#Neverending Forces fanfiction

[lovelywingsart]

Restored Fate

-- Infinite the Jackal X Avatar/OC (Trans Male, He/Him) --

The second story of the timeline!

As I've said, works for these two will depend on how many people want a new addition, and will be written in chronological order.

That being said, they are fun to write so far, and I do hope people want more so I can test them out more <3

**You can find the masterlist here!~

-----

*Warnings?: Injury, near death experience, exhaustion, I tried writing Amy and Tails help

Summary: Having found the wounded Infinite, Rook the wolf manages to get them both to safety among new friends, and a decision must be made. And now to play the waiting game...

He was losing it.

Every step closer to the entrance of the underground bunker made the wolf look over his shoulder, watching as he gained distance from the wounded Infinite.

Everyone would think he was insane for this…

And maybe he was.

It wasn't until he heard a wheeze and a light thump that he fully stopped and turned, his ears lowering as he saw the jackal double over on his knees and slump against the wall. The blood loss had certainly run its course, clearly affecting him the more he exerted himself even though the bandanas were still tied tightly around his chest.

Rook paused as he watched, his ears twitching as he went over his options. He still had the chance to leave him… Still had the chance to simply move on with his life and let the jackal die as he surely would without help at this point. But a small part of him couldn't let that happen. A small part of him still wouldn't stoop that low despite believing it may have been deserved, but even so, now it was a matter of getting close enough to help.

… Ah, well… He did it once, he could do it again.

The wolf took a breath, his gaze shifting between the jackal and the ever closer entrance.

There was only one way he was gonna do this.

He gave a quiet huff before making his way back to the jackal, who's body had begun trembling. Heavily lidded eyes told the wolf everything he needed to know, along with the wheezing breaths. He knelt down quickly, grabbing the jackals jaw in a gentle grip. Infinites lip curled into a weak snarl, his teeth ever so slightly stained red from the blood that seeped down his chin and the corners of his mouth. Rooks ears flattened as he inspected the jackal, who had no energy to fight back- and he knew it. 

Only a few seconds longer was all it took for him to reach a solution, and he let go of Infinites jaw.

“Let's go.” He spoke quietly, his voice once again muffled behind the muzzle. The jackal only managed a low growl before he draped an arm over his shoulders, hoisting the injured creature up with a pained whine in response.

“Wh-... What-” he tried, though a low growl from the wolf was enough to interrupt him. He struggled only slightly once they began to move,  “I c-can… walk… on my own…! ”

His voice was but a pained wheeze, and the wolf huffed.

“You can't.” He said simply, his gaze moving to their feet. Each step of his now was met by an awkward fumbling from the jackal as he attempted to do so, thus proving his point.

The wolf said nothing else, simply walking forward and nearly dragging him along even as he struggled to walk. The jackal wasn't as heavy as he appeared to be, even when halfway to being considered dead weight; even now he could tell that under the fur he was rather scrawny, albeit with a slender muscle that could put up a fight if he so willed it. He could still feel his ribs pressed to his side with a small body warmth that seemed to fade with every passing second. It was clearly made for speed, not strength like himself- But taking advantage of the Ruby's power had proven too much for the lithe body, he could tell, leaving it as frail and weak as he had been afraid to be in the first place… He only wondered how strong he was beforehand before depending on the outside source.

He kept Infinite closer to his side as he approached the bunkers entrance, feeling the struggle lessen with each movement. He glanced over as he felt the jackals weight shift unevenly, suddenly going near limp against him. He watched as the hand covering his chest fell to the side, and his own ears flattened once more.

… Oh no.

If he was going to do something, he needed to do it now.

With one quick movement the wolf heaved him up, settling his full weight to his shoulders and side as he nearly ran forward.

He shoved his way through the door once he reached it, nearly stumbling through the threshold and onto small steps. He could hear voices as he approached a set of double doors, though ignored them as he pushed through. The voices stopped as he stumbled through, keeping the jackal upright.

“Help- ” was all he managed before they were surrounded, watching the shocked faces of the other inhabitants as they reached for them.

He found himself hesitant to let go of the jackal as he was urged to, sudden muddled voices reaching his ears. Even the sight of the rushing medical team barely phased him, feeling the weight against him lessen with a small dizziness. His own exhaustion from everything must have caught up… At least it was in here and not out there, even if he had planned on resting back at his own home.

He was well aware of the hands keeping him upright as he stumbled to a chair, finally letting himself slump over with a breath. He could feel the heaviness of his eyelids as he watched the small team of medics fall upon the jackal, almost comfortable enough to close them-

“Rookie???” A high pitched voice made him jump, his ears swiveling to attention. He attempted to blink away the tiredness as he looked to the side, a familiar- and concerned- face approaching him quickly.

He sat up slowly as the pink hedgehog trotted up to him, followed by the small fox.

“We thought you had run off, are you alright??” Amy had asked, but he noticed her voice seemed distant in his ears. He really WAS tired…

He nodded, his eyes drifting to where the medics had hauled the jackal onto a gurney-like structure and wheeled him through a set of doors. He kept his eyes on said doors, watching carefully through the glass windows on them. He tilted his head slightly as Tails’ own ears flattened.

“Was that-” the fox had started quietly, and Rook simply nodded.

“Hurt. Bad.” He said quietly, and the two looked at him. “Would have died…”

The tone of his voice was filled with a near sorrowful hesitancy, albeit somewhat muffled- but Amy frowned.

“Why did you bring him here?” She questioned, crossing her arms slightly. “I'm all for giving second chances, but-”

“Harmless.” Rook interrupted. “He's harmless.”

The two kept their eyes on him. He continued.

“Ruby exploded, tore his chest open. Couldn't feel any more power coming from him... Would have left him if I did.” He explained quietly, reaching to rub the back of his neck. It was the most he had spoken around them, so their faces were a mixture of surprise and, understandably, concern. 

“That's a bit… harsh…” the fox replied quietly, rubbing his arm. “But now he's here, do you think he'll be alright?”

“Well, if the team got to him in time, I'm guessing he'll be ok…” the hedgehogs voice was certain, and Rook finally tore his eyes away from the doors to look at her. “It depends on how far gone he was when you got here, but they're usually really good with these things. Sometimes I think they could bring back the dead if they tried.”

'That's pretty much what they're doing’ he thought, but he said nothing. His eyes fell to the ground as he felt a pat to his shoulder as Tails stood next to him.

“Hey, don't be sad- you did a good thing…!” The fox chirped, offering a friendly smile. “If Amy is right, and she probably is, he'll make a full recovery.”

The wolf let out an amused huff and nodded, and Amy smiled. But the smile fell slightly as she turned her own gaze to the doors.

“The only question is…” she started, and Rooks ears swiveled towards her. “What the heck are we gonna do with him when he recovers?”

“I don't know if we can just let him loose in the city again, who knows what trouble he'll cause…” the fox piped in.

They seemed to talk amongst themselves, their voices fading into muffled sounds as Rook closed his eyes. 

What WOULD they do with the jackal? While he was harmless now, there's no telling what he could still do when he was fully recovered, IF he was able to recover... And even if he couldn't sense any power, he didn't know if something was left after the ruby had shattered. He didn't know what would happen once the jackal regained his strength, what little he had, but even then it could be enough.

And in the event of that, the only one who could stop him would be-

“- would have to jail him.”

The hedgehogs voice brought him back from his thoughts, and one of his ears twitched towards them again.

“It only makes sense after what he did…” the fox said in small thought, but nodded. “But how long…?”

Amy shrugged.

“That's up to the jailer.” She stared matter-of-factly, crossing her arms with a huff. “Only question is, where will he go when it's decided he's learned his lesson-”

“... I'll take him…”

The wolfs voice made them jump, two sets of eyes turning to him. 

“What??” Amy spoke, and Tails’ ears leveled in concern.

“I'll take him.” Rook repeated quietly. “When he's free… My home. It's close to the outskirts… Big enough. He'll be safe. Won't get into much trouble.”

“Are you sure??” The fox said, his tails flicking nervously. He nodded towards the doors. “I mean, he seemed to cause a lot of trouble before this that you helped clean up, we don't wanna burden you with watching him when he gets out, too…”

The wolf was quiet for a moment before chuckling, a sound that caught them both by surprise.

“I'll be fine.” He said quietly, finally easing himself against the back of the chair and closing his eyes.

“If you're sure it's a good idea…” Amy replied, watching him. “... Hey, if you're tired, we can set you up for a few hours-”

“Here is fine.” 

“You sure, Rookie? It's not-”

“Rook.”

More confusion.

“Huh??”

“Rook. My name is Rook.” He said quietly, though his closed eyes crinkled with a smile under his mask before he cracked one open. He almost laughed as the hedgehogs face switched from to confused, to surprise, to irritated in no less than 3 seconds.

“Oh, that… Stupid KNUCKLES -” She fumed suddenly. “New ally or not, did he even bother to ask your name this entire time??”

Rook stared at her for a moment before offering a light shrug with a single shoulder, indicating the answer as ‘no’. He blinked as her irritation only grew.

“He's gonna get an earful next time I see him, forgetting to ask a name , how RUDE -!!”

‘So did you’ the wolf thought, raising a brow with amusement as she suddenly turned and stormed off, and Tails laughed next to him.

“Sorry Rook, I guess with everything going on, he forgot and just went your newbie status…” he said apologetically, patting his shoulder again. “I'm glad we know now, though!”

The wolf let out an amused hum, and the fox turned to follow his friend. 

“Don't worry about Infinite, we'll wake you up if anything changes.” He held up his hands and gave a thumbs-up. “Get some rest until then!”

Rook nodded, returning the gesture as his tail curled around his waist.

“I will.” he promised, closing his eyes again once the fox was out of sight.

The smile on his face didn't last too long, and he was glad his mask hid it- once the weight of the promise he had made hit him, he felt his shoulders tense up.

WAS it a good idea??

‘Too late for second guessing’ he thought, and simply let out a sigh. There wasn't telling how the outcome would be, or if he even had to worry about it… He had to hope that either the jackal was far too gone, he was weak enough to control once he was better, or whatever jail time deemed necessary would work to shape him up if he survived. Either option would have worked for him at this point, though the second one would have demanded a full commitment if the third didn't work…

Oh well. He already promised, and he wouldn't go back on it.

