#author of this fic I summon thee to this post

[fanficmemes]

Love when writers do an insane amount of unnecessary research for their fics. I follow an author that did like 8 months of intense research into 14th century Scotland so they could write smut about it, and guess what. It was some fucking incredible porn AND I learned about old Scottish politics

[lavender-annd-lilac]

Hey so I think I’ve reblogged one of your fics before (the massage one?? Where I was like why don’t they have reverse viagra for these situations???) but that was on one of my better days when I’m able to leave a nice, short, readable comment and not a hot mess like

So bear with me while I lay down a couple of disclaimers on the off chance you want to proceed with reading this hot mess

😵‍💫😆

(And also so don't come off like a troll or a random heckler lol)

⚠️My usual disclaimer is: nervous attempts at humour = my love language and the only way I know how to show appreciation for things I enjoy.

so basically like, if u ever watched Mystery Science Theatre 3000 where they watch a movie and riff on it, that's the only way know how to comment.

I mean obviously I am capable of leaving comments like a normal person but it makes me feel idk, insincere lol… like I’m holding back information that they may or may not want so I guess I’ll just show my entire hand and u can choose if u want to experience the chaos 🙃🤷‍♀️

As per standard safety procedures, here is a cut to protect ur eyes and ur soul

Stays in his room and only comes out when Steve forces him to join the rest of them for dinner.

Ahhh nothing like those good ol’ adolescent years.

One early morning, after you've already tied your shoes, you go to the kitchen for a glass of water

Wow @ this humble brag about tying your own shoes AND hydrating 😫

I literally have not tied my shoes in like 10 years lol. I tie them ONCE when I first wear them, and then never again unless the knot comes undone (which it doesn’t, bc I double knot that sucker). Is this not what most ppl do lol??

The only shoes I tie on a regular basis are my docs bc those mfs are still stiff af even after years of wear

🎬🎥🎞️

We interrupt this comment for an unskippable ad short film based on a fanfic of the fanfic u just read!! Please enjoy!!!

Bucky sitting at the counter staring daggers at the cup of coffee in front of him

Me: lol ‘sup Macbeth 😂

Bucky: …???

Me: haha a dagger of the mind, eh? A false creation, proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?

Bucky: *leaves the room*

Me: *taps a fork against my glass to make a “ding, ding” sound as he’s leaving * 🛎️🛎️

Bucky: *continues walking down the hall*

Me, calling after him in a dramatic whisper: He goes and it is done; 😮 the bell invites him. Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell💀 *makes a spooky ghost noise*

⏳ 10 min later ⏳

I shove the following notes under his door

Note 1: Lol do u get it??

Note 2: bc it looked like u were staring daggers into ur coffee cup haha

Note 3: U know, like in Macbeth?

Note 4: “Is this a Is this a dagger which I see before me” LMAO (see drawing below)

⏳ 5 min later ⏳

Note 5: it’s in ACT II, Scene I

Meanwhile Alpine just like shredding all the paper that comes through the door 😂😂

⏳The next day⏳

I receive notice of my immediate termination in the mail

Me: oh shit… “Buchanan Barnes” is Scottish as heck!!! I should have known better than to mention the Scottish play to a Scotsman. FUCK!!!!

🤦‍♀️

⏳2 min later ⏳

Me: although technically, the name is only cursed if you say it within a theatre…. Alright I’m suing for unfair dismissal 😤

… Somewhere in Hells Kitchen, a phone rings…

Cut to me, huddled on my bed, wrapped in blankets like a mischievous burrito, furiously taping on my phone

Me (internal monologue, voiced by Gossip Girl herself, Kristen Bell): ok so I took the words “staring daggers” from a single line in the fic, turned it into a reference that was probably outside the authors intentions, and then wrote my own mini skit with a surprise Alpine cameo, followed by a twist ending just like the extra post credit scenes in the real marvel movies!! Oh boy, OP is going to love this!!! 😃😃😃*very of proud myself*

Screen fades to black with the following text in white:

As it turned out, OP never even saw the skit bc they stopped reading after I admitted I hadn’t tied my shoes in 10 years

FIN

Alternate version ending:

Me (voice over): oh boy, OP is going to love this!!! *very of proud myself*

Screen fades to black with the following text in white:

As it turned out, OP was actually a superstitious Scot who works in the theatre industry, and did not “love” the joke

FIN

Directors cut ending:

Me (V/O): oh boy, OP is going to love this!!! *very of proud myself*

Screen fades to black and then this gif appears

OP:

FIN

84 year anniversary collectors edition ending (expected release date - 2105):

Me (V/O): oh boy, OP is going to love this!!! *very of proud myself*

Screen fades to black and then a ✨hologram✨of OP appears in front of the viewer:

OP:

FIN

Thank you for watching!! Your comment section will now resume!

"Bad night," he explains without looking away from his mug and you suggest that he should come for a run with you.

Alexa, play

"No thanks. It's okay. It'll be better tomorrow,”

Me: Sure, Jan. 🙄

Bucky: … what?

Me: don’t give me that “After all, tomorrow is another day” Scarlett O’Hara “Gone With the Wind” BS 😒

Bucky: … I think… I’ve actually seen that one!

