflix in like 2021, or somewhere around that time, it was good and i loved the fact we got to see different genres of trolls.

but hooboy! when Band Together got added in like early August this year. i underestimated how much that movie would make me actually want to read trolls fic. and i gotta say i've got the trolls brain worms now and this fic has just been living in my head and rotating it like its in a microwave and studying it like a bug.

i am also the anon that said that So Called Life by Three Days Grace would be a song i could see Branch writing when he finally starts wring songs, and the anon that wanted Branch to where the shirt Val got him of Spider's band the 1st day of school to see his reaction in front of Val and Petra that this was the one who dethroned him at the arcade as a power move.

i also loved the idea of in ch 26 Branch thinking about what his life would have been like if his egg was found by Rock Trolls. i hope that is an idea either you or someone else will explore because now i really want to see that!

This means so much to me. Thank you, and thank you for reading my fic!

Branch being half Rock is a very interesting angle, but I really like the idea of Branch not being Rock but being Rock, if that makes sense. Identifying with their values despite not being a Rock Troll by blood.

Branch being adopted as an egg would be SUCH an interesting world to explore, I definitely have a few ideas about it if anyone wants to pick my brain about it.

[zooophagous]

Artemis politely stirred her usual copious heap of sugar into her already milky coffee. Strauss sat beside her, close enough that their legs were touching. It was as close as he could politely get in mixed company. If he were to seek out further contact (however desperately he currently wanted it) it may arouse suspicion.

Truthfully, even sitting close enough to touch was a bit of a bold move with Ursula in the room. She sat near Vicar Martin, and handed him a mug of microwaved water with a cheap teabag in it. She didn’t offer him milk or sugar. He would drink it and like it.

The Vicar didn’t seem to mind. He was distracted. Not only by sitting so close to a vampire, but also by the clear plastic small animal carrier filled with white mice. They scurried over each other and around in small circles in their holding cell on the coffee table. He glanced at them curiously, and then back up to Artemis and Strauss.

“Is it prudent for Dr. Strauss to sit in on this if he’s technically a suspect?”

“It is our policy not to deprive Herr Strauss of any information pertinent to his stay at the Institute. It’s best he hears it first hand to avoid confusion.” She said with a smile.

“I see. Do the…mice need to be present?”

“They are my emotional support animals.” Strauss replied tonelessly.

“Alright then.”

Ursula let out a quiet snort of mocking laughter and sipped her watery tea. “Alright then, Martin. Since you’ve already let the cat out of the bag, go ahead and elaborate. If I’m going to help you with this investigation I need the where, the who, the what, all of it in excruciating detail.”

“This man has a cat in a bag?” Strauss tilted his head.

“It means to share something that was a secret.” Artemis replied, leaning into him.

“Actually, Ursula, I will have to respectfully decline your help for the moment. I’m trusting you not to run your mouth or do anything stupid with this information. You aren’t supposed to have it yet.” The vicar replied, taking a nervous sip of his weak tea.

“Nonsense. You can’t just tell me there’s been a vampire implicated murder ON MY HOME TURF and expect me to just sit here with the whole weight of the Van Helsing-”

“You will do nothing and say nothing until the official letters have been sent.” Vicar Martin said firmly.

Ursula huffed and puffed and crossed her arms in indignant silence. Artemis set down her coffee and folded her hands in her lap.

“We will of course follow proper protocol. We just want to be prepared to move in an instant. Can you let us know what’s wrong?”

“Yes. Well. There has been a murder.”

“Mmm. Yes. You mentioned.” Strauss replied languidly, and opened the little container of mice to scoop one into his claw. He let it climb over his fingers and rotated his hand to keep up with its movements.

“...Yes. A murder. Of course, if that’s all it was, we wouldn’t be here auditing you. This victim had a series of very particular injuries. Injuries consistent with what we would expect from-”

-CRUNCH-

The vicar paused. Strauss made an awful sound as he finished off his mouse, and graciously deposited the desiccated remains of the bloodless prey item into a napkin that he folded into his lap.

Ursula pinched the bridge of her nose. Martin gagged.

“I thought… those were emotional support animals?”

“I am an emotional eater.” Strauss replied flatly.

“Is that really necessary.”

“It is my feeding time. If you do not want to witness it, do not interrupt my schedule.”

Martin looked down and away and staunchly decided to continue. “Anyways. As I was saying before your friend decided to demonstrate for us, the injuries of the deceased are consistent with a vampire attack.”

Artemis leaned forward looking concerned. “These are very serious accusations. Can you be more specific?”

“Yes. The victim in this case was a young man. A healthy young man in his prime. He was found down by the banks of the river about four days ago. He appears to have died of a fatal stabbing to his neck. But that’s not all that was wrong with him. He had bruising consistent with being held by his wrists, a broken vertebrae, and most notably, he had been very nearly entirely drained of blood.”

“This may be a stupid question, but the blood is… missing, right? Not just spilled all over the scene?”

“It is presumed missing. We ah… aren’t sure just yet if the deceased was killed where he was found. His clothes did not have any blood on them.”

“Where did you find him?”

“The remains were discovered in Gooseberry Mound Park, near where the large storm drain tunnel opens into the river bed. Unfortunately this park is very well populated and he was found by a family with young children.”

Strauss frowned and reached for another mouse. “Out in an open area like that, if he was killed there, it must have occurred late at night, if there were no witnesses. What could have lured him to that place at that time?”

He idly stroked the small white mouse in his claw. “Or perhaps he was dragged.”

“Like I said, we aren’t sure. But the time frame in which he may have been killed was another sign it may be vampire activity. Along with the severe neck injuries that seemed to be caused by a pair of bare hands- This was not a small man. Like I said he was young, athletic, in his prime-”

-CRUNCH-

Strauss consumed his second mouse. He draped over the chair and folded one long leg over the other while tilting his head, pondering deep thoughts with the pink tail hanging from his mouth. He pulled it out by the tail and placed it in the napkin with the other spent carcass.

Vicar Martin blanched, and gagged again. “Can you please stop doing that?”

“Do we know anything about the victim? About who he was?” Strauss asked and completely ignored Martin’s discomfort and request.

“Not yet, it’s pending notification of next of kin. I cannot give you a name but suffice to say we know he was a student and that people are already looking for him.”

“So, not some random drifter, or some runaway that would not be missed. It is an unorthodox target for a vampire that is hunting for subsistence. Perhaps this was something personal.”

“That’s why we needed to interview you. There are very few vampires here we know of, and you’re the only one it’s really at all convenient to talk to.”

“Convenient to talk to? That may be the nicest thing you’ve said about me.”

“More convenient than trying to talk to Miss Pietra.” The Vicar muttered quietly.

Artemis cleared her throat. “I take it she’s the true prime suspect here.”

“Regrettably so. Unless there’s some new rogue entity stalking this fair city- but honestly they would be very stupid to set up shop next door to your group.”

“Unless they want to be caught.” Strauss shrugged.

“Did you want to be caught, Mr. Strauss?”

“Doctor Strauss.” Strauss replied darkly, with the emphasis on ‘doctor.’

“And, if you must know, no. I did not want to be caught. If you ask, Frau Harker can tell you I resisted and was quite a pest for quite some time. This conversation however, is not about me. Unless you still consider me some kind of suspect.”

“Well, you’re going to stay a suspect until the real perpetrator is caught, I’m afraid. I don’t think you did it, and I’ll say so in my report, but despite whatever preconceived notions you have about me, Doctor Strauss, I’m not the sole arbiter of your fate.”

Martin leaned in with an earnest expression. “Nor am I your enemy.”

“Is Herr Cunningham included in your list of suspects?”

“The lycanthrope? No. This profile doesn’t match for lycanthropy at all.”

“So you aren’t going to bother him, then?”

“No. Not unless you think I should.”

Strauss visibly relaxed back into the couch. “No. I am satisfied with that answer. He has been through enough on account of vampires.”

“Haven’t we all?” Ursula rolled her eyes. “I appreciate your candor with the Institute, Vicar Martin. Let me know as soon as I am clear to mobilize and your investigation will have the full power of the Van Helsing Institute behind it.”

“Many thanks, Ms. Harker. Let me know if you see or hear anything you think might be pertinent. And… as much as I hate to say this. Doctor Strauss, you should consider remaining on a curfew at this time. If you absolutely must leave the Institute, bring several witnesses and if possible a gps system of some kind. If anything else happens the church will want absolute proof you are not involved.”

Strauss nodded and got up and approached Vicar Martin to shake hands. “Vielen dank, Herr Martin. Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Martin shook Strauss’ hand, and felt something pressed into his palm. Strauss walked off, leaving the vicar with a folded napkin containing the husks of two spent mice. While Ursula saw to the shaken stranger, Artemis followed Strauss down the hall.

“What are your thoughts about all of this?”

“It is quite complex. Also quite fishy. That is the word in English, yes? The situation does not smell right.”

“Correct. And yes, I agree. It’s an awful situation but I can’t help but feel like the profile is off.”

“I want to see this crime scene. I want to see the evidence for myself.”

“Do you really think that’s wise?”

“Perhaps I can help. It ‘takes one to know one,’ as you’ve said before.”

“Maybe. It’s going to be a hard sell, though, getting you access to that information.”

