#The sound i made when I saw this was inhuman frankly

[theanoninyouraskblog]

Ok. Ok. I have so many thoughts I dont think they're going to fit into the tags so I'm just going to try and write them plaintext and hope that makes them a little more coherent.

Just from the beginning we have the frame tinted green. It's the color of the city, the color that accompanies Jerry, nominally Poppy's color, the color of hostility. But I think this is the first time we haven't seen it exhibeted from the higher powers- Jerry- the city- the fear of the people- it's coming from Teflon as he's cold- exacting. He doesn't want Poppy to get any ideas. Meanwhile Muskat and Tink are in the same room but they're set outside of the frame- tinted in the colors of saftey- of love- pinks and oranges and they look so tender, Kat brushing out Tink's hair, undoing Tink's braid so she doesn't have to resemble Poppy anymore. You've just beautifully divided these caracters- drawn the lines of this scene so subtly we can feel the distance between these two interactions happening in the same room- AUGH Every time it gets me.

And the way both Tef and Kat are showing their love- Kat reaching out with gentle direct affection- and Tef going straight for the heart of the problem. And HELL Tink's hairdoo!!!! Sheooks adorable with that wilde mane- but also I was looking at her trying to figure out what she reminds me of and then it hit me. KAT! She looks like the younger versions of Kat we see and oooohhhh that hit me right in the heart, on the warpath and everything. Gosh tink's face- resolute- furious- wild and kat's little smile off to the side. And the absolute devistation on Poppy's face- immediately she's fallen back on the dehumanizing language- the language Jerry uses to adress Tink- but the look on her face, it's not a matter of disrespect, not a lack of care, Poppy means it when she says creature.

"She's my blood" What a gut punch of a line. The duality of self deprication- of self awarness- Poppy knows exactly what she is. She knows exactly what she's done. She knows she's been a monster- I can only imagine she's wondering what she would have become if she had half the motive Tink does. Her vision of the future- of Tink in glorious tactical gear- with a flame thrower and Poppy beaten and disarrayed as everything around her goes up inflames. And suddenly you have to be in the mind of the last child Poppy technically had claim over. Jerry isn't Poppy's kid- not by blood no- but Jerry was a test tube baby in Poppy's lab- at the heart of Poppy's experiments. The last "daughter" Poppy had ruined her- took her revenge and Poppy's eye stripped her of her science and her class and her power- continues to taunt her. How can se expect anything else from Tink? It's aweful, its wretched, I will never stop thinking about it.

It's so interesting to see Kat and Tef's conflicting opinions on Poppy. Kat's endlessly gracious, endlessly forgiving, even though by all rights it was him who was personally dealt the greatest harm, but its Tef who remembers the horror of it, Tef who bore witness to the way Poppy betrayed them, the way she hurt them both, the way she hurt the man he loves. Muskat no idealist, he understands that the world they live in isn't kind, he knows it could be better, but compared to Tef he's the picture of an optimist. And you can feel Tef's coldness, the harsh way he adresses Poppy, the way he talks about her, it's the way he defends them, by being as brutally realist as he can. I'm reminded of the comic where he's trying not to soften towards Tink because he knows she'll be used against them, the way that Muskat presses him to set that aside and allow himself the joy tink would bring to them regaurdless of the reason she was given to him. It's just- you have such a strong grasp of your characters and I feel endlessly for them. I love them, I am gripped by them.

Gosh Poppy looks wrecked. But she's looked wrecked since the beginning of this comic. Her suit was a mess, but now she's not just rumpled, she's dirty, she's drunk, she's collapsed. And again we return to the shades of green! A subtle thing this time- the city and its hostility is a much more blue green than tef's hostility earlier which perhaps speaks to the fact that even though he rightly hates Poppy, resents her, he understands she's not in a great position either, he's a measure gentler than he might be if he didn't understand. And now! Jerry! Ephegenia!

The way she towers over this scene both because Poppy is literally on the ground and also because sheholds all the powerbetween them- and she's got her makeup on too- she's got her mask on. She's impervious. Atop the world. Gloating- until suddenly she isn't. It's interesting that when Poppy lashes out verbally, cuts the shit and just tells her to fuck off the green tint across her drops for a moment- the inherent hostility the power she holds- disrupted- momentarily broken in shock before it settles back into place.

You used a phrase to describe Poppy once that I think is really fitting- endlessly chipper. She's been beaten, broken- lost an eye, lost her status, lost her science, her friends, but she never lets the facade fall, its obvious it bothers her, otherwise she wouldn't pursue that stuff so doggedly, but she never lets anyone see it bothers her. The closest we've ever gotten is the scene with her protesting the council's unfair treatment, she was furious then, and I think these are the only times we've really see the mask fall… completely at least, and we can certainly infer it happened after the pregancy- but hell, even when Jerry sprung on her that Tink is her kid she didn't let the devistation sit with her, she denies it. Gosh Poppy is so compelling, the things that have stakes to her, her personal moral compass, her own feelings towards her atrocities, she comes across as ruthlessly pragmatic. She'll do Anything it takes. But you get the sense that she doesn't sleep easily for it, though she'd like you to beleive it.

To some extent, she doesn't seem to regret a great deal of what she did, but it still weighs on her, and in this moment you really feel that she's truly letting herself face the weight of what she's done, and wallow in it. She wants Jerry to leave her alone, not because she blames Jerry, but because she blames herself, and doesn't want Jerry rubbing her face in it.

I am endlessly curious to know what Ephegenia expected, Poppy to lash out, placing blame on everyone else, perhaps physically, as Ephegenia clearly expects and wants the proof that the convicts are violent, she wanted rage, but I don't think she expected misery.

This is utterly spectacular. I am absolutely captivated by your ability to convey mood and tone, and your beautiful expression work, and as always I am obsessed with you characters. Their story is deeply compelling to me and I am ever excited to see the turns it will take next.

this is not the personality development ephegenia had had in mind with her last move.

more about these characters here^^

[nadg-ttrpg]

Controversial opinion (?)

The magnus archive role playing game (TMARPG) is a good TTRPG. But it's not a good Magnus Archive TTRPG, it's a good TTRPG that happens to be set in a Magnus Archive universe. Hear me out. It's published by Monte Cook Games, using their Cypher System. The Cypher is a good system, used in hits like Numenera or The strange, but it's not adapted to play a Magnus Archive game. They tried really hard to make it work, and they made very interesting changes to the base system. From the health tracking making you more fragile to the eponymous Cyphers being more like abilities than magic objects like in other games. And honestly, yeah, it works! It's a great investigation game, cthulhu style, allowing you to play a crew of archival assistants or a similar group, trying to survive unspeakable horrors and maybe stop rituals. But. BUT.

Magnus Archives, the podcast, isn't just about the investigation. It's an office comedy, and a tragedy, and - most important to me - a reflection on morality, mortality and humanity. It's a podcast that, to quote a tumblr post I saw once, "spend the first 100 episodes showing you irredeemable inhuman monsters... and the 100 next asking you to change your mind on them by showing the protagonist is becoming one". It's a story talking of powers beyond human understanding, but mostly of the humans stuck with them. Asking how far you'll go for a taste of power, how far you'll go to survive, how far you'll go to protect the ones you love. Showing times and times again that getting the power you crave will divorce you from humanity, and that this pull is hard to resist. And that to stay somewhat human, you need anchors, friends, connections. And frankly, there is nothing in the TMARPG to encourage this kind of story. I agree, this is mostly a me problem. My standard is that when I play a licensed RPG I want the original story to be possible with the rules as written. Maybe this is too much to ask. I genuinely don't know. But it's the rule by which I judge a game. When I play an Alien TTRPG, I want the monster horror and the PC betrayals to be encouraged by the rules. When I play a Lord of the Ring TTRPG I want mechanics for travel, honor and temptation. When I play a My Little Pony TTRPG, I want the game to help me with the magic and the friendship. And when I play TMARPG, I'd like the rules to encourage the same themes as the podcast. I could do this freestyle with the rules as is, GM my way out of this, request the help of the players with their backstory and character arcs. Or I could turn to an other TTRPG. Enter Unknown Armies (UA), an occult game about broken people conspiring to fix a broken world - sounds familiar? It wasn't made with TMA in mind, it was published before the podcast even existed. It also have it's flaws, I heard it described as "taking itself too seriously" many times. But despite this, UA drinks at the same source than TMA.

They both embrace a Jungian philosophy gosh that sounds so pedantic, the idea that the collective unconscious of the humanity create archetypes, powers, Fears. They both feature relationships as both something that needs to be cared for and link to humanity. They both have heavy use of trauma and mental breakdown, depicted as realistically as possible. Actually, UA link them directly to your stats. Witnessed violence? You can react either by being hardened and unfazed by it, or traumatised and deeply troubled by it. This will make it either easier for you to fight, or to dodge. I love it. They both have a supernatural system where you can only get those powers by acting in ways that make you an outcast, be it by being an arsonist, someone living their life through a camera lens tape recorder anyone?, or even someone fascinated by the flesh and blood. They both have weird artifacts. They both have ways to become avatars. And you can actually have a power imbalance betwen the PCs! You can have an avatar and an "antechrist's plus one" is the same party. They are made for each other. TLDR: Unknown Armies is a better Magnus Archive TTRPG than The Magnus Archives Role Playing Game. TMARPG is a good TTRPG, but not a game that actually uses the themes of the podcast. If you want to play an investigation team cthulhu-style, by all mean, play TMARPG. If you want to play a tragedy about inhumanity and power, play Unknown Armies. The Magnus Archives is a podcast written by Jonathan Sims and distributed under a CC NC-SA-BY 4.0 license. Thanks for listening.

[paikothecateater]

I've written a few Nordic fics before, and while I'm satisfied with having not released most of them, there's a particular part of one that I just absolutely love. It's about how Norway found Iceland. It's not historically accurate, just a cute little fic I made once, so here it is.

Colonisation was just never something that was on Norway's mind. Sure, he'd love to have his own colony. The power, the influence, all the great things that came with it, but he saw the way Denmark managed his colonies. He saw the way colonisation as a whole was approached and quite frankly, he wanted nothing to do with it.

At first, his initial impression of colonisation was as follows: you find a cute little baby defenseless country, you claim it, and you raise the nation like a human would a child.

However, this image was shattered by Denmark who treated all his colonies in a way that Norway could only describe as inhumane. He was aware that he himself was no saint. He had hurt so many people and helped Denmark bring misery onto innocent societies, but still.

It seemed, these days, that he was willing to ignore his disdain for the concept of colonisation. His boss was actually quite set on finding a colony, so he was more or less forced to.

His journey so far was actually quite pleasant. The crew knew that he wasn't exactly one for the casual conversation, so he was mostly left alone, and sailing on a vessel that didn't really have a set destination was fun. He tried to enjoy the elements of this journey that he could. The cold air hitting his cheeks, the sun weakly reflected in the wooden deck, the light rocking sensation that came with the gentle tide.

He didn't actually expect to find land. It was just a formality in his eyes. Like pretending to look for something you know isn't there just to convince his boss.

But sure enough, the silhouette of an island grew closer to them. Norway's expression briefly reflected deep concern, though he quickly contained it and stood up to get a proper look.

It was truly magnificent. Glaciers so spectacular, so brilliant, so perfect.

Norway suddenly found himself being excited to discover the beautiful land.

The crew began to quickly file onto the dark beach. The sun had already begun to set, so it was perfect timing too. A few members of the crew scouted the area for a perfect campsite. Another group made sure the area was safe and free of predators.

Norway took a look at the crew, ensured their safety, and set off to look. He knew his crew needed rest, but he was determined to explore right then and there.

The seemingly vacant land got more and more magnificent by the second. Norway felt a sense of warmth spreading through him. This land would make a beautiful colony.

He decided to call it a night and lay down on the grass against a rock.

A small puffling seemed to have already claimed the area. Norway laughed at the sight of the little bird casually hanging around the area.

He finally tore away his eyes to look at the sky. The magnificent sight of the aurora borealis could soothe the most troubled soul.

Norway fondly remembered the times he and Denmark wondered about what they were, the northern lights.

Denmark would turn with a wide grin and loudly proclaim.

"they're bridges! To Valhalla!"

Norway would shake his head.

"no, they're the souls of fallen warriors."

They were only children at the time.

Now Norway would be left to wonder on his own.

His eyes slowly closed shut, and he had finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

Still, he made sure to stay alert and to listen to his surroundings.

The distinct sound of a step being taken drew him to his senses. Be it a human or an animal, he had to make a move.

He looked around and... Nothing.

He knew what he heard.

He got to his feet and began looking around for the source.

The puffling was still there, but it couldn't have made the sound, it's a bird.

Norway's eyes fell on a large rock that had been near him when he slept.

He knew then, in his mind and in his soul that whatever made that noise was behind that rock.

"hello?" he called out softly as to not startle whatever it was.

He got no response.

He slowly got closer until he spotted something. A small, pale hand that could only belong to a small child.

He then heard a soft gasp that reinforced his belief that it was in fact a child.

He approached the rock and slowly looked behind it.

A small pair of brilliant pink eyes stared back into his.

Norway leaned over and gently lifted the child.

It was a very small child. Extremely so. Norway determined the baby to be a boy.

If he didn't know better, he'd judge that the baby belonged to a native, but he did know better. He knew that the baby was in fact a nation.

His colony.

Norway was in awe. Nations reflect the natural beauty of the land. They were all extremely beautiful, but this one...

In that moment, Norway truly understood colonisation. He understood the craze. To be near a young nation is to love it.

The baby had long, soft, white hair, uniquely shaped, beautiful, striking pink eyes, soft, delicate pale skin and a long white gown.

It was so beautiful, and yet, still somehow resembled Norway.

He cupped the baby's cheeks and stared directly into it's eyes.

"you're beautiful and I swear to protect you, to raise you, to keep you safe to the best of my abilities. My colony... I'll name you Iceland."

Technically, nations didn't usually get to name their own colonies. That was an honour typically reserved for their bosses, but Norway's boss had given Norway the right to name the colony as he saw fit to get him to be more enthusiastic at the concept of having a colony, or as the nations would refer to it, having a little brother.

Norway held his little Iceland close, feeling this almost primal need to keep him safe. Iceland looked up at his new big brother, and unmistakably smiled.

Norway could not wait to be a big brother.

[succulentlesbians]

Nat dying in endgame isn't canon? Her and Yelena are out living their sex in the city fantasy and bonding and making up for all the time that was stolen away from them :) I'm also rereading your fic again :D I'm deeply curious to know what it looks like from Yelena's pov, I've just gotten to the part where they've gotten on the plane but god just. The conversation about Hive. Tfw the one bright spot in your life is most equipped to understand you. But god it hurts they went through that too. </3

nat dying in endgame is absolutely so not canon To Me. her and yelena are out having the time of their lives, don't know how anyone could think differently.

saw you say curious about yelena pov and was like hmm what small tidbit could i give you that would be fun?

umm. rewrite of hive conversation, yelena pov:

Yelena turns to look at Daisy. Her arms are horribly discolored above her wraps and she's holding them precariously against her body as she lies on the bed, trying to prevent more pain.

Yelena hates it. This was avoidable, absolutely. Yelena could've taken out every person in that warehouse herself and they should both know that. Daisy is a spy now, she has to know that she needs to stay healthy. Doesn't she want to be healthy?

Yelena reaches out near unconsciously to Daisy's arm, as if she can make everything better though magic. She wishes she could.

"You don't have to tell me why," she says, "but I don't like seeing you hurt." She's not going to force Daisy into anything, but she needs to make her opinion clear that seeing Daisy in pain makes her hurt too.

She wraps her arm around Daisy's torso, hoping to offer comfort.

Daisy lets the silence go a for minute. "When I got my powers," she says finally, "I thought I was cursed."