Me: ya dude, it’s like an old ass film

Bucky: …

Me: wait did u see the Wizard of Oz when it came out!?? That shit must have been dope af! Ok, bro, u have to see this deepfake where they remade the trailer but like with u guys as the characters! And by u guys, I mean Peter, Stark, Thor and the other guy that hangs out with the raccoon. Sorry u didn’t make the cut buddy. Anyway, look:

Bucky: *nightmares intensify*

But the next few mornings, you find him occupying the exact same chair by the kitchen counter.

Me: HEY man, did u hear all the updog outside??

*waits for him to say “what’s updog” so I can say “not much, what’s up with u hahaha”*

Bucky: …

By the fourth morning, he's not in his normal hoodie and sweats, but has changed into what you recognise as Steve's running gear. "Steve said I should go with you," he says hesitantly and waits for you to tell him that your invitation was nothing but a joke.

Me: *planned to actually tell him the invitation was a joke bc I can’t run 5 min without vomiting…but now I see he’s waiting for me to say it was a joke, and it makes me feel bad so I play along*

😬🤦‍♀️

Me: uh ya, let’s do like a speed walk thing to warm up maybe?

Me, internally fuming while speed walking: fuck u Steve. That twerp KNOWS I can’t run for shit and used Bucky to call my bluff 😤why I oughta… *passes out after speed walking for 3 min)*

Also like, maybe I just don’t go to the gym or do any exercise, but does everyone have their own branded gear? What does that mean “Steve’s running gear”? It’s like the same as his suit but with short sleeves and shorts?

🤔

You meet up in the kitchen every morning for several weeks without uttering a single word to each other apart from "good morning," and "great run today". 

I literally don’t have the breath to say anything else bc I’m deadass exhausted from this charade

😫

And you run. Every day. No matter the weather, no matter what kind of night Bucky has had. It does him good. The colour in his cheeks comes back, his hair looks healthier

Meanwhile, I’m like:

sometimes, you even catch him running with a smile on his lips, his eyes closed as he savours the smell of nature waking up around him. 

Me: 😒 ok well glad someone is having a good time

from "great run today" to "see you tomorrow" to "see you later"

“See u later”??? Heck no one run a day is alway one too many runs for me. Nope. 😰

You love your runs.

Me: saying this over and over to myself like a personal mantra until I become delusional enough to believe it like the handmaids with their autopilot “Blessed be the Fruit” greetings

It's 1.30 a.m when you wake up to muffled screams coming from Bucky's room down the corridor.

Me: wow, this mf-er is really watching a horror movie without me??? Thought we were friends smh 😤😤😤

Steve's out on a mission so without bothering to pull on some pants

Lmao I did a double take when I read this bc I thought it meant Steve didn’t put on pants 😭… it was such an emergency he didn’t have time to put on pants before leaving for the mission??? How would she even know that??? Also I always thought the suit was like a onesie type deal haha

you run towards the screams that only grow louder and louder with each step

Wow, I’m a white girl in a horror movie huh

😬

After several minutes in Bucky's room, you finally manage to wake him up

Was the door just like, open?

How do u wake him up tho? I’d get the longest broom I could find so I can keep maximum distance between us and just like, sweep over his face until he sneezed.

when you touch a hand to his damp face and remind him where he is, his breathing finally slows

Me: hey man, wake up!! U are safe! Do u know where u are??

Bucky: *gives the address of the tower*

Me: ok I’m actually Canadian and idk any of the streets in NYC so I��m just going to assume u are correct. Good job 👍

You ground him, and he puts his arms around your waistline, and he holds you close, and he cries.

Me, who gets the skeevies from physical contact irl: …. *slowly slips out of his grasp and replaces my body with a like 3 pillows with a basketball on top for the head, then stands at a distance to brush his hair with the broom*🧹

The next morning, he isn't in the kitchen.

Me: THANK FUCKING GOD, no run today 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

Instead, you find him in his room.

Tbh I only went there to get the basketball back bc I had to sign it out from the gym and I don’t want to have to pay fines for not returning it on time

But like the night before, you assure him that everything's alright, that there's no need to apologise and you hand him his running shoes. 

Me: why don’t we… take these to the dry cleaners. That’s how modern people clean their shoes!! And also let’s take an Uber to the dry cleaners, bc it’s “take an Uber to the dry cleaners day”. It’s like, one of those new holidays u prob haven’t heard about

so you stay on high alert every night and you make sure that Bucky wakes up from his nightmares. 

Me: dragging my sewn together pillow basketball head scarecrow down the hallway with a broom strapped to my back

you hear two soft words whispered faintly against your neck. Don't go

Me: huh, he must have a song stuck in his head. Didn’t expect him to be a fan of Skrillex but whatever 🤷‍♀️ *leaves*

So, you stay. Every night. Even after Steve comes back from his mission. 

Yes, “I” stay…

Steve, going to check on Bucky and sees the weird ass pillow basketball head scarecrow thing on his bed: 😱😱😱

but one night, right before he drifts off, he finds your hand underneath the duvet, and he holds it to the angry scars on his chest and he squeezes it tight.