“Yes, and it has a high potential to blow up in my face. But…”

“But we have to do something.”

“Right. I have an idea of where to begin, that does not require cooperation from the authorities. But, you will not like it.”

“What’s your idea?”

“I need to speak to Sylvain.”

[weareallgonnaliveforawhile]

your swap au is really cool!!!! I am rotating them in my mind like a microwave :] I have some questions about it, if thats okay :D (you don't have to answer ofc), will elq lose his memories while with the federation like canon qq did? how does the watcher react to qq rather than elq? what is the islanders relationship with qq - do they wind up liking him more than elq as they do in canon or do they just want their friend back?

I'm curious to see how the quackities' relationships with the federation play out; they don't seem to have the same role within the Fed, swap!qq feels more like an attempt at a permanent replacement than elq does..

(sorry for any errors or if i sound odd, it is quite late where I am ^-^)

No problem! I'm honestly just surprised that someone likes my au.

El does lose his memory but him with Amnesia is very different from Canon! Quackity with amnesia. While canon!Quackity was like a lost child, El was more like a feral cat. His amnesia was kept more of a secret because his friends knew how much he kept to himself. Those who didn't immediately find him once he was back only found out because they directly stumbled upon him and figured it out before someone could whisk the man away.

It's odd. To see someone who once was so full of energy and anger who once argued with you over nothing, look at you with nothing but fear and distrust.

-

The watcher and Quackity have a weird relationship. Quackity treats him oddly, like an old friend sometimes and a begrudging ally at others. Sometimes the Watchers requests are responded to casually but with excitement, and sometimes they're responded to with the same formalness that you'd reserve for your boss...

-

Oh my god, I love this last question. They fucking hate Quackity. Some are more tolerant of him than others like Etoiles who can't bring himself to hate someone who shares the face of one of his closest friends. But the others? Especially Cellbit and Roier? They want his head on a pike.

Quackity smiles more than El Quackity did. He grins and giggles and jokes in ways that aren't morbid and don't somehow threaten multiple children. They still hate him. His friendliness is a slap in the face more than anything else. They did not resent ElQ for his personality or behavior, far from it, they loved him because of it.

There is a happier copy of their friend. Their amazing paranoid friend who once stole Phil's door because he was angry at him. They don't want a copy, a cheap imitation of their friend, they want their friend back.

Guapoduo and Bad hate him the most. El was extremely close with Cellbit and Roier, and neither man could stand being around Quackity for long without a buffer. Bad and El had a...weird relationship that was mutually antagonistic and positive (Think Landduo but with a bit more murder attempts). Bad nearly took Quackity's head off his shoulders with his claws alone the first time he saw him.

They don't want Quackity's smiles which split his face with how hard he's smiling, they want ElQuackity's smiles which are small and wobbly from how hard he always tries to hide them. They hate Quackity's laughter which is loud with his head tipped back because they love ElQ's quiet laughter with his head tipped forward.

It gets worse when they figure out that Quackity is definitely in league with the Federation, but there was no possibility of love from the start. How could they love such a poor imitation when they knew the real thing?

----

For the last bit, I'm so happy that you caught that. You're absolutely right that they don't hold the same role, Quackity is a bit more... versatile than Canon!ElQ so he has a fairly different (but somewhat) similar role.

Thank you soooooo much for asking! I love questions so much.

[dwaginfodder]

I have just finished the Ikoria ebook and I have Thoughts

I am rotating Lukka in my mind like some kind of microwaveable food item.

I'm a sucker for Ikoria and everything about it but I just hadn't gotten around to reading the book yet. Very good. Many notes.

Lukka is a very special kind of asshole. He starts as a well-meaning but ultimately ignorant man and, through a combination of arrogance, access to power, and self-feeding isolation and radicalism, becomes a very hateful piece of shit. He's a very interesting take on a red-centered planeswalker to me because he comes from the same slice of red's philosophical color pie as Act of Treason effects. His main flaw isn't that he's stupid (though he's not like. book-smart or anything), it's that he lacks empathy.

Above all else, I take Lukka as a warning.

Lukka starts the novel as like, this prodigal foot soldier at the head of the first squad of Specials. If you're anything like me calling a bunch of people "Specials :)" because they're good at killing things is like, a giant red fuckoff fascism banner, and you aren't too far off because Drannith is a military aristocracy from hell. But Lukka likes it here because everything makes sense and doesn't challenge his values until a giant cat kills most of his friends and then challenges his values.

Particularly, the giant cat challenges his values by bonding with him and forcing him to empathize with it. This scares the shit out of Lukka, who is used to treating these things as existential threats to his life and the life of everyone he loves (i.e. his fiancee). He telepathically panics and tells the flying cat to fuck off so it does, and then he passes out and wakes up in the hospital with some military aide writing down every word he says. His fiancee, Jirina Kudro, helps him out of the city and he fucks off into the woods with Vivien to go find the cat.

Once he does, he runs into some other people with mental connections to Ikoria's monsters. And this is the kicker: he has no care or sympathy for the others in his position or curiosity at how they live away from the cities. He just wants, by his own words, to go home. This will proceed to be his defining trait. And this makes the other bonders accept him! Because, much like many real minority communities, they understand being displaced, they understand being hunted for what they are, they understand the desire to make oneself a found family.

Instead of empathizing with people who might welcome him, and looking past differences, he instead goes off on his selfish quest to redeem himself with the status quo he comes from. This gets him manipulated and pushed into alienating himself from both groups, isolated in a mentality where rejecting his plan means rejecting him, reinforcing his ideas and driving them to even more extreme ends. Even if at the heart of his issue he is on some level correct (General Kudro and the military aristocracy of Drannith is corrupt and fascist and unchanging), his methods and rhetoric harm both (what if we used our allies, a subset of our minority group, as thoughtless weapons, objectifying them and stripping their own rights to empower our own? doesn't that sound great?).

This repeats itself on Arcavios in the Strixhaven story. He gets to the plane, find civilization, and is immediately persecuted for being weird and suspicious and out of place. He gets in a fight with a dragon cop and then runs off with the Oriq, the gang of criminal mages who rebel against the dragons who founded Strixhaven and, from all we've heard, effectively rule the plane.

And again, the Oriq aren't wrong about the dragon founders being vaguely tyrannical (with some of the lore mentioning a banning of ally-colored magic on the... continent? plane?). But Lukka is still driven by selfishness and power, and instead of informing people of possibilities, he helps the Oriq unleash a murderous war avatar inside of a school. (This will not be the first nor last time a red 'walker helps or actively commits a war crime and it gets pretty passed over.)

Lukka is fundamentally a warning against the thought process of (and rhetoric used by) people like TERFs, splinters of a minority who fall into hate trying to appease the majority and ultimately fail.

[thelampisaflashlight]

can we get hcs about Quincy. I’ve been rotating him in my mind like he’s in a microwave after reading his series

Alrighty~

-Already an established fact from the series, but Quincy went to school to be a librarian.

Education wise, he did four years at a university and then attended grad school, all while working late shifts at a bar and taking care of his brother, Shawn.

So actually getting to work in his field means a lot to him.

-Most, if not all, of Quincy's clothes are secondhand, and he doesn't tend to buy new clothes aside from socks, underwear, or shoes.

This is largely because of how he had to live while in school, paying for rent and medical bills on top of any other costs.

-Quincy's little tuft of white hair is genetic, though he didn't know that until he was much older because his mother always dyed her hair, and even made Quincy dye his when he started elementary school.

-He's a bit of a picky eater, which is why he usually eats pretty simple meals, that, and because he's used to having to stand around while he eats.

And lastly;

-Quincy has a mild fear of statues/mannequins. (This is me projecting onto him, as I am incredibly put off by them.)

[lets-try-some-writing]

hi! I really love your stories and ideas I’ve fallen in love with your ideas on the bots and cons and I have about two different things I wanna maybe set out here that I really thought was funny or could be funny.

The blind starscream au. I wear glasses myself and without them I fumble around a lot so reading that Optimus just has a battle jug of water to throw at the seeker like he’s a giant angry cat made me laugh a lot. I really liked that. You put the image of prime carrying a large spray bottle and just spraying the seeker.

For the Unicron is Optimus’s dad au (I don’t know if you’ve ever seen transformers armada{in that world Unicron made a group of minicons to make the bots and cons fight each other}) a personal headcanon of mine is that the minicons that we’re the descendants of minicronus prime and Unicrons descendants came together into the race of minicons we know in RID15. And I got the thought of the minicons (particularly Jetstorm or whoever else you think[particularly because there was a minicon by the name of jetstorm in armada]) just knowing there brethren by name in this terrifying abnormal way. Jetstorm never knew the prime how did he know him by THAT name. I just think it would be funny for Unicron to just have an “oh sh-t” moment when he remembers one of his older groups of creations and then has to explain the large groups of minicons that just know the prime and refer to him like their kin. And this moment of realization that maybe. Maybe. Just MAYBE unicrons descendants are more numbered than everybody thought.

(sorry for long ask ;-; I’ve been rotating this in my head like a microwave for weeks ever since I read your unicron is Optimus’s dad au{p.s. I want to try to draw starscream getting sprayed by a water bottle would you be alright with me drawing that and sending it to you once I’ve finished}) thank you for the ideas and motivation your awesome :)

These are all EXCELLENT thoughts dear anon. I am slightly uncertain as to what exactly you are requesting here with this. However the concepts laid out are highly intriguing and I would not mind expanding on them if you would be willing to send in a slightly more specific ask.