For now, he decided, he would keep another promise, and let himself drift off into an exhaustion fueled sleep as he slumped down into the chair.

It was all he could work with right now, and he intended to do so.

[exhelluvafan]

Well it’s official helluva boss has finally lost the plot

I’m am surprised… no of course the episode Viv is proud of writing turns out to be some shitty fanfic the fat jokes are disgusting striker is now a dickrider for the rich

and DONT get me started on the weak ass ending like stolas is now powerless oh boo fucking WHO I DO NOT FEEL SORRY FOR THIS ASSHOLE also Vivzepop you are one of the worst writers I ever laid my eyes on you are 31 and you still write like a 12 year old who discovered yaoi porn for the first time your characters designs are shit you can’t even write your characters to act like adults for fuck sake you are wasting talented people on your softcore porn I’m so done with this show I hope season three never sees the light of day

Yep, it's official, Helluva lost the plot and turns out that the leaks about Octavia turned out to be true in the end, evidenced by the hair stripe that Stolas ended up getting in the end of Mastermind.

And her being usually mean-spirited and fatphobic? Ain't surprising in the slightest, to think that the sin of Gluttony would be disgusted instead of being delighted, because, y'know... indulging is part of her sin???

Also, agreed about the design bit, though I'll steal Striker and Chaz for redesign or canon divergence material, but outside of that... while Satan is hot, this literally proves my point that this whole show became only a show made to make Viv and her porn addicted fans get off to softcore porn that she could've easily satiated if she went to the funny green page or the orange YouTube, but no, Viv had to force it onto her shows because she's that self-absorbed, and the character designs are conveniently attractive for NSFW artists to sexualize them to no end, which isn't an issue on itself, but c'mon, guys, we cannot deny that Vortex, Asmodeus, or Satan are cheap furry gay bait.

And yes, Stolas' punishment wasn't enough, and even then, he hasn't apologized to Blitz about sexually abusing, belittling and downright gaslighting him, and we're still supposed to ROOT for these two to be together? (Also, fuck you, Viv, Blitz WOULDN'T kiss Stolas in the cheek, Stolas didn't deserve it, if anything, Blitz would've ended Stolas misery with a gunshot on his ugly mug.)

So yeah, boo fucking hoo, Stolas, cry me a fucking ocean, idgaf.

And lastly... Hard agree, I heavily do not wish to see Helluva S3 ever come out, because it'll be a no ending pity party for the oh so sad ex prince Stolas that lost everything, and I would rather waste my time with more productive stuff before seeing a neverending melodrama of an abuser and his victim that developed Stockholm Syndrome because the plot demanded it.

Fuck this show, fuck this writing and fuck you, Viv.

(As a palette cleanser, check out this little fanfiction I found that serves as a more satisfying ending for Mastermind.)

[moniquill]

Without telling you what panels I’m pitching for, these are my pitches

I am indigenous (Seaconke Wampanoag) and intend to be alive in the future; I'd like to talk about #Landback and the expectations vs realities of indigenous soverignty - consider https://www.tumblr.com/moniquill/746982334875729920?source=share

I've written many, many essays about this:

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/165881710831/so-today-i-read-a-book-called-sister-raven

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/616835845035589632/im-going-to-talk-about-greedfall-fight-me

https://moniquill.tumblr.com/tagged/cultural%20appropriation

and also I want to talk about the existence of this book by beloved author Susan Cooper: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17170557-ghost-hawk and Rowling's Ilvermorny.

I want to talk about indigenous land management systems, particularly in the Northeast US, and settlers 'first contact' with those environments.

I want to talk about Colonialism as a villain.

I just want to talk about the insustainability of non-biodegradable fibers, and how laundry sheds microplastics.

I wrote https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/706010/to-shape-a-dragons-breath-by-moniquill-blackgoose/

I want to talk about colonialism as a feature of sci-fi in the past and present.

I'd really like to talk about the rise of 'puriteens' and 'antis' in fandom spaces online, as well as Porn Purges in places like FF.Net and Wattpad.

I'd like to talk about AU conventions and the existence of the Alpha/Beta/Omega shared universe (for example) - shared conventions of fanfiction spaces that cross fandoms.

I want to talk about antivaxxers, flat earthers, Facebook Mom groups, and 'alternate archeology'

My entire conception of Fantasy as a kid was shaped by Labyrinth, The Dark Crystal, Willow, The Neverending Story, The Last Unicorn, Flight of Dragons, the Rankin-bass versions of The Hobbit and LOTR, The Secret of Nimh, Return to Oz, etc

I want to talk about what constitutes 'tech' at all; about degrowth in solarpunk futures - it's not just AI that might force us to abandon some aspects of tech, there's also sustainability to think about. Also I was alive in the 90's before 'smart' anything existed and didn't get my first smartphone until after college.

I want to talk about the idea that Dystopia is when things that are currently happening to marginalized people happen to dominant populations.

I'd like to talk about Dangerous Visions and Again, Dangerous Visions as well as the Young X series of anthologies edited by Asimov - https://www.goodreads.com/en/book/show/2089882 , https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1499362.Young_Ghosts etc

I want to talk about https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Native_Tongue_(Elgin_novel) and the presumptions made by it; https://moniquill.tumblr.com/post/187857039061/so-i-read-the-second-book-in-the-native-tongue#notes

And about Robin Wall Kimmer's reflections on The Language of Animacy: https://orionmagazine.org/article/robin-wall-kimmerer-language-animacy/

I'm especially interested in the ethics portion here and want to draw parallels between terraforming and indigenous land management practices.

Interested in weighing in as a human with a presumably functional womb that I've actively chosen not to use

[roxannepolice]

The master shouldn’t be brought back for a couple seasons and not every big bad should end up being him

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

You know not all is right when you sigh in relief at the showrunner saying your fave has been appearing too much lately. Because maybe, just maybe it means he recognises there's more to them than the main soprano in the "Psychological Colonoscopy of the Doctor" cantata? Like, I don't think it's just the matter of quantity but quality as well here. Again, the Master's been forced into a linear story that absolutely doesn't work for them! Either resolve their issues or fucking kill them for good, because this masochistic orgy of "behold exactly what's wrong with them, but no, of course we're not going to just deal with it" works for fanfiction (artistic expression I fully admire, but there a production issues), but not a neverending tv series that people get paid for creating. Of course, this is the same issue that's plopped on the Doctor, too, and I doubt it's possible to go back to adventures with occasional angst format that's a lot of Classic Who fans' holy grail AND THAT'S GOOD! This more introspective poetic works! But there is such a thing as too much good and I think there's something that makes them less suitable for villains than heroes? Like, with a villain, there has to be a solid fatal flaw that doesn't get patted on the back in the end, and there are very few such flaws that can be used over and over. Desire for power or survival work here, because they're both extremes of end-of-the-day common not to say healthy drives, and the beauty of thoschei is how those drives, though usually in a more measured level, aren't absent from the good guy. Complexes, abandonment issues, and all the rest of the diagnoses that get dumped on the Master lately... look, I understand those are things many people live with and never fully resolve, BUT THIS IS A STORY, IT NEEDS A FREAKING CONCLUSION.

Like, I really get the impression when Moffat came up with the redemption arc for Missy, and then arrived at the "ideal" way for how the Master's story should end, he. maybe wasn't naive enough to think future showrunners won't bring them back, but he really expected it to be at least a couple of seasons? Because there, I ended a linear story. Take a moment to go back to it. But then Chibs needed an exposition device for his Doctor apotheosis and that required the Master to be as historically rooted as possible.

Also, don't get me started on the "the Master always just comes back without an explanation uwu" thing, yes they do come back in the same regeneration, but when there's a new body THERE'S USUALLY BEEN A WHOLE EPISODE DEVOTED TO HOW THIS HAPPENED (all hail the Tooth plot).

As for the revelations... I'm a bit more on the fence with this one, because a) dress ups are the Master's thing and b) I think they're the perfect SEASONAL big bad, they just don't work as an overarching villain. Not in the least because they work best with the Doctor when they do have to unite against a common enemy. Point: people sometimes do good things for selfish reasons. Inventing the specific scenario where the only choice is between participating or not in an expanded altruistic suicide (that won't really do much difference from individual altruistic suicide) isn't the dramatic hit you think it is.

Bottom line: LET. THE MASTER. BREATHE.

[dragonfire42]

Good Omens fanfiction - Immersive Metafiction crossover

Exploring some deeper themes in both stories on sadness, along with personal experiences.

Except from The Neverending Archive:

"If we’ve already crossed the canyon, I’m pretty sure what lies beyond are the Swamps of Sadness.”

“Sounds cheery,” Crowley says with a smirk.

“Quite.” Aziraphale reads a little further. “It seems the trick to getting through the Swamps of Sadness, is to not let the sadness overcome you. It’s like quicksand, you see.”

Crowley eyes the swamps with a measure more scrutiny. “Right.”

They both look forward at the many thick and uninviting bogs ahead, and in unison, they look back behind them at the canyon below. Without their wings, or their miracles, forward is literally the only option.

“Right,” Crowley says again. “Shall we?” He forces a grin, that does anything but reassure Aziraphale...

From "The Neverending Archive" rated G, no archive warnings apply, 19k words and finished

From a reader:

"~~~We’re in a magic land, with weird sounding names like the Swamp of Sadness. Maybe just over the hill is the Forest of Expensive Italian Loafers where I can get a new pair.” ~~~

This cracked me up

I liked how the swamp stands for depression in your version even more realistic than in the original, as you show both sides, the side of the friend who throws the rope and that’s all he can do, and the side of the drowning who can’t grip the rope. I felt things, there. Very much so." - @naturallyteal

TW: Swamps of Sadness are sad, but also it's the Swamps of It's Ok To Be Sad

[ablatheringblatherskite]

Fanfiction Author Interview Game

Thank you @brendadaaedestler and @nerdywriter36 for the tag!!

How many works do you have on AO3?

At the moment, 39!

What's your total AO3 word count?