She must have had to learn to control them. Now, Yelena can clearly see that she knows what she's doing. She hopes Daisy didn't kill anyone she didn't want to in her practice. She's not got much confidence in SHIELD, but they have to have better training practices than the Red Room.

“But I was convinced they were a gift by the other Inhumans.  And even when my mom died, I believed that I could do something good with the gift I’d been given."

Her mom had died? Another thing they have in common. Another unfortunate thing to have in common.

The rest of her words, that's the Daisy that Yelena knows. That's the girl she met who convinced her of good people in the world. Daisy is always looking for ways to help.

"So I kept working with SHIELD.  And—”

Daisy's voice cracks.

What happened to her? What made her hurt like this? If it's not already gone, Yelena is going to hunt it down and slaughter it. With delight. Great delight. And with excruciating pain.

"There was a thing with this bitch-ass octopus-looking fucker.  Hive.  He could do this thing to Inhumans—" he could do this thing to me, Yelena fills in with a sense of dawning horror— "where he made you feel like obeying him was the only thing you ever wanted to do in life.  Like there was something missing from your life and he could provide it.  Something to do with our brain chemicals, I don’t know the details.”

Yelena can't stop herself from a sharp inhale. It's obvious what happened.

Fucking mind control.

It sounds even worse than her own. Yelena, at least, hadn't been infatuated with Dreykov. She didn't know what her own feelings were all the time, if they were even real, but she knows it wasn't like that. She'd had uncharitable thoughts about Dreykov, even if she knew she'd never be able to hurt him. She'd at least had that choice. That Daisy hadn't is horrific. Absolutely horrific. Forced excitement to be enslaved is quite frankly, the worst thing Yelena can think of.

Daisy continues in a hushed voice. "I almost killed everyone. I hurt them.  Badly.  I threatened them.  Everyone in his path, I cleared."

It’s all the more devastating for someone like Daisy who cares so much about people. Someone who built up relationships with everyone she met, who did her absolute best to connect with them. It’s brutal.

Yelena grew up with killing. For better or for worse, she's generally unfazed by it. But Daisy? She may have changed from when she was Skye, but there's no way that death doesn't drag on her mind.

"When we finally took him down, good people died." Her voice wobbles dangerously. Her eyes begin to glisten as she fights tears. "So now I’m out here, trying to make up for everything I’ve done.  For all of the hurt I gave out.  The suffering I’ve caused.  And if it hurts?  It’s worth it.  And… maybe I deserve it.”

The worst part is, she sounds convinced of her words. Daisy genuinely believes she deserves it. The pain she's feeling right now, she thinks she deserves it.

It's complete bullshit.

Yelena could understand if there was no other option, that Daisy would need to use her powers. But she doesn't. So the only reason she's doing it is a misguided sense that she was somehow in charge of her actions while being mind controlled and therefore needs to suffer. Again, complete bullshit.

For someone as good as Daisy, just the fact that her body committed the action is enough to incriminate herself in her mind.

She reaches out to grab Daisy's hand, needing the comfort. Wanting to give comfort.

If there's one thing she's locked onto after getting free, it's that she was not in control of her body. Maybe she can extend that to Daisy.

"It's not your fault," she says as firmly as she can. "It wasn't us. It wasn't our choice. It wasn't your choice, Daisy."

A solitary tear begins to roll down Daisy's face. "But I did it. And I felt happy about it."

Hive, Yelena knows, is dead. She was able to find out that much. In the back of her mind, she's been stabbing him again and again. How could anyone do something like that to Daisy?

She recalls the emotionless state when she killed Oksana and the sudden onset of feeling afterward. She had gone from being glad to have completed her mission to abject horror as Oksana died in her arms.

She brushes the tears off of Daisy's cheek. "Even our emotions, they didn't belong to us." She won't ever forget the whiplash of that moment. But it reminds her— "But now they do. Now we can decide. We have our own thoughts and feelings."

Daisy tilts her head, ever so slightly. Indecision rolls across her face, crinkling her eyebrows. For a brief second, Yelena is reminded of her mother, comforting her just as she is comforting Daisy now. She would knit her eyebrows together like that too as she thought of what to do.

"You've been so brave. You’ve held onto this pain for so long.  It’s made you strong."

Pain only makes you stronger, Mama had told her the day she died. Yelena has held onto those words. She's been through so much and it's made her stronger. She's come out the other side of everything.

“Those things happened and they can’t be taken back."

There's a lot that Yelena's done that she could regret now and Oksana's death is at the top of the list. There's plenty of other deaths that cross her mind. She has to put that behind her. Oksana... she'll complete her dying request. She'll free the Widows. But she's going to experience being free too.

"But it’s okay to let it go.  It’s okay to want good things for yourself.  It’s okay to live your life.” 

It has to be okay. It wasn't her fault. She didn't choose any of her past. She can choose her future. She's going to choose her future. She's figured out contacting Daisy, she can figure out the rest of it too.

“We’re our own people now.”

Daisy's face crumples and she bursts into tears, turning to bury her face in Yelena's shoulder. Yelena strokes gently at her back.

"It was supposed to be me," Daisy mutters quietly. "Why wasn't it me?"

Yelena has no idea what she's talking about. It sounds like something she should disagree with on principle based on the other thoughts Daisy has been having about herself, but she's not going to act without knowing more. And she's pushed Daisy enough tonight. Getting the seeds in there is as far as she'll go.

So she doesn't say anything else that might bring up bad memories for Daisy. Instead, she starts to sing an old Russian lullaby, one that Mama had sang to her as a child. She waits as Daisy sinks into sleep, dried tears tracks on her face, before she dares to drift off herself, carefully holding Daisy. She's not going to let her do this alone. Not anymore.

[blueluneacy]

its time for my yearly post, real

ive been thinkin about dottore genshin impact lately. hes so silly :) did more of a horror aspect bc i like horror??? idk if youve been around long enough youll notice my slow descent into more horror based writings. but its ok, i like it!

on one hand you might be able to consider this yandere. on the other i think this is just how il dottore is in my mind. just a little creep. i wonder if hes single

tw: manipulation, blackmail, implied human experimentation

You were nothing to him. 

In some way or another, you knew that. You knew that you were lowly in comparison to him. You were a student, barely half way into a thesis while he was well… It’s hard to define what he was. An outcast, but a genius. Something out of your grasp, intangible and arcane. Maybe that’s what originally got you interested. You’re a student after all, driven by curiosity and a need for knowledge. Perhaps he liked that about you too. 

It was also that which was forbidden that intrigued you. That which you had seen scholars go mad for, he held in the palm of his hand. Things that you knew that were forbidden were always so delicious, weren’t they? You indulged in them, in what he could give you. It’s not as thought you didn’t give what you could in return, but really, what could you give a man whose power rivaled the gods? You should’ve known better. Your tutors, your peers, everyone could’ve warned you, did warn you, but you chose not to listen. 

After all, he did tell you that this version of himself was the most selfish. 

Perhaps then it wasn’t strange that you never saw what happened next coming. When he told you that it was time to leave Sumeru, you were shocked, almost baffled at the proposal. 

“I can’t just leave everything. I’m still working on my thesis, my friends are here, I still have things to do here.” You told him, as if your words would do you any good. He merely smiled at you, shaking his head as if your points were silly, meaningless. 

“I think you’ll find your research coming to a halt very soon regardless of if you leave or not. It seems that some restructuring will begin to take place here very shortly. It would be best if you were to leave, while you still had your dignity intact.” He always made himself sound so… Reasonable. It was something you once admired about him, but now, it was grating on your nerves. How easily he tossed aside your concerns. Had he always done that, trivialized the words you were saying like this?

“I can’t just give it all up. I’d hate myself if I did that. You should already know, that’s not the type of person I am. This is my life’s work.” You told him, immediately turning your back to him. He only gave you a small chuckle, shaking his head. 

“Oh please. It was an average thesis that’s frankly, derivative and uninteresting. Not to mention your advisor is about to lose his job. You don’t really think it’s worth it just to work 10 more years on something new once the dust settles, do you?” He made broad steps to close the distance between the two of you, leaning over your shoulder. You had always known that the man was much larger than you, but it was the first time you noticed that it made you nervous. Perhaps that was the first time you acknowledged him for what he really was. Not as a friend or a lover, but as the Doctor, a powerful, dangerous man. 

“Even so, I’m a student here at the Akademiya. I can’t pick up and leave just because you told me to. The answer is no.” You had to firm with him. If you weren’t, if you just went with him, you had a feeling that you would end up as nothing but a puppet, a pretty doll to look at for the rest of your life. What a shame that you hadn’t realized such a fact before it was too late. 

“Is that so?” He seemed more amused than he was angry. You winced as he leaned against you from behind, draping his arms over your shoulder in a way that he perhaps meant to be affectionate but felt more imprisoning with his inhuman strength. He leaned down to whisper in your ear. You shuddered as you felt his breath against you , a pit of fear forming in your stomach that threatened to come out as a scream. 

“And what are your plans as to what happens next? I’m sure that everyone would love to know how interested you’ve been with the things I’ve taught you these past few months. How interested you’ve been in that which you knew to be forbidden.” You froze at his words. Was… That his plan all along? To lure you in, and then blackmail you into never leaving? “Do you really think you could just get away with a slap on the wrist for this? Something as horrid as this, well, I doubt there would be must hesitation to sign your expulsion papers.”

“You… Why? Why are you doing this? Why me?” You could’ve help but let your questions tumble out of your mouth. You felt betrayed, but why? Shouldn’t you have always known the nature of this man? How he takes and takes, giving nothing in return. How absolutely foolish.

“Ah, look at that expression! How fascinating. I wonder, what else could I do to induce these emotions in you? Such lovely features being distorted with such despair…”  He cooed, running his hand over your cheek to wipe away a tear. When did you start crying? You reached up to feel your own tears, attempting to brush the Doctor’s hand away at the same time. 

“We’ll have plenty of time to look at more of your reactions once we reach home. I look forward to our continued work together once we reach Snezhnaya.” As his words reached your ears, you finally broke out of your fog, pulling away from the Doctor. You backed up a bit, but he so easily seemed to just step forward once more, not giving you any space. 

“I don’t care. Even if I become an outcast, I’ll bare with it. I… I can *redeem* myself, I won’t just let you take me away to some lab in a bunker somewhere to do who knows what to me!” You shuddered as thoughts raced through your mind of what might happen. Of how he might cut you open, the fluids he could pour into your body, the *agony* he could cause for you only to stitch you back together. You knew of the consequences though. Why are you so surprised when the chickens come home to roost?

For his part, the Doctor only laughed, leaning down and grabbing you by the chin. His grip was hard, and in the back of your mind you wondered if bruises would form later. He forced you to look up at him, examining your expression with a sort of cold clinical air that you should’ve been used to with him by now. 

“Oh, my dear… You act as though you ever really had a choice.” 

Despite your best attempts, the dam finally broke, and you let out a scream as the horror of the man in front of you finally set in. You thrashed, squirmed, cried, begged, pleaded, did anything you could think of to try and escape this, this agonizing situation that you only had yourself to blame for. 

And for his part, all the Doctor did was laugh. 

[alfredosauce50]

From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

[iam93percentstardust]

hey alle, so for the prompts i'd love some cute and funny winteriron with bucky wanting to impress tony with his cooking, but tony being a very picky eater. which leads to a lot of frustration on bucky's side, and obliviousness on what is even going on from tony's. if you feel like it. thank you! <3

Here it is! The long-awaited His Girl FRIDAY remix! I hope you love this as much as I do!

As always, everything I write is on ao3 too

~

The first time Bucky left food in Tony’s workshop and come back to find it untouched, he’d figured it was a fluke. Tony had probably been caught up in a zone—like Steve had warned him about when Bucky had decided he was going to woo Tony with food—and hadn’t noticed the food was even there.

The second time, he made sure to catch Tony’s attention as he was dropping off the plate—lasagna because Natalia had said Tony’s mother was Italian and Bucky made a pretty decent lasagna if he did say so. Tony had glanced at him and then at the plate before turning away with a slightly bewildered frown. Bucky had taken the frown to mean that no one else had ever bothered before to take care of Tony, which was a fact that had just about broken his heart, and left the plate there. He’d gone back later that night to find the lasagna untouched. That had been a little harder to explain away, but he’d eventually decided that maybe Tony was one of those food snobs who only liked Italian food made by actual Italians.

The third time he made oatmeal with a little bit of honey and cream, perfect for someone with as much of a sweet tooth as Tony had, and brought it into the workshop for Tony, who had spent the entire night working on new arrows for Clint.

“Tony?” he called softly, not wanting to startle him. Tony was uncomfortable enough with all the new people moving into the tower after everything with SHIELD and Hydra; being Hydra’s pet assassin, he didn’t want to make it worse by sneaking up on him. “I brought you some breakfast.”

Tony popped up from underneath a table, visibly brightening. “Oh good,” he said cheerfully, making grabby hands at the bowl. “I was just starting to get hungry.” His hair was mussed, two perfect rings of black smeared around his eyes, likely where the goggles currently perched on top of his head had been resting earlier.

Bucky smiled at the adorable display and held out the bowl. Tony eagerly grabbed it, only to blink at it as soon as he saw what was in it.

“Oatmeal?” he asked delicately.

“I thought you’d appreciate having something a little more delicate after not eating for a while,” Bucky explained.

“…Oh.” After another awkward moment, Tony said carefully, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Bucky left him to his work. This time—this time—Tony would eat it all and then he’d see what an amazing cook Bucky was and how he would absolutely be able to provide for Tony and then he’d swoon into Bucky’s arms and demand that Bucky take him right there.

Okay maybe not right there—the workshop didn’t seem like the best location for amorous activities—but that was why they called it a fantasy, right?

Too bad Tony punctured that fantasy like a balloon.

Bucky went back downstairs long to pick up the bowl after Tony had come up to the common areas, yawning widely and telling everyone he was heading to bed for the next twenty-four hours so don’t bother him unless New York was on fire. It had been a bit of a disappointment that he’d just nodded at Bucky without saying anything about the breakfast or about his everlasting feelings for him, but not nearly as much of a disappointment to walk into the workshop to find the bowl as untouched as all the other meals he’d so painstakingly prepared.

~

“I don’t get it,” he whined to Sam later that day. “I’m a good cook.”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look. “Are you sure? It’s been, what, seventy years since the last time you made anything. Maybe you’re not as good as you used to be.”

Bucky gasped dramatically. “You take that back!”

“No. You promised me you’d offer dating advice with Natasha and instead you’re sitting here mooning over Tony’s ass again so I’ll say whatever I like about your cooking.”

“Sorry,” he muttered guiltily. Sam was right. He had promised that. Or, rather, Steve had promised advice and Bucky had taken one look at him still pining over Peggy and feeling weird about his current interest being Peggy’s niece (a valid way to feel) and declared him hopeless before telling Sam that he would help him out instead. After all, he remembered Natalia from the years she’d spent training with him during her childhood. Who else would be more qualified to teach Sam how to woo her? Well, besides Clint obviously, but he was taking some personal time away from the team.

“She likes the ballet,” he said. “She wanted to be a ballerina when she was younger, said they were as graceful as any Widow only they didn’t have to kill.”

“And you’re sure that won’t just make her sad?” Sam asked dubiously.

Bucky glared at him. “I might not like you very much—” Sam rolled his eyes—"But I like Natalia a whole lot. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Take her to the ballet and take Steve and Sharon while you’re at it. A double date will help her feel less trapped and maybe Steve will stop moping and ask Sharon out.”

“It’s a little weird, you know.”

“Sure, but he kissed Peggy once and it’s not like he’s ever gonna go back to the war and live out the rest of his time there, so he might as well move on.”

Sam laughed. “Guess that’s true.” He sighed, smile fading away. “I don’t know why Tony’s ignoring your meals. Sorry about that though. It sucks.”