Me: Goddammit 😰

*sews a rubber glove to a long sock and stuffs it with cotton balls, then staples it to the body of the pillow b-ball scarecrow*

Perfect!! 👩‍🎨

you hear an accidental "see you tonight, doll!" slip past his lips

Me, thinking this is a “Lars and the Real Girl” type of situation: oh cute, he gave scarecrow a name! I mean kind of unoriginal….but his brain is like super fried so who am I to judge 😐

You run every morning

Me:

You yearn for him to kiss you and sometimes when it's just the two of you, it looks as if he's just about to do it

Fic: becomes romantic

Me: *packing my bags* welp, my work here is done. Peace out y’all ✌️

Lol jk I’m still reading the rest I just don’t know how to interact anymore, haha. (Not in a bad way, I still enjoy the content and think it’s interesting but like emotionally I’m out of my depth so I’ll just switch to spectator mode…Omg and I feel this sounds like I’m implying the author didn’t do a good job but it’s the opposite

😓

irl I’m not really a romantic relationship person (OP, after having read the entirety of the pillow scarecrow saga: what? No waaaay /sarcasm) and I try to uh, like gain understanding of that perspective by reading if that makes sense? So I’m still along for the ride except now I’m like taking notes in the margins instead of live tweeting memes 😅)

Author: so what you’re saying is… the more romantic content I have in the fic… the fewer unhinged comments u will leave? Interesting… 😏

Sam mockingly calls you his girlfriend and when Bucky finally takes the bait and one day snaps that you're not his girlfriend, Sam smirks triumphantly.

Comical misunderstanding on my part lol - on the first read I thought u meant Sam calls reader his (Sam’s) gf in an attempt to make Bucky jealous and admit his attraction to reader, and then one day Bucky snaps and is like “Sam stfu she’s not ur gf”

But then u wrote

"But you want her to be," he says with a shit-eating grin,

And I was like *record scratch noise* wait what? Sam is telling Bucky that he (Bucky) wants reader to be Sam’s gf??? So I realized I made a processing error and Sam was saying reader is Bucky’s gf

My programmer: yes!!! Good job! You’re right on track to pass that Turing test!!🤖

Bucky doesn't like the sound of fireworks so

Don’t these sound exactly like gunshots tho? But I guess maybe he doesn’t like gunshots either or his super ears can tell the difference?

his head meets your shoulder

Procter & Gamble CEO: and that kids, is how we came up with America's #1 dandruff shampoo brand! 💆‍♀️💆💆‍♂️🧴

"Hi doll," he says softly,

Me: wow wtf do I really look that much like the pillow b-ball scarecrow? I mean I put a lot of work into the concept but it’s meant to be used at night so I didn’t really focus on the visuals. I’m low key offended rn tbh

His eyes scan over your face and he takes a step closer

Bucky: did you… change your makeup or something? Get a haircut? Idk I just feel like your head is usually more round and orange???

and when he finally finds your mouth again and slowly slips his tongue inside, you know you've both found your way home.

Company guy: ok team, so the customer feedback we’ve been getting on our new GPS system has been…mixed. Here’s the gist of what people dislike:

the way in which the directions are delivered is too personal

2-3 months is an unreasonable amount of time to wait before the product provides directions to your house

The daily exercise requirement and nightly care routine to charge up the device is overwhelming and too time consuming

In addition, several people were displeased that the exercise gear for running was not included in the package, although this is explicitly stated in the directions

We’ve also gotten some feedback about wanting the product to have different hairstyle and clothing options

Many men say they feel uncomfortable using the product as the experience is too intimate

On the plus side, we’ve had a handful of 💫glowing reviews from men and women, but they seem to focus on the experience of learning how to use the product rather than the final GPS results it delivers…🤔

Nevertheless, some of these customers are requesting variations of this GPS system that will provide them with directions to work, the grocery store, and various other locations, but I think our main goal should be to polish up the current model.

What do you guys think???

🔚

Lmao if u read this entire thing idk, u are a brave and tolerant soul and I hope baphomet blesses you (dw, I’ll mention it to him at our next coven meeting)

Ty for writing such a great piece and sharing it w us 💗

(Weird personal anecdote below that u are free to skip bc idk if it’s relevant at all lmao)

idk if I was able to really express this in my “comments” bc sincerity is not my strong suit, but by the end it kind of made me feel a bit sentimental lol.

Like… think the combination of how you portrayed reader’s devotion to Bucky/Bucky warming up to reader/and a little bit of my insistence on doubling down on the pillow scarecrow joke that definitely went on for too long, made me think of this old timey comedy ballet called “Coppélia”.

I saw this when I was so where btwn 7-10 years old and my memory ain’t shit, so it’s one of the few clear memories I have from that time period 😂(the others are like, deadass eating a cigarette on the beach, breaking my arm and losing colour vision for an hour, etc).

Anyway, as a kid I was somehow waaay more emotional aware and empathetic than I am as an adult now, and I remember like, bawling in the theatre bc I thought this shit was real (ie. it was re-telling of a true story that actually happened.

(spoilers for this ballet below lol)

I didn’t catch that Swanhilda pulled a fast one on the doctor and switched clothes w/ Coppélia (the doll), and I thought she legit allowed herself to be sacrificed for her soul to “reanimate” Coppélia, so that fuck boi Franz could be with the girl he “loved” (even though Swan had feelings for Franz too).