As for your question, by all means please go ahead and draw if you so see fit! I would love to see your work anon! Thank you for your kind words, and I am sorry this took so long to get to. I am only just getting around to properly cleaning out my inbox.

[fuckthisshitimin]

Eat

"You don't cook."

It's all Sebastian can think to say, all Sebastian can think at all. His mind is a blur these days - nightmares, and the new meds, maybe? He can't remember when it started to feel like that, it's far from an all time low still, so he'll take it.

There's a heavy looking stewpot on the kitchen table, Styx had to move a couple (a dozen) empty coffee mugs to put it here, and he started cleaning another pot, taking a pack of uncooked rice out of his pocket like it's something absolutely normal to carry.

"Nah, I don't like to cook, not the same."

It's maybe one of the first things Sebastian had learnt about Styx. Mysterious, foul-mouthed Styx. A stray black cat that miraculously let him into its life.

"Then why are you cooking?"

"Well that's what best friends are for, right? Suffering mild inconveniences to make sure the other doesn't fucking die?"

Sebastian attempts a laugh, but it doesn't seem to be what Styx is going for. He rinses the pot, fills it with water, turns the hob on. He doesn't add salt. Sebastian always boils saltwater. Well, except for coffee. Which reminds him- "Bastian, how long have I know you?"

"Five years." He picks his current mug up from the ground, waltzes around Styx to refill it with coffee, put it in the microwave. He watches the mug rotating, sickly porcelain under the yellow light. He doesn't remember what he was doing before Styx came in. It's nearing eight in the morning, maybe he was off to bed.

"And do you know how old I am?"

"No. What, have you finally decided to tell me?"

"Dream on. But I've been around for decades before you were born, and chances are, I'm gonna be around for decades after you're gone. You're gonna die on me, mate."

Strange thought. Strange idea, to say it out loud. Sebastian knows Styx is old - too old. Like a vampire or something. He opens the microwave before it beeps, blows on the coffee to assess the temperature. Just a little more. Thirty seconds.

"And I made peace with that. Mostly. When you stormed into my life like the petulant nuisance you are I thought 'Oh, shit, I'm gonna follow this idiot till the day he dies'," seventeen seconds, "and so I know, I always knew. But I'm not gonna let you wilt away like a houseplant."

Five seconds, Sebastian takes the mug out. Blows on it. Just right. "I don't know what you mean."

"You're melting."

Again, a strange choice of words. Styx chooses strange words all the time. Again, Sebastian is tired. Sitting on his bed might be his best choice. He crashes there. "When was the last time you ate a full meal?"

"I dunno. Yesterday? Dinner?"

Instant noodles. It's a meal. It's literally a meal. It's not that long ago, and he had snacks, too. Lots of snacks. Too many? He didn't count. There were moments he had to eat something, and he did. Surely that is enough.

"You can't do this shit to me, Bastian. D' you know what it feels like, to be skinny?"

Of course he knows. His noodle arms are here for that. For all the time Sebastian has known him, Styx has never been particularly thin. His thighs are full, his arms, soft, his stomach round. He puts the stewpot on the second hob, curry, maybe. "I don't-"

"I've fucken been there, kay? And right now you don't see it, but I see it."

The water boils, and Styx pours the rice in it, before joining his best friend on the bed. Dirty laundry by his pillow. The duvet is out of the sheets. It's a bit of a mess, but Styx's place is messier, and Sebastian lights a cigarette. Misplaced satisfaction, like his ribs when he scratches his back. He remembers he was real skinny once, too, he remembers he liked how small his boobs got when he ate just a little, just a little less - now his chest is flat, it is not an issue. The ribs, still. A drop of left-over euphoria.

Styx opens his mouth wide, and Sebastian wonders if he got a new piercing for his tongue, but he points at two teeth. "Those are fake. The real ones died in my mouth because I was too fucked in the head to eat properly." He should have lowered the heat on the rice - and salt, he didn't put salt in. Sebastian doesn't get up to correct it. He looks at Styx's teeth.

"Being underweight hurts. You get used to it. Get used to being cold, all, the, bloody, time, you bruise more easily. Everything bruises. Sitting on the floor for too long. Leaning on the fucking wall. And you don't really notice, because it's normal now."

There are red and purple bruises all over Sebastian's knees. He didn't do anything too extreme. He bruises easily. Always has. Probably. He pulls the duvet towards him, covering his legs.

"Wounds take longer to heal, too. And you get sick. And you get used to it, too, I got used to my throat being sore like I got used to my knees aching after walking a fucking mile, and it took a decade to get my head out of this crap. You're smart, Bastian, like me. Don't think you're too smart to fall for this shit."

He is, still. He eats enough. He toes the line. He's not underweight - or barely. He is, just barely. He did the math. He can still work. His body is okay enough.

"Because that's not how it works. It's worse when you're smart, cause your mind is so goddamn good at tricking you, at arguing against the people telling you you're not okay, telling you you can toe the line between a disordered eating and an eating disorder just for science, as an experiment - but you're just getting worse."

Sebastian thinks it's maybe the longest he's ever heard Styx talk at once.

"Fucking around and finding out with your health is bullshit. I should be dead, Fen." It's been years since Styx called him that. He can't imagine a world where Styx is dead. No, no. "This is an experiment, but you're the subject, and the rot in your brain tries to convince you you're the scientist."

The smoke on Sebastian's tongue brings nausea. He doesn't like the feeling - scrutiny. Helplessness.

"Not eating is not gaining control. I promise. I swear to Christ."

It rings like a doom bell. It echoes in the empty pit of Sebastian's stomach, where guilt lives, allowing no roommate.

"Shit."

"Yeah. It's shit. I took some books, so I can stay a few days. But I'm not leaving until you eat."

Black eyes. Wet and shiny. Sebastian isn't hungry - and he knows Styx has a point. He knows there is a rot in his brain, that lies. It speaks with his voice, when it promises he'll eat later. It likes his bones bare. It recoils at the thought of getting better. Fatter. Happier. It recoils beneath Styx's eyes.

"Okay."

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @dontjudgemeimawriter.

My words to find were rain, cabinet, chocolate, & view.

Passing the tag to @aether-wasteland-s, @imbrisvastatio, @wrenofthewords, @writernopal, and and open tag for whomever else wants to participate.

Your words shall be pelt, curiosity, hot, & unobstructed.

Rain: Empty Names - 1 - Hello World

As they cross the parking lot, Lacuna notices a change in the pattern of the rain pelting her and realizes Road’s held the umbrella out to cover her.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.  By the way, is there something else you’d prefer I call you?”

“What?  No, no, Lacuna’s fine.”  Better than fine, really.  Better than expected even.

Back up the stairs and at the door, Lacuna pauses with the key half turned in the lock.  “Oh, before we go in, I apologize ahead of time for the mess.  It’s been a rough few weeks and I wasn’t expecting company.”

The disclaimer is met with a reassuring smile and a soft shake of the head.  “Trust me, I’ve seen worse.” 

“Right.  Right.  Of course.”  The key completes its turn along with the knob and the door cracks open.  “And heads up, this thing can be a bit -”

“AND THE FLESHY MORSEL COMES CRAWLING BACK TO ME, RESIGNED TO HIS PITIFUL FATE IN HOPES FOR A QUICK DEATH BEFORE MY MEAL AS A REWARD FOR HIS COMPLIANCE!”

“Loud…”

Cabinet: Empty Names - 11 - Afterparty

As he lets go to drop into the plushly upholstered chair now beneath him a buzzing electric chandelier flickers to life, revealing the recreation of a nineteenth century occultist’s séance parlor around him.  Dark red velvet curtains (expensive) lining the walls, crystal ball (mundane) nestled in a pillow on the table (mahogany) in front of him, ouija board (fake) on one side, tarot deck (fake but good for introspection) on the other, human skull (real) on a nearby pedestal, cabinet of curiosities (fraudulent) behind him, and eldritch communion incense (distressingly real) resting cold and unburnt in a tentacle-shaped holder.

It had been another one of Carnette’s little jokes, setting up this hackneyed facade on top of the actual necromantic summoning chamber of her own design.  There was always one of those to go through anytime Sullivan wanted to get into the tools and mechanisms she’d left behind.  Daily reminders of her just as constant as the blue metal wedding band on his finger.

Chocolate: The Archivist's Journal, Day 2

For that matter, I couldn’t (and still can’t) remember a great number of things, who I am or where I was before this chief among them.  Or rather, I know things about myself, but not my history.  I know what a cat is but not if I’ve ever had one as a pet.  I know I like hot chocolate but can’t bring to mind the context of a time I ever drank it.  I know what microwaves, electronics, the internet, gerrymandering, atomic structures, feudal governing systems, and crop rotation all are and have varying degrees of understanding on how they work and have opinions on some of them, but I can’t remember learning those things or where (or if) I ever directly encountered any of them.  And from what I’ve seen I don’t think this place has any of those.

Even my own body felt unfamiliar once I finally got up and tried moving.  Like all my limbs were slightly different proportions than my reflexes were used to and my center of gravity displaced.