137,637

Your top 5 stories by kudos:

"send your cutest delivery boy" (special instructions, Tyler's POV) (Wednesday)

The Valentine's Day Curse (Wednesday)

wet face towels (Wednesday)

can I have this dance? (Wednesday)

My Halloween Angel (Wednesday)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do!! But I'm usually really really late LOL. But I respond to them because I'm just. always so beyond grateful when I actually get comments, especially since I rarely ever do.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

OOOH. Either neverending bloodstains (Phantom of the Opera) or on the precipice of Madness (Phantom of the Opera)??

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

OOOOh good question. That's either gotta be Angels In Hell's Kitchen (Daredevil), Talking to the Moon (ATLA), or a place where you don't need to talk all the time (Phantom of the Opera)!

Do you write crossovers?

I have WIPs of crossovers! Multiple, actually! There's an HTTYD x WOF one, and another one about kid geniuses from diff books! but I never went that far with it (it was fun tho)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not exactly but kind of?? I wrote a Hamilton fic once about Lafayette hugging and kissing Hamilton and Laurens platonically and how they were embarrassed by it, and how they ended up realising that it's okay for Lafayette to be that affectionate. And I got a comment that was annoyed that a lot of people are "forcing" men to be soft and affectionate or something. I can't really remember tho because I didn't read the comment (my friend told me not to LOL)

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope, and I never plan to.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think someone said they would once on FFnet?? But idk if it ever happened.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have several WIPs, and a finished one that was for whumptober that I wrote with @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom! (The prompts we used were Mind control, kidnapping, and shock collar)

What's your all-time favorite ship?

Probably Raoulstine and Hiccstrid 🥹🥹🥹

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

No NO I REFUSE to think of any of my WIPs this way I will continue to tell myself that I will finish ALL of them some day.

What are your writing strengths?

Many people have told me that characterization is one of them!! I think another might be writing emotions??

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions and like... exposition.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I really wanna write a HTTYD fic sometime, and also a Hiccstrid fic! I've just been focusing on so many others that I haven't had the chance to yet. I've also been wanting to do Zootopia, and, well. Supernatural, once I finally start watching it LOL wjdjwjdjsjjd (I. already have ideas-)

What's your favorite fic that you've written?

OH GOODNESS. That's a very good question... maybe a place where you don’t need to talk all the time (Phantom of the Opera), aka my Deaf!Raoul fic! I really enjoyed writing that one.

Or perhaps Talking To The Moon, my only ATLA fic!

Or maybe Woe Is We, an unfinished Wednesday fic I have!

Or maybe My Dear Nutcracker, my newest fic!! This one DEFINITELY has a special place in my heart, so!!

Tagging:

@rose-red-ink @incomingalbatross @clawedandcute @rainintheevening @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom

@authortobenamedlater @ladyphlogiston @darling-gemini

[delirium-keeper]

NEW CHAPTER: Circumstances force the boys from Karakura Town to separate. Chad is left alone to deal with the designs of the mysterious entity they just encountered and re-evaluate what brought him to Hueco Mundo.  His journey reaches an unforeseen and unimagined destination.

[that-irishman-fan]

dr. strangelove or how i learned to stop worrying and love the bomb as an 80’s dark fantasy movie headcanons!

This is definitely going to be the most niche thing I’ve written across all my blogs and in my time posting fan content; but I felt the need to do this deep down in my soul. In this new year, I wanted to take one of my favourite films of all time, Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb, and fuse it with one of my favourite genres of film, retro dark fantasy( by that I mean movies like Labyrinth, Legend, The Princess Bride, Neverending Story, Willow, etc. )

Quick note that NONE of Dr. Strangelove belongs to me whatsoever, full rights go to Stanley Kubrick and everyone involved there. I’m only writing based on these brilliant characters and stories, not claiming them as my own in any way. This is merely an alternate universe take, not canon.

These are going to be small headcanons to establish a ground zero idea for what I would love to turn into a full fledged fanfiction, but I wanted to get the general consensus on whether or not it was something worth pursuing. I’m going to tag my favourite human being in the whole world and best friend, @itscrimsonsixx and the absolute goddess that is @jaethebloody in this post!

Thank you everybody for your continued reblogs, likes, comments, and support on my posts, you guys are literally the best and I appreciate each and every single one of you!

FANDOM: Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb, 1964

GENRE: Alternate universe, headcanons, medieval au, and whatever else this could be classified as!

SYNOPSIS: My headcanons of the cast of Dr. Strangelove in an 80’s dark fantasy style world!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of angst, swearing, info-dumps I apologize in advance for, and just general weirdness as a whole that I don’t know if I regret or am proud of…

Let’s start by establishing the general plot and who’s who in this demented chaotic bin on fire of a story.

There are two kingdoms in a magical realm who have been warring against each other for eons, as far back as history goes. The purpose for the battle isn’t really known anymore, but these kingdoms fight to carry on their legacies. In the west is the land of Cybele and in the east is the land of Vanth. There are many planes of existence in this world, but the story takes place on the middle plane where humans, magical creatures, and forces of good and evil spirits reside. The metaphysical beings can cross over, but not mortals.

King of the Cybele in the West is Merkin Muffley, late in life to the throne after the sudden passing of his father. He’s a humanitarian, philanthropist, and a good man who cares for his people and wants the best for his land. It is him who has pushed the concordance between both kingdoms despite protests from his court. The character of Staines becomes his Royal Advisor and they are good friends.

The Archlord of the Vanth Kingdom is Dmitri Kissov, a royal who came from a long line of warlords, generals, and intellectuals. Like Muffley, he’s also a benevolent ruler not wanting to sacrifice his men to a war he deems to be useless bloodshed. But pressures from his court mean he’s got a hell of a time trying to make cordial decisions and relations with his ‘sworn rival.’

To cement this alliance into permanency, Dmitri has pledged his sister to marry Merkin for them to unite both the Cybele and the Vanth houses. While Dmitri’s younger sister is a woman of good character, Merkin does not love her. Rather, he is in love with Dmitri, the forbidden love between the two rulers going way back to their youth. They pine for each other afar, not able to express their love.

In this instance, I would prescribe the classic role of the innocent princess to Muffley whereas his love interest can be the noble prince from a faraway land or the outcast he’s prohibited from marrying. I want to switch up gender roles with this story, giving the characters broader spectrum to express themselves without ideas of stereotypes or patriarchy being a dominant force.

The Royal Guardsmen of Cybele are led by the High General Buck Turgidson, a militaristic and uncouth old soldier who was once apart of the crusades of the Lady of the Moon, the Cybele deity. Since such wars were outlawed, he craves the thrill of battle and thus opposes the union of the Cybele and Vanth kingdoms. ( Quick note, the Moon Goddess is Cybele’s deity whereas the Vanth are atheistic, also similar to how the Americans and Russians were in the original movie. Of course, there are always exceptions, the goddess is universal, but the Vanth tend to be skeptics and the Cybele more spiritual )

He is having an affair with the dark witch, Madame Scott, in the enchanted forests bordering Vanth and Cybele. She promises to keep eyes open for any rebel forces in the woods if he does not turn her coven in for practicing the dark arts. In return, the two have a passionate albeit dysfunctional relationship.

Overseer of the court of Vanth is the Duke Alexei de Sadesky, a diplomat and merchant appointed to the role after many years as a successful broker. He is well-educated, reserved, but with a fiery and passionate side like most people of Vanth. His love interest is also an ‘enemy’ who is in the court of the Cybele, with the exception that they are together show love in correspondences.

This love interest is none other than the famed sorcerer, alchemist, and learned man rumoured to not be from their mortal plane—Jürgen Merkwurdigliebe or Doctor Strangelove. He has tremendous powers, protecting the kingdom of Cybele with his technological skills of infused magical weaponry and machines. It is him who gave flight, weapons of warfare, and many more amazing inventions to both sides of the war by his genius. He is much like High General Turgidson, opposed to unification but having to put on a public face. And he’s very versed in magic and the dark arts, once being a dark wizard of the Supreme Nox before defecting when it was locked away by the heroes of many years before. But with a new generation and the peace talks, it has broken free—and Strangelove may or may not be involved.

Strangelove would be the classic Merlin archetype, sort of the Gandalf-slash-Dumbledore character with his mad genius. de Sadesky is a villain who’s more of a hero than anything else in this story. Him and Strangelove regard themselves as married, their love covert and secret so as not to cause scandal over two rivals being together. A male identifying person being a bachelor isn’t uncommon in this world and neither for a female identifying person, but marriage is considered to be important—almost necessary to royals and aristocrats. And of course, genderqueer, non-binary, fluid, and agender folks are fully accepted too, this is a world where the binary doesn’t have a hold on the minds of the people. War, famine, dark magic, pleasing the gods, and being of good character are far more important than what pronouns a person uses. Its just considered acceptable and normal.

Now, those who oppose the unification who aren’t in the aristocracy have banded together to form the vagrant rebel forces. Looming over the peace talks between these two kingdoms is the Supreme Nox, a being only spoken of in only the darkest of circles. It is a being of pure darkness, pure sin, and pure diabolical evil, the very incarnate of everything frightening, harmful, and broken in the cosmos. The minority of subjects and officials who break away from their kingdoms because they don’t like the idea of the war ending fall into two categories: they either join the Supreme Nox and its growing armies of shadows, or they integrate into a new group of people hidden deep in the woods.

This new backwoods commune is lead by a former wing pilot for the Cybele kingdom named T.J. Kong. While he isn’t hostile nor wanting to be subservient to Supreme Nox, he refuses to go back to the villages and grand city of Cybele. This story revolves around nationalism just as the original source movie does, and I wanted to keep those elements in my little fic here. To get rid of it would strip the characters of this important detail. Kong is devoted to his new found family, knowing all their names, stories, and backgrounds, and he is as kind a leader as Muffley and Kissov.

I would love for Kong to be the quirky sidekick, much like Brown Tom and Screwball in Legend or Vizzini’s crew in Princess Bride. I can imagine him being so off-kilter and just hilarious, but with a heart of gold. Keep him in the back of your mind as we progress, he’s going to show up shortly.