“If I may,” JARVIS cut in. Both of them jumped, though Bucky would deny to his dying day that he yelped. Sam, on the other hand, shrieked like a kid and Bucky reminded himself to go back and access the audio footage so he would have blackmail.

“Sorry, JARVIS,” he apologized. “Keep forgetting you’re up there. Didn’t exactly have AI back during the war.”

“Or even in other houses,” Sam added.

“My apologies,” JARVIS said, and he’ll be damned if JARVIS didn’t sound extremely apologetic. It was incredible, really, how much life Tony imbued in his creations. “I only wanted to offer my advice about Sergeant Barnes’ attempts at wooing Sir.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked. “Go right ahead. Can’t be any worse than any of the other advice I’ve gotten.” Seriously, Clint had even suggested truth serum, like that wasn’t the worst idea ever suggested.

“Sir is an extremely picky eater,” JARVIS explained. “He does not enjoy cooked tomatoes, ricotta cheese, or the texture of oatmeal.”

…All of which had been in at least one of the meals he’d prepared for Tony.

“Fuck.”

JARVIS wryly said, “Indeed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You requested that I remain inactive on your floor while you were recovering. But you’re in Sergeant Wilson’s quarters at the moment so I may share my expertise.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? It had been in the early days when he was still having trouble remembering what he’d said moments earlier, but he had a vague recollection of being overwhelmed by the idea of constant monitoring and asking if JARVIS could be turned off.

“Wow, way to go, Barnes,” Sam commented, hiding a grin behind his hand.

“Fuck,” he said again, more emphatically. “Best tool at my disposal and I’m not even using it. JARVIS, I bet you could tell me all sorts of things about Tony.”

He got the impression that if the AI could sniff, he would have. “I would not dare to air Sir’s ‘dirty laundry’ so to speak.”

“No, no,” Bucky said, waving his metal hand. The hand made a concerning grinding sound and he frowned. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d probably need to ask someone to take a look at it. Sam was capable of performing basic maintenance, and Bucky trusted him not to sabotage the arm, but anything worse and he’d have to go ask Tony about it.

“Not what I meant,” he continued. “Just that you could tell me what Tony likes and doesn’t like. Uh, how do I turn you back on in my floor?”

“Your request is sufficient,” JARVIS said.

“Great. I’ll meet you up there in a bit. We’re gonna make something so incredible Tony will have to fall in love with me.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam said, kicking his feet up onto the newly vacated spot on the couch now that Bucky was standing. “I’m going to see if I can find reasonably priced tickets to the ballet.”

Bucky blinked. “I think you’re gonna have worse luck than me.”

Sam threw a shoe at him.

~

On JARVIS’ advice, he baked blueberry muffins because those were apparently Tony’s favorite fruit. Bucky didn’t really understand it. Frankly, he thought blueberries were almost as bad as bananas—nasty, taste-changing fruit that they were—but if Tony loved them, then he would be willing to have them in his kitchen for as long as it took to bake the muffins. Fortunately, he was just as good a baker as he was a cook, so it was a breeze to whip up a delicious batch that had him grateful he couldn’t get salmonella from the mix.

Unfortunately, Tony hated the muffins. Or that’s what Bucky gathered when he went to pick the plate up, hoping that it would be empty for the first time, and found it just as untouched as everything else had been.

“What the fuck, JARVIS?” he complained. “You said he liked blueberries.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS said, sounding as baffled as Bucky felt. “Sir has always appreciated them.”

That, Bucky reflected later that night, was possibly to be expected. For all that JARVIS had the inhuman ability to remember literally everything he’d ever seen or heard, he was still just a program. He couldn’t necessarily extrapolate about preferences or tastes. For all either of them knew, Tony did like blueberries but didn’t like muffins or something. It didn’t really explain why JARVIS knew that Tony didn’t like cooked tomatoes, but maybe that could be explained by Tony mentioning it out loud and the other stuff, JARVIS had had to figure out on his own.

He sat up in bed, thinking about it. Maybe that was it: Tony didn’t like muffins. But there had to be other recipes out there that used blueberries that Tony would like. In fact, he was pretty sure he’d come across a blueberry cupcake with brown butter frosting recipe earlier that day. And Bucky didn’t know anyone who could say no to his brown butter. He was incredible at it, and that was being modest. Just the other day, Thor had declared the brown butter sauce he’d made for their chicken to be worthy of an Asgardian feast. Thor was a god. He probably knew things like that.

“JARVIS, you up?” he asked into the dark room.

“Always, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You don’t gotta keep callin’ me that. Bucky’s my name. I’d rather answer to that.”

“Very well, Bucky.”

“Could you pull up some other recipes with blueberries in the flavor profile please? Filter out anything that has something Tony doesn’t like and recipes similar enough to each other that they could be repeats, uh, let’s say anything with a higher than 85% similarity.”

When JARVIS was finished compiling his list, there was a lot less than what Bucky had hoped for, but it was still something he could work with. He looked through the list: cupcakes, pancakes, cookies, more than a few salads, something called a Panzanella. He starred the ones he thought would catch Tony’s interest the most, putting the others aside to possibly try later down the road. Content with his plan, he laid back down, falling asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

~

None of it worked. Despite his supposed love for blueberries, Tony continued to turn away everything Bucky made for him. So he branched out, trying other foods that JARVIS said Tony was fond of. Nothing came back with more than a couple bites taken out of it and Tony had taken to giving him worried looks every time he appeared at the workshop door with another plate. Bucky was starting to lose hope that he was ever going to woo Tony with food and that was… not great.

Traditional dates were pretty close to impossible. Despite his rapid recovery in the tower, going outside was still too frightening with the crowds of New York, the inability to pick out threats around him, and the lack of sightlines all driving Bucky back inside and to the highest floors of the tower where he could look out over everything.

And as for anything else, well, Bucky was an ex-brainwashed assassin with no money to his name and only half the social skills he used to have (Sam said he had more than he thought but arguing with Sam wasn’t like trying to get someone to like him). He didn’t have much else to offer other than making food and giving Tony a project to work on. The first wasn’t going well and the second made Bucky feel too much like he was taking advantage of Tony to use more than once or twice.

Disheartened, he made his way up to Natalia’s floor to ask her for advice. She and Tony got along almost as well as she got along with Clint. Maybe she would have insights that JARVIS wasn’t able to offer. As he neared her room, though, he realized that she wasn’t alone.

“—to kill me,” someone—Tony, Bucky realized almost immediately—was saying. He stiffened. Who was trying to kill Tony? Bucky would kill them first! Was murder a good way to woo Tony?

“котенок,” Natalia said patiently, “he’s not trying to kill you.”

“You don’t know that!” Tony exclaimed wildly. He sounded like he was pacing. “He could be! He keeps bringing me things everyone knows I won’t eat.”

And now Natalia sounded amused as she said, “Antoshka, I don’t think he’d be trying to feed you if he wanted to kill you. It’s more likely an honest mistake.”

“It could be poison.”

“It’s not poison.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t tried any of it.”

“It’s not poison because that’s more my style than it is James’.”

Oh, they were talking about him. Tony thought Bucky was trying to kill him. “Fuck,” he said mournfully, leaning up against the wall. No wonder Tony wouldn’t touch any of the food he made for him.

“Well, I don’t see why else he’s bringing me food!” Tony said.

“Really? Not a single reason?”

“It’s food I won’t eat! He clearly doesn’t like me or he’d be bringing me actual food I like.”

“Does he know why you won’t eat it?”

“No, but why does that matter?”

“Tony, darling, have you ever once informed him that you have a sensory processing disorder and you won’t eat a lot of cooked foods because you can’t handle the texture?”

Bucky straightened back up. Tony has a what? He’d never even heard of that before. Why didn’t JARVIS say something? He thought back to when he’d been building the list of blueberry foods and how he’d wondered if JARVIS didn’t necessarily know about the pattern for Tony’s likes and dislikes in his food. Maybe JARVIS hadn’t known about Tony’s disorder, so he hadn’t known to tell Bucky about it. That made the most amount of sense to him though he couldn’t imagine why Tony had never told his AI about his disorder.

“Why would I tell him that?” Tony asks, sounding confused.

He could just picture Natalia shaking her head as she said, “Oh, Antoshka.”

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Armed with his new knowledge, Bucky crept away from the door, already planning out new meals to bring to Tony.

~

That very night, he went downstairs with a bowl of salad. It had nuts to provide a small amount of protein, though he’d also put some baked chicken in a Tupperware as well, in case that was something Tony could eat. Tony’s music was playing at a manageable volume by the time he got to the workshop, likely because he was drafting plans for some sort of irrigation system, rather than any sort of consideration for Bucky.

Tony caught sight of him before he got the doors open. Bucky watched as his face fell for a moment before he plastered on a bright, fake smile. Hydra’s programming was still too ingrained in him to do anything as obvious as wince, but he still felt a twinge of shame. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Tony what he would like to eat instead of relying on his own preferences?

“Uh,” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. In his other hand, he held up the Tupperware with the salad bowl on top of it. “I brought you some dinner. It’s just a salad, but I included some baked chicken on the side if you want that. I hope it’s something you like.”

Tony blinked at him. “What?”

“I—okay, I’m just gonna come right out and say it. I overheard you and Natalia earlier. I didn’t know you couldn’t eat anything I was making for you. I wasn’t trying to poison you or anything, just thought you might like some food since you’re down here all the time. Sorry for, you know, eavesdropping and making you think I didn’t like you.”

A cautious smile spread across Tony’s face. “You could have asked JARVIS,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, I did, but I guess he didn’t know you don’t like cooked foods.”

“What?” Tony cocked his head to the side. “No, he should know that.” He spun around in his chair, waving the glowing blue drafts of the irrigation system aside in favor of pulling up JARVIS’ bright golden code. It was a beautiful display, and Bucky found himself moving closer, mesmerized by the sight. He had no idea JARVIS’ code was so complex.

“J, buddy, what happened to your code?” Tony murmured. He reached out a hand, groping for Bucky’s shirt to tug him closer. “Gimme food.”

“So you like salad?” Bucky asked, relieved that he’d finally found something.

“And baked chicken,” Tony added. “But it has to be baked. Otherwise, the texture’s too rubbery for me.”

“I can do that,” he promised. “Do you like breading or marinade with the baked chicken?”

“Marinade, yes. Breading, no.”

“Okay. I’ll remember that.”

Tony paused in tearing through JARVIS’ code to give him a small, genuine smile that made Bucky’s heart light up. He returned the smile, which grew bigger when Tony’s gaze darted down to his lips, snagging there as though caught by the sight. He knew he had a nice mouth; he’d been told that plenty of times back in the forties.

“I have another confession to make,” he said once Tony’s attention returned to the code.

“Uh-huh,” Tony said distractedly.

“I was—”

“There you are!” Tony exclaimed. “J, who made those changes to lines 894 through 1036 in your code?”

JARVIS immediately said, “The last time those lines were accessed was in 2008 by Obadiah Stane.”

Tony’s face fell. “Oh.”

It took Bucky a moment remember who Obadiah Stane was. He’d appeared in one of Bucky’s mission files as the Winter Soldier. Back during the nineties, following Tony’s parents deaths, Tony had been planning on shutting down SI’s weapons manufacturing division. Hydra, who’d been buying black market weapons from Stane for years by that time, had ordered the Winter Soldier to assassinate Tony to give Stane complete control of the company. But before he’d been able to complete his mission, Stane had convinced Tony to see “reason” and Bucky had been put back in cryo. That unfulfilled mission had been one of the reasons he’d been so hesitant to move into the tower before his programming had been completely removed. Steve had tried to push for the move anyway, but before either of them could successfully argue the point, Tony had put out a call to the world’s top experts on brainwashing and three whirlwind weeks later, Bucky’s mind was programming-free. And just like that, without even meeting the guy, Bucky had developed a crush on one Tony Stark.

“Sorry, doll,” he said, dropping a hand to Tony’s shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Tony sighed frustratedly. “Every time I think I’ve taken care of everything Obie fucked up, I find something else he’s done. He was probably hoping I’d starve to death or something without anyone making food to my exacting specifications, that asshole.”

“He sounds pretty terrible,” Bucky agreed.

“J, are you able to access the last backup on those lines to restore them?” Tony asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, let’s get those fixed, and uh—”

“And we’ll go out for dinner,” Bucky interrupted.

“Huh?” Tony asked, turning to look at him.

“Seems I owe you an apology and I figure taking you out for dinner is a little nicer than a salad. ‘Sides, if I take you out, I’ll have a better understanding of what you like to eat.”

“Careful there, Buckaroo, or I’ll start thinking this is supposed to be a date.”

Bucky would probably never know what possessed him to firmly say, “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to be.” He certainly hadn’t planned to. He really had been planning on their dinner being a way to figure out what Tony liked so he could make it himself and continue with his wooing process from there, hopefully slowly easing Tony into believing that Bucky really did like him and wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

Tony stared at him, then abruptly said, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That this is supposed to be a date.”

He could deny it and go back to his original plan. He’d probably even be able to pull off a lie like that. But there was a hopeful look in Tony’s eyes that stopped him from denying anything.

“You didn’t even know that I liked you until five minutes ago,” he pointed out cautiously.

Tony scoffed. “What, like you’ve never liked someone who hated you.”

“Uh, no. I’ve never done that.”

“Really?”

“Never.”

“Huh.”

“Are you… are you saying that you do like me?” Bucky asked.

“Well, yeah. You never mind that half of my engineering babble goes over your head and you bring me food even if you didn’t know it wasn’t something I could eat and you’re really fucking gorgeous when you’ve showered and your hair isn’t falling in greasy clumps around your face.”

“Look who’s talking,” Bucky said amusedly, reaching out to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, matted down with machine oil. Even filthy, he could feel how soft it would be when it was clean. Tony leaned into his hand, humming happily.

“So is that a yes on this being a date, Bucky babe?” Tony asked. “Cause I’ll be honest, I’m not usually left hanging.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, nodding. “It’s a date.”

Tony grinned and turned his head just enough to kiss the inside of Bucky’s wrist, making Bucky shiver. “Let me get cleaned up.”

“You want me to join you?”

Tony winked at him. “Next time, honey.”

[jaskiersvalley]

Found out about the zine from your post and absolutely had to buy a copy, I couldn't miss out on any of your amazing work!

You are in for an absolute treat with the zine. I’ve had the great privilege of seeing all the art and stories created for it and let me tell you, there whole thing is laden with incredible content. Both art and fic alike are some of the best things you’ll encounter in the fandom.

As a little extra, here’s a ficlet of thanks for spending your hard earned money on supporting the zine!

The truth of the matter was, Jaskier had gone out in search of the Butcher of Blaviken. He’d followed rumours of the witcher’s whereabouts, tracked him down. It was every bard’s hope to find inspiration and a story to turn into a truly outstanding piece and Jaskier was convinced he would find it with the Butcher.

There was a lot he expected when he finally found the witcher. Violence, barely restrained rage, animalistic habits, maybe even witnessing the Butcher eat raw meat. All the rumours and whispered theories about witchers that made them inhuman and something terrible. Yet Jaskier didn’t see any of that. Sure, he got punched in the gut, there were more grunts and hums than speaking and even the well known stand-offish growling. But it didn’t feel like Jaskier was trailing after a monster bred for hunting creatures. Not once did Jaskier get the feeling of being in the presence of something less human, more wild. It was disconcerting and, frankly, quite disappointing.

The Butcher of Blaviken had a name he preferred to be called by rather than the grim moniker. He also had a soft spot for his horse, harmless animals and children. Not that anybody would believe it. Even Jaskier had thought it was some ploy to start with. But Geralt kept up with the charade and the longer it went on, the more Jaskier was convinced it wasn’t an elaborate ploy. Nobody could keep up talking to their horse like that while brushing her if they didn’t mean it.