Looking back, it’s probably a good thing I was so out of it at the time.  I probably would have panicked pretty bad.

View: The Archivist's Journal, Day 3

The tower! How did I forget to mention that yesterday?  If there’s one thing I’ve seen in my brief time here that convinces me that this place is somehow fundamentally removed from the world I have vague memories of it’s that.  Look to the north and so long as your view of the sky is unobstructed you’ll see it.  A structure, maybe stone, maybe metal; difficult to gauge its distance due to the sheer impossible scale of it.  From my house… the thought feels strange to put to paper but I suppose it is my house, at least for now… it appears to be a cylinder rising straight into the clouds and beyond until it vanishes beyond the capacity of the naked eye to make out.  There are so many reasons it simply shouldn’t be able to exist, and yet it does.  

[derogative]

curious since you're a krauss fan. do you ship him with anyone or are you just rotating him around in the brain-microwave. or both. inquiring minds wish to know. also I think you're based

both, sort of? he is permanently rotating with no hope to escape, and on the ship front... to clarify i have no specific ships for him that i'm into but at the same time i'm open and down with shipping him with anyone for the most part, if you get me? like a sudden whim might take me and i may end up fixated on a specific ship at any gien time or someone will inform me that im a fool and this ship here rules and i am blind for not realizing and i will go 'oh yes you're absolutely right' i am also pro-ship to clarify further. i hope this all makes sense? no specific ships but open to any ship if the mood strikes me? yeah if you want to message me and tell me im a fool and this ship here rules and i am blind for not realizing it please feel free i will not judge you for your tastes!!!

also thank you yes i am the most correct in my tastes krauss rules and i will die on this hill eternally

[galaxythreads]

tagging @sunsets-on-mars hi, sorry. thought this would be easier if it was all one post. :) thanks for the ask!

^ referring to the still-not-written epilog that exists in my mind and is rotated around like something in the microwave

^ to be completely honest, I have no idea what the clue was. huh.

I listened to this story last week on ff.net's app and I was pleasantly surprised by how good it was. Big confidence boost for myself.

I am still thinking about the epilog chapter of this fic. I just. Don't do things. because I am the not-fun mentally ill. Circling in the microwave, I promise

CHAPTER 10:

based off of a very real conversation I had with my best friend where she told me that she was angry "on your behalf not at you, before you get any silly self-deprecating ideas" then later she called me a self deprecating bastard or something like that, and it made me laugh really hard because i mean. yeah. i am and she, who has been on the receiving end of lots of my panic attacks, knows that intimately.

For some reason people only describe the temperature of hands when they're cold in writing and it annoys me. No. Warm. Warm warm warm!

with retrospect, I'm still not sure how Clint would react to this, but it feels slightly off to me. I rewrote this scene a lot with different perspectives though, and this is just what I ended on.

my friend (same one from earlier) says this all the time when she has a headache. congratulations, it's now memorialized forever. She even texted me after reading this chapter and was like "uhhhh. I say this??" and I was like :) I know.

-dreams

and the reason behind this:

and

also this is just funny, but apparently in my 90,000+ word story i only used the word "malfunction" once

loki, before this fic: I'm going to put all my memories of the torture in their heads and then when I have a trial on Asgard, I'll go collect them. This way, Thanos can't do anything to them before the invasion is over :)

Hulk:

Loki:

Hulk: :)

Loki: :(

If Loki hadn't gotten The Concussion then he would have collected the memories and this story wouldn't have happened.

-

Frigga being an awful mother was something I just went ALL at this fic. Like i viewed Odin as just being emotionally immature, but Frigga and her kids have got enmeshment issues to rival the Winchesters.

-

^ THE point of the fic I was trying to make by having the Avengers become friends with Loki first and then learn about the mind control after.

-

This entire civil war side plot was based off of this fic I read forever ago and have never been able to find since where Asgard collectively went "no" and then abandoned Asgard with Loki to go to Earth. Natasha had magic and people who HAD magic were NBs. It was cool. I never finished it, but I think about it often. Like whoops, THAT is now a permanent part of my psyche.

-

this folks, is Foreshadowing

-

Steve is done with everyone's BS. Also me projecting the Steve I wish we'd gotten in Endgame, where he put his family first rather than a woman he barely knew.

-

Yknow, it was intentionally meant to be ambiguous on whether or not Thanos had a spy in the castle or if Odin lied to Frigga about Loki and just tortured him anyway even though an illusion would have worked. Mostly because I didn't decide myself.

-

hey.

yeah.

Loki didn't do CPR when Clint got struck by lightning. He transferred a considerable part of his life force to save Clint's life. Hence why he ended up mostly dead.

Note that CPR was not mentioned here. ;)

-

odin expecting THIS ^:

Tony, who is tired:

-

plot-wise, this conversation was entirely for Frigga. This his how she comes to the conclusion that she needs to do something drastic to the Avengers in order to get them to help her.

THE moment that Frigga's like. Okay. Okay then.

-

THOR WAS ABSUED TOO THOR WAS ABUSED TOO THOR WAS ABSUED T

-

one of the things that i found really interesting while working on this story is that litchenburg marks actually rarely scar. most of the time it's just like a burn that fades in a few days. kinda weird.

-

clint's favorite food are sandwiches and I will die on this hill.

-

-

this is, again, what we call Foreshadowing. Also Thanos in this story is the Deal Fairy.

-

"Clint laughs, “Okay, okay, okay. Oh! Great. A captive audience. I’ve gotta tell you about this thing. Apparently, they developed this bionic lens thing in May that can give you perfect vision regardless of what you started with, which is super cool. I was just thinking that if something like that could be developed for hearing aids…” "

lost my right to images. :(

anyway, this is a real thing that happened in 2015 and it's cool.

-

Loki leaves soon after that to eat something and get some sleep to prepare. A few minutes after that, Natasha, with half her hair wet still soaking wet, climbs onto the hospital bed beside him and lays her head on his shoulder.

^ also this didn't happen. implanted memory from Frigga. If you're wondering when the switch happens, yeah. I don't know. You're not supposed to know either.

-

"Clint is still nineteen, waiting for his brother to beat his body into a dumpster again, his ears ringing and screaming. 

He’s always nineteen."

CONFESSION TIME OF THE CONFESSIONS:

yeah so originally Barney did show up. I have an alternate version of chapter 11 almost completely written where Clint was held captive by him, but it was just not working. I kept circling around the question of why Barney was there at all, because it just didn't make sense.

But I had neatly backed myself into a corner and had no idea what to do, so I did some frantic back tracking and replanning. You actually don't know this, but I did go back in and edit some stuff into this to make the next chapter work. I can't remember exactly why I decided to do a time loopy-thing, but that's just sort of what happened?

Proof I'm not a lying liar, and in case you're curious:

LE PLAN ALTERNATIF:

11. Clint dreams of Thanos, then is taken to their temporary base. Thor asks if Clint liked the little stint and Clint's like no, my guy, I really didn't. Clint tries to convince Thor of what going on and Thor doesn't care. The Chitauri say he has to kill him and Thor hesitates and they spare no brutality. Thor attempts to kill Clint and he can't. The Chitauri attempt similar and are deeply annoyed. They determine they have to find other ways of removing the memories. Clint's like, and, uh, why exactly do we care about that? And the Chitauri say that thanos has made powerful allies and the memories will compromise that. (sigyn plus co are working with thanos unknowing what's happening). The Chitauri force Clint to sleep with the mind stone and forcefully pull the memories from his head painfully.  Clint dreams of Loki. They talk and Loki says that they need to find them. He hands Clint a tracking device Tony made and Clint wakes up with it in his hand. 

12. Barney takes care of Clint after and comments on the scarring and Clint is like do Not ™ Barney says that he's missed him and Clint has too, but not enough to put himself through it again. The Chitauri come back and do something. Barney gives Clint a hug. The avengers arrive and they tear the compound apart. Say they had no intention of letting Asgard know what was going on. Loki removes the mind control from Thor and Thor is horrified. Loki promises everything will be okay. they arrive back at the compound and Loki, after carefully setting Thor down, shoves Mjolnir into Odin's hands. LOKI ALSO USES THE MIND STONE TO SEVER THE CONNECTION WITH THE MOTHERSHIP. 

13. Loki takes care of Thor's injuries. Then Clint's. Natasha wraps herself around him. Clint finds Loki later and Loki and Clint talk about the mind control. Clint tells Loki the sources of the scars. the Chitauri had been coming to remove the rest of his memories from the last year or so. Loki says that he's sorry. He says he thinks he did it because he was worried thanos would try to do something like this, he intended to come collect the memories or someone during the trial he never had. On Asgard the accused is allowed to collect evidence under chaperone. Thor wakes up and is confused and disoriented. Loki assures him that he's safe and Thor tries to stab himself, insisting that they can't make him do anything and he won't hurt his brother. Loki manages to get him called down. 