On the opposite spectrum, there’s the turncoat Jack D. Ripper of the Cybele kingdom. Once a middle ranking guardsman, he became aware of the unification talks between Cybele and Vanth. He’s fought in many of the wars between the two powers, staunchly pro-Cybele. Conspiracies, lies, and disgust all boiled over into him going rogue, and joining the Supreme Nox. Because he has national secrets and knows the weaknesses of the kingdom, he is given a bounty and becomes the most wanted man in the lands of the Moon Goddess and in the Vanth lands too.

Now who should chase after Ripper but courageous Lionel Mandrake of Cybele! He’s of middle class blood, the reject of six other brothers and was the rightful governor of his village until it was stolen from him by his younger siblings. As such, Mandrake became a guardsman. This offended his family so much since they dislike the upper eschalons, that he was cut off. When Mandrake learned of Ripper’s desertion, he took it upon himself to go after his former commander. He journeys through the plains, mountains, and woods towards the dreaded Castle of Doomsday of the Supreme Nox in the badlands to retrieve Ripper. He’s become a classic Dungeons and Dragons style ranger mixed with the nomadism of Aragorn from Lord of The Rings. Along the way he meets T.J. Kong, who joins him to stop Ripper and the Supreme Nox.

Mandrake is most definitely the chosen one archetype, the scruffy hero who rises up to the challenge of good versus evil. It’s in a long lost prophecy for him to join forces with Kong, Ms. Scott, and de Sadesky to conquer the forces of darkness that would destroy the universe; so think Legend with Tim Curry, basically, but with the aesthetic of Labyrinth and Willow, and the type of humour of The Princess Bride.

I’m gonna throw in the character of Colonel Bat Guano ( oh my god, his name ) as a folk hero of his village in Cybele, famed for his valour and his nobility. He’s not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he can fight and he’s respected by his countrymen for it. He comes from Mandrake’s village and joins him at the final battle against the Supreme Nox.

So yeah, the basic premise is that Cybele and Vanth are in the process of making peace and possible unification whilst having to contend with the very real threat of the Supreme Nox. It’s a clusterfuck and amalgamation of everything I love about Dr. Strangelove and about retro dark fantasy, and it’s honestly weird even for me—but I feel as though it could be really good? I don’t know, time will tell.

Thank you so much for reading if you got this far, I am BEYOND grateful and appreciative for you reading my thoughts. Please let me know what you think, if this is something you’d be interested in seeing or something I should just keep to myself. Have a great rest of your week everyone and Happy New Year!

[miraculousares]

Because I doubt the writers are going to feed us the interaction immediately after The Thing™, here I am. GANG OF SECRETS SPOILERS. IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED S4 YET, DO NOT READ ON

Marinette clutched the sides of her head as if she might explode if she didn't hold everything together. "You're right, I have secrets and I lie all the time! I lie to my parents, to my friends. To everyone..." She felt her best friend sit beside her on the chair but she was so caught up in her feelings that she couldn't process it. "And the worst part about it is that I can't do anything about it!" She buried her face in her hands, fighting back another bought of sobs.

"We always have the choice, Marinette." Alya spoke softly and carefully putting her arms around the girl. In the back of her head, Marinette was sure that she could feel her shaking but at this point, she didn't care. She was overwhelmed. She was heartbroken. She was stressed. She was terrified.

"No." She looked up and met her friend's eyes and saw a look of sympathy. "At least not for me. I've got no other choice. It's all beyond us, Alya, and it's too heavy to carry." She wiped a tear from her face.

"If it's too heavy, then we'll be two to carry it," the girl whispered comfortingly. With this, Marinette let out a long breath. She knew what the right decision was to the discourse she'd been having in her own head all day. That didn't stop her fear from taking control, though.

"If I tell you, things between us will never be the same. It's going to destroy everything, change it all."

"Marinette, whatever you'll say, I'm your friend." Marinette could hear how desperately her friend wanted to know. But it wasn't out of curiosity or pushiness. It was to take the burden of her secret from her. To help her carry it.

"And me..." She searched her friend's eyes, gaining the confidence and reassurance she needed from the loving stare of her best friend. "I'm Ladybug." Time seemed to move in slow motion. For a moment, she wondered if Bunnix had done it, showing up to keep her from telling Alya. But instead, time resumed as the redhead's expression quickly changed from shock and confusion to one of understanding before pulling her into a tight hug. She paused for a moment before wrapping her own arms around her friend and let herself sob silently into her shoulder.

If she was being honest, Marinette had thought of a thousand different scenarios as to how Alya might react. The majority of them were filled with neverending questions from the Ladybug-Superfan. A select few ended with Alya storming out and never speaking to her. One even included her selling her out to Shadowmoth, though she shut that one down quickly. However, she hadn't let herself imagine Alya comforting her immediately. Marinette was grateful to her friend for that. She didn't ask her to prove it, ask her a million questions, or even speak. She just hugged her because she trusted her. Alya had complete faith in her.

After a few minutes of letting out the weeks' worth of sorrow and pressure out into her friend's flannel-clad shoulder, she eventually pulled away and searched Alya's eyes. She seemed to be processing the information, but sympathy and understanding still took over her face. Seeing that expression, all worries and stress washed away in a wave of overwhelming relief. It felt amazing to have finally told someone and she knew she had made the right choice. She let out another breath and a smile forced itself onto her face. It felt foreign on her face now, rarely having worn one since becoming the gaurdian, but it felt at home. She wiped her cheeks and laughed. Nothing was amusing, she was just so happy that it escaped her lips automatically.

"Okay, I'm okay. You can react now," she announced. Though Alya was doing an amazing job at just being understanding, she could tell that her best friend was bursting with questions. Alya seemed to scan over her one last time to check for any remaining need of comfort before letting her face turn to an expression of shock.

She sat silent for a moment as if trying to organize her thoughts before breathing out, "You've beta-read so much of my LadyNoir fanfiction..." Marinette couldn't help the loud laugh. She clapped her hand over her mouth but Alya just joined in the laughter. They sat there letting out all of their relief and joy and connection through that shared laugh until their stomachs hurt. Eventually, they were able to get their breath back and Alya seemed to be more collected in her processing.

"Okay, actually though, that's insane. Ladybug has been my best friend this whole time and I had no clue. And all the pressure you've been under this whole time. I mean hell, Marinette! Paris' safety- No. The world's safety has been sitting on your and Chat Noir's shoulders for two years and you're only 16! I can't even imagine it! I mean, I guess I can to an extent because, ya know, Rena Rogue. But that's more of a part-time gig and it's not like everyone's relying super heavily on me. And now I'm rambling. What I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you trusted me with this and I'm so sorry I haven't been able to support you the way you've been needing. But I'm here now." She inhaled, clearly having forgotten to breathe during her ramble, and pulled Marinette into one more hug. "Can I ask questions?" She asked after they pulled apart again.

Marinette smiled. "Of course, Als."

"Okay. God, where do I even start? Do you know who Chat Noir is?"

"No. It's too dangerous for us to know each other's identities. Shadowmoth needs both of our miraculous and if we knew each other's identities, that would make it that much easier for him to get them," Marinette explained. It felt amazing to finally be talking about this with someone. Of course, she always had Tikki and now the other kwamis, but she needed the support of another person. She needed the support of her best friend.

"So he doesn't know who you are either?" Marinette shook her head and Alya nodded. "How did you even get your miraculous? I mean it's not like there was a Ladybug to hand it to you like I got mine."

"The last guardian, Master Fu, gave them to us. I don't know what happened with Chat Noir but I imagine that it was similar to why he gave me mine. I saved him from getting hit by a car in a crosswalk and showed him kindness. He told me later that he could see the 'heroic qualities' in me." She used her fingers to make air quotes around the words.

"That's incredible!" She paused for a moment, eyebrows raised in thought. "Oh my god, so many things make so much sense now."

"RIGHT?!" Marinette exclaimed.

"That's why you're always late! And why you're always so tired! And why you just dash out of class in the middle of the day!"

"EXACTLY!" Marinette practically shouted, relieved to finally be understood.

"Oh,

man... Everything's clicking in place, wow." Marinette could almost see the equations floating in front of Alya's face.

"Wait, sorry if this is out of line but... Is LadyNoir canon?"

"WHAT! No! Not in a million years!"

"Then what is this?" Alya whipped out her phone and showed Marinette her home screen. It was the picture that had been haunting the girl since it was taken. She wished it would disappear but it was constantly resurfacing on the internet and on tabloid covers. The photo of her and Chat Noir kissing on the rooftop after battling Oblivio.

"I have no idea what that was," she admitted. "I have no memory of even defeating Oblivio, let alone kissing that mangy cat."

"I mean, I know you're going through a lot right now and have sworn off romance for the time being but... Could it ever happen?"

Marinette opened her mouth to respond but all that came out was a sigh. "No," was all she said.

"Why not?"

"I..." Tears formed in her eyes and Alya immediately pulled her into a hug.

"Oh my god, Marinette. I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"No, no. I just... I haven't really let myself think about it since it happened. But, I guess I can finally talk about it, huh?"

"You can tell me anything, you know that."

And so, Marinette told Alya about what happened with Chat Blanc. She explained how their love destroyed the world. She explained how her own irresponsibility with her miraculous had destroyed the world. The whole event had honestly been very traumatic to Marinette and weighed heavily on her heart. Since that, she'd been even more closed off about her secret, especially to her partner. She hadn't let herself think about it if she could help it, but it still haunted her in her nightmares.

As she finished the story, Alya tightened her arms around her. "Marinette, I am so, so sorry that you had to go through that. You've been put through so much and you've been holding on to so much pressure and it's not fair. Mari, when I tell you this, I want you to believe me. You are the strongest person I know. You've gone through more than anyone should have to go through in a lifetime. Yet, you still manage to find a way to always be there for your friends and your family. You're out all night fighting for your life and for the world and then you come to school and you're there for everyone else. You are so, so strong. You're amazing and not just because you're Ladybug, but because you're Marinette."  Marinette couldn't hold back the tears that flowed down her cheeks as she hugged her best friend. Any regrets or doubts she worried she might have about telling Alya were gone. She knew she had made the right choice.