What had initially been a planned day with the Butcher of Blaviken turned into weeks with Geralt. Not a single drop of inspiration could be found for a bloodthirsty epic or a stirring ballad extolling the violence of a witcher. In fact, Jaskier stood back as an observer and watched how the rumours and common ‘knowledge’ about witchers seemed to cause nothing but misery for Geralt. More than once he was run out of town after a contract. Or paid less than promised because he didn’t do the job like the locals had expected. Some nights, Jaskier was certain he heard Geralt’s stomach rumbling in hunger but he never dared mention it. Especially when Geralt had gruffly shoved the squirrel on the skewer at Jaskier with a growl of “I can’t sleep when your stomach wails louder than your mouth.” Somehow, Jaskier suspected that there was more to it than Geralt let on.

His suspicions were proven right because, over time, Geralt seemed to take care of Jaskier in his own distant way. More stops at inns that would have then, larger portions of food foisted on Jaskier and there was also the appearance of a bedroll on Roach’s saddlebags for him to use. It all served to do one thing for Jaskier. It made him feel guilty.

Guilty for wanting to use Geralt as a leaping point for his own gains. Guilty for thinking Geralt to be an emotionless, unfeeling humanoid creature. Guilty for thinking Geralt didn’t care. It also made Jaskier rage. He was learning to read Geralt’s expressions and sounds. While on the surface it looked like he didn’t care, Jaskier could read the dejection in the slope of his shoulders, the resigned anger in the set of his jaw. When a tavern refused to serve them food or drink, nobody saw Geralt tiredly trudge through the countryside with Roach to ensure at least she had a nice patch to graze and rest on. The worst, Jaskier thought, were the times Geralt got injured. Nobody would believe that witchers felt pain or needed healers. Their bodies were weapons, nothing more. The first time Jaskier offered to help Geralt, he’d been snarled at. But, by the fifth time, Jaskier felt confident enough to simply take the salve and bandages from Geralt’s hands and set to work. He’d never had a more tense body under his hands. It probably didn’t help that they had barely been paid for a contract and then turned out of the village. So Jaskier was inclined to think that Geralt was more tense than usual. However, he only started to relax after the eighth time Jaskier helped him patch up a wound.

All through it, Jaskier was slowly realising that he wasn’t following a hand reared killer. Under all the pretence and gruffness, there was very much a human hidden there. One who had no idea what to do with gentleness, with company, with kindness. The first time Jaskier kissed Geralt, it had led to a whole two days of frowning and furtive glances. Until, finally, Geralt had asked “what do you want?”

Which opened up a whole new course of dialogue. Well, monologue with some grunts in reply. It seemed Geralt wasn’t familiar with the concept of having things like affection freely offered. All that mean was that Jaskier would show him what it could be like. And, while he was at it, he would work on changing the whole continent’s view on witchers. They deserved so much more than they got. That view only strengthened when Geralt took him back to Kaer Morhen one winter and Jaskier met the other wolf witchers. Suddenly, he didn’t just have on witcher to emotionally rehabilitate. He had four.

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH7

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter   Next Chapter>

It took Polnareff some time to cool off from the implications that the mysterious and frankly frightening man he met all those years ago was now behind some other shady business involving wolves, but by the time he reached the vehicles abandoned on the side of the road he was able to focus on the task at hand. Both were unlocked so it was easy to take a look inside the white van first. Opening the back door revealed the cargo area had been partitioned with metal cage sections like those in the backs of police cruisers.

Other gear was scattered around the back near the rear doors for easy access. Some more guns and ammo boxes and an overturned bin of the collar devices that they found on the bodies. Nothing really caught his eye but he took pictures on his phone for future reference. The keys were still in the ignition so he started up the vehicle and moved it off the main road to not draw unwanted attention.

It felt rude to go sniffing through your car, so after a brief look through the windows to confirm the hunters left no surprises, he opened the door and put it in neutral. With a few strong shoves he was able to rescue it from the shallow ditch it had been driven into. Your keys were also still in the ignition and luckily it started, but a few lights on the dash lit up- probably more internal damage than he first assumed from the crash. Driving slow and steady he was able to get it back to the cabin.

The slamming of the car door must have alerted the rest of the pack to his return, he saw Avdol peek through the window as he made his way to the door. Inside he was glad to see you moving about mostly unaided on your own, your wounds must be healing well thanks to Avdol’s expert care. Producing your car keys, he hands them over, “I was able to drive it back, but I don’t think it’s up for any longer distances without repairs. I thought you would want your things back though.”

You sigh as you realize you really are stuck with this pack, not that you mind them but the sudden loss of freedom is disheartening. You thank him as you take back your keys.

“Pol, did you find anything else? Any link to who sent them?” Jotaro asks as everyone stares intently at him, the rest of the pack must have already been brought up to speed on the situation.

“Just more of the same gear. I moved their van off the road so no nosey troopers get involved, at least not right now. Took some pictures of the inside in case you guys see anything I missed.” Polnareff hands over his phone to Jotaro who scrolls through the images before handing it to Avdol. Walking over to the table where the hunters’ things are still laid out Polnareff absently fiddles with the extra ammo before picking one up to examine more closely. “Hmm, that’s odd. There are no makers marks on this?”

“What do you mean?” Joseph scratches his beard as he holds one up as well.

“It’s weird that there’s no markings whatsoever. Silver bullets are always homemade but the quality of these, they look mass produced but have no manufacture marks.” Polnareff’s face is grim as he makes the connection.

“What does that mean? Is that unusual?” You ask as you try to understand the significance.

Jotaro sighs as Polnareff hands him the piece he was holding. “It means this group of hunters is experienced enough not to leave evidence linking to them. And their operation is probably much more complex and much bigger than the group we encountered here. The tech, the mass manufacture of silver ammo…”

“And the van was modified for prisoners.” Polnareff shakes his head and sighs.

“Polnareff, you said before you recognized the smell of one of the hunters.” Jotaro rolls his eyes as Joseph lets out a fake cough that sounds a lot like ‘DIO’. “Ignoring who it may or may not be for now, how do you know that scent?”

“I don’t know how else to describe it other than it smells like magic. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever smelled. There was only one person I’ve ever encountered that smelled like that.” Polnareff sits heavily in the nearest chair as the pack reconvenes at the table. “It was about five years ago now, before I met you Mr. Joestar. I was in New York City for the first time, trying to follow a lead on a case but having no luck. I heard rumors of a man who knew what had really happened to… in the case.” Polnareff gets a little choked up but controls himself and continues. “I was able to set up a meeting, but when I went to the spot, everything kind of… shifted? It felt like I was in a dream: it was hard to move, like weights on my feet. Everything looked just slightly wrong too, hazy like in a fog. I remember there was some sort of party going on, a lot of people everywhere like a medieval banquet or something. That’s where I met him. He introduced himself as Dio and I could tell he wasn’t human but couldn’t place what he actually was. He claimed he had the information I needed, but it would come at a price.”

“What do you mean by ‘investigation?” you tilt your head in confusion as you try to analyze his story so far.

“Ah, you wouldn’t know yet chérie but I’m one of the best private investigators in New York, probably the whole east coast!” Polnareff brags, jabbing his chest with his thumb.

“Focus Pol! What was his ‘price’?” Joseph groans out, exasperated with the younger man’s need to show off. “And why did you even need supernatural help? Not to inflate your ego any more than it is, but you are a good investigator.”

Polnareff looks down to the table, all sense of cheerfulness gone from his face. “The case had gone cold. It’s actually the reason I became a PI in the first place. My family, the whole town… they were murdered!” He slams his fists on the table as he shouts. “And not by just some maniac in the night! It was something inhuman! That’s the reason why I needed his help or whatever info he had on who did such a terrible act.”

You are frozen to your chair in shock with this new information. It seems to have taken the younger members of the pack by surprise too, Joseph and Avdol only nodding along in understanding. “The whole town murdered? You don’t mean…The one north of Quebec City, that was your home?” you say quietly.

Polnareff’s eyes shoot to yours, “Oui! Do you know of it?”

You swallow nervously as all the attention turns on you, “I heard of it, that was about seven or eight years ago right?” Polnareff nods and you continue, “That was about time I left my parent’s territory to try and find or start my own pack. They made me promise to not go that far north to Quebec, they were afraid whatever did that would get me too. They say the whole town was… torn apart.”

Polnareff hangs his head and you can see tears gather in his blue eyes. “Yes. It’s been years now but the pain… I wasn’t there when it happened, I was off in Quebec City partying while my family… When I got back, I was the one who found them. It wasn’t just a burglary gone bad or even ‘normal’ murder. Whatever killed them had used silver to do it. All of them, the whole town,” he chokes on his words trying to get the next ones out, “some of the bodies were eaten. Not by animals, by something almost human. I didn’t rest for days afterward. I swore I would hunt down the thing, the demon that did this to them. Unfortunately, I was not as good a tracker then as I am now, and the trail grew cold fast. So, I became a PI to try and keep looking and hone my skills.”

“That Dio guy, did he help at all? You said his help came at a price.” Jotaro directs the conversation back to the mysterious encounter.

“His price was too steep. He wanted information about other supernatural beings, to keep tabs and report to him directly.”

“Do you think he really did have the information though?” Kakyoin questions as he steeples his fingers together in front of him while he considers the information of Polnareff’s story.

Polnareff shakes his head, “It’s impossible to know now. He was so confident, about everything. I think I surprised him when I refused though. For a moment, it was like I saw his true face through the fog, he was suddenly terrifying and not at all charming. But I figured if he knew something, with all the people he had surrounded himself with someone else was bound to know as well. Whatever secret knowledge he had, it wouldn’t be secret for long. And why pay such a price for something that I could get for free later?”

“Did you ever find out his secret?” Avdol leans in as he asks, enraptured by Polnareff’s tale.

“Non, I don’t even remember leaving the place he brought me to. The next thing I remember after turning down his offer is, I suddenly found myself sitting in my car ready to head back to my motel.” He clasps his hands together and you can see his knuckles turn white from the tension. “I tried to find him again to, I don’t know… stop him? His intentions for the info on other creatures… It couldn’t have been good. And the slip of his façade I saw. The man, that creature is bad news. But he might have well been a ghost. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since.”

Polnareff turns to you, “A few years later I got hired by Mr. Joestar to keep an eye on a shady landlord working for him, and I guess the rest is history.” He shakes his head, “Who would have thought joining your pack would lead back to Dio again. Non- this is fate.”

Avdol gives Polnareff a pat on the shoulder before turning to Joseph. “Mr. Joestar, I think you should tell us what you know about Dio, or at least the person you know as Dio. I think it’s time the younger ones hear this.” Avdol says as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

Joseph nods and runs his hand through his hair before he begins, “Right. Ahh, well,” he pauses to gather his thoughts for a second, “I know this is going to sound crazy but I guess there is no way around it. When I was young, I lived with my granny Erina, my parents were either dead or missing and her husband Jonathan had been dead since before my father was even born. Now’s not the time to get into the details of that but Granny used to tell me all kinds of stories from when Jonathan was alive. And most importantly- the majority of them involved an evil man named DIO! My grandfather’s adopted brother!” Joseph doesn’t control his volume in his excitement and ends up shouting his last sentence.

“Being an adopted son in a werewolf pack was strange enough, but Granny could tell there was something ‘other’ about Dio as well. Then one night, his schemes and plans finally came to fruition! There was a massive fight at the house, Granny said Jonathan would not speak of it except that his father George had died saving him from Dio’s magic and in the fight the manor was set on fire and burned down. Jonathan made it his life’s mission to find and destroy Dio, not for revenge but for the safety of England and the world!” Joseph turns his attention to look directly at Jotaro, “Dio was a changeling child. His actions confirmed it that night. He was one of the last remaining Fae on earth. And apparently not of the good and benevolent kind. So, you see why it could be possible that this man may be the same one my grandpa tried to destroy more than a hundred years ago.”

“That… that’s impossible! The Fae, they all disappeared long before that to Avalon.” Kakyoin is wide eyed as he tries to process the information. “I know some humans still believe in them, but…”

“I know! I know! I thought they were just stories from my granny too!” Joseph exclaims and puts his hand to his eyes, “But one time… I don’t think I was supposed to see it, but I found an old photo album. There was a family photo of my grandfather, his father, and Dio.” He turns to Polnareff, “Pol, the man you met. Did he have blond hair, angry eyes and three moles on his left ear?”

It’s Polnareff’s turn to go pale as he slowly nods.

Jotaro growls as he tilts his hat to hide his eyes before snapping his head up to face the pack. “As impossible as this all sounds, it doesn’t change the fact that someone is hunting down wolves. I don’t give a shit if it is Dio or not, or an extinct Fae or not. We are going to put an end to this.” He looks around the table for a second and you can tell his eyes linger on yours longer than the others. “If anyone has an objection to this say it now. There will be no opportunity later.”

Joseph slams his hand to the table palm down, “I’m in! lets show this bastard who he’s messing with!”

Joseph’s enthusiasm is contagious and you and Polnareff slam your hands to the table as well, surprising the group with the fire they can see burning in your eyes. “Hell yeah! They think they can just take me? No way! I’m going to help tear this guy to pieces! I’m with you all the way!” You say as you look directly at Jotaro. You’re not sure but you think that’s a look of pride on his face as you make your declaration.

Avdol and Kakyoin keep their cool but you can see the determination in their eyes as they nod and place their hands on the table as well. Joseph is grinning like a feral maniac and you suddenly believe his stories about saving the world with how excited he looks to do it all over again. “Then it’s settled! I’ll call Caesar and let him know to gather the Zeppeli pack too.” Joseph pauses as he stands and looks at you, “Oh, and (Y/N)?” you tilt your head at him to continue. “Welcome to the Joestar pack.”

 <Previous Chapter  Next Chapter>

Author’s Note:

Sorry for the slow update! Guess who’s not good at regulating her personal time? This gal! I had to change up the process of how I’m writing this cause just trying to type on my computer had too many distractions and next thing I know I’ve been playing Stardew Valley for  3 hours.

Anyway, I have a favor to ask- I need a name for one of the dead bad guys. So leave a comment with a first name for the guy from Jersey, can be a bad ex, terrible boss, friend you want to embarrass by getting their name in a fanfic (first names only please- no doxing!)

[tsbikersau]

Christmas Special

Hi folks! this one is a bit different from the other ones. I feel like you deserve a heads up as to what you’re about to read: the first half is crack-like, if not crack in the best way possible (it was really fun to write and i hope it will be as fun to read). The second half is much, much softer (and shippier), so please, do get through the not-so-serious bit!

This is in the canon world but you may take it as a “what if” or just a parralell universe, or something that can happen in the future. This is NOT connected to what’s happening next in the main storyline at this point.

For everyone who celebrates Christmas, have fun celebrating, don’t eat too much and if you do, don’t feel bad about it, it’s Christmas, if not now then when?

For anyone who doesn’t but still gets to have a break, really do take at least a full one day off to relax and reload batteries. It won’t hurt if you give yourself just that one day, I promise.

For everyone reading, I hope you’ll like it!

Oh, and it’s a slight swearing warning for this one!

Word count: 1810

Craaaaaaash

Okay, that was more than enough, Logan thought as he stood up with enough force to shake the desk if he happened to hit it – which, fortunately for all the papers that were scattered on it, he did not – and walked to the door only to open it equally as abruptly.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

He knew that there were people doing things in his garage, of course he did, there always were people doing things in his garage while on the clock, after all, it was their job which they were getting paid for. What they didn’t get paid for was destroying the living shit out of the whole working space.

Logan didn’t know what to focus on first. Patton was standing over a pile of spare parts that was probably the source of the loud noise, Logan deduced, as Patton was looking extremely guilty upon seeing his boss in the door, and started smiling apologetically.

Looking a bit further away, Remus was cackling because whatever he was trying to help Patton built just came undone and for some reason he found that hilarious – Logan grew concerned at the sound of said cackling, to the point of wondering if the noise that finally alarmed him wasn’t by change the man itself.