So in my mind, I was like, wow, this girl gave up her life to animate this doll that her crush thought was real??? That’s so selfless and the dude didn’t even know she sacrificed herself like that!!!! It was a truly altruistic act 😭

Ya so my dumbass had an emotional breakdown for some reason and I guess I never looked up the real plot until I was in university or something, so I went YEARS with this tragic story on my head and when we had to read stuff like “Romeo & Juliet” or “A Tale of Two Cities” at school I was throughly unimpressed bc I was like no, the doll sacrifice ballet did it BETTER!!!😡😡😡 (even tho thinking about it now, tale of two cities is the more tragic story haha)

The way u wrote how reader was consistently there to support Bucky without pushing her own feelings on him somehow unlocked that memory in my head and I was like wow, I used to have a lot of feelings that I haven’t felt in a while, and it made me nostalgic in a good way. 🥲

Anyway haha whatever good talk, thanks for the story.

The Way Home (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: On how you help Bucky find peace in his new life

Words: 1.5K

Fluff, fluff and pure fluff 💕

- Bucky is quiet at first. Follows Steve around like a lost puppy, doesn't really say much. Still, you can tell that he’s kind. That he isn't what the papers make him out to be.

- The entire team welcomes him with open arms, wants to make him feel at home, but Bucky still keeps to himself. Stays in his room and only comes out when Steve forces him to join the rest of them for dinner. Doesn't say anything apart from the occasional quiet "it's okay" to his best friend or the half-snarled snarky comment he can't hold back when Sam says something he thinks is dumb. But in between, he's quiet. Completely silent, really.

- You've caught him looking at you a few times, and you've seen the unwelcome, pointed elbow Sam shoves between his ribs when you walk into the room, but when you send Bucky a smile in return, he always looks away and goes about his business as if nothing's happened. Maybe a little more irritated at Sam and his wiggling eyebrows than before, but that's it. 

- One early morning, after you've already tied your shoes, you go to the kitchen for a glass of water before your daily run. Not expecting anybody to be up at these hours, you're surprised to see Bucky sitting at the counter staring daggers at the cup of coffee in front of him. "Bad night," he explains without looking away from his mug and you suggest that he should come for a run with you. That it always helps when you have too many thoughts in your head. "No thanks. It's okay. It'll be better tomorrow,” he says quietly while tapping his finger on the rim of the mug.

- But the next few mornings, you find him occupying the exact same chair by the kitchen counter. 

- By the fourth morning, he's not in his normal hoodie and sweats, but has changed into what you recognise as Steve's running gear. "Steve said I should go with you," he says hesitantly and waits for you to tell him that your invitation was nothing but a joke. But it wasn't. So you smile and tell him he's more than welcome.

- You meet up in the kitchen every morning for several weeks without uttering a single word to each other apart from "good morning," and "great run today". 

- And you run. Every day. No matter the weather, no matter what kind of night Bucky has had. It does him good. The colour in his cheeks comes back, his hair looks healthier, and sometimes, you even catch him running with a smile on his lips, his eyes closed as he savours the smell of nature waking up around him. 

- It slowly transgresses from "great run today" to "see you tomorrow" to "see you later".

- He starts nodding his head when he passes you by in the hallway, and he gives you a shy 'hi' when he sits down for dinner (much to Sam's smirking delight), but your favourite part of the day is still when he stands in the middle of the dark kitchen, awkwardly waving and saying 'good morning'. 

- You love your runs. You love your time together with Bucky. He seems happier. Almost carefree. But things don't really speed up until two months in. 

- It's 1.30 a.m when you wake up to muffled screams coming from Bucky's room down the corridor. Steve's out on a mission so without bothering to pull on some pants, you run towards the screams that only grow louder and louder with each step. 

- After several minutes in Bucky's room, you finally manage to wake him up. He looks horrified, scared of his own shadow, of himself, of you, but when you touch a hand to his damp face and remind him where he is, his breathing finally slows. You ground him, and he puts his arms around your waistline, and he holds you close, and he cries. Like you've never seen anyone cry before. He fists your pyjama shirt, and you stroke him over his hair and assure him that everything's okay. That he's safe. That he's home. That he isn't alone. And you repeat your words with your fingers raking over his scalp until his grip finally releases its hold on your crinkled pyjamas and he falls asleep, warm, and safe, and loved in your embrace. 

- And because you don't want to overstep, you sneak back to your own bed. 

- The next morning, he isn't in the kitchen. 

- Instead, you find him in his room. His face is burning red with humiliation, and he can't even look at you when he stutters out an apology. But like the night before, you assure him that everything's alright, that there's no need to apologise and you hand him his running shoes. 

- You run and you go about your day as if nothing's happened. He seems grateful for that. It's your little secret. 

- Steve doesn't come home for a few days, so you stay on high alert every night and you make sure that Bucky wakes up from his nightmares. 

- You usually sneak back to your own room around 3 in the morning but one night, when you think he's fast asleep, you hear two soft words whispered faintly against your neck. Don't go. 

- So, you stay. Every night. Even after Steve comes back from his mission. 