The girls spent the rest of the night talking about this, a mix of laughing and crying until they eventually fell asleep there on Marinette's couch, tired from the whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you, Alya, for being here for me," Marinette whispered as Alya's breathing steadied. Then, she closed her eyes and fell asleep herself. For the first time in weeks, her dreams were light and hopeful.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Request: Victor Vale x Reader

Victor Vale x reader

Word Count: 1139

@dxestars : well, hello there! i read your victor vale fanfiction and was wondering if you could write another? maybe one in which serena suggests eli to kidnap the reader to get victor's attention, he doesn't know if it'll work (bc victor is thought to be a sociopath) but does so nonetheless. it turns out it works like a charm and victor confesses his feelings and all? thank you!! 💞💞💞

“Didn’t you say that there was someone that caught Vale’s attention back before all of this shit started?” Serena asked one day as they were plotting.

Eli gritted his teeth, mentally calculating for the millionth time if it was really worth the effort to have a partner in his scheme if she was going to keep talking and interrupting his thought process. “What?” he managed to force out past his clenched jaw.

“I don’t know; when you told me about your ridiculous backstory you mentioned that he had a lab partner or something that he wouldn’t shut up about.” She shrugged. “Maybe you could use them to get him where you want him.”

“That won’t--” He exhaled sharply through his nose much like an angry bull would. “Victor doesn’t have . . . attachments like everyone else. That wouldn’t work.”

“How do you know?” she demanded. “And besides, I don’t see you coming up with anything better.”

~

Of course you didn’t know it, but that little conversation--or, shall we say, argument--was the reason you woke up with a splitting headache struggling to remember what happened. You’d gone to a bar with some friends, one of those places that served surprisingly decent food considering it was all cooked on a tiny hot plate or in a shitty deep frier that’d been around for at least fifteen years. You’d gone to the restroom after having a few too many drinks, and . . . That was all you could recall. Everything else you might have remembered was washed away by the pounding in your skull.

You’d heard stories like this from survivors of unspeakable things. You never thought it might happen to you, but you really couldn’t think of any other way to explain it. Someone had slipped something into your drink, something that’d knocked you out and left you with this lovely little jackhammer inside your skull.

Fuck.

You wiggled your wrists in an attempt to loosen the bindings that strapped you to a rather uncomfortable chair. They didn’t feel like rope; they felt harder. 

Must be plastic. Zip Ties?

A loud bang brought your attention to the room at large instead of the laser focus you’d had on your not-so-metaphorical shackles. It surprised you to see a face you recognized from a long time ago attached to the figure that was strolling through the empty warehouse you were trapped in.

Eli? No, it can’t be; he was such a nice guy back in college. I never did anything to piss him off. So you echoed your thoughts allowed by calling, “Eli?”

“The one and only,” he grinned. His smile was the same as it had been all those years ago. Slightly unsettling. Something about his neverending charm had always set you on edge; it was part of the reason you had clung so tightly to Victor’s calm presence.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Funny that you phrase it like that,” he laughed. “Hell is exactly where you are right now. Our own little Temptress to lure out the Devil himself, as it were.”

You stared at him in blatant confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, a certain old friend of yours is proving to be a real thorn in my side, so I need you to get him out of hiding. Victor and I need to have a little chat.”

“Victor?” you questioned incredulously. “I haven’t spoken to him in years!”

“Now, now,” he chided. “Lying is a sin. Good thing it’s my job to get rid of nasty things like that. I know you kept in contact with him after he went to prison.”

Your heart stuttered. No one was supposed to know about that. After the first letter you’d sent, Victor had requested that you always send messages as different people from different addresses, so it wouldn’t be traced back to you. You’d chalked it up as general paranoia, but now you weren’t sure it had been. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing,” a new voice broke the tense atmosphere. “He’s not going to do a damn thing to you, because this has nothing to do with you.” It was Victor. The paleness of his body in sharp contrast to the gloom that was the warehouse around you.

“Oh, I think it does, Vic.” Eli’s smile had become something almost feral. Unhinged. “You see. I didn’t realize back then that you two were so close, so imagine my surprise when I started digging only to find that you kept in touch after all. These. Years.”

“Let her go, Eli. She’s got no place in your little quest to cleanse all of us. She’s not like us. She doesn’t have any powers.”

You squeezed your eyes shut for an instant. So that’s what this is about. Eli has lost his mind over these stupid powers. You knew about them, of course. Victor had told you in a vague sort of way in one of his letters; his findings hadn’t been nearly as negative as he’d first thought in that little experiment back in college.

“What are you talking about?” Ever the showman, Eli flung his arms out to the side dramatically as he asked that. “She’s got the most impressive power of us all! She managed to make our own little Grinch’s heart grow three sizes all on her own! And don’t try to say that she didn’t,” he waved a finger at his nemesis, “because you wouldn’t have come all this way if that were the case.”

“I’ve never said she didn’t matter. It would be stupid to try to lie,” Victor replied cooly. “I care about her more than anyone else on this absurd planet. But I won’t allow her to be dragged into your sick game. She’s innocent.”

“Was Eve innocent when she listened to the Devil in the Garden?” Eli challenged. “It’s my job to--”

“It’s not your job to do anything!” Victor snapped. He clenched his hand, and Eli fell to the floor gasping for breath.

Eli’s eyes were clenched as tightly as they would go against the pain as Victor deftly used a knife to remove the ties. “You won’t get away with this.”

“I already have.” He turned to you. “Get out of here,” he murmured so Eli couldn’t hear over the sounds of his own suffering. “There’s a black car out front. Get in, and they’ll take you somewhere safe.”

You squeezed his forearm. “Be careful, Vic.”

“When am I not?” There was a tiny little smirk on his face.

“I could think of a few times,” you replied as if this weren’t the most dangerous situation you’d experienced in your life.

“Go. I won’t be far behind.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

After all, you can’t say someone’s the most important thing in your life and just skip off, right?

[lovelywingsart]

Neverending Forces (Infinite x Avatar/OC)

Welcome to the masterlist of my written stories for Neverending Forces!

Neverending Forces is the ship name for Infinite the Jackal (Sonic Forces) and my Forces Avatar/OC Rook the Wolf, the secondary 'hero' known only as 'Rookie' through the events of one of Eggmans many attempts at takeover. This is the story of his life after the events of Sonic Forces, mostly focusing on his discovery of- interactions with- a certain Jackal.

To learn more about Rook, you can check out his Toyhouse profile here!

**Just as I say for Metalworks, most of my storytelling is through my art, but the written stories are here for general timeline or specific events! In this case, they will be written strictly chronologically and majorly upon request- i.e. if people want more, I'll write more!

I hope you all enjoy!

Main Storyline

--> New Beginnings

--> Restored Fate

Storyline Drabbles

(canon stories that don't have a proper place in the timeline- will be added in if a spot is found!)

(n/a - tba)

[paladinofthelantern]

Paladin’s Ramblings #1

Yeah, so I needed to write my thoughts down before my anxiety got the best of me. If you’re interested in them I’ve included them below the cut. Also, thanks to everyone who suggested I read the RA Comics. I’ll be opening them on Christmas day (if I can get back on a decent schedule).

Where do I even begin? I don’t know, but I have to put something on paper or I’m going to internally combust. I love many shows, movies, and books, but Resident Alien, to my surprise, has drilled down to the deepest level of my consciousness and affixed itself therein. Of all the things that draw me to it, though, the relationship between Harry and Asta is first and foremost among them. I am unsure of why this is or how exactly it came to be, but I have often found that trying to find an answer is unsuccessful and quite unnecessary. Its existence is more than enough. I loved how they interacted in the first episode and eagerly looked forward to the second. That was where the problems began. Harry going on a date with D’arcy was a sudden and unexpected turn that hit me with all the force of a tidal wave and sent me reeling.

I had hoped so much that he would begin a romance with Asta instead and, although he was unaware of what exactly a date entailed, it still smarted. I couldn’t view any of the episodes without feeling a mild panic. This increased tenfold when Isabelle showed up, not only kissing Harry but sleeping with him as well. As the series continued and those relationships ended while the one between him and Asta grew I felt hopeful, particularly in the last episode where the dead Harry explains what love is. Our alien reveals that his feelings about Asta matches how his counterpart feels about Isabelle. Surely that must mean he loves Asta right? After all, she’s the sole reason he doesn’t destroy everyone. 

The fact that I had learned some time before that they eventually become romantically involved in the comics leant weight to that. And then it was announced that Harry has a new love interest. Once again I am panicking, trying to keep calm, but finding myself scrabbling desperately for a foothold. Especially since Carlyn was described as Harry’s “perfect match” in an article. Fear set in that the writers were going to change out Asta as Harry’s established love interest for her. They did alter other things for the show, like there actually being a person with that identity instead of it just being a fake name. 

And I have to wonder why they would build up that closeness between them, have Harry be protective over her, have him practically say he loves her if it resulted in nothing more than a friendship. I can’t keep going through this anxiety, white-knuckling through each episode hoping for more moments between more moments between Harry and Asta while I watch Harry show affection and tenderness to someone else. I thought of not watching the show anymore altogether, but it would be just as hurtful to cut myself off from something that holds such importance to me.

I feel like I’m bothering people anytime I post stuff like this. I really do. I have an inherent fear that someone will get angry with me. It’s just in my nature. So for all of you that put up with my venting and offer me your friendship you have my neverending gratitude. It means more to me than you’ll ever know. And for those of you have written HarryAsta fanfictions I owe you my thanks for giving me something to hold onto. They are lights whenever it grows dark. If you took the time to read this I appreciate it very much.

I suppose I will have to see how things play out in the show and try to hold on as tightly as I can to that little shred of hope that everything will be okay. As King Arthur said in the 2021 film, “The Green Knight”, when Gawain asks if his encounter with the titular character was not just a game, “Perhaps, but it is not complete.”      

[notyetneedcoffee]

Soul Seer, Pt. 13

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Angst, violence

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

The crowd outside Congress was deafening. Literally thousands gathered to see the one responsible for the attack on New York brought before the Senate. A special Commission was thrown together in record time. No one wanted to risk the whole body of the Congress. This alien took on the Hulk and walked away, after all. You all arrived in a black armored truck surrounded by a motorcade of special forces units. Regular police escorts had been deemed insufficient. Inside, Tony stood near the rear door, in full Iron Man gear, face serious. “Okay kids, best behavior or you’ll be sent back to the car.” The truck stopped. His helmet closed. “Show time.”