14. Loki wakes up screaming again. He can’t remember when he is and tries to get away from everything. The Avengers and co wake him up and they talk for a bit before settling back down around the bed to go back to sleep. Thor is still weak, but he’s managing. Frigga insists that she needs to talk with him and asks him how he is. Says that Asgard could greatly use his help in discovering who was behind his kidnapping and with the war. Thor is exhausted. There’s another shouting match that ends about as well as the first one. Loki is irritated. They talk about their parents in extreme frustration. Loki goes to check on Clint again and Clint is going through reports on Barney. Keeps watching the interrogation. Loki asks him about it and they commemorate on crappy families. Clint asks Loki if he has any idea whose behind the attacks. Loki says he doesn’t know. He’s not sure who would reach out to Thanos. The Tower is attacked. 

15. Sigyn almost kills Odin. Loki stops her and Sigyn reveals that she’s the one who was behind the whole thing. She collapses into weeping in Loki’s arms at the fact he is still alive. Loki says that it’s over now. Sigyn said that she promised that she would help Thanos because he told her what happened. Loki explains that he’s okay. Sigyn and Odin come to a tentative agreement. Sigyn says that she’ll withdraw her realm from the war now knowing that Loki is alive and well, but only if it stays that way. Odin agrees. Odin apologizes to Loki and Loki says he can stick his apology up his butt. Odin says that he has a score to settle with Thanos and he’ll send word when it’s over. Loki says peace out sucker and Odin and the Asgardians leave.

btw, just as a fun aside, anything in caps was me making a realization on why something happened, lol.

-

CHAPTER 11:

"It occurs to me," the voice is smooth, collected. A balm on wounds too infected and raw for him to do anything but whimper at anymore. His entire body locks up beneath the sound, tensing against the hard ground. "That it has been some time since we had one of our talks.""

hey, this is actually referenced earlier in the fic ;)

"The name feels familiar to Clint, like it's from some sort of distant memory. A cold, itching sensation crawls up his back. It occurs to me that it has been some time since we had one of our talks. He can't place the voice. Or the memory."

ch 9 ^

-

this entire dream sequence was actually one of the first dreams I wrote for Clint and I decided this one was just a little Too messed up to put in right away.

Plus, in my head, Loki's memories were appearing to Clint in chronological order, so this scene was actually one of the last conversations (if not THE last) conversation Thanos and Loki have. Definitely the last one before Loki was given the scepter.

-

"The world is blurring above him. Blinking in and out of focus. Bright light, dark ceiling. Empty sky, hot blinding sun, it vanishes again. His head is throbbing. He can't feel his toes. Everything is silent. A shudder of cold washing through his veins. Fingers wrapping around his arms. Being hauled somewhere. Dragged. The ground feels like sand, but when he tries to look it's concrete."

^ Clint is in wyoming. Before the illusion even starts, he can tell something is wrong.

-

Christmas - 1987 was a reference to a very specific memory, but I can't remember what it was and I'm so annoyed with myself :(

-

The Park - August 25th, 1989; - the date of the park incident, when Barney's dad got them into a car crash

Driving Lesson - July 3rd, 1996 - driving away from a crime scene with Barney when he was like 13? 12? I moved Clint and natasha's ages closer together in this fic because jeremy renner is 14 years older than Scarlet Johanson? and err. Yeah. no. some peoeple can make age gaps work and it's good and healthy, I just, yeah. didn't want to?

Proposal - January 4th, 2011 - As I mentioned earlier in part 1 of the Lore, Natasha and Clint are married in this fic.

-

"I don't know," Clint hisses between gritted teeth, looking up at him. His abdomen is pulsing underneath his fingers. He's the right kind of nauseous that throwing up would definitely help. "Kinda the whole problem here isn't it? Are you that desperate for him to kill me? Actually, for that matter, why in God's name did you not just shoot me in that hallway? Does it really matter if Thor does the deed that much—?"

"why did you not just shoot me in the hallway" was the question i couldn't figure out an answer to and had to change the entire chapter for, lol.

-

"I do wonder," the voice is behind him now, and Clint whirls, grabbing the first thing in the box—a whisky bottle with a pealing sticker what the? what type of madness encourages someone to put that in a Christmas box?

it's because Clint is literally pulling things from the memories. If he reached into Proposal, he might have actually been able to pull Natasha out of it, lol.

-

"Agent Barton," he sighs, softly, sympathetic, "you really don't seem to understand how this game works. If you had simply let me interrogate you as your brother, perhaps we wouldn't have had to resort to such drastic measures."

if you pay attention to this scene, you'll notice that the speech patterns that I use here are a lot closer to what would be said in the Loki 2021 series, not Loki from 2011-2013. Yes, this was a jab at the Loki series, but it was also kind of just how it worked out. Loki sounds off, on purpose, because this is how Frigga thinks that he talks now that he's "evil."

-

He stares at Loki's eyes, blue, but not scepter-blue. Loki has green eyes. 

Frigga's eye color is bleeding into every character she plays.

-

"Clint frantically backs into his mind, cornering himself behind walls of nothing.

And he finds himself falling.

down

down

down

And crashing."

Clint retreating into his subconcious. Frigga didn't do this, which is why she has to chase him. In the unfinished epilog, a lot of time is dedicated to dealing with Clint's trauma around all of this ^, which is why it didn't really come up before chapter 14.

-

"Your father and your mother…I think they were wrong to keep such an important fact from you. Biology dictates life." The master says. "You had the right to know yourself."

Loki stares at him, bewildered. "I…I did?"

The master tilts his head, "Why wouldn't you?"

^ Clint earlier, "you had the right to konw your own story"

anyone telling Loki that Odin was not cool to keep the Jotun thing a secret unfortunately, to Loki, immediately makes him pact bond with them, regardless of if it's good for his health.

-

After a long, weighted moment, Loki squeezes his arm, his face creasing as Clint flinches beneath the contact, "Just breathe. Everything is okay. You're safe, as is everyone else. This is real, I promise."

^ Clint and the other Avengers spent the beginning of this story assuring Loki that everything was real, Loki returning the favor. What happened to Clint is the type of disorientation that Loki faced.

-

"I'M TRYING TO FIND MY SON!" Frigga roars, an edge of wildness crossing through her features.

yknow. I did actually think that Frigga would be somewhat sympathetic in this fic, just driven to a single goal, and actually everyone hated her. that was kind of funny to me.

-

“No,” Tony agrees, “but it’s not about you either. Loki was suffering and it bothered you, so you did something that helped you feel better. Not him. Good job. Pro parenting skills there. Really selfless and everything.”

not me, projecting all my issues with my parents into this fic and wishing someone would say this to me :)

(please hug me)

-

“You look terrible,” Tony says apropos of nothing. “You kinda seem to be into the half-dead look lately.” Bruce smacks the engineer’s arm pointedly. Tony rubs at his arm, turning to him sharply, “ Ow. What?” 

The exchange is so normal that it almost hurts. Like they didn’t all die a few hours ago. 

“ Timing,” Bruce laments. 

SHERLOCK: Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once. (He laughs with delight.) SHERLOCK: Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. It’s been brilliant. JOHN: Sherlock ... SHERLOCK (turning to him): What? (John glares at him pointedly.) JOHN: Timing. SHERLOCK: Not good?

Sherlock s2e2

-

“It is,” Loki agrees, “But neither the Chitauri nor Thanos, the man in charge of them, have any sort of magic. I don’t know who cast the spell,” Loki admits, shaking his head, “perhaps the Chitauri roped in an unlucky third party.” 

Fooooreshadowinnnnggg

-

Gregson barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “So obviously this means that someone just got their lightning gun out of the workshop. You would not believe how many calls we got about that.”

^ Gregson and Bell appearance from Elementary, as per normal in all my fics. Lol. if i did lore specifically about every time they make a cameo, you guys will realize just how insane I am.

also this is almost an exact dialog steal from elementary s6e???

-

His voice is both relieved and thick as he says, “Let's get him home." 

this was a scene i had written in a document attached to this other fic I was going to write forever ago. I updated it and put it in this fic. It was good to finally get to use it somewhere.

-

ahhhh right, just looked at the author's note for chapter 12. yeah, in case you guys are wondering, no. Things have not improved with my parents. It's almost been a year and we've had exactly 0 (zero) conversations about me coming out since. But honestly, you guys were so supportive and it literally saved my life. I very seriously considered suicide a lot in the following weeks, but I had your support to lean on.

God, i was not functional after that conversation. I barely got out of bed for three weeks. The only thing that forced me into functioning was when someone sent me an ask on tumblr asking why mcu was so proud to be ignorant adn I wrote up 10 page essay on Michael Waldron and the state of MCU. That really helped. Thanks anon. <3

-

NOVEMBER: 

He thinks that he should remember how he got here. 

lol. Just remembered that the time skip was NOT clear and I had to go back and add the months so we could keep this straight.

-

Dr. Cho sighs, indicating for them to get closer together. “To preface this, Thor is alive and he’s stable. That’s what I want you to focus on, alright?” 

Oh good. 

So it’s good news then. 

WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY?

-

The exhaustion. This celebration is a forced, tired thing, like it’s a game they have to play.

Christmas. The Christian holiday. A long, exhaustive game of pretending.

^ this literally describes every christmas i have ever lived. I hate this holiday with my entire soul, which makes me feel like a bad christian, but honestly I turn into The Scrooge TM the moment December rolls around. Hopefully I'll get the opportunity to form less traumatizing memories around this holiday in the future.