- Bucky still doesn't say much, but one night, right before he drifts off, he finds your hand underneath the duvet, and he holds it to the angry scars on his chest and he squeezes it tight. "You make me feel human again," he whispers and closes his eyes. Not sure what to say, you just press in against his innocent, wretched heart while trying to hold back the tears.

- One evening, when you bid the people in the living room goodnight, you hear an accidental "see you tonight, doll!" slip past his lips. Not sure if Steve's eyes are about to tumble out of their sockets due to Bucky's accidental confession or the old-fashioned nickname, you cannot help but laugh a little. Bucky gulps uncomfortably as if he's somehow said something upsetting, but at least he doesn't look away when Sam smirkingly elbows him in the side. 

- "What? No doll today?" you ask him with a raised eyebrow when he merely says "mornin'" the day after his blunder. His cheeks turn a dusted shade of pink but it's the first time you hear him chuckle.

- You run every morning, and you eat dinner together with the rest of the team in the evenings, and you sleep in his bed at night. He's suddenly not as quiet anymore. Still reserved, yes, but he laughs along to jokes, and he always enters the room with a smile on his face. Doesn't shy away from conversation any longer.

- You yearn for him to kiss you and sometimes when it's just the two of you, it looks as if he's just about to do it, but hesitation always gets the best of him, and he manages to stop himself before he's even taken the first step. And you don't want to push him.

- Sam mockingly calls you his girlfriend and when Bucky finally takes the bait and one day snaps that you're not his girlfriend, Sam smirks triumphantly. "But you want her to be," he says with a shit-eating grin, and you pretend not to overhear that Bucky doesn't really have a great comeback to that.

- It all escalates on the night of Steve's birthday. Bucky doesn't like the sound of fireworks so the two of you have volunteered to clean up after dinner while the others are visiting the lake nearby.

- You're in the midst of clearing the table, when you suddenly feel Bucky's arms snake around your waist, and his head meets your shoulder. "Hi doll," he says softly, and you lean your head against his chest and entangle your fingers with his while you sway back and forth to his favourite song playing in the background. 

- "There's something I have to tell you," he muses quietly and tilts your head with an index finger placed underneath your chin. His eyes scan over your face and he takes a step closer to your anticipating body while the hand he has placed over your stomach travels to your waistline.

- "I'm crazy about you," he finally whispers in a heartfelt confession, and you feel the love pour out of his words, his touch, his rapid heartbeat that is pressed to your spine. "- I haven't felt this way since before the war -" his soft eyes are drawing you in, his lips mere inches away, and you let him pull you closer, closer, closer. "Sweetheart, I want you to be mine..."

- You don't answer. You just turn around in his arms and you stand on your tiptoes and let yourself be engulfed by his soft lips as you finally reach for him.

- Your hands are buried in his long hair and while you're surrounded by dirty pans and plates stacked high on the kitchen table beside you, he trails his wet mouth all the way down your throat. He nibbles and sucks and kisses at your burning skin, and when he finally finds your mouth again and slowly slips his tongue inside, you know you've both found your way home.

[tiktaalic]

do you have a list of supernatural fic recs? whether it be stupid and fun or more character focused or just romance i am interested in all of the above lol

i don’t read a ton of fic to be honest! and i’m chronically allergic to long fic most of the time. but i’ll compile my bookmarks scattered across accounts for you lol

formal and shining and complete, 3.2k. this is a dean character study, no real slash. but. h

a complete kingdom, 85.4k. horror story post s8, so human cas. not heavy on the romance, but it is there, albeit in a horror story way. wanna emphasize the horror story part. this is not. uh. a fun fic. but i’m obsessed with it. heed the tags etc

the one thing you can’t lose, 4.9k. it’s CUTE!!!!! it’s about how cas is big eldritch powerful being and lets dean just tug him around and fix his coat.

vocation, 5.1k. cas and hannah’s s10 roadtrip. she gets in a habit of calling dean for Human Advice and Cas Advice (platonic). wah

bron-yr-aur, 5.5k. WTF GAY LITTLE JACK!!!!!!! it’s dean sweating bullets about trying to be a good dad to jack :)

rinse, repeat, 3.3k. excerpts of the goodbye stranger dean killing trainings.

this is where my bookmarks list turns into stuff i read as a sophomore in hs and never again as opposed to stuff i read in the last few months, so. grain of salt

a beginner’s guide to communicating with the dead, 77.1k. this one has a fair amount of world building that it’s hard to be pithy about but tldr: magic is commonplace, dean’s a detective trying to solve a magic murder by summoning cas who is... i don’t remember what he is? something super powerful that’s not allowed to be summoned. 

highwaymen, 66.3k. i’ll be honest. i do not remember a single thing about this one. tags tell me it’s an hp au and i know dean’s like, an adult in it and not at school but i could not tell you anything else. but it’s in my bookmarks and i subscribed to the author afterwards, so. 

fly the river, 1.2k. 11.20 coda. i dont remember what happens in 11.20 but i do know i always love it when dean yells at thee biblical god

the most recent things that are in #fic tag on my blog are some spec scripts that are also good!

edit: an anon sent me a link to a list of recs they saw on their dash today

[tanoraqui]

*takes feelings about the Penric’s Demon series and a hearty dose of @asukaskerian‘s Midnight on the Demon Patrol fic and yeets them into a blender with a text post I saw like a year ago; hits puree with no idea where this is going*

“There’s nothing else for it, Vinnie. You’ll have to take Holmes.”