The doors open flooding your senses with noise, and light. Thankfully, you’d locked down you metal barriers tight against the onslaught of emotions. To the observer it must have been quite the sight. Iron Man steps down from the truck, followed by War Machine pulling on the arm of a shackled Loki. Holding his other arm Captain America, looking stern. Widow and Hawkeye are next out, followed by a contingent of black clad SHIELD agents. You walked among them. People beyond the police barriers screamed and called Loki a murderer. He purposely slowly his pace, chin lifting as a maniacal smile spread across his face. His clothing shimmered, altering slower than it needed to, into his full battle armor and horns. The crowd, fell quiet as he seemed to capture each of them enthralled despite the bindings in his wrists. He laughed. Not the joyous laugh you loved, or even the teasing laugh that left you alert and ready, this was pure “evil genius” laugh - straight out of the movies. “Pathetic mortals.” Steve pulled him along. You heard Rhodie quietly in your earbud, “lay it on thick much?” Loki’s looked around, eyes sparkling with mischief. The shit really was enjoying himself. Once inside, you were all rushed to a ‘secure’ area several floors below ground. Beyond the heavy doors and barren concrete halls, the actual chamber looked like any other you’d seen on C-SPAN.

The seven Senators, fourteen aids, twenty-two guards already filled the room. Many remote control cameras were staged around the room. Your escort group had been given a wide berth. A table sat alone in the middle of the room.

Loki stepped up to the table, standing behind the chair and looking around with a condescending smirk. “With all of the options available to even to you pathetic Midgardian officials, you choose this dismal hole in the ground as your seat of power?” He scoffed. “You really are in need of a proper ruler.”

“Mr. Loki…”

“NO!” A flash of green light flashed with the boom of his words. Guns came up. “I am Prince Loki, Odinson, Prince of Asgard, rightful heir to Jotunheim. You will address me as Royal Highness, or Prince Loki.”

You focused on a spot on the floor, fighting to keep your face passive. The initial look of fear and awe on the panel’s faces was comical. Now was not the time to giggle, nope.

“Mr. Stark!” The Senator barked. “You assured us that the prisoner was under control.”

“I assured you we could guarantee he would not hurt you.” Tony did not retract his helmet. “Short of a magical muzzle, I don’t even think Thor could shut him up.”

Loki grinned. “You may be correct.”

“Prince Loki,” The Senator choked on his title. “You’ve been brought before us to answer for your acts of aggression…”

Loki’s laughter boomed over the top of the Senator. “Aggression? I meant to rule, you mortal simpleton! You are not qualified, not strong enough. You talk and pontificate – yet do nothing…”

“Sir!” The Senator shouted. “The floor is mine!”

Tipping his head forward, posture predatory and feral. “Are you trying to silence me?”

“Captain.” One of the other Senator’s said between clenched teeth. She put on a brave face, but her voice trembled.

Steve Rogers put a hand on Loki’s shoulder.

You tensed.

With a roar, Loki spun and elbowed Cap in the face sending him flying back into the SHIELD Agents. Guards rushed the Senators, putting themselves between the officials and the fight. Rhodes shot at Loki, but a blast of brilliant green light flashed and Rhodes’ suit went dark. Bullets flew, bouncing off an invisible shield around Loki and falling the floor.

Tony grasped Loki by his upper arm just as Cap hit him in the face with his shield. He fell back, but flipped and threw Iron Man into the heavy table. It shattered. One of Barton’s arrows hit, sinking deep into Loki’s chest. He roared in pain and pulled it free. Dark blood flowed freely.

You crouched behind another, emotions locked down hard. The pain of your nails digging into your palms helps you concentrate.

Cap, Tony, and Loki fought hand to hand, moving so fast it was a blur. Furniture turned to splinters. Blood splattered about the room from both combatants. A handful of aids and security were cut off from the rear exit. They scurried to stay as far from the fight as possible.

Loki threw Tony against the back wall, where he crashed through drywall and cinder block. He pinned Cap to the ground, hand around his throat. Steve turned red. Tony crawled his way out of the rubble.

Natasha jumped on Loki’s back and put her gun under the lip of his helmet, at the base of his neck. Pulling the horn of his helm as hard as she could, he twisted away from Steve and she fired…again and again and again.

You swallowed back the cry as his body pitched forward. The pool of blood spread rapidly. You couldn’t see the damage done to his face, thankfully. The breath caught in your throat. The scene blurred behind the tears in your eyes.

A strong hand touched your shoulder. Ghostly cold invisible fingers stroked your cheek.

Closing your eyes, you reminded yourself that everything was going to be okay.

‘Yes, my pet.’ He rich voice whispered. ‘That’s it. Breathe.’

It’s was going to be okay.

TAGS

@1800-fight-me \ @abschaffer2 \ @alexakeyloveloki \ @archy3001 \ @asgardianthot \ @asiaaisa77 \ @badassbaker \ @bangtan-serendipity \ @beautifullungs \ @buchanansebba \ @buckybarneshairpullingkink \ @buckybarnesplumwhore \ @buckybarnesplumwhore \ @daughterofthenight117 \ @dawnlaufeyson \ @dsakita \ @everything-is-awesomesauce \ @fangasm202 \ @geeksareunique \ @girlmadeofivory \ @girlmadeofivory \ @imma-new-soul \ @jesseswartzwelder \ @jillilama-blog \ @kalesrebellion \ @kermittheshipper \ @kiki5283 \ @kneel-before-queen-loki \ @lbouvet \ @lovely-lollipops-blog \ @messenough \ @michelehansel \ @mindtravelsx \ @morganhoran1671 \ @myownviperroom \ @night-cereus \ @notyourtypicalrose \ @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon \ @person-born-winchester \ @rainbowkisses31 \ @readermia \ @rinthehufflepuff \ @rogerrhqpsody \ @rynabarnesrogers-reading \ @sammghgecko \ @scarlettsoldier \ @sebbysstangirl \ @sex-cee-seabasss \ @sexyvixen7 \ @smokeandnailz \ @tahiri-veyla \ @theladybiers \ @theneuropsychwriter \ @the-omni-princess \ @the-reading-octopus \ @thorfanficwriter \ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection \ @ultrarebelheart \ @unadulteratedwizardlove \ @vanillabunn21 \ @vintageroses1014516 \ @vodka-and-some-sass \ @wwe-fanfiction-queen \ @itsag \ @neverending-space \ @saiyanprincessswanie \ @a–1–1–3 \ @ladyacrasia​

[unsympathetic-patton]

Venty monologue-y fanfiction with Logan and U!Patton

Patton wasn't the best parent. Sure, he wasn't the worst, but he wasn't great. Logan knew this. Even so, he still couldn't help but start trusting Patton over and over again. After all, he was their father. Logan should have been able to trust him. At least, that's what would be logical.

Patton was far from logical.

Logan knew this, of course. He tried over and over to figure out how to appease his father. It always came crumbling down, though. Patton would say something and Logan couldn't help himself. He would say something, defending his brother or his own honor. At the very least, Logan could rest assured knowing Roman would never be the target of Patton's anger. He had made sure of that long ago. If it weren't for Roman, he would have left the first time he was locked out.

He remembered that night. It was hot inside, so Logan wore summer pajamas. Thin and cool. Not ideal for blizzard conditions. He doesn't even remember what had happened to lead up to that situation, but he remembers it was in sixth grade. He had dared to argue with Patton in the living room. Yelling had followed before he was pushed outside. Logan tried to stop Patton. He tried to grab a jacket at least before he was locked out, or shoes, just something to help, but he had no such luck. Patton locked him outside in the middle of a blizzard, saying how Logan could go get a job since he wanted to act like an adult.

Patton never acted like one. He didn't understand why his father could act like a child but the literal children had to have manners and be responsible. He didn't understand why Patton had gotten mad because they didn't tell him anything, even when he continuously talked down on their interests, or told them their issues were their fault.

Logan knew it was. He didn't know why, but he knew it was. He knew forgetting everything and procrastinating was his fault. That didn't mean he didn't try, but it didn't seem to matter to their father. It wasn't until Patton discovered he had ADHD for him to finally admit Logan's memory problems weren't caused by the boy. It was easier for Roman to accept he had ADHD. He wasn't forced to listen through their father's rants about how his kids weren't going to "go on meds and be more messed up than they were already."

Roman had it easy. Logan was bitter about it, but relieved as well. If Patton focused on him, he couldn't hurt Roman. It wasn't Roman's fault. He knew this. He also knew Roman didn't know the extent of it. Sadly, the two brothers had grown more distant. When Patton asked him about it, the father always ended up spinning it so he was at fault, as if he was the one who berrated everyone and instigated fights.

Logan wasn't the one who told his pre-teen son to move out and threatened to call the cops when said child was begging to have some clothes. Logan wasn't the one who threatened to call the cops on anyone who took him in. Logan didn't beat others for admitting to being suicidal. The physical abuse stopped after eighth grade. The mental continued until a few months before he moved away from college.

It was then that he realized why Patton was the way he was. Every single "act your age" and "stop throwing a fit" and "stop getting an attitude with me." Every single slap and kick and threat. Everything that made him afraid to be in his own home. All of this was because his own father couldn't stand not having absolute control and pretending everything is perfect.

Now that Logan was gone, Patton suddenly wanted to be friendly and supportive. Patton was suddenly worried about his feeling and his stress. Logan wanted nothing to do with it. He was tired of the mind-games and the neverending exhaustion that happened when Patton was around.

Logan was happy now.

----

ROMORGAN: I love it!!

[reyagreenewrites]

A Fate of Feathers: Chapter One

Fandom: The Witcher 

Rated: M (Language, Sexy Time) 

Pairings: Geralt/OC 

(Currently taking fanfiction requests and submissions) 

The street cats of Raven’s Way ears’s twitched and fretted as a silent shadow on horseback passed through the town, the chilly night air catching his breath and turning into clouds as he passed by equally mute homes of farmers and their families. Hair on the back of one cat's neck stood up and it was all it took as seemingly from every which way angry and haunting shrieks and sputtering hisses of cats filled the otherwise silent streets, the horse chuffing slightly at the sound.