-

Loki rolls his eyes a little, and takes a step closer, taking a seat on one of the chairs they brought in. “For your information, neither Thor or I are old enough to have met the Christian god.

things that do not make sense: Norse paganism existing in MCU and Loki and Thor's canon ages in MCU aligning together. Norse mythology started in like the 5th century AD. Loki was born in 37 AD or something like that, so like. norse mythology was based around the actions of like a 5 year old? okay marvel.  👍

-

“No, no it doesn’t. I yield, rozhden’ya, rozhden’ya! ” Clint says the word perfectly, slapping her hand away. “Don’t be mean to me. It’s Christmas.” 

“Not in Russia,” Natasha threatens, lowering her voice to something silky and dangerous.

Christmas is Jan 6th, for those of you unaware. Dec 25th is NOT the universal date for Christmas.

-

“Merry Christmas!” Tony says cheerfully, handing Thor some sort of desert. It’s some sort of small, brown little man covered in frosting.

ALSO HE IS HOLDING A GINGERBREAD MAN. my younger sister thought I was literally insane when I read this to her last year.

-

“I had a right to know,” Thor snarls, getting to his shaky feet. He grips at the bedpost for support, gesturing at himself, the words cracked. “ I had a right to know. She’s my mother, too. This is my family, too.”

^ Literally SO many of Thor's issues revolve around this, I think. Like after Thor 1, he probably feels so detached from his parents and Loki. The intense drama that they went through leaves him as a third party observer because it literally has nothing to do with him but it's so BIG.

-

from the author's note of chapter 13: I would also like to personally thank this chapter for making me dread writing it so much I was able to write not one, not two, but six chapters of my original story in an effort to avoid it (the book is like 11-12 chapters long for reference). Truly, it took one for the team.

OH YEAH OH MY GOSH I FORGOT ABOUT THAT! IT WAS IN LIKE A WEEK TOO AND WFDLKSJFLSD:FJLSDF:

HI IGNITNG FIRE I LOVE YOU! :D

-

CHAPTER 14:

“Right, but he didn’t know that. So again: I was supposed to let him walk around thinking he killed his fiancée?” Clint asks from the couch. Watching Loki pace back and forth across the length of the room is like watching a pendulum swing back and forth. Relentless. The carpet might as well be Loki’s mortal enemy for all the effort he’s putting into murdering it. 

^ this story starts and ends with Loki and Clint on a couch together.

-

“And what about my suffering?” Thor asks. “What about every day that I missed my best friend? What about the grief I felt? I am part of this family, too. And you didn’t tell me anything. I thought that you killed my brother. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me!? I have grieved my brother twice and evidently whatever ‘child suffering’ you feel only applies to Loki.” 

^ also in the not written aftermath chapter is a deeper dive into this. there was a lot of emotional strings that I felt we didn't quite recover from

-

  “You made a deal with Thanos?” Sigyn’s voice is sharper. She looks up at Odin’s face, and for the first time since she arrived here, Sigyn isn’t scowling as she does so. Odin inclines his head, still irritated, but Frigga’s head is tilted, her brows furrowed. “I made a deal with Thanos.” Sigyn says. 

shoutout to @worstloki for THE POST of the Year they made in response to this chapter. I laughed SO hard

-

“You what?” Odin snarls. “You stupid child-- what have we instilled into everyone since the Titan’s defeat? How could you be so foolish as to reach out to him?”

Odin, ever the hypocrite.

-

okay rapid fire trying to think if there was anything else I wanted to mention

still do not like chapter 1, i think I should have combined 1 and 2 together, but it took forever to get this story started so it can stay

the story was going to be named "You And I, or you Are I" in reference to the merging memories, but I literally forgot the title and was too tired to find it when i posted the fic

Clint's voice in this fic was based off of two fics I read The Unintended Consequences of Being A Superhero's Boyfriend and Fishing In Alaska and it was a lot of fun to shift to something more humerous. This fic from Loki's pov would have been exhausting, but from Clint's we get banger lines like "Fury scowls. The man gets more power out of his singular eye than most people can with both" and "Steve in concern, who's too exhausted to do anything other than make a grumpy old man sound and bury his head into his hands" which would not have been in Loki's pov. Clint is very funny.

i'm genuinely proud of myself that this fic turned out the way it did. Like it's not perfect, but it's still really good

yeah uh, do not think to hard about the Warriors in this fic because they Do Not Make Sense because their purpose in the story changed halfway through and it shows badly with retrospect lol

yes, i do want to work on the aftermath chapter, but i also don't, so all i have is like. 3 sentences and a frowny face in the document.

this story is over 400 pages, which I am proud of

i'm still happy to receive asks about this story, always!

some lore for you screamed for so long perhaps? i read all 8 (at the time) chapters of that on a 3 hour plane ride it kept me going through quite possibly the worst turbulence i have ever experienced

I'm so sorry about the turbulence. :( That sounds un-fun. Fun fact, I haven't been on a plane since i was 18 months old. I have absolutely no reference for that irl, lol. XD

ANYWAY.

LORE FOR YOU SCREAMED FOR SO LONG WE FORGOT TO CARE ANYMORE <- link to story

i have been planning some form of this story since 2018. In the original version, there was a massive plague going on. I'll probably still write that version actually. It's different enough from this one that it can stand on its own two feet.

CHAPTER ONE:

I was inspired to start the story several months after Loki got there after reading a Darcy/Loki story on ff.net I never finished

""I don't want to be buried. Cremate me." He instructs, swinging his quiver across one shoulder. "Or drop my body from the sky for the dogs to pick at, I don't really care. I'll be dead." " -- this is 1000% based off of Shane Madej from Buzzfeed Unsolved loudly declaring how he wants a sky burial

CHAPTER TWO:

"The looming figure in front of him gives a curt nod, and something smacks him in the back of the knees, and he goes tumbling into suffocation all over again," -- In the end you will always kneel.

Actually, the above torture is a slow form of suffocation. Someone ties a rope around your neck and hands that are connected together and suspends you enough that you have to stand on your toes. When your feet come out from underneath you, the rope on your hands tugs on your neck until it tightens until you either suffocate or manage to stand upright again thus relieving the pressure.

----

"He feels the surge of intense, overwhelming heat against his already raw, blistered skin before he even feels the brand press against his back, burning into muscle, bone, anything and everything, and he wont, can't—pain pain pain pain—

He screams—

^^^^ the above scene is the source of THIS scar, "Some of the worst scars are white and puckering against Loki's back and they look older than all of this" (chpt 9) and it will be discussed in further detail later. It's actually very important to the story. All of the dreams are. Nothing was put in there "just because"

---

"Hill hates all of them because the fact they're on the same floor is her fault." --- rather than having Fury in charge of the Avengers, I decided that it would probably be more realistic if Hill was. Fury is a busy man.

---

I learned some Norwegian for this fic solely so I could know on a basic level when the sentences didn't make sense, lol. XD

---

"All of them have made an effort to learn how to learn with Loki's flashbacks, but the only people who have had any real success are Thor and Steve." --- This is because Steve looks like Thor and Loki's brain is not super great at telling them apart when he's a mess.

---

"Clint forces out a thin breath, then says, "Do you want a sandwich?"

There's a long lull as if Loki's struggling to understand him. Clint repeats the question."

---

I dreamt about you getting your back burned open.

BACK INJURY IMPORTAAAAANNNCCCEEEE lol. XD all of you would be exhausted if you know how much I've been trying to subtly state this.

---

Natasha and Clint are legally married in this fic and have been for several years, but I never make that explicit because it doesn't matter to either of them so it's not important to the narrative. They are, first and foremost, partners. (Natasha proposed)

---

"Natasha is quiet for a second, then she tags on, "Ya tebya khochu."

Clint chews on his bottom lip, "Ya tozhe khochu tebya,""

This is Russian for "I want you," and then "i want you too." I think it's a little bit more meaningful than I love you.

---

Clint doesn't remember being taken to S.H.I.E.L.D. for the first time. When Coulson dragged his sorry butt there for medical after Barney tried to beat him to death, Clint was unconscious.

I have spent so much of this fic paralleling Clint's relationship with his brother with Loki and Thor's.

---

"Beside that is, predictably, an open tissue box.

Clint doesn't know what it is, but he's never been in a S.H.I.E.L.D. conference room without one. It's like the janitorial staff is worried that a group of covert spies and government officials are going to spontaneously..."

I work in janitorial. There is an ungodly effort put into making sure the tissue boxes never run out.

----

"If you're done saying I love you," Fury looks pointedly at Steve and Tony, the latter of whom smirks. Steve buries his head in his hands.

I have a lot of internalized homophobia issues despite being lesbian, but this is my first gay joke in a fic and I'm really, really proud of it. I know it's not very good or even comes across as a joke, but I felt so proud putting it in here all the same. Acceptance of self is real, y'all.

---

when i was listening to this chapter as i edited it, the speech to text reader read "asgardr" as oosgar and it was really funny to me.

---

CHAPTER FOUR:

this was the first scene I wrote for this fic.

the Chitauri do not refer to Loki by any other pronoun but "it." this is an effort to dehumanize him. (NOT to say that those who go by it pronouns are not human, love you guys (gender neutral))

---

"You are weak, like a mewling, crawling baby animal. But don't worry, because where you failed, your not-brother will succeed." --- Am I making a pointed jab at how awful Mobius calling Loki a mewling kitten was? Yes.