At the other corned there was Virgil crouching on a table, with his phone in his hand. Why did he have to be up there to record whatever was happening, Logan had no idea, and frankly, he was so used to the oddities of his fellow mechanics that he might have as well let this one slide.

As soon as he noticed that the phone is not directed at the pair opposite to him but slightly to the side, his eyes followed suit and he saw Roman on a stool, trying to put a star on top of a tree that was way too big for the small space it got crammed into (when did he even manage to bring this thing to the garage?), the racer just barely keeping his balance. So the question why Virgil was even recording got answered.

“What the HELL is going on here”, Logan finally found his voice and yes, that was the question that was the most important. He threw a look that clearly transferred the message of ‘clean this up’ at Patton and the pile, which finally made the man move, maybe a bit too quickly because he stumbled on one of the parts and had to be caught by Remus in order not to fall and slice his face open, to which Virgil’s instinct turned on the “action mode”, and he was right beside the pair in no more than two seconds.

The fact that he, too, in his haze stumbled on his own feet didn’t go unnoticed, but he caught himself without help and was soon asking Patton if he was alright.

Seeing all of that unfold in just a few seconds, Logan started moving from the doorway to stand beside Roman in case he was the next one to stumble. He didn’t think about that too much, acting on instinct for once in his life.

Lo and behold, Roman got startled when he glanced over to check if everyone’s still alive and saw Logan right there, causing him to wobble on the unsteady stool and fall right into Logan’s arms.

The impact came unexpectedly and made them both tumble to the ground after a quick second when both of them thought Logan would be able to keep them upright (which he certainly could have, he just wasn’t ready for the momentum to be this strong).

(Roman would be very impressed and very flustered, so while a part of him was wailing because of the embarrassing situation and the fact that his ego got bruises too, a small part of him was glad that at least he wasn’t blushing like crazy staring up at the nerd from his arms).

They both got up from the ground, groaning, accompanied by the very same inhumane cackle from before, to which Roman answered with a middle finger as soon as he finished dusting himself off.

“Can somebody, please, explain to me what is happening?” Logan asked once again, scanning the room once more as well, noticing more Christmas decorations on the walls and stopping to give each of the men in the room a few seconds of his unfiltered stern look.

“Christmas is coming!”, came the answer from Patton, though he soon regretted bringing the attention to himself as Logan focused his eyes on him. “So… We thought… We could decorate a bit?”. He moved his hand to adjust his collar and glasses, realising that it might not have been the greatest idea.

“In the garage?”. Logan raised his brow, voice steady.

A nod.

“With all of the materials scattered everywhere?”

Another nod, more unsure. The rest of their little group starting to grow concerned of how calmly Logan was taking it.

He just took a deep breath and sighed, pinching his nose.

“Just clean this mess up”, he motioned to whatever was meant to be done from all those metal that still laid on the floor, “and you can focus on that tree since it’s already there”, he added, knowing that if they had a star, they must have had other decorations as well.

Patton squealed and jumped to give Logan a quick hug before he could really change his mind.

Virgil was smiling slightly as he bent down to start cleaning up, seeing as Patton got immediately pulled to the tree, forgetting of the first request Logan made. He didn’t really mind that.

“Thanks, Lo”, he heard right next to him, looking at the racer for a second before asking him to not let Patton try and get the highest branches and leaving for his office once more, this time hoping for no such disruptions.

***

It was after a few hours, when Logan had heard them say goodbye and the space behind his door grow more and more quiet with each bout of time when he finally finished all that his position required him to do. He was finally free to close up and rest.

He stretched before standing up, fingers rubbing at his eye under his glasses as he made sure everything was turned off and got ready to leave. Long hours in front of the computer were never the softest on his eyes, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage.

The main lights in the garage were off, but the strings of Christmas lights his mechanics used to line the walls were strong enough to cast everything in a moderately strong glow, while also making the place look quite cosy.

He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the tree, somehow organised in its disarray.

“Oh, you’re still here?”, a voice said suddenly, startling Logan a bit before the figure of the star racer came into view. “You shouldn’t work so late”.

“There is nothing I can do about that”, he answered simply, watching the other walk towards him before stopping at his side, turned so that he could look in the same direction.

Roman hummed a short sound before changing the subject. “The lights really set the mood, huh? Wonderous how just a few strings of colourful lights make everything look so different.”

Logan didn’t say anything to that, letting himself drink in the quiet and peace of the place that’s usually full of chatter and different machine sounds, from the roar of the engines to the clattering of accidentally dropped tools.

He let himself close his eyes just for a second, fully enveloped in the pleasant surroundings, forgetting about Roman being there in the first place. This was his safe heaven, owned by him, giving him the means to support himself and to be himself with the company of his own choosing.

He was brought back to the reality when he heard a small laugh from the side, immediately frowning at the conclusion that it must be directed at him, but when he looked at his companion his eyes were cast upon the ceiling, confusing him for a second.

“Roman”, he spoke up, tone level, when he followed his fellow’s line of sight. “Did you put mistletoe in my garage?”.

This question made Roman laugh out loud, the sound tinted with surprise and humour.

“I didn’t! I would have remembered if I did, Mr. Big Boss”. Roman looked at him, smiling, and that’s when the situation fully set in and Logan’s heart started to beat a little faster.

The fairly lights and the dimness of the rest of the garage, just how close they were, the smile shining all the way to Roman’s eyes that moved away from Logan , leaving him staring at Roman’s profile – there was something that made the whole situation feel like a dream.

The silence, though, was getting prolonged. Not tense, not asking for one of them to break it, but prolonged.

“I do think traditions should be celebrated, but I don’t demand it”, Roman said after a while, casual, keeping his voice vague enough so that his words may be easily converted into a topic for conversation rather than hinting at the sole action.

Somehow, that was the thing that made Logan feel the warmth of the season even more, or maybe it was just the warmth of Roman as a person? He was sure there was no other who could make their consent clear without any pressure on the other person to act on it in any way, and to do it in such gentle and clear way without being explicit…

Well, Logan was always partial to poetry.

And there is was, a kiss on the cheek, nothing more than the slightest brush of lips, to fulfil the tradition Logan would never predict he’d want to fulfil.

"Thank you" Logan said quietly after moving back just a tad, lingering close for a short second longer, looking at Roman's face with consideration before moving back to stand in their previous position, side by side, looking at the decorated interior. He wasn’t entirely sure how Roman would interpret that gratitude, but it didn’t matter at the time.

As soon as he moved, Roman's eyes glanced at him, the smallest bit of the smile he was desperately trying to hold back showing through, making Logan smile the slightest bit as well.

Roman stepped to the side, closing the distance once again, making their hands brush but not making any moves to do anything else. It was nice, Logan more felt than thought. The contact was relaxed and unobtrusive, open but not demanding. They both felt like this was enough, at least for now.

It was quite an eventful day and that peaceful moment was its ideal conclusion.

-----------------

Masterpost

Tag list: @mxxangel @mariita-2006 @compactdiscdraws

[sirrriusblack]

A prompt idea - oblivious James :)

Thank you for this prompt, it was so much fun to write! I hope you like it :)

* * *

“You guys are—Sirius, you’re—You’re dating?” James finally got the words out, like this was the biggest shock of his life. Sirius was laughing as he linked his hand with Remus’.

“Yes, James, We’re dating,” he confirmed looking at Remus with all the love he could muster. Peter chimed in from his bed.

“You really didn’t know?” he asked James, lying back and throwing part of a chocolate frog into his mouth. James spun on his heel to face Pete.

“You knew?” he asked, outraged. Peter shrugged.

“It wasn’t like they were being very secretive,” he said. Remus laughed at that because, really, they’d been trying to hide it. But for someone with such a big secret, Remus had never been very good at hiding his. James pushed his glasses up his face and ran a hand through his mess of hair.

“When on earth were you being obvious enough for me to realise this?” he asked. Sirius barked a laugh, sliding down to sit on his bed and dragging Moony over with him.

* * *

Sirius stood from his bed, stretching so his shirt was hitched on his jeans, leaving a strip of his stomach exposed. Remus fought back from biting his lip.

“Moony and I are going on a walk,” Sirius announced. This was the first Remus was hearing of this, but he decided not to argue, nodding instead. Pete rolled his eyes and James poked his head out of the curtains encasing his bed.

“Where to?” he asked, opening the curtains a little wider. Remus caught a glance of some parchment, cut into the shape of—a love heart? Sirius glanced to Remus quickly before he smirked.

“Room of requirement,” he blurted, rushing toward the door. Remus followed, amused, but James called out for them to stop.

“Why? Look, Sirius, if you’re planning my birthday party, you can tell me, you’re not very good at keeping secrets anyway,” he said. Sirius’ jaw fell open and Remus fought so hard to keep from laughing. If only he knew. Sirius shook his head and opened the door.

“Merlin, James, you could at least pretend not to know,” he muttered, thankful for the golden ticket James had just handed him. He walked out the door, motioning for Remus to follow. Remus looked at James and smiled.

“Don’t worry, mate, it’ll be the best birthday party you’ve ever had,” Remus promised, holding back a grin. James hummed, satisfied with himself, before he closed the curtains again. It took everything in him not to burst out laughing before he was out of hearing range of James.

“Now we have to plan him a party, nitwit,” Remus laughed into Sirius’ mouth. Padfoot grabbed both his hands and pulled him closer, kissing him softly and slowly.

“Worth it,” he whispered.

* * *

It was a Saturday night and there were three days until the full moon. Remus had a total of two moods during that time. He either needed all the space in the world, with no one touching, talking to or going near him. Or, like today, he needed affection. He craved affection like it was his life source. Generally, Remus and Sirius refrained from displaying any more affection than normal, so as not to raise suspicion, but at this point, Remus didn’t give a shit. James, Pete and Sirius were watching the map, trying to scout out any possible prank victims. Remus could barely stand up without fainting, so instead he let out an inhuman sound. The three boys looked over, concerned.

“Sirius,” he said. “Come and hug me.” It was a demand more than a request, and Sirius’ eyes widened. In under three seconds, the two boys had an entire conversation with just their eyes before Remus convinced Sirius to come over. Padfoot settled in next to him, climbing under the blanket and wrapping one arm over his stomach, essentially spooning him. James edged forward.

“Can—do you want us to come over too?” he asked, gesturing between him and Peter, the latter of whom snorted. Remus didn’t bother with niceties.

“No,” he said gruffly, and saw Sirius and Peter both try to stifle their smiles. James blinked.

“Well, why do you want Sirius to hug you?” James wasn’t generally a jealous person. He was just trying to help, to figure out what Remus needed. But just to be spiteful, Remus smirked slightly.

“You breathe too loudly,” he said simply, earning a whisper of a chuckle in his right ear. He shuddered against Sirius and smiled at James’ confusion. After a moment of what seemed to be an intense thought process, James shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” he said, turning back to Pete and the map. Remus bit his lip to hold back his laugh and leaned further back into Sirius.

“How long do you reckon this is going to take?” he whispered, smiling. Sirius grinned back and moved his hand under Remus’ shirt, trailing patterns on his stomach underneath the blanket.

“Honestly, until we tell him, probably,” Sirius said.

* * *

They’d just finished potions, and Remus’ hair was messy, his tie was loose and his eyes kept fluttering shut in a way that made Sirius think some certainly unholy thoughts. He couldn’t help it when he grabbed Remus by that tie and pulled him into the first broom closet he saw. He couldn’t help it, physically couldn’t refrain from smashing his face into Remus’ and pinning up against the wall and Merlin, that tie and the doorknob rattled. Sirius and Remus broke apart so fast that both slammed into either side of the closet, their faces flushed and Remus’ fingertips red from when he’d been trying to unbuckle Sirius’ belt. The door finally swung open and James appeared, a wide grin on his face. The Marauders Map was in his hands.

“Guys, I have news and let me tell you, it is the best news you are ever going to hear,” he said, looking between the two of them. “Have you been running?” he asked, noting their heavy breathing flushed cheeks. Sirius cleared his throat after a moment.

“Uhm, yeah,” he said gruffly, licking his lips. Remus was still standing wide-eyed, back against the wall, staring dumbfoundedly at James. “Yeah, we were, um, running from McGonagall,” he lied, the best he could come up with. James jumped.

“Oh, is she here?” he asked, glancing around. “I didn’t see her on the map, I’m supposed to be in detention right now,” he said, edging closer. Remus, finally able to move, shrugged his shoulders.

“Maye she transformed?” he croaked out. James nodded solemnly.

“Right, probably,” he said, walking into the closet and closing the door. “Lumos,” he muttered. Sirius and Moony shared an amused look.

“What are you doing?” Remus asked James, standing straighter. James sat on the floor cross-legged.

“Hiding from McGonagall,” he explained. “Now, back to what I was going to tell you,” he started, opening the map. Remus glanced at Sirius, who shook his head and smiled, sitting down on the floor next to James.

* * *

“Nope. No way I didn’t realise,” James said, confused. When no one said anything, he fell down to the floor. “You really weren’t hiding from McGonagall?” he asked. Remus laughed.

“Nah, we passed her on the way out of the potions room, she was looking for you,” Remus said, smiling. James nodded like that made sense. “Merlin, I’m an idiot,” he said. No one laughed though. The atmosphere seemed to change as the most important question dawned on them. Sirius and Remus had never told Pete explicitly that they were dating, but from his lack of argument with it, they assumed he was okay with it. And they wanted to assume that James would be too. Sirius spoke, gripping Remus’ hand tighter.

“So do you… what do you think of it?” Sirius asked, shifting closer to the edge of the bed. Remus squeezed his hand. James ran a hand through his tangled hair and lied back on the floor.

“Quite frankly, I’m offended you would leave me for Moony, Sirius,” he said, grinning. Sirius reached out his leg and lightly kicked James, earning a nervous laugh from everyone. James sat up, his grin fading but his eyes still kind, open. “Really though, I’m happy for you guys,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine being anything but happy.” Remus couldn’t help the smile on his face, especially as he looked at Sirius, who was blinking quickly.

“Merlin, Prongs, you’re gonna make me cry,” he said, his smile probably wider than it had been even after Remus and Sirius’ first kiss. James winked.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, hey Padfoot?” he said suggestively, standing up and motioning for Peter to follow. Remus glared at James, smirking.

“Oi, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” Remus joked, but Sirius’ hand squeezed his.

“Yeah,” Sirius whispered. “It is.”

James ruined the moment when he grabbed Peter and jumped onto the two boys, yelling, “cuddle pile!” Though if Remus and Sirius were being honest, James had only made the moment 100 times better.

“Still can’t believe I’m that stupid,” James said, his words muffled underneath Peter’s arm.

“I can,” all three of them remarked.

[lunewell]

The Norwegian Mermaid Association - Part 1

Word count: 1816

Written for MerMay

No TW or CW

Can also be read on Wattpad here

This is a little story I’ve been working on for MerMay, about an actual historical association that operated from 1963-1989. It ended up being rather long, so I split it into two parts, but here is the first instalment (:

Though safely placed a good distance away from the raging waves, the room of sailors and wives smelt overwhelmingly like fresh salt water and newly caught fish. Not that Morten could complain too much, as being served something other than fish and bread was a welcome change, even if it meant being enclosed in a tiny, wooden, scarcely-furnished room with 12 others.

“Doesn't she make the most divine food?” Leif commented to the others, who had creatively spread themselves on any available surface, be it the arm of the worn, uncomfortable chair, or squeezed tightly on the sheepskin covered couch. A chorus of sounds of agreement and nods, made Leif grin widely. He turned to his darling wife: “We should do this every time we return home from sea.” It was said with a semi- teasing smile, his blue eyes crinkled up.

“That’s a great idea, darling,” Hilde responded, tone matching his as she placed a pale hand on his shoulder, “I can’t wait to see you help me make the food!”

“... on second thought, perhaps once a season is more than enough.”