A gloved hand reached down and gave the horse's neck a reassuring pat. "Easy, Roach." The voice was soft, but held an air of mystery and danger, cut gruffly by a deep growl of something almost primordial. The cats shrunk back into the shadows eyeing the man warily as he continued on with his steed, crawling up the hill towards the town proper. The lights in brasiers were lit to signify his arrival and In the faint luster of the fire, those he passed could see that he, his mount, and the satchel attached to his saddle were soaked with crimson blood, steaming slightly against the chill of the night . Guards fell into hushed silence as he approached, looking up from their drinking and Gwent. Slowing to a gait the horse and rider approached a pair of arched oak double doors. He dismounted, unhooking the dripping satchel from its secure line,  and hoisting it over his shoulder as he walked, not caring of the mess that he left behind him.

The doors opened for him without warning or cry, a strange custom considering the man's profession. He crossed the threshold, leaving a trail of gore in his wake and continued up the steps, not bothering to announce himself before entering the large chambers before him. Many strange and curious objects adorned the room, bits and baubles collected over several lifetimes and ages. A small wreath sat cocked to one side on the room’s soul occupant, adorned with rubies and sapphires, not to be usurped by his piercing blue eyes which sat beneath a head of brown curls. The eyes watched, clearly dulled by too much wine as the newcomer approached, slamming the satchel on the table with a sickening slap. The satchel’s belly was split by the action and carnage poured out onto the hardwood, staining it a deep mauve. The head of a beast followed, its once yellowed eyes rolled back into its skull, tongue lolling out to perch on its painfully sharp teeth, licking up the crimson as it tumbled out.

"There," the rider grunted, finally pulling back his hood to reveal a shock of white hair and equally pale stubble, "This is the head of the basilisk of Wolfbane's Ridge."

The man at the table smirked, and in one fluid motion, slid a small pile of gold coins towards the ashen haired stranger.

"You have done me well, Geralt of Rivera." The man proclaimed to no one in particular, "You are a man of your word."

The rider, Geralt, shrugged nonchalantly. "You had a paying job and I took it. Not much more to talk about."

The man's smirk widened and turned into a malicious grin, "Geralt, my friend, sit with me, enjoy some wine."

Geralt shrugged as the man reached over and poured him a glass, "What's the catch?" Geralt asked, sitting down at the right side of the crowned man. He sighed and pushed the goblet towards the sharp eyed man, shaking his head in dismissal.

 “I am but a public servant, Witcher, sort of like what you do. Take care of law and order and what have you.”

Geralt bit his tongue to keep from retorting. This man was as much of a public servant as the Witcher was a king. “I fail to see where this is going, Anders.”

Anders sighed again and sipped at his wine, as if the weight of his crown made him weary, “Geralt, I look after the well-being of those under my father’s employment. I am responsible for their quality of life. These people do not have that under their current circumstances.”

“And what circumstances do those happen to be?” Geralt questioned, already knowing where the conversation was headed.

“I sent out that bounty as a test, dear Witcher, to get only the best of the best to step over that threshold! That basilisk was just the beginning of lifting her curse from this place!” He spat as he slammed his goblet down on the table, completely ignoring the question.

“What curse?” Geralt inquired, getting slightly annoyed by the man dancing around the question, “Anders, what the hell are you talking about?”

Anders smirked, a deep chuckle arising from deep within his throat, “A witch, Master Witcher. A witch so foul, she placed a curse on this land. The beasts that once roamed only the forests, now prowl through the streets of the accursed village, killing livestock and humans alike. She controls them through spell craft, sending them to steal the souls of the women and children in their beds.” 

Geralt sighed. He knew of women who often fell through the cracks of society and ended up in backwater towns becoming local apothecary owners or herbalists. It was rare to hear of one being powerful enough or deranged enough to call upon hellish beasts like they were familiars. However, the foolish lord before him seemed to have a very bad habit of embellishing the truth. The basilisk that he had killed was hardly more than a whelp, and barely the monster that the warrant had claimed it to be. “How much are you offering for a bounty?”

“25,000 crowns, no questions asked if you bring me her head.” He stated simply, causing Geralt’s eyebrow to raise in suspicious question. A bounty that high could only mean one thing. She was as dangerous as he claimed or  merely wanted her very, very dead.

“No questions asked?” Geralt repeated, pushing his untouched wine away, “What are you hiding, Anders?”

Anders narrowed his eyes suspiciously, glaring at the Witcher, “As a reminder, you are an employee in my eyes. I am paying you to do a job, not to ask questions, do I make myself clear?”

Geralt merely nodded as Anders cleared his throat and smoothed the front of his robes until they hung taut against his body, “Now then, the witch resides in the old village up on the side of the mountain. Be warned, her monsters patrol the area and have torn apart any and all I have sent. That, my dear witcher, is why she is so dangerous.”

Geralt nodded again and turned on his heel to leave, but before he could, Anders cleared his throat, “Take heed. Even if you get past the monsters she controls, her honeyed words are dangerous. Do not believe anything she says. The witch is worse than any of her creatures and will lie to get herself out of any situation.”

Geralt merely grunted as he stepped over the threshold and disappeared into the inky night, lights falling away as he galloped from the village, spurring Roach into the unknown that lay before him.

“Steady now, Roach.” Geralt said as he finally tugged back on the reins, the horse chuffing in annoyance and pulling back to show his distaste. Roach however knew that his owner could sense things that it could not and in turn, quieted itself.

Geralt peered through the darkness as rain and wind started to sweep around him. Through the storm, he could see a large shape perched high in a tree, watching him intently. From here, he knew that he was looking at a royal griffon and he thought back to Anders’ words about the creatures along the path. Both knew the other was there, but Geralt wondered why the creature did not attack as was the nature of creatures such as these. The Witcher decided to leave this chance encounter to the winds of fate and continue along the mountain path. The longer he traveled, the more creatures he encountered, watching him from beyond the veil of darkness. Sure enough, the road that led to the witch was wrought with many strange and befuddling creatures that had often plagued Geralt along his journey thus far in his mortal constraint.

He could smell the scent of her before he even saw the village. The fragrance of the smoke in the air was that of a deep juniper, tinged with the stench of forest in the fall, the decaying leaves and undergrowth medicinal and pungent. As the aura grew, Geralt watched as a small group of ramshackled buildings came into view, the boards bloated and soft with the neverending tirade of the elements. Only one home still stood intact, a gentle glow falling out onto the puddle laden ground, dancing with the raindrops as they hit the water. No monsters prowled here, surprisingly, all standing a distance back from what was left of the village.

Geralt jumped off Roach’s back and unsheathed the silver sword from the bundle behind the saddle. Inside the hut, with his enhanced witcher senses, he could hear the woman’s heartbeat strong and steady. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her move across the earthen floor, breathing gently into her hands to keep herself warm. He silently moved across the sodden ground, breathing only enough to keep himself undetected. He pressed up against the door and was surprised to find that it held no warding spells to keep people away.

He heard her change in heartbeat, turning her head towards the door as she crossed the ground, reaching towards the door and pressing on it. The wooden barrier swung outwards and Geralt was forced to take a step back and stand face to face with the woman that he was intent on killing.

Geralt was surprised to see not an old, tired hag, but instead a woman, her deep brown locks pulled back into a simple braid, a look of surprise on her face. “Can I help you, Witcher?” She asked icily, glaring at him in suspicion.

“I was sent to kill the witch that lives here,” Geralt said simply. The woman looked down at his sword, still unsheathed and pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well then, I believe you’re in luck because I am the witch who lives here,” She replied mildly, a dry little smirk coming to her lips, “Would you like to come in?”

Geralt slowly lowered his sword and stepped over the threshold, the warmth instantly catching him by surprise. The hut was dimly lit, herbs lining the ceiling as they dried. A grizzled barn owl twitched his head this way and that as he watched Geralt enter the small room, its tawny feathers standing on end as he stood at his full height and made a soft cooing noise. A fire crackled lively in the hearth, a kettle of water resting just above the flames. “When Anders said witch, I expected…”

The woman walked back towards the fire, her left sleeve hanging lifelessly from the bodice of her dress as she took the water from its perch and placed it on a weathered table, “You expected some old grave hag, or close enough to it I’m sure. That’s the picture that he paints for everyone.”

“There have been others?” Geralt questioned as she poured water into two earthen cups, steam rising as she put it back. Now that she had been so close to him, he could see that her left sleeve hung limply because she had no left arm.

“Of course there have been others,” She said simply, sitting down at the table, ushering for Geralt to take the other chair, “But none of them had been a Witcher. He’s been sending witch hunters after me for ages, but the forests here are crawling with monsters.”

“You control them?” He continued his line of interrogation, making the witch chuckle dryly.

“Hardly! I can manipulate them with sounds and smell, but to control a wild beast is to control the gods themselves.”  She pushed one of the cups across the table to Geralt and he picked it up, inhaling the scent of blackberries and chrysanthemums. “Before you ask, it’s not poisoned. I wouldn’t bring you all this way only to bring upon you death.”

Geralt looked at the cup and drank suspiciously, watching the woman’s every move. Her eyes danced like amber in the firelight, the glow of the flames casting starbursts across her irises, “Why does Anders have a price on your head?”

The woman cocked her head slightly to the side and bit her lip, narrowing her eyes, “Maybe we should start with names, Master Witcher. You, of course, are Geralt of Rivera, the Famous White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken.”

“You know of me? Then it is a pity I know nothing of you,” Geralt replied, arching an eyebrow as the woman stood and ushered to herself with one arm, dropping into an ugly curtsey.

“I am Lady Lyra Northwood-Dupont, daughter of Marquee Dupont of Toussaint, and wife of Lord Anders Northwood of Novigrad.” She said, “No longer recognized as either, unfortunately, but you may call me Lyra.”

Geralt furrowed his brow and looked at the woman who stood before him. She was pretty in the strange, hypnotizing way as he often found with witches. Her deep brown hair framed a pretty face, lined by the agony of some unknown trauma. His eyes hovered briefly over her left sleeve but he felt it best not to question the lack of appendages, “So, how did you end up out here, my Lady?” Geralt asked as she sat down yet again. The owl in the corner screamed like a child in the night, sending chills down Geralt’s arms as it took off through the open window.