---

(chpt 4 vs 8)

---

This is one of my favorite interactions in the story. Loki has been lying through his teeth about his feelings most of the fic up to this point and then Clint asks him and Loki tells him the truth.

Loki and Clint have a very strong bond, even then.

---

CHAPTER FIVE:

everyone got a specific name-sign in this chapter. Loki's is grumpy-L because he's a grumpy little guy. XD No, it's cause he's grumpy but the L stands for his name

---

"Karma coming to collect its debt." -- a reference to my friend @widowronin's SPN story.

---

"c"-- by his brother

"b"-- by the circus of crime and Coulson

derogatory -- by his brother and the circus of crime

---

Waaaaay too much of my writing was inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved now. XD

---

^^^ this is actually referring to Frigga and Odin's relationship, not the chitauri

---

CHAPTER 6:

^^ reference to Vibranium

---

the actual plan for the cafeteria scene:

"The Avengers eat breakfast or something at the facility and the SHIELD agents are generally nasty to Loki. One of them starts a fist fight and Loki defends himself until the Avengers bodily pull everybody off and are like “no.” Loki is a little banged up, but nothing serious. Clint breaks some guys nose, though. Bruce looks him over and is visibly agitated. Says that the agents shouldn’t have hurt Loki. Loki’s like, okay, sure, but I did kill like, a lot of people, so they’re entitled. Bruce is like, “:/” "

---

this was intentionally framed like the beginning of Black Widow with Yelena. Thus to indicate that Natasha now sees Loki as a brother.

---

Loki intentionally says something unrelated to the situation to calm Clint down. yes, this was a reference to Clint and the sandwich thing. It worked so well then, why not now?

---

this is an important clue that will help us later

---

^^^ Gamora and Nebula

----

^^^ Loki dreams about Clint's brother trying to kill Clint. In the next chapter, Loki's brother tries to kill Loki. These scenes were placed on top of each other on purpose. NARRATIVE PARRALEL.

Also. by the gods am i projecting hard into this fic with clint and barney lol.

---

^^^ I still cannot believe that @worstloki made this for me, and then the post sort of blew up. Last time I looked it had like 250+ notes and LOTS of tags discussing how wonderful the story was. It literally floored me. I still am baffled and deeply humbled. Thank you.

---

CHAPTER EIGHT:

this scene was originally written from Clint's pov. I have it in a junk document somewhere. This is probably going to be Loki's only POV in the fic, but we'll see. I just though it would be really good to see Loki's thoughts about all of this, given how pivotal this moment is in the story.

----

chpt 8 vs chpt 5. DIRECTLY MEANT TO PARALLEL EACH OTHER.

---

^^^ this is the above meme. In the fic. You're welcome. XD

---

Parallel to the first thor, anyone??

--

as far as thor is aware in this scene, Loki just killed their parents and his world so the fact that Loki is actually worthy of Mjolnir is absolutely BAFFLING to him.

---

CHAPTER 9:

I made the executive decision that odin and Frigga's relationship is...strained, to put it mildly.

---

most of the time Siygn is a princess of some distant realm in fics, but no! she's queen here. XD

---

reminder!! "Far" is the formal way to address your parent in Norwegian.

---

Odin doesn't swear once in this conversation.

ALSO. Loki purposefully tries to intervene before giving up quickly because Odin and Frigga fighting is a common occurrence and he knows it's useless to stop it.

---

the way this chapter is set up is that you SEE what Odin and Frigga did to Loki with the flashback to Thor watching over Loki. You are supposed to think "Uh, wait a sec"

THIS is NIce?

for reference:

"Loki is thin, more a skeleton than a person, skin dragged against bone and pulled taut in some grotesque imitation of death. There are layers upon layers of gauze over Loki's entire forearms, covering up the horrible scars and stitches keeping his arms attached to his body. Beneath that is purpling and black bruises several inches thick encircling his wrists. There are open wounds almost everywhere in various degrees of healing, bones still bent awkwardly out of place that the doctors distastefully said they'd need to reset so it could heal right. Loki isn't stable enough for them to try yet."

but yeah. It was nice.

---

Btw, the title "You screamed for so long we forgot to care anymore" is NOT a reference to the Avengers.

It's Loki's thoughts to Odin and Frigga. Years of torture, of suffering and pain, of screaming, and they seemed to grow more apathetic to it with time.

I will probably reblog this with more thoughts once the fic is finished, but yeah. I have put a LOT of effort into this fic. And I am still baffled as to how it has so many people reading it. When the number processes in my brain every couple of weeks I feel horrified, lol.

YOU SCREAMED FOR SO LONG WE FORGOT TO CARE ANYMORE <- link to story

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Feeding The Flames: Breakfast of Champions

Summary- 1.9k Johnny Storm x You. Johnny opts to sleep in this morning instead of getting up early. You snooze, you lose Storm. But he knows how to compensate for the missed meal. 

This is written for @imanuglywombat​‘s “Is That Even A Sex Position” Weekly Challenge NSFW, 18+ Sexual Content

Masterlist 

“Where's Flame Boy?” Ben questioned while entering the kitchen, his heavier footsteps giving him away before hand, so you were expecting him to come up behind you. Flipping the pancake, you shook your head with a roll of your eyes. 

“In bed still… can you believe that he said he would rather sleep in then help me this morning?” You chuckled while plating food before starting another. Susan wasn't far behind, with Richard trailing her with a newspaper tucked under his arm. 

“Johnny was never an early riser.” She shrugged as she started gathering dishes to set the table, Richard unfolding the paper with a sigh. 

“The best time to get anything done is in the morning, but I never could drill that into him.” The man shook his head and Susan passed him while giving him a kiss on top of his head. 

You hid a smile while fussing with the bacon sizzling on the back of the stove. They were terribly wrong about Johnny being an early riser. Why he had risen at like four am just that morning and was a man set on a goal. Kisses to your neck and traveling till he was pressing his face heatedly between your breasts, pressing a knee between your thighs to spread them, his cock heavy between the two of you. 

“Johnny, it's too early.” You had whined but he persisted, warm fingers stroking between your folds while sucking on a nipple. 

“I will be quick.” 

“Liar” you threw your hand down to brush over his buzz cut, grasping the back of his head even though you were protesting.

You got lost in your thoughts, biting your lip as you felt an excited tingle spiral in your lower belly.

Ben though was quick to cut the memories short. “Anything I can do to help Y/N?” he asked while you drifted back to the here and now, scooping out the bacon before it got to crispy. Clicking off the burner, you wink at Ben. 

“Sure do.” You pull open the fridge door and pull out a bag of oranges. “Would you juice the oranges? You are a hell of a lot faster than I am.”

He grabbed a bowl from above your head and took the oranges. “Have it done lickity split Y/N.” 

You gave him an affectionate hug. “And that's why I can always count on your Ben.” 

🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Johnny gave a groan as he stirred alone in bed, lifting his head to grab for his phone and check the time. A reasonable hour, ten am, blinked back at him. Johnny reached his hand over to your side of the bed, but already knew it would be cold and empty. You weren't one to just stay in bed often and that was a shame, because he would have made it worth your while. Instead he heard you talking in the adjacent room from the bedroom, sounded like his sister, and Johnny gave in that he probably wasn't going to be able to distract you into coming back to bed now. With a groan, he pushed up to wander into the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

Once he showered and dressed, Johnny followed his nose to the delectable scent of fried bacon and eggs. His hand settled on his stomach which was growling while he went into the kitchen to find you sitting at the table, your college textbooks spread around and wagging a pen in the air while you concentrated on the chapter you were reading, once in a while pausing to write a note down on your pad of paper. 

“Breakfast smells good Y/N.” Johnny started searching the counters and stove top. 

You chuckled while turning a page, nodding. “Mmmhh it was, too bad you missed it.” 

Johnny peeked in the microwave in the last ditch attempt to find himself some of your cooking, which he snapped it shut. “All of it? All gone? Every last bit of it?” He groaned and you leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. Johnny couldn't help but admire the way your sleep tank stretched over your chest, making him smirk to himself. 

“Every last bit of it. You got some cornflakes up in the cupboard.” 

Johnny snorted at that idea. He was hungry and cereal wasn't going to curb that craving. No, he had something better in mind. Even better then what you had cooked up earlier while he was sleeping. “Fuck cereal.” 

You half ignored Johnny as you started packing some of your books up considering you had to get to class in another hour. “Make some toast then Johnny, I don't know what to tell you. You snooze, you lose Mister.” 

Johnny smirked as he rounded the counter, tilting his head to look at your heart shaped ass as you leaned down to zip up your bag, and his hands clasped against your cheeks, making you squeak while he dug his fingers in a bit. “I can think of something a lot better to have then cereal, toast or anything else in this kitchen today.” He spun you around, hands falling to your hips to perch you on the table, some of your books falling off the edge of the table. Your legs circled around Johnny's hip while your hands rubbed up his tee and you shook your head at him. 

“You sure know how to compliment a girl. Best thing in the kitchen huh?” You wiggled your brows and bit your lip while running a foot up the back of his thigh. 

“Nothing but facts Baby.” he tilted in to claim your lips, starting with a peck of a kiss. “Where is everyone?” 