A light laughter came from the room, especially from Hans, Petter, and Kari, who- judging by their empty glasses and off-balanced movements- had already indulged themselves plenty in the alcohol department. Morten smiled too, appreciating the warm atmosphere of the room, and the ease and welcomeness that had swivelled itself within the smells of the ocean.

As not only the youngest but also the newest of the fishermen, he had originally been sceptical of the idea of attending the dinner party, having neither any sort of social smoothness nor a wife to bring with. Not that he wanted a wife, necessarily, as he had never quite considered himself the type.

However, the temptation of shelter and food (and, let’s be honest, the crippling loneliness), had lured him in like a sirens call into Leif’s and Hilde’s warm little wooden house. Lucky for him, it seemed that the others had a sort of strong kinship and bond that let him mostly sit back and observe the others laughing and talking, rather than needing to actively engage in the conversation himself.

“You really do have a God given gift as a housewife, Hilde,” said Ine- or was it Ina? No, definitely Ine, “We at the Norweagian Mermaid Association are so lucky to have someone like you.”

Morten almost spat out his water, ice blue eyes shot wide open. For what was the first time that night, he spoke, in a soft confused tone: “the… Mermaid Association?” He blinked owlishly, face warming up as all eyes- most that same blue colour- met his.

Anne was the first to realise where his confusion stemmed from: “oh dear,” she said, lips curled in an amused smile, “it’s not actually about mermaids. It’s the name of our women’s group, fighting for the rights of wives of seamen everywhere!”

“Oh,” Morten said, sheepishly, “that… uh, makes more sense. Odd name choice, though, considering historically mermaids were dangerous creatures, in line with trolls.”

“Names ‘cause we’re pretty as mermaids,” Kari said, hair messy and a slight slur to her words, “sing ‘s nice ‘s them, too. And-”

“Know a lot about mermaids, Morten?” Thomas interrupted, before Kari could go on her second drunken ramble of the night. Morten twiddled his thumbs, leaning back in the wooden chair and further into the corner, taking another sip from his glass before he answered.

“Yes. Always loved folklore as a child, be it trolls, Nokken, or mermaids,” he turned his head to look out the dirty window and into the fiery sky that implied a stormy morning, “when I was younger, I would dream about swimming around with a beautiful tail. Of course, silly dreams were all it ever was.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt from my years on the ocean,” Thomas began, “it’s that there are a lot of unknown things in the water, and what seems like sailor stories, might be closer to reality than what’s comfortable.”

“The old man had a point,” Hilde said with a smile, auburn hair swaying as she nodded.

“You’re not so far from 50 yourself,” he scoffed, earning him smiles and a series of teasing that Morten sat comfortably back and watched, glad to have the attention of him again. It was almost hard to believe that Hilde was 50, as her wrinkles were few, and her sea green eyes were still bright and filled with wonder. Though, Morten thought, perhaps it was simply the flickering candle light hiding secrets in its shadows.

The crimson evening stretched to a cloud covered night, moon shining dimly into the wooden house and the candle lights darting brightly around them. Kari, Petter, Thomas, and Inne had already left, leaving only Anne and Hans-, who, from what he had picked up had sons old enough that they needn’t return til long, himself, and the keepers of the house; Leif and Hilde.

Morten was certainly not at his prime. The exhaustion from the previous weeks on sea had really begun to take a toll; his dark brown hair was sticking out, his eyes were bagged, and he had very quickly moved himself to the brown sofa covered in sheepskin by the dancing fire in an attempt to quell the bone-deep chill that had spread through his body.

In the distance, he could hear Anne and a very, very drunk Hans giving their goodbyes, though he didn’t catch exactly what they said, as he couldn’t concentrate on the sound. In fact, he couldn’t concentrate much on anything right now, the lights blurring in his vision and the decorations around the room- from the plants to what was frankly a concerning amount of mackerel-themed objects, were swimming around him. He could feel the vice of a headache wrapping around his head like the jaws of a beast.

“Oh you poor dear,” he heard Hilde, who he hadn’t even managed to hear come in, sigh, “you look completely worn out.”

He blinked at her, willing his vision into focus. “It’s alright,” he managed to say, voice laced with drowsiness, “I was about to leave, anyway.” He reluctantly got up, gripping his pounding head as black spots entered his vision.

“In this state? Absolutely not,” Hilde protested, already pulling out a drawer to fetch what looked like a warm blanket, “no point in putting a young man like yourself needlessly in danger. This couch is plenty big enough for you.” She threw him a soft, wolly blanket woven in the pattern of a mackerel tail, the strength of the throw making it very clear she was not up for protest.

And even if he had foolishly attempted to protest her motherly instincts, she kept speaking. “Feel free to get some water if you’re thirsty- there’s glasses in the rightmost top cupboard,” she said, before making her way to what Morten assumed was the bedroom. “Goodnight, sleep well.”

There was something in her tone, almost sing-song like, that made him instantly relax and believe that he would, in fact, sleep well that night. It wasn’t long before she had blown out the last candles, smoke being added to the interesting concoction of scents, that he felt the serenity of night, calm as a pond, make him sink into the deep waters of sleep.

————————————

True to Hilde’s words, he slept better than he had in months, being awakened not in a rush like he usually was, but by the sound of rhythmic but hammering rain on the windows. He rubbed his eyes, stretching out and getting rid of the last remaining signs of his journey into the watery abyss. Looking out the window, he saw that true to his prediction, the morning was dark and stormy, thick clouds and heavy rain laying on a sheet that made it hard to see much of anything. Welcome to Stavanger, he thought almost fondly, well used to the city's frankly abysmal weather, only rivalled by a few Vestland cities, most notably Bergen.

He got up from the couch, and glanced at the clock; almost nine. Though comparatively late to when he usually got up, it seemed that Leif had been more exhausted than he let on, as Morten could easily hear his snores from the thin walls. In fact, listening closer, Morten could hear a lot from the thin walls; he could hear the angry seas, he could hear the sounds of talking crowds not too far away, and oddly enough, what sounded like singing.

Melodic, gorgeous, utterly encapsulating singing, sweet as wind chimes, unlike anything he had ever heard before.

In a completely uncharacteristic move, he found himself almost hypnotically making his way out the door and into the weather. Cold air whipped his cheek, but he found himself barely caring, continuing onwards even as his clothes became so soaked that they merged into his baby soft skin.

He made his way further to the coast and docks, walking past swaying trees and winding paths into the dark, wet stoney beach. By now, he was sure his lips were blue, his face wet from the rain, and yet he could not bring himself to feel anything but excitement as the sweet sounds came closer and closer.

And then, at the edge of a rock, at just the right splash zone for the sprays of crashing waves to hit him, he saw it.

Hilde, short, wavy auburn hair, big sea green, aging eyes, was laying on a rock, a mackrell's tail attached to her lower body, and blue scales sprouted across the skin of the arms she rested her head on. Her ears- inhuman, blue, and shaped like fins, perked up, and the signing stopped as she spotted him. Her expression was initially one of surprise and shock, but it washed away within seconds to a warm smile.

Morten gaped like a trout, and stared at her. He scanned her up and down over and over again, his mind having gone completely blank in a way to try to deal with the shock. Hilde took in his expression, and laughed lightly, though he didn’t see what was particularly funny.

“Well, girls,” Hilde said, and to his minds absolute horror, several more heads of scales and weird ears, among them faces he recognised as Anne, Ine, and Kari from last night, popped out of the water, “looks like we’ll be having a guest in the meeting today”

“So,” an unfamiliar brunette with dark skin and purple scales around her eyes said, “is this yet another sailor from your man's crew that will end up with one of our kind?”

Hilde looked directly at him, her smile teasing with sharp teeth. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. But, for now, let’s get back to the matter at hand, and let the weekly meeting of the Norwegian Mermaid Association, plus 1, begin!”

[lailannajacobs]

Not About Angels

Pairing: bucky x fem!reader

Prompt: "I'm not human. I never was. So why are you expecting me to act like one?"

Warnings: Angsty with mentions of physical abuse

Word Count: 4.6k 

A/N: So this is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ mystery Au challenge, and like a complete idiot, my brain couldn’t find inspiration for an Au but came up with this instead. Who knows what happened, I sure don’t! Hope you enjoy it regardless! <3 

September 5th, 2020

The hallways were too clean. It was strange that, despite every single change that had happened in your life over the past year, minor and drastic alike, the one change you couldn’t get used to was the hallways. That, and the cheery faces. Everyone was so damned happy to be here; to be heroes. You’d wipe the smiles off their faces if you could. Deep down, they were no different than you or anyone else. Behind the supposed moral codes and the fancy suits, they were no different than you, hiding in the shadows from the pain of doing what no one else wanted to do.

You supposed it was the reason they decided to make you a part of the team instead of taking you to the Raft. You could do what no one else wanted to do. But that wasn’t what they told you. They told you that you were here because you were the victim; that you were forgiven. You doubted your own victims would see it that way.

Some days, especially the first month they’d kept you here, you would have preferred prison. They’d kept you in a room without electricity, and the first time he’d walked in you’d almost killed him just to feel that familiar buzz in your veins. By the time you realized who he was, you were so weak the only thing you could do was wish you had.

There had been too many people asking you questions, not only about intel on Hydra, but also about how you were feeling. No one had ever asked you that. They hadn’t needed to start either. Every day the suffocation made you want to scream. Now…now their questions no longer held as much weight. They gave you space, eventually letting you train and go on missions with them. You’d changed your alliances because you knew they weren’t going to let you go back, but you hadn’t expected not to miss it. You hadn’t expected to stop wanting to run away so quickly; for everything to feel almost normal again. Or at least, almost as normal as it had been when you were working as an assassin for Hydra. Almost. The hallways were too clean.

Everything was too clean - too perfect. Most nights you slept on the floor because it was the closest thing to your bedroom back home. Only the longer you stayed here, the more you realized that it wasn’t a home - it wasn’t even a bedroom. You had never noticed before. For as long as you could remember, you had stayed in that dungeon cell, only taken out for training and missions before being locked back in. You’d been told that to be exceptional at what you did that you had to forgo the weaknesses everyone else relied on. You became exceptional.

Steps coming down the hall caught your attention and you stilled, waiting to see who it was. Wanda Maximoff approached with sure and easy steps, not one to be afraid of you, your skills or your powers. None of the Avengers were, but this inhuman had every right not to be. You were powerful. She was something else.

“You’re needed in the briefing room,” She said, not coming any closer than she had to.

You appreciated the distance more than she would ever realize. Out of every extraordinary being in this place, she was the only one who had an inkling of understanding where you came from. It was probably the reason you didn’t completely distrust her like you did everyone else.  

Nodding, you followed behind.

“You’re not going to like this mission,” She began, her voice serious and free of any fake pleasantries others would have used to soften the blow, “There was no one else we could send with you.”

She didn’t have to tell you who you were being sent off with. There was only one person you despised enough in this place that it would merit a warning. Because a warning was all this was. You wouldn’t beg for a new partner or cause a scene, not when you might risk getting kicked off of the first mission you’d had in a month. You’d withstand his company for a moment of freedom; it was worth the price.

But as soon as you walked into the briefing room and saw that messy head of dark hair, you almost backed out on your promise and demanded to go with someone - anyone - else. He looked up at the sound of your approach, his piercing blue eyes following your every move as you took a seat at the far end of the table. He said nothing. He’d learned a long time ago, after a black eye and a broken nose, that you wanted nothing to do with him. He’d been lucky then that you hadn’t done worse. After taking you away from everything you’d known and having brought you to this place, there was nothing he could say or do that would ever make up for it.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Fury demanded, glancing between the two of you.

You and the Winter Soldier shook your heads.

“All right then. Let’s begin.”

Fury went on with the briefing, but you were only half listening. Most of your concentration was on the flow of electricity in the room, the constant hum calming your nerves. This room was surrounded on all sides by currents big and small, and every breath you took in was slower and longer than the last.

“YN!” Fury barked.

You reigned in your surprise too late, a bulb overhead shattering. You didn’t flinch or apologize.

“Yes, sir?”

“Were you even listening?”

You blinked slowly, “You want us to extract military files kept in a Hydra base off the coast of Maine. We leave tomorrow at 21h sharp. Should be a simple job. You want it done as efficiently as possible.”

Fury sighed, “Next time, there’s no need to blow apart another one of my bulbs. It’s getting ridiculous.”

“At least it was a bulb and not your hearts,” You replied, somewhat honestly and somewhat hoping to make them uncomfortable.

“You know,” He began, that one all-seeing eye dissecting you, “It gets a little hard to trust you when you say things like that.”

“I didn’t ask you to trust me,” You shrugged, “I didn’t even ask to be here and quite frankly, I’m still not sure why I am. But maybe you should ask the Soldier. He’s the reason I’m here, maybe he knows something we don’t.”

You stood and walked out of the room before either of them could respond. Everyone knew why you were here. Your skills and your knowledge were more useful than most of them would admit. That sure as hell didn’t mean you had to be friends with any of them.

March 4th 2020

When Bucky walked out of the emergency room hours later, he found Steve still waiting for him.

“How is she?” Steve asked.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, exhausted, “Stable. Though they don’t know how much she’ll remember of the last 24 - 48 hours. Apparently she was dosed with a some drug that impaired her short term memory. The doctor said that with the amount she was dosed with, it’s impressive that her brain can function at all,” Bucky shuddered but continued on, “We might have an active Hydra agent on our hands when she wakes up.”

“Let her get through this and then we’ll see what happens.”

“I hope so,” Bucky sighed.

Steve didn’t need to see the look on his friend’s face to know that some part of Bucky would always be trying to atone for the things he did before. Saving this woman was just one of those ways. Sadly, Steve was pretty sure she wouldn’t want or appreciate their saving. He’d read her file. She’d been a part of Hydra from the moment she’d been handed over by the foster system, barely able to walk ye.t. That wasn’t something you just walked away from.

Steve put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “She might not make it out of this, Buck. And if she does, there’s no guarantee she wants our help.”

“She’ll get through this,” He affirmed.

Steve nodded, though he winced on the inside. Buck would do whatever it took to save this woman. They were tied by something Steve would never be able to fully understand. The only thing he could do was stand beside his friend and hope she didn’t tear Bucky apart.

September 6th 2020

The documents were nowhere to be found. You didn’t know if Fury had gotten false information or if they had seen you coming, but neither of you had found anything close to the documents you were looking for. You knew Hydra well enough to know that if you hadn’t found them by now, they weren’t here. Hydra was too arrogant to hide their information. They firmly believed they would prevail, regardless of how many hits they took. Cut off one head, two more will take its place.

“What do you think?” He asked, breaking the silence for the first time since you’d broken into the base.

You shook your head, “It’s not here.”

He nodded his agreement and motioned for you to follow him out.

Jolting the electric currant in the building, the buzz hid the sound of your steps as you snuck back out of the compound. It was so loud, you almost didn’t notice the familiar hum of a human body seconds before the man’s dagger came at you. You managed to turn at the last second, catching the man’s dagger in the sleeve of your combat suit. The blade didn’t pierce the skin and you flipped the man over, breaking his wrist to make him drop the dagger into your hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the files we’re looking for are, would you? You asked, sending tiny shockwaves down his body.

He squirmed under your grip, eyes widening as he recognized you. All of Hydra knew who you were, even if you couldn’t recognize any of them to save your life. His eyes darted to Barnes for help, but quickly recognized him as well. You couldn’t help but see the irony in the pair of you, even if he was last person you wanted to be here with.

He was about to dislodge the pill they all kept in their fake tooth, the one the Avengers had taken from you the moment they’d brought you in, but you weren’t going to let him off that easily. Your current was faster than his movement, interrupting the signals going to his tongue and jaw. They’d made you do terrible things to perfect that kind of skill, it was only fitting that it be used against them.

“Please,” The man begged, the words garbled but clear enough for you to understand, “Have some humanity.”