“I was betrothed to Anders before I was even born.” She said, looking into the fire, “Our fathers were best friends and it only seemed logical that they be united in marriage as well. When I was 10, I found out that I could...manipulate stray animals. Creatures big and small would be drawn to me. Imagine my father’s surprise when he realized that he would have to give up his only daughter to the Lodge. He despised me for it, but in the end, let me go, if only for appearance's sake. Since land was on the board for Anders’ father, he pushed Anders to go after me. When he did, my father retracted his blessing and I had to return to Novigrad to marry him.”

“And you did,” Geralt pointed out. “Why didn’t you run away? Disband yourself from your family?”

A thin lipped smile appeared on Lyra’s face, “My father knew what was best for me,” She said mildly, “I went in blindly thinking that I would be able to go back to the Lodge once we were wed. Unfortunately, because of certain...rumors that began to circulate, they demanded that I live with Anders in Raven’s Way. It was the village on the Elder Lord Northwood’s land that was the furthest away from Novigrad and the whispers.”

“What were the rumors?”

Lyra looked down at the floor and sighed, “Well, they ended up not being rumors, but were very true. Anders has a very sadistic side, and because of this, ended up killing women in his...wanton lust. His father threw money at the problem to make it go away and sent us out to Raven’s Way to live out the remainder of our lives. Maybe have some children along the way that we could send him to live out his legacy. When we left Novigrad, he had nowhere else to turn to to slake those desires. I became his main torture victim.”

“I’m...sorry.” Geralt said as she looked back up at him, a single tear trailing down one cheek.

“You have no reason to be. It’s nice to be able to tell someone my story.” She replied, “During this time, I realized that I would go mad if I didn’t learn to control my abilities and so I practiced in secret. Sometimes, it would go awry and I would call beasts to the village. That would always cause some ruckus, but someone would always push it back. It was also when the abuse was at its worst. I had these beautiful hunting birds. The night that my daughter was conceived, he killed three of my favorites and raped me on their corpses.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and sighed, squaring her shoulders. Reaching for her tea, she sipped at it and looked back at the fire, “When I finally had Ingrid, I finally realized that I could finally find light in the situation. I loved her like she was a part of me.”

Lyra inhaled sharply, sitting up quickly in her chair, “After Ingrid’s birth, Anders began to drink heavily. He was an angry drunk and I did my best to protect my daughter. However, I could not protect her for long. In her seventh year, Ingrid stood up to Anders in defiance and he pushed her down the flight of stairs that she often hid under to get away from him. I held her broken body as he tormented me, taunted me for failing to protect her. That was the last night I saw Anders. I took Ingrid to see a friend of mine, another witch and begged her to bring her back. I knew that she lingered behind on the cusp of life and death and I wanted her back. She begged me to allow my daughter to leave this world. I refused to listen.” Geralt watched her glossy eyes, reliving some dark memory from the past.

“I chose to save her. I took her soul and I brought it back. Her body, however, was too broken to put her soul back into, so I made do. The owl houses the soul of my daughter.” 

“And your arm?” Geralt questioned, nodding to the empty sleeve.

“Necromancy always has some….unforeseen consequences.,” Lyra replied, standing and turning back to the fire.  “But there is always something to be learned from our mistakes.” She glanced over her shoulder at Geralt, “I know you’re under the employment of that monster, but may I make you a deal?”

“I’m listening,” Geralt replied, crossing his arms over his chest and arching an eyebrow.

“Help me get my revenge,” She replied, walking back over, forlorn sleeve hanging limply at her side, “Help me silence that bastard once and for all. I have not seen my father in almost 15 years, but I’m sure that he will pay you handsomely to help me return to the House of Dupont. Tell Anders that you killed me on top of the mountain.” With one fell swoop, she ripped off the vacant sleeve and grabbed a knife from the table Geralt sat at. He instantly recoiled and jumped to his feet.

“What are you doing?!” He demanded as Lyra screwed her face up in concentration.

“He won’t believe that I’m dead without some carnage.” She murmured, more to herself than to Geralt as she dug the tip of the knife into the space where her arm should have been. Lyra cried out in pain as she rubbed the sleeve against the marred swath of skin, wincing as she did so. When she finally pulled it away, Geralt could see the stump clearly. The place where her arm had been was scarred beyond recognition, the twisting vines of terror and pain lacing up her arm and into her shoulder, disappearing under the dress.

Lyra handed Geralt the sleeve, blood still dripping from the cloth, “Give this to him. It will convince him that you did as you were requested.”

Geralt took it without question, putting it into the satchel at his side, “You do realize that I won’t kill him for you. Witchers don’t deal in politics.” 

The woman glanced at the Witcher, grabbing a rag from the table and pressing it against the freely bleeding stump, “I didn’t expect for you to kill him,” She quipped, “I’m just requesting you take this to him. At least get him off of my trail.” 

Geralt paused for a moment, weighing the conversation in his mind. On one hand, Anders had said that she had a way with honeyed words, playing the victim in the situation. However, on the other, he knew that the griffon he had seen in the forest earlier that evening would have killed him if she hadn’t stopped it. “Fine, I’ll help you. Where will you go in the meantime?” 

Lyra pursed her lips and looked off into the distance as if pondering it, “I will stay here, for now. Once you’ve delivered that,” She said, pointing at the satchel, “Return and I’ll hopefully have a plan divulged. If not…” 

“If not, then you’ll have no Witcher and no idea of what to do. How long can you survive up on this mountain with your army of monsters?” 

She shot him a scathing glare, “I’ve survived on this mountain for the last five years, Geralt. I believe I can hold out for another month.” 

Geralt crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in disbelief, “Fine, stay here. I’ll come back when I have word from Anders.” 

Lyra paused for a moment before nodding, “Very well, then I bid you farewell...for now.” 

Turning on his heel, Geralt walked from the cabin, the rain still pummeling the ground as he bent his head and strode back to his horse. However, to his surprise, he heard the cabin door open behind him and he turned around to see Lyra at the door. 

“Witcher, one last thing. If you betray me, I will kill you.” She promised in an almost teasing tone of voice. However, Geralt didn’t want to stick around to find out if she was jesting and so with a sharp kick to Roach’s haunches, he began his trek back down the mountain. 

[chut-je-dors]

So... with a deep, resignated sigh I’m getting back to the discourse that Chiclettes leaves in her wake. i just never get to rest in peace do i. In fact I feel like I’m actually gonna get R.I.P.ed since now the discourse is gonna flame up again, isn’t it? rip

For the record, I’m only writing this ‘cos @imaginebeatles is 135% my impulse control, and she didn’t outright tell me not to do it. So, here we go--

I noticed today while going through AO3 that some authors have written works where Paul is deliberately painted as, uh, well, everything that Chiclettes is standing against -- that is, girly, feminine, etc. etc.,... *insert Chiclettes’ “CJD’s Paul description” list*. Of course there’s nothing wrong with that, authors certainly have the right to write their Paul however they want to, but these fics were explicitly gifted to her, almost as if the authors were looking for the discourse -- like, as if they would get glee out of Chiclettes appearing into their comment section..? Like, the only way I can think of this is as if the writers are deliberately starting a war, like, and that’s...... uh. unbelievably stupid? Like, I get that you wanna “show her” and whatever, but that’s........ that’s not how you do it? That is just literally adding fuel to the fire? Write what you want, guys, but don’t do it to irk Chiclettes? A much better tactic is to just ignore her?

On that same note, there have been lately like, so many fics in which the same Paul problem persists, with apparently younger authors taking the old fandom treatment of him and uh, literally make him a “weeping slut”, if you know what I mean? Like, again, the exact thing that Chiclettes is against? And again, that is all fine and dandy, but how come there have been... so many of them? I feel like I’ve said it before but I really get where Chiclettes is coming from, because I don’t like the way Paul used to be portrayed in most of the fics. I thought we were kinda getting past that trend, but... apparently not? Or is it just to make Chiclettes mad? Because that is, uh, not a very good tactic. Are we regressing back to feminine!Paul being the norm? :((((

At the same time I naturally support the author’s rights to write whatever they want to, as well as the reader’s rights to look at the tags and then Get The Hell Out Of There (which Chiclettes DOES NOT do, and thus is the guilty one. The author is not forcing her to read the fics. She chooses to do that, and then chooses to leave terrible, terrible comments. That is on her. I’m not defending that, in case someone thinks so). It seems like a lot of noise is being made over a few selected fics that have ventured into the world of “rarely mentioned kinks”. I was kinda wondering if the problem is that either our fandom is so small that it hasn't seen enough weird shit yet to be able to ignore it (because in bigger fandoms, fics with rare kinks naturally exist on a bigger scale), or then it’s ‘cos our fandom is old as balls, and all the weird shit of the past has been forgotten, or has disappeared from the internet. Like, in the depths of Beatlesslash there’s........ SO MUCH STUFF. SO MUCH. that i’m not touching with a STICK.

I guess what I’m after here is that, uh, writers are allowed and MUST look for their limits, and for some that is by writing fics that might be borderline nauseating for most of us, but on ther other hand some find enjoyable, and who are we to judge? As I said, most of the “weirder” stuff is apparently written by 14-17 year old people? When you're young you're still looking for the things that give you the kicks — more often than not it's things that others might deem "disgusting" and "immoral", because you’re kinda wanting to break the adult rules just, in general, which I get. Like, I grew up pretty sheltered from all things sexual, and for me the kick was simply finding that smut fanfiction, that sex in GENERAL exists, and I was more interested in writing plot-driven stories anyway -- still am -- (but let's not forget my neverending love for the Thighs, which is, okay, a KINK, and which my FIRST FUCKING FIC, written at 15, might MENTION A COUPLE OF TIMES). For some others it's a different thing that smacks them in the face and makes them go "oh yeah" and they're allowed to express that "oh yeah".

But when it starts being more about attacking others that you think are wrong than writing fanfiction that you enjoy.... that's when it goes overboard. Please don’t do it. You won’t gain anything from it, and it is insulting towards Chiclettes. Don’t go down on her level. And Chiclettes, the same-old-same-o: Please stop? You won’t gain anything.