“Mmhh, Richard and Susan had a lecture at the university and I'm assuming Ben is in his room?” You shrugged and Johnny seemed to calculate the chances of getting caught. 

“Fuck it” He sputtered and surged forward to now place a messy kiss on your lips, forcing you to lay back against the table, clutching at his shoulders. Some of your books were digging into your back, and when he pulled away to drag fingers through the waistband of your shorts. Dragging them down, you kicked your feet. To deny that the idea of being caught was a bit exciting. A hell of a lot exciting. 

“Johnny what if we get caught?” You raised yourself to your elbow to look down your body to where Johnny was kissing the top of your thighs and pulling up a chair underneath him. Palms dragged the back of your thighs to grasp the back of your knees, his mouth hot against the top of your mound. 

“Keep quiet and we won't.” His hands tightened and dragged one leg over his shoulder, running his nose through the tight curls and down to the slit where you could already feel your core tighten just seeing your boyfriend looking up at you like he was ready to feast. “You can do that, right Minx?” A pink tongue escaped from between his lips to tease your outer folds, making your toes curl at the sensation. 

You give a nod, and tilt your head back towards the doorway to make sure no one was coming this way when Johnny flicked his tongue harder to slick between your tempting folds to really taste your juicy cunt. A gasp escaped at the sensation and you could feel Johnny giving a smirk against your thigh where he bit lightly, lifting that one to go over his other shoulder. “Mmh, delicious.” He said teasing as his hands folded around the plump globes of your cheeks and arched you up, your elbows bracing you and the books you had been laid over digging into your back. 

His tongue took sharp laps to collect your juices with a hum of satisfaction, every glance he took up your body showed your tensing at each taste he took, every time his tongue circled around your weeping entrance, giving teasing pokes before sliding up to suck your clit between his lips. The bud swelled, each twirl of the tip of his tongue circled patterns that made your hips rotate to follow, your little mewls just rewarding above him. 

“Fuck, oh fuck Johnny.” You wriggled your hips and he clutched them harder to keep you still. Your feet braced against the back of the chair to arch up higher, which he allowed. Burying his face into your cunt, he kept teasing back and forth, till you felt him spit against your rim, his finger circling your tight entrance. 

“Shit Johnny-” 

His teeth sunk into your ass cheek a moment, making you bite on your bottom lip to quiet yourself. “Gotta keep quiet, remember.” His thumb pushed past the tight rim to the first knuckle as his tongue lapped your entrance, fast hard licks making you clench till he started to fuck you with his tongue, easily stroking your fluttering walls. 

You leaned onto an elbow to loosen your other arm, muffling the cry that was falling from your lips as your hips bucked, Johnny harshly digging his fingers into your globes in an attempt to keep you still. 

Between him teasing your ass, tongue fucking you so efficiently you wanted to cum right then, it was all overwhelming when he sucked on your clit again, this time pulling the swollen bud to lift his head up to look down at you while you were digging your fingers into your cheeks with one hand and trying to clutch at the wooden table underneath you. 

“Flood my face Baby…” He encouraged, his tongue swiping along his shiny pink bottom lip as if he was collecting some decadent cream. His chin, jawline, all glistened from your arousal and you could feel your thighs drenched. His hands arched you just a bit more while you gave him a pleading gaze, high pitched whine confirming that you were ready to cum. 

He dove back in, now a man on a mission, and you resisted the build up for just a few moments, sounds escaping between clenched fingers over your lips, your hand slapping against the table when you finally snapped. 

Much to Johnny's delight, you drenched him just as he wanted. His tongue worked faster as you rocked into his face through your orgasm. Groaning satisfied at how well you coated his tongue, swallowing what he could until you sank back down, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.  

Behind you were heavy echoing footsteps, which made you push up to a sit suddenly. “Oh shit-” Johnny pushed up to a stand, lifting you off the table to grasp your lowered sleep shorts and quickly pulled them up and gave a quick kiss, his eyes sparkling brightly in excitement. 

“Oh look whose ass is finally up.” Ben grunted and Johnny was quick to lift his shirt up to wipe at his lips and chin to hide the evidence of earlier, you turned to finish picking up the books on the table. 

“Ahh, well I woke up to smelling breakfast and guess what, I heard it's all gone.” Johnny leaned down to pick up the books that fell down. “Lucky me though I got a girl that gave me a Special Breakfast, since I missed out earlier.” Johnny grinned widely as Ben rolled his eyes, grabbing some water bottles from the fridge. 

You squeaked a bit, trying to hide your face as you cleared your throat. “I gotta go get dressed for class.” You excused while making your escape, hearing the parting words shared between the two. 

“She spoils you Johnny, I hope you know that.” 

“Fuck Ben, feel free to pulverize me if I ever disagree with that statement.” 

[homosexual-fast-dancer]

bingo w khonjin!

Thank you for the ask :D

Explanations:

i am constantly going insane rotating them in my brain like a fork in a microwave - I love him so much it's not even funny, he is always at least somewhat loitering around in my mind

the popular ships for this character suck - there are really only two ships for him and it's either Spag x Khonjin or Pent x Khonjin, one has too large of an age gap (imo) and one borders on selfcest which is a bit odd to me

whats wrong with them (affectionate) - no one should act like him, no one should look like him, he defies logic and should most likely not exist... still cute tho

they've never done anything wrong in their life <3 - I know he has done a lot wrong, but I think personally he is too much of stupid bean to have been doing stuff maliciously

This is the best character in the work - well, arguably the best character is Pent/Shelby but Khonjin is the funniest character and therefore the best character (also he is the work/show!)

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days.  I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it.  It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home.  The conference calls helped me feel sane.  After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream.  I was pretending, though.  I still hadn’t tried to open the closet.  Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate.  My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house.  Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house.  I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow.  Some of the flowers were even pretty.  I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over.  We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed.  I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages.  Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room.  I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good.  It was.  It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth.  My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed.  I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room.  Once again, I failed.  I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.”  There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark.  “I can’t leave either,” he whispered.  I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed.  I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move.  He had just sounded sad when he said it.  

“Why can’t I ever see you?”  I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that.  “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject.  “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden.  If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off.  But you were fixing things, so I let you stay.  I got used to you being around.  Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die.  I would have gone back to being on my own.  I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave.  I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes.  So take care of yourself.  Sleep in the bed.  Care for the house.  I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips.  I didn’t want to ask but I had to know.  “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer.  I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued.  “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out.  I can’t exactly get a new one just now.  Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.  

Except for when I almost fell, I thought.  You caught me then.  And my laptop.  I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either.  I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease.  How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled.  I stood there in the dark and silence.  The house was silent.  I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here.  “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly.  “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued.  Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary.  It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer.  Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself.  I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.  

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven.   The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left.  I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking.  I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from.  Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him.  Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed.  Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.  

“Nick?  What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me.  I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar.  Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open.  Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked.  There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought.  There was still no way to say that and sound sane.  I went with a modified version of the truth.  “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me.  “Have you noticed anything missing?  Any signs of a break in?”

“No?  Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house.  “There were break-ins all down this street last night.  This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again.  “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses?  If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me.  The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone.  He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock.  “My building permit is posted in my window.  I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that.  Good day.”   Then he left.  Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was.  He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that.  And it didn’t need to be condemned.  I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins.  It was looters.  The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit.  The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick?  What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down.  My laptop was in the kitchen.  My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb.   I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear.  “I did.”

“You are different.  You are helping.”

I considered that.  He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.”  It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry.  I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it.  I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled.  “Fuck.  Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands.  I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears.  His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly.  I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street. 

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home.  That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing.  Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine.  “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back.  Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow.  I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head.  Under the covers looking at the ceiling.  Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?” 

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed.  “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?”  I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human.  We can’t procreate.  I can’t make you sick.  You can’t make me sick.  We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday.  I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest.  Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster.  Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it.  Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in.  I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me.  Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast.  I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine.  I was still in my house.  I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news.  Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.  

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day.  It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.  Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light.  “Nope.  I’m not alone.  You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside.  The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs.  It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step.  I swore.  Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.”  He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?”  I asked.  He didn’t answer.  “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments.  Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction.  Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction?  We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated.  “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.  

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door.  I sighed and turned on the lights.  I decided to be proactive this time.  I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.  

“I’m trying to sleep!  Can you keep the noise down?  Please?  I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back.  I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick?  Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister.  Then nothing.  I carefully inched my way upstairs.  I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble.  To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this.  I really had no secrets from him anymore.  “I’m anxious and keyed up.  I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “I don’t know what you are working with.  But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it.  The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human.  I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung.  I let my hand fall to the bed.  “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that.  A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant.  Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides.  Not human, I reminded myself.  In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded.  Four hands stroking me over my clothes.  A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle.  Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair.  I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline.  Any time I reached out for him he pulled away.  Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer.  I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes.  I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted.  “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house?  Weeks?  Months?  None of this seems real anymore.  Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either.  I just need …  something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah.  Someone to make me feel like I’m real.  Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands.  “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built.  I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then.  Most people don’t last much more than a month or two.  Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in.  It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners.  You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go?  Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it.  I need you to finish fixing the place first.  Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.”  He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old.  That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him.  I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness.  “What are you?  Are you a ghost?  Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment.  “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh.  “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies.  And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”