“I’m not human,” You grinned, recognizing his badge as one of the many researchers and scientists, “I never was, remember? Don’t expect me to start acting like one now.”

You tried to plunge the dagger into the man’s chest, but Barnes grabbed your wrist before you could get close. He pulled you toward him so that he was the only thing you could see, those metal fingers a vice grip.

“You are human, YN,” He practically growled, “I don’t care what they’ve told you. You. Are. Human. But if you keep doing this, doing what they want you to do, you won’t be.”

“Who are you to judge?” You snarled.

“Someone who’s been there,” He murmured, loosening his grip, “You choose.”

You shook your head in disgust, “Stay out of my way, Soldier.”

You sent enough electric current through the man’s heart to knock him out cold, watching as he crumpled to the ground with a resounding thud. You didn’t know whether or not Barnes followed you out, but you didn’t care. He could do what he wanted. At least someone here could.

March 4th, 2020 - Hours before

“What’s going to happen to her?” Bucky demanded, trying not raise his voice.

He had no right to get angry at the doctors. They weren’t responsible for what had happened to her. A small part of him knew that neither was he, but it was hard to believe. If he’d gotten there sooner…If he’d been a little faster, more efficient, then she wouldn’t be in this mess.

“She’ll live, Sergeant Barnes,” The doctor replied, “But you need to get out the way and let us do our job.”

He was about to leave, but couldn’t help himself and blurted out, “She’s inhuman. I don’t know what her gifts are, but she’s inhuman.”

A nurse shoved him out of the room, “We know.”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, pacing outside the double doors. He needed to do something else, focus on anything else, but he couldn’t. He knew what it was like to be at their mercy, flashes and glimpses of memories flickering through his mind, their seizing grip on his heart suffocating. He refused to let someone else die at their hands.

“Buck, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Steve approached, a file in his hand, “You might want to take a look at this.”

Bucky sucked in a deep breath and took the file. The few sheets inside were about the woman they’d pulled out of that hell hole. An inhuman, gifted with the ability to control electrical currents and an active Hydra agent from the age of five, under their control from the age of three. There was no known family listed, nothing connecting her to the living other than the people who’d locked her up and used her. Bucky grit his teeth.

A shock blast blew out one of the doors, glass shattering everywhere. Bucky ducked to the side, shielding his face with his arm. He searched for Steve, only reassured when his friend turned up on the other side of the hallway, nodding that he was fine.

Shouting came from inside of the room, and Bucky was moving before he knew what he was doing. He burst into the room, only to find her convulsing on the table, an aura of yellow current surrounding her body.

“Rubber gloves,” He directed, weaving around the scrambling doctors to reach her, “Now!”

Recovering quickly, the followed his orders without hesitation. He stopped at the side of her table and took in a deep, steadying breath. He was about to reach for her hand some someone held him back.

“You’ll get electrocuted,” The nurse warned.

“I’m used to the pain.”

Bucky took her hand in his metal one.

The pain was excruciating but familiar and Bucky winced his way through it, trying to provide as much comfort as he could. Hydra had tried to make him weaker and compliant, but the constant pain had made him stronger, exactly for moments like this.

The pain began to ease when his breathing shallowed and hers evened out. With their rubber gloves, the doctors injected her with a clear liquid and moments later, the current vanished completely.

“You can leave now, Barnes,” The doctor stated, taking off his gloves and signalling something to the nurses.

“No,” He adjusted his grip, interlacing their fingers even tighter, “I won’t let her do this alone. Not after you’ve just taken her abilities.”

September 6th, 2020

“What do we tell Fury?” Barnes asked as you walked into the compound.

“Not my problem,” You grunted, shoving past him, “Tell him whatever you want.”

You left without another word, not caring that you wouldn’t be there for Fury’s debriefing. You hadn’t found anything. Did you really need to be two people to tell him that?

When you made it to your room, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and stopped. That was another thing you hadn’t gotten used to yet; seeing yourself in the mirror. They hadn’t given you one in your room - your cell. It was almost as if you and the woman in the mirror weren’t the same person. The woman staring back at you looked tired. She didn’t look like she’d been eating three regular meals a day, exercised for hours each week and had a clean room with a bed and a bathroom all to herself. She had bags under her glossy eyes and looked like the only place she wanted to be was curled in bed until everything wrong in her world faded to black. She looked like someone who kept fighting but didn’t know what enemy she was fighting any more. She looked…sad.

You almost punched the mirror but held back. There was no reason to get sidelined from the next mission because you couldn’t control your anger. But you couldn’t stay here; not in this perfect room. You didn’t even bother with shoes and you walked out the door, your feet taking you to the one place on the compound you felt like you could actually breathe. You’d found it during one of your escape attempts the first month you were here. It had been the reason you’d turned around and come back.

When you pushed open the door to the small roof on the back section of some useless wing, you took in the first deep breath all day that didn’t feel like you were fighting against your lungs for more air. The leaves surrounding the immaculately kept lawn were brilliant shades of reds and oranges, set aflame by the setting sun. Here, you could pretend that you lived in some different world where the sharpest knife you’d ever used had only served to cut steak.

The door creaked open and you whipped around, combat ready even though they’d told you multiple times that you were safe here. Barnes stepped out and all that earlier peace turned to tension in your body.

His eyes widened when he saw you. You stared back.

“Sorry,” He ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t think anyone else came up here. I’ll go.”

“No. I’ll leave.”

Your mood had already been ruined. You could use a shower and then your bed. Unlike the other Avengers who spent their nights chatting away like one big family, there was nothing left for you to do but sleep. He nodded and walked to the far end of the roof, giving you space.

Your hand was on the door handle when he spoke up, “I made a promise to you, do you remember?”

March 3rd, 2020

You shivered, the stone floor cold beneath your skin. You tried to lift your head, but your whole body felt like it had gone through a meat grinder. Even opening your eyes was a task, the blurry slit barely enough for you to know you were in your room. Everything was grey and cold. Nothing felt right.

You couldn’t remember how you’d gotten here. Where was your bed? Where were your clothes? All you could feel was a flimsy nightgown over your underwear. Even then, you weren’t sure. All you knew for sure was that your body was howling in pain, blocking out almost everything else. You tried to clear your mind, but it was like a fog was settling over and you could barely form a coherent thought. You’d just been on a mission…What the hell had happened? Something had gone wrong, very wrong.

Instinctively, you reached for the electric hum inside you, but you couldn’t find it. Panic set in and you desperately reached deep inside, looking for that energy that was a much a part of you as your arm or leg was. You almost blacked out, but finally you found a small kernel of current, its energy fading by the second.

With every inch of strength you had left, you sent a jolt of electricity through your body. The fog cleared, but the pain came in with a black haze of its own. You were aware enough to realize that you’d been dumped on the ground, your bed nowhere to be found. You had done something wrong. This was what happened when you messed up. The thought took you by surprise, memories that didn’t seem to belong to you flickering through your mind.

A resounding bang sent you scrambling to the corner, terrified by what was coming, but you didn’t get far. Your leg didn’t work, and your arm felt like it was on fire, the pain making it hard to breathe. What little you could see, blurred and spun.

“Shit. How the hell is she still conscious?” A deep voice asked.

You tried to get further away, knowing that even if you didn’t recognize the voice that you had to fear it. Odds always were that you did.

“Hey, it’s all right,” A different voice murmured, sounding much closer than the last one. You flinched at his proximity, but he continued on gently, “We’re here to help. I know you have no reason to believe us, but I’m going to need you to trust me. We don’t have much time and I really want to get you out of here.”

You couldn’t be sure that this wasn’t another one of their tricks, but the man’s voice was so soothing and kind that you let yourself believe him. There wasn’t much fight left in you anyways. Not even the sound of gunshots rattled you; not when you were losing a battle to stay conscious.

“I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” He asked as if you could answer.

He waited a moment then slid his hands behind your knees and around your back. The movement made you cry out, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper. He pulled you close, his comfort and warmth enveloping you tightly.

Unable to hold on much longer, you began to slip away, resting your head on his chest. The last you heard before you blacked out completely was his whisper, “I promise you’ll be safe now.”

September 6th, 2020

Despite how much you wanted to leave, you stopped anyways, but refused to turn around, “You never promised me anything, Soldier.”

“The doctors told me that you wouldn’t remember, and I understand that you don’t,” He paused as if he wasn’t sure he should continue, “I promised you that you were safe now. You should know that I did what I did today because I don’t intend on breaking that promise.”

Your breath caught on his words as if you remembered, but you never did. There were blank spots in your memory you’d never get back.

Not wanting him to see the effect of his words, you scoffed, “That’s hard to believe when I’ve put myself in danger multiple times on missions.”

“You can take care of yourself in the field,” He clarified.

You whirled around, “I can take care of myself. Always.”

“I know,” He stared at you, that look filled with more than you knew how to decipher, “But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

“And who put you in charge of me? Because it certainly wasn’t me,” You spat stomping over toward him, “You took me from my home and everything I knew.  I was fine before you came along. You had no right.”

He met you halfway, eyes an icy flame, “I did. I did what was right because I know you. I know you don’t actually want to go back. I see past that anger.”

“Shut up,” You whispered, heart dropping in fear of the direction he was going.

He didn’t back down, “The only reason you think you want to go back is because you don’t know how to live with the guilt of everything you’ve done - of everything you think you’ve become.”

“Shut up,” You snapped, louder this time.

“You hate me and blame me because it’s easier than blaming yourself,” He pushed on, “You hate me because it’s the only steady thing you can hold onto.”

“Shut up!” You felt the panic taking over, your control slipping.  

His voice dropped to a whisper, “I told you that I’d keep you safe, YN, so I’ll take the blame. I’ll let you hate me so that you don’t hate yourself.”

You reacted on instinct, sending electric currents through him like a taser that brought him to his knees. His head bowed between his shoulders, gritting through the pain. When he looked back up at you, he nodded slowly, almost as if to say it was okay and managed to choke out, “What’s a little bit more, right?”

His pathetic little laugh at the end shattered your anger and the current vanished. You’d seen the look in his eyes before - seen it in the mirror whenever you walked past one - that self-hatred for things you knew you’d done and for the ones you couldn’t remember but that you knew could only be worse. You’d known his story. Known he carried all the same things you did. Except you’d refused to believe it at the sight of his smile and the easy way he walked among the Avengers. You’d refused to see that he carried some of your weight for you, knowing perfectly well how crushing it could be.

His blue eyes never dimmed as he watched your intently. They never had. Not from the pain or from every burden he carried with you over the past six months because you couldn’t carry it alone. You didn’t know how to carry it if he wasn’t there helping you. This man…this man you thought of nothing more than your enemy had been the one person fighting for you when you didn’t think you could anymore. He’d gone through what you had and yet you punished him for making it out.

What the hell did that make you?

Your legs gave out, but he caught you before your knees could smash into the ground. He pulled your close, holding you tight in his arms, and for the first time in your life, you let yourself cry; cry for the people you’d hurt, for what you’d done to him and for the person you could have been.

You mumbled apologies over and over even though you knew it would never be enough. He stayed silent, listening, pulling you in even closer whenever he knew you were about to fall apart. A small part of you wanted to push him away, to stay strong, but the woman in the mirror was tired. There was no fight left in her. Not at the moment.

Eventually, when your mumbling was no longer coherent and you were utterly exhausted, you felt him stand, his grip on you never loosening.

You must have fallen asleep because he was placing you on your bed what seemed like seconds later pulling the cool sheets over you. The lack of warmth was jarring, and you curled into a smaller ball, your body shivering from all the crying and the hurt.

“Barnes?” You murmured, stopping him before he could leave your bedroom.

He turned, eyes scanning your body from head to toe as if he could physically see what was wrong, “YN?”

“Stay?” You whispered, your voice raw, “Please.”

He looked at you for a long time, a strange look on his face, “Are you sure?”

The only thing you could manage was, “I’m sorry.”

Barnes nodded and walked over to the bed easing himself onto it, staying far along the edge.

“Please,” You whispered again, unable to tell him exactly what you needed.  

But you didn’t have to. His chest pressed up against your back, his arm draping over your torso and pulling you in closer. Relieved, a shattered breath escaped your mouth at almost the exact moment one did his, and within moments you fell into the deepest sleep of your life.

[exorcisms-and-sigils]

Chris Halliwell x OC imagine: Ashthorn (part 1/4)

(Set in mid 2025.

trope: the entire family knows about their feelings for each other, but the both of them don’t dare to act on it.

power/s: sass...?)

The demon sorceress Astros targets Melinda in a time of self-doubt, and PJ in a time of self-loathing, in an attempt to cripple the power of the next generation. She did not consider Valerie Ashthorn, The Expert on the Matter and their childhood friend.

Valerie rang the doorbell, and her heart raced even faster. She breathed deeply, and thought about what she was going to say. Melinda's 18th was two weeks ago, so she must have moved out. If she's lucky and the twins are here, they'd be loud when they see her, and save her from introducing (or reintroducing) herself.

The door opened to reveal a pleasant-faced young man. "Hi."

Valerie smiled, resigning herself to social interaction. "Hi... I'm looking for Wyatt Halliwell. Has he visited this house recently?"

He chuckled like she said something funny. "Yes, I have. How can I help you?"

"Wow..." And so, there was no such thing as something she planned to say. There's only this older, good-looking guy in the shoes of one of her greatest friends. "I-I mean, my name is Valerie Ashthorn. We last saw each other—nevermind. I'm moving into my folks' old house across the street. I figured seeing if you still remember me, it won't—"

She had turned her head to face the house, so dull and plain compared to the Halliwell Manor, and couldn't brace herself for the weight that crashed against her body. 

Wyatt hugged her and exclaimed, "Ree! Oh my goodness, that's why you looked so familiar!"

He pulled away, grinning. "Wow! You're a sight for sore eyes... Or maybe Chris's eyes."

She smacked his arm, ignoring how built he felt beneath her hand. "Ten seconds! You can't even last ten seconds without being an asshole!" 

"You can't even last one without blushing." he smirked. "Please, come in."

It took all of Valerie's willpower to keep from being choked up at how familiar the walls and furniture and windows and floors looked, as if the house itself was alive and welcoming her back home. She put her bag aside, letting Wyatt place an arm around her shoulder as she slung one around his waist. This has always been home, no matter the mind-reading evil beings that tried to destroy her memory of it over the years.

Wyatt led them to the living room with a contented sigh. The memories continue to flood back, and would've barreled into Valerie if she hadn't seen the frowns on Aunt Piper's, Uncle Leo's, and Uncle Coop's faces before they perked up at the sight of her.

She and Wyatt pulled away from each other. "I'm back. Demons?"

Piper rose from the couch and wrapped her arms around her. Please don't cry, Valerie told herself. "Valerie, hi. It's so good to see you... no, not demons. You know we're never that lucky."

Despite how deeply they frowned, they were alright. It was Melinda and PJ who were at risk.

Leo asked her. "What do you know about the empousai?"

"I know enough to vanquish them."

"Nobody's vanquishing anyone." Coop muttered, his ring stark against the dark expression on his face. "That's not an option."

"It is for the one who turned PJ, Coop." Leo stated, before turning back towards Valerie. "And the one who's going to turn Melinda.”

"... Premonition." Valerie guessed. She received nods.

An inhuman growl sounded from the sunroom, low and guttural. One second, Valerie was frozen, surprised. 

The next, she was bolting across the room, ignoring Wyatt's warnings, as well as the force field he placed around her. 

Not three steps into the sunroom and a jet of white fluid shot across the room. She threw her hands upward with a yelp as the fluid hit the force field, redirecting it upwards into an LED light above her head and cracking it. 

Wyatt and the others caught up. His eyes were wide and alert, darting between her and the partly-turned empousai on the floor, inside a ring of crystals and a pink force field. 

The disheveled brown hair and tattered clothes screamed that it was PJ, when the three legs — all different from each other — and the wholly red eyes watching her every move said it was an empousa in the middle of transformation. 