“Grandma, I am not inheriting your death demon!”

My great-grandmother had broken her left hipbone two days ago; she could barely hold her head off the pillows that propped her up and her eyes were clouded with cataracts and painkillers. She lifted her head to glare at me nonetheless. 

“Vanessa Jean Watson, I will not hear such language from your mouth, not in my house and not anywhere. You-“

She stiffened with a sudden grimace and fell back to bed limper. Tears ran down her cheeks. 

“You know better,” she finished, voice rough with pain.

“Sorry,” I said, and meant it - but mostly for the fact that I pushed one more time. “It’s just, I’m a nurse. Not a...super secret FBI agent. What am I going to do with a permanent death spirit?”

None of us really knew most of what Grandma Watson had done with her life, for work. She’d been retired for most of my life, and her stories hovered between “fanciful” and “classified beyond belief.”

“Your granddaughter is exactly right,” said Latimer - George Latimer, he’d introduced himself, when I got to my grandmother’s house and found two FBI agents in the kitchen. Director of the Spirit Crimes division. “If you’d just consider Agent Moehner - she’s one of our best, you know. Nearly a decade of experience in the field, with strong riders-”

(The other agent, currently exiled to the kitchen with a mug of coffee, while we argued in the bedroom. She was tall, dark-skinned, and looked like she could kill a man with her pinky, and I hadn’t seen her make a single facial expression when we’d been introduced.)

“Absolutely not,” Grandma snapped, with the faintly echoing undertone that meant her rider was saying it, too.

“I’m not leaving the Watsons,” she hissed - Holmes hissed, Grandma’s lips going pale as though already dead.

“And you’re it, Vanessa,” said Grandma, color returning to her face (though not much; not much at all.) “You don’t see David flying out to my bedside, much less Therese. Liz is gone, and so’s your father. And the twins are too young.”

She wasn’t wrong. Great-grandma Watson, with her snappish authority, apartment full of dead plants, and inclination to look like a corpse to let her equally haughty permanent-rider death spirit speak through her wasn’t high on everyone’s Family to Visit list, and never had been. Nana Liz had loved her, but Nana Liz passed away ten years ago. My dad had spat back her barbs just as fast and with twice the cheer, but he got shot in Syria four years ago. Mom hadn’t been in the picture since just after I was born, and my older brother Dave was busy being a suburban dad in Boston, complete with twin toddlers, a Subaru, and “Sent from my iPhone” email saying, “Heard about Grandma’s fall - give her my best!” He’d sooner discorporate the family spirit than fly across the country to take it up.

Not that I’d flown across the country. I just lived in the next city over, because there’d been a job opening in a hospital and it’d seemed like someone ought to live near the 103-year-old matriarch, rider and all. She refused any live-in help. The unspoken family vote had been me.

“And you,” she added, voice softening a little. “Stop weeping, you old fusspot. You’ve been exhausting yourself for years, keeping back the viruses and cancer and such without any proper food. This damn hip is the last straw for both of us - have a good meal of me, then go fuss over Vinnie instead. She’s a good girl, she’ll look out for you.”

Holmes shook her head, side to side against the pillow. “Jillian…”

“I’m tired, Holmes.” She closed her eyes and sighed, and for maybe the first time I realized how small she was. Short and slight to start with, and shrunken with age, pallid and wrinkled and frail. Her personality didn’t usually allow for the observation.

“Ah, Holmes,” said Latimer, “are you sure you wouldn’t consider accepting Agent Moehner as your handler? As I said, she has experience in the field, and would return to it promptly with you - as Mrs. Watson said, I’m sure you haven’t had a, ah, decent meal in a while-”

Grandma Watson’s eyes opened and snapped over to the FBI director, flat and dead.

“When Captain Watson passes away, there will be two to thirty seconds during which I am bound by little more than my own conscience,” Holmes said icily. “If I were you, sir, I should stop trying to tempt me to hunger now.”

“Captain,” he blustered, “control your spirit-“

“Not a captain,” Grandma said with a quiet smirk. “Retired. And Vinnie’s going to be a private citizen, unless you lot talk her into signing some damn thing - and if her father couldn’t, you can’t.”

She pushed herself up again, wincing, looking at me. “I am sorry, Vinnie, when you just got here - if you need to go get coffee, or break up with a girlfriend, I can…” She sank back, half-scowling at her own weakness. “I can wait. I’ll be fine.”

“I…”

I fiddled with the hem of my jacket. I hadn’t even taken it off, since coming here after work.

I thought if I left, I’d probably run and not come back.

“It’s fine, Grandma. I can- I’ll look after Holmes for you.”

“Good girl.” A bit more color returned to her cheeks as she smiled. “Too responsible for your own good.” 

She closed her eyes, looking life-sized again. “Last words, last words...well let’s go with the classic. Sherlock Holmes!”

There was a tension to the air, as though something was about to break. Latimer reaches for something in his pocket. I fought the urge to step back - I knew the spirit’s name, but I’d never seen her use it in a real, summoning way. The bedroom was suddenly cold.

Grandma’s eyes stayed wearily shut, but her voice was strong. “I commend my death to thee. Make it and consume it, and as long as it sustains thee, do my will: go with my great-granddaughter Vanessa and look after her - and don’t be too much of an ass to her, because she’s not all boiled down to pure spite like I am.” 

Even weary and wrinkled, her grin was a shark’s. I shivered in the cold.

“This I bid thee again, and a third time to seal it.”

And she died.

It wasn’t gruesome, but it was unmistakeable, and all at once. Her breath gasped out, her cheeks sunk, and she locked into rigor mortis - and darkness seeped out of her greying skin. It coalesced into a cloud that hovered above her, not quite shadow and not quite smoke.

It extended a wisp to brush against Grandma’s still forehead, and there was no mistaking the tenderness in the touch. 

Then it lunged toward Latimer like a snapping turtle. He took a step back - but only into what looked like some sort of fighting position; his hands came up and they were traced with glowing sigils - which made sense, that the FBI Spirit Crimes guy would have a rider, too. Hurried footsteps behind me were Agent Moehner rushing into the room, talk and dark-skinned and holding a long, faintly glowing knife. 

“Containment, sir?” she asked.

Latimer nodded, as the marks started floating off his hands and stretching wide and glowing toward Holmes.

But Holmes had already pulled away from him, to circle me. It was a bit like being caught in a very small, freezing cyclone. Which somehow radiated impatience.

“Oh, I…”

Grandma’s pocketknife was on her bedside table; I grabbed it and, telling myself it was just like administering a needle, sliced the back of my forearm.

“Sherlock Holmes, for blood I bid thee to my aid-” Basic words you learned in kindergarten, along with your ABCs. The difference was, it was normally for nameless wild spirits - flickers of luck or light or peace of mind that everyone called on here and there. With a name on my lips for a century-plus-old spirit, it was like wrestling a very personal thunderstorm. I could feel the chill and the stillness and the inevitability of death in my bones.

“I invite you to share my corporeality, um-” That wasn’t kindergarten, or anything outside of a more advanced class - except Grandma had spent an afternoon every (rare) visit drilling any descendant she could pin down. 

“Terms and conditions!” Latimer shouted - maybe not for the first time; there was a roaring in my ears.

“-under the same terms and conditions as you had with Jillian Watson,” I extemporized at a shout.

And then I died.

Or, it really, really felt like I had, for a moment. It felt like I could easily imagine dying felt like - and considering that when I opened my eyes, there was a chill presence in the back of my mind that was unmistakeably Sherlock Holmes, a sentient manifestation of death, I don’t think I was wrong.

I’m sorry, I said silently, because I couldn’t help but feel his grief.

Go deal with the military idiot, he scoffed, and somehow turned away, crossing his arms at the back of my skull. They’ll want you to fill out some registration forms, for a Class A-1 spirit possession. Just don’t sign anything that gives them actual authority over us.

[mrslittletall]

Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 25) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Dusk of Oolacile Word Count: 5.490 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/56905021 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/613218120893693952/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-24-fandom-dark

Summary: Tempest has a talk with Dusk. The duo gets sucked into a strange place where they have to fight a mighty beast and then.. Ornstein notices something.

(Author's note: Oh boy, it's time for the DLC and I can say you, I have some things planned for it. This is merely the beginning! I look so forward to write the next chapters. 

Also, please check out the fic “Aftermath”, which was written by RedFox13 and was inspired by my story. It is wonderful and emotional. I am very happy that I now have two fics that were inspired by this piece.)

Ornstein was on his knees in an instant, not caring about his armour getting wet. “Princess.”, he said.

“I have to thank thee for saving me, dragon slayer.”, Dusk smiled at him. “I seem to be in debt of another knight of Gwyn.”

Ornstein glanced to the side, where Tempest stood, having his mouth open a little, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what. Technically, without Tempest he had never come down here to take care of the hydra and then they never would have seen the golden golem. It felt wrong for him to get all the praise.

“Actually...”, he started but was interrupted by Dusk gasping.

“Ah, while I wish to discuss many more things with thee, I am afraid we are running out of time. I am, after all, from an age long before this one... I will engrave my signature. Call upon me, so that we can talk.”

Dusk disappeared shortly after she said this words and Ornstein finally raised from his knees.

“Who was that?”, Tempest asked. “You know her?”

“It's... a long story.”, Ornstein said and turned around, intending to leave the water. They should finally get back on track and continue their mission. He didn't intend to talk to Dusk. He didn't had any intention to revisit that part of his life.

“That is all?”, Tempest said morosely. “You aren't going to explain anything to me? She said, she was from an age long before this one and she knew you, Ornstein. What did happen between the two of you?”

“I don't wish to talk about his.”, Ornstein said, just wishing that the little Storm would let this subject rest. Tempest shrugged and followed Ornstein as they waded out of the water. As Ornstein took a moment to pour the water out of his boots, Tempest strolled along the shore of the basin and stopped when he saw a summon sign in front of him.

How strange. He was absolutely sure that hadn't been here before. Wait, hadn't this princess earlier said she would engrave her signature? Did she mean laying down her summon sign with that? Curiously, Tempest touched the sign and in fact, the image of the woman from earlier showed up.