"Are you okay? That thing she spits didn't get you?"

Valerie pointed to the broken LED light overhead, with bits and pieces that were still falling and bouncing against Wyatt's force field. Her attention remained on PJ; one of her legs was a cat's with its claws out, the other a horse's or goat's hoof that she kept stomping the ground with, and the third a thing of pure copper that was shaped like a human leg. Patches of her skin were different tones, indicating either she tried to shapeshift, or the ability is being opened to her. 

PJ snarled, revealing cracked, unused canines, and Valerie cocked an offended black eyebrow. "You got the aesthetic, at least."

Coop gave her a dirty look, even as he stepped up to her side. "We had to use my power to make the force field, hope that through the heritage I passed down, we could reach her. We already tried appealing to her witch side."

"Is everyone accounted for?"

"Yes." Piper answered. "Your Aunt Phoebe is with Peyton and Parker, and Uncle Henry is on leave, so he's with Aunt Paige and the kids." 

Wyatt added, crossing his arms over his chest. "Chris went alone to look for Melinda, get her back here before she can fully turn. Ideally."

Valerie made a double take, blinking at him. "Empousai seduce. Why is he alone?"

"... Seduce?" a smirk slowly spread across his face. "I wouldn't be too worried. The only one that can get him to do anything through seduction is you."

Valerie's ears warmed. At the corner of her eye, she noticed the adults, even Uncle Coop, trying to hide their smiles. She massaged her neck, the quickest way to make Wyatt understand how annoying he was being. "I went back in time before and encountered empousai. When I was in Greece, three dozen of them attacked Epirus."

PJ snarled at her when she looked. Valerie was half-inclined to snarl back. "I brought journals and books with me in the car and the house. I'll see if I can find anything."

"I'll help." Wyatt hopped on his feet, following her out the door after Piper nodded in reply.

"Promise not to be a dick."

He put one hand in the air, and the other on his chest, as if he were vowing. Then he made a funny face. "Not entirely, anyway."

Valerie guffawed. "Already more than I expect."

~

The magma pool burned far, far below Chris, but he could still feel the heat on his face. The empousa he'd been interrogating whimpered at the sight of the stone cuffs around its wrists, its five different legs dangling uselessly in mid-air. Chris clenched his jaw against the knot forming in his temple, and removed another small piece of rock from the cuffs.

"Wait, wait! You won't even ask me what they want with those girls first?"

"Frankly, I don't have time. Now again, what sent the empousai?"

The empousa's lips pulled back in a snarl, just like the one Melinda had given Chris when he last saw her. "The empousai send themselves...!"

"Is that what your pack leader said when he agreed to work with wraiths?"

"We will annihilate their kind after we're done with you!" it yelled, the sound echoing through the few entryways dug throughout Purgatory. 

"Scary." Chris drawled. The wraiths were always a sore topic. "Empousai answer to their pack leaders, and those are decided from how quickly they turn victims. What asked for your help?"

The empousa drew its vicious lips into a line, refusing to answer. Chris flicked his wrist, and a larger chunk of the cuffs broke off, falling into the fire below. The empousa's feet writhed and clicked against each other in a panic. Without something to stand on, these beasts would be out of their comfort zone, and suddenly become the most cowardly of the new generation of evil. Only the sight of his theory being proven true kept Chris's headache at bay.  

"Astros! Astros! She called herself Astros!"

He blinked, trying to recall where he encountered the name. Then he removed the entire stone from the empousa's right wrist. The headache pounded more with the empousa still trying to get into his head.

"She would have excelled if she were one of us! The wraiths will let her skills go to waste, but she will thrive with us..." it glared at the single piece of rock keeping it from both death and the nearby surface that led to safety. "after she exploits the power of your family."

The simultaneous sound of multiple, different footsteps came from the tunnels on its side. Chris watched the fear sink into its horrible, pale face before he tugged at the stone cuff. "The wraiths say the same thing."

Its eyes were wide with rage and self-absorbed disbelief. Chris shrugged. "Or something close enough anyway. From what I've read about your kind, you're cannibals, if motivated correctly."

He removed the cuffs from its wrist after all its feet hit solid ground, and then orbed home. "Must be painful."

[archestvirion]

Shot of Adrenaline

In the dead of night, as you and your party are trying to sleep, the guards assigned to the night watch sound the call to arms. You are confronted by a Demonic Beast unlike any you have ever seen before: some terrible cross between a human and a wyvern, arms morphed into wings and sharp talons clutching a scythe. Its golden mask gleams in the dying fire as it screeches an inhuman battle cry. The beast quickly proves itself nimble in the air, utilizing hit-and-run tactics against your ground-based allies. Shooting it down ought to end this quickly! [Grants Bow +1]

The grin plastered on Virion’s face likely made him look more crazed than anything else, considering the circumstances. In all of sixty seconds, he went from sleeping soundly to standing upright and clutching his bow firmly. It was exhilarating! He nocked an arrow and gazed out at the forest where the abominable creature fled to following its initial ambush.

His small traveling party was holed up in an old, abandoned fort for the night. It was the pained cry of one of the knights on guard duty who’d roused him from his slumber. The poor boy never saw it coming, and frankly, if the nasty gash on in his side was any indication, he was lucky he still drew breath. The other two guards were able to fend off the creature long enough for his mostly limp form to be carried into the fort, and they dashed in close behind.

It was anyone’s guess why the beast left in such a hurry after getting the jump on only one of them, but Virion held no doubt that it would be returning. Taking only a few moments to calculate his move, he turned to assess his companions briefly. There weren’t many of them, but they could make do with what they had.

One of the guards was fuming, “I had him! My axe cut right through his wing! When I looked away for just a second, the dastard started healing himself and flew off!” Well, that would explain the hit-and-run tactic, though even that seemed a bit sophisticated for a simple-minded beast. Even more reason to be cautious, then.

Virion steeled himself and used his best leader voice, “Is anyone else injured? I suspect we have precious time to prepare before the fiend makes its return, so no one waste it.”

@amicitium

[lucarioisinthevoid]

I don't want to bother you and you likely have better prompts to do, but it would be really fun to see Henry have to deal with both Springtrap and ScrapTrap specifically for potential angst purposes on both ends. Some side characters that would make good filler might be Nightmare and - Maybe Mangle?

(“You likely have better prompts to do”- pal, fam, buddy, this blog has like… ten followers and maybe three askers, and I love every single one of them dearly. I try to bring the prompts out on a “one per day” basis, to ensure they won’t get too long and to show I’m still doing it, so if I don’t put one out, you can feel sure there’s nothing left. Also, good on you for asking for these two! I had a realization about how it’s kinda impossible to die to certain people, like Mr. Hippo- especially since I was just having a great time creating a little game-over interaction and then figured out “wait a minute, that won’t happen, he’s 100% fooled by the lure” So instead I’ll adjust depending on what the ask offers. If it’s a matter of “I wonder if he can survive this”/”I wonder who he’ll die to”, I’ll write that out, but if it’s a “I wonder how he’ll react to that character” Just taking up the Dave™, and only playing to see if I die to Scraptrap, seeing as he DID manage to catch me off guard before. (Also Deedee) Yes. I should have put more thought into the mechanics before. And YES. I already thought up way too much lore for this one-off “time in hell” thing. But y’know how it is. You think or you die. I don’t even think of lore, it just pops into my head, that’s why my stories are so disorganized Anyways, ENJOY! I don’t think the torture this time around is so bad, I basically cut away before anything really bad happens)

It was quiet this time around. But Henry wouldn’t be tricked by it. You’d think that only two animatronics being active would make this night a cakewalk, but the fact that he was faced with two animatronics that… were Dave… He wasn’t looking forward to it. Before he had left the office he had been offered to take some “benefits” along, but… he didn’t want to admit to being concerned. Not to mention that it wouldn’t help him. Maybe the Deedee repel- this one however seemed better preserved for later. After the panic she had put him into, it was probably more appropriate to use it when he truly was in over his head. … oh, he would eat those words later, wouldn’t he? … it hardly mattered. What even WAS she? How did she come here? Why could she simply activate machines like this? Perhaps that was what Satan looked like. At this point he wouldn’t even be surprised. With a sigh he quickly raised the tablet, putting on the generator. It would keep him safe from the lights going out, that was well-worth dealing with the headache inducing noise. Out of morbid curiosity he switched from the main control on the tablet to the vents. ‘Click on nodes to set vent snare’. … christ… a snare…? A snare trap…? That was vicious. Probably very effective though… against anyone but Dave. It was Dave in that suit. It always had been Dave in that suit. After all the fruitless attempts trying to get this stupid suit get possessed, Henry had to come to accept that- Dave’s spirit was already inside and it wasn’t willing to share with anyone. The Springbonnie suit COULD probably have walked by itself if Dave would have wanted it- if Dave would have TRIED for it. … there were a lot of things William could have made happened, if he had just TRIED. Trying to get the bitter taste out of his mouth, Henry grimaced, staring at the screen as Dave moved along the vents. To think that this was the man who looked at him with pity, as if he was something weak and- … to think that he had been the only one witnessing his pathetic death. It hurt in a very special way. Hell, he couldn’t even point out how- WHY it was this bad. Was it the humiliation? Or was it the simple fact that he had died this terrible manner and all he could think about when remembering Dave and his- old life. Old life. … was this even the Dave he knew? Was this William? Or was it merely a manifestation of memories and thoughts, pulled right out of his head? Staring at the screen he watched as Dave approached. Surprisingly, he took the long way around. How peculiar. For some reason he had assumed Dave would make a B-line for the vent entrance, but he was approaching from the entirely different side. Was he assuming he could catch him off-guard? Well- either way, he was almost here. Putting down the monitor, Henry peered into the vent in front of him, trying to catch a glance- The whole room started to shake, together with the awfully loud rattling and screeching from the side. For a few seconds blind panic took ahold in his brain, as it always did when heard this damn noise- then he stumbled over and smashed the right side buttons, causing the doors to that side to snap shut. An inhuman scream ripped through the air. It was Henry’s name but sounding so distorted, so filled with SPITE, that he couldn’t even comprehend at the moment- only a few seconds after he heard it, his brain could decipher it. And when it did, he wished it didn’t. If everyone came from a potential different dimension, he didn’t want to know where THIS creature was coming from and why William had turned out like this. Sure, he had a few ideas… none of them were good though. … in none of those scenarios he would have wanted to meet him. Thankfully he had managed- so he opened the doors back up, falling back into his chair. Alright, alright, unless the demon child showed back up, this should now be easy to handle- Looking up he spotted a withered Springbonnie, with bright white eyes staring down at him from the vents. For a few moments both just stared at each other. Then Henry raised an eyebrow. “… is there any way I can help you?” “Aw shucks! Ya saw me! You’ve always been too good at this!” Smiling brightly Dave looked down at him, not moving any closer to the entrance. “… but who was THAT, Henry?” There was something about the question that made the place go quieter. The animatronics seemed generally vaguely aware of each other and their co-existence beyond the confinements of time and space, so- was Dave trying to trick him? For what purpose though? “… I do not know, Dave. I have not seen this creature yet.” A lie. Shifting his vent opening, Dave tilted his head, still grinning. “Ya don’t know? But don’t you know everything?” The words came with a certain edge to them. Or maybe Henry was simply growing more and more paranoid of the being in the vents. “I know… almost everything. There is a difference, Dave. For example… I do not know why you are inside of a suit like this.” “… yeah, that’s a mystery, ain’t it, Henry?”   The air was getting worse, the human’s breath was becoming erratic. “… are you okay, Henry?” Crawling forward Dave tried to get in. “If ya need some help-“ Instantly Henry crushed down the vent door, opening his camera system to resetting the ventilation to ensure he could keep breathing- then he put it down again, opening up the vent once more to a now VERY disgruntled seeming Dave. “The fuck was that for! Why did ya lock me out?!” “I had to take care of urgent business.” “I could have helped.” Moving slightly back, the person inside the animatronic hissed. “You’ve always did this, Henry. You’ve always done this to me.” “With good reason.” Snapping, Henry harshly slapped his hands on the office table, showing his teeth. “I was always right about you. You are not getting to threaten me now, William. You are not getting to play innocent in this place. No. William, I know you would do it.” “Do what?” Equally as aggressive, Davetrap snapped back at him. “You would ensure my death.” “That’s ludicrous! You ensured your OWN death! Maybe if ya would have trusted me more and wouldn’t have used me like some sort of- PAWN, maybe then you wouldn’t have been snacked on by a stupid doggo!” “Nonsense!” Henry hissed. “That is not what I am talking about in either case. It did not matter what I did for you, did it? It never mattered. William, you are not capable of loyalty, you are not capable of putting duty over your selfish, petty desires. For a few moments, for a little, yes, but once the urge becomes too strong, you snap back into your animalistic nature. You needed guidance, but you did not care for it. All you cared for was getting what you wanted. And once someone could offer you more than me, you turned on me.” Bitterly Dave scoffed. “Ya think that and there’s no way to change your mind, is there? Never was. Henry, think about it from my perspective for a moment maybe- if you would have treated me like an actual friend, like an actual equal partner, instead of seeing me as an untamed animal that may turn on ya any given second- maybe then I would have not yearned for someone who did.” “You are not getting around this, you are not getting around betraying me, I gave you a LAST chance and you have-“ “No Henry, YOU are not getting around this.” Coldly Dave snapped at him, stopping him from saying anything further, the icy disgust evident in his words. “You think you can turn anything and everything into a game of ‘give some, get some’. You think you can simmer friendships down to a little spreadsheet of what you’re owed and what you give. Frankly, though, you’re good at it, pal. Even with all the animosity you’ve always harbored for me deep inside of ya, you’ve always ensured I’d get my cut and felt treated well. But the thing is, Henry, and I know ya don’t get it, but there’s more to friendship than just the sum of its parts. There’s more to a partnership than a simple dividin’ of responsibility and benefits. The whole time we were together, you were alone in your head. You thought of me as a little add-on. Were you scared of what I’m capable of? Of losing control? Or were you scared of having someone with you in your head? Somethin’ you’d miss if it ever disappeared? Henry, old friend, I wanted to ask you something, ever since your stupid speech- what did you ACTUALLY want?” “What- what do you mean?” Laying inside of the vent, he made a vague gesture. “Your whole… deal. Immortality and stuff. Why? For what?” “I-“ Yet before he could explain himself, William interrupted him again. “No. I’m not askin’ for what you THINK you did it for. I’m askin’ for what you actually did it for. Because ya can ramble on about a utopia all you like, it doesn’t matter for you, does it? Will it fix you? Building a society of immortals… do you think it’s going to stop you from waking up at night, worryin’ someone might come to kill you? That you’ll be able to see people as people and not as props? That you’re gonna get better if you just live long enough? You’re miserable, Henry. You lived your entire life alone, while surrounded by others and you’d hate immortality, unless you truly believe it’ll give you the chance to change.” “You are speaking NONSENSE!” Heated, the Pink Guy raised his voice at him. “I was doing FINE! Hell, even if not, so what!? My wish to finish humanity and give it its full potential was NOT a selfish one. I am NOT miserable, I am NOT lonely, my plans were impeccable and selfless and you-“ “Henry.” It almost sounded soft. “You need help. Let me in.” At that Henry closed the vent, reset the ventilation and slowly balled his fist, trying to remain as calm as possible. Through the door, Dave’s concerningly calm and certain voice sounded, almost completely muffled. “… eventually you’ll let me in, old friend. I know that. You know that. And it actually doesn’t matter what I say! I wouldn’t even need to convince ya. Because you can’t stand the feelin’ of being stuck. Because you’ll try out everything. Now that you’re immortal, you have nothing to reach for- so you will reach for everything.” The clock chimed. Six AM. Henry stumbled to the saferoom. He had to find a way out of this place. Fast.