Tempest looked back at Ornstein to see that he still was busy with drying his feet and touched the sign. It glowed and shortly after the woman from earlier rose and spoke.

“Dragon slayer, do thou wish to talk now?” She blinked a few times when her gaze fell on Tempest and then she said: “Thou are not Ornstein.”

“Um... hello.”, Tempest said, raising his hand in a greeting. “I am Tempest. I am something like Ornstein's storm.” Tempest immediately noticed his blunder and blushed. Had the nickname of little Storm affected him so much that he started to think of himself as a storm now too? “Companion, I mean. I am Ornstein's companion!”, he quickly corrected himself. “So, um, what is your name?”

“Dusk from Oolacile.”, the woman answered. “I am... was... the princess of a land that existed long before thine age. It was reduced to ashed a long time ago...”

“...It was reduced to ashes? What happened?”, Tempest said, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Little Storm, what are you doing?”, Ornstein's voice sounded from behind and as he saw the glowing image of Dusk, he inhaled sharply.

“Dragon Slayer.”, Dusk practically beamed when he arrived. “I was hoping that you would come back.”

“...don't call me dragon slayer anymore, please.”, Ornstein said, averting his gaze.

“Oh, my deepest apologies, dr.. Ornstein.”, Dusk said. “Still, I have to thank thee properly. Thou saved me from the golem.”

“That isn't exactly true.”, Ornstein said. “It is true that I helped to strike the golem down that imprisoned you, but my presence here in the basin, the reason I saw the golem that housed you, that was all thanks to the little Storm here.”, Ornstein laid his big hand on Tempest's head and would have ruffled his hair if not for the helmet he wore. Tempest just stared at him with wide eyes.

“Oh, then it was Storm's interference here that saved me?”, Dusk's gaze wandered from Ornstein back to Tempest.

“It's Tempest.”, Tempest said. “Ornstein just likes to butcher my name.”

“They are basically the same.”, Ornstein said. “As you see, your thanks should be given to him and not to me.”

Ornstein then dropped the conversation and Dusk spoke again: “There isn't much I could offer other then the magic of mine land. My home, Oolacile, is the home of ancient sorceries. Would me passing this profound knowledge to thee be of any help?”

“Uh, I guess...”, Tempest said. He knew he wasn't particularly skilled in magic, he preferred the far more rough but easier to cast pyromancy, but he also didn't want Dusk to feel like she is useless. It wouldn't hurt looking at her spells and he had enough souls from the hydra to make a deal with her.

“Wonderful. Then let me teach thou my sorceries.”, Dusk said, clapping her hands together, which made a hollow sound, because her body was merely that of a phantom, summoned to a time that wasn't hers.

Tempest spend some time looking over the sorceries. They were very different from anything the Vinheim sorcerers had to offer. This magic wasn't meant to attack or strengthen oneself, but it seemed more like it was there to support and feint. There was a spell that would cast light (that would have been useful in the Tomb of Giants), a spell that would hide one's body or weapon and – the most amusing one – a spell that would cast an illusion around the caster and let them appear as something else. Tempest found this too hilarious and because it wasn't exactly hard to learn, soon had the scroll in his hands, while Dusk told him a bit more about he nature of the magic of her homeland.

“Are you done? Can we leave now?”, Ornstein said, seemingly in hurry.

“Ornstein, what's the matter?”, Tempest mocked. “First you seem to want to do everything to avoid going down to Lost Izalith and now you can't wait for half an hour more?” He then put his attention back to Dusk and asked the question he still needed an answer for another time: “So, Princess Dusk, what happened to your home town?”

Dusk's gaze fell onto the floor before she spoke: “It happened a long time ago. I was beset by a creature of the Abyss. I would have perished if not for the great knight Artorias. He... saved me and slayed the beast of the Abyss, but...”

Tempest noticed a certain shift in Ornstein's stance as Dusk said that. He glanced over to him and then back to Dusk when she continued: “...his wounds were too grave and he fell after he rescued me. In truth, there was little I transpired because my senses had already fled. But even still, there was something about Artorias...”, she trailed off and stared at Ornstein. “That may be why I thought that it was Ornstein who saved me from the golem. They have a similar aura...”

Tempest had gotten starry eyed at her tale, not noticing anymore how uncomfortable Ornstein seemed to be, shifting around and clutching his spear.

“You are the princess from the tales about the Abyss Walker?! Oh, I never thought I would meet you in person!”, Tempest had both hands folded in front of his chest. “And you even shared some of your sorceries with me. Maybe getting Undead hasn't been as horrible as I thought!”

“I am glad that I could be of thine service.”, Dusk smiled but then she frowned. “Unfortunately, my tale doesn't have a happy ending. Much alike Artorias, it was too late for my kingdom. It was corrupted by the Abyss and there was nothing we could do anymore. It fell and now only ruins are proof that there ever had been the town of Oolacile.”

“...I am sorry to hear.”, Tempest said, gaze on the ground, scrabbling the ground with his foot. “I didn't want to make any bad memories resurface.”

Dusk shook her head: “It's quite alright. It has been long in the past for you. I shouldn't dwell on things that can't be changed anymore. Thou have my gratitude to free me of the golem, so that I can be with my people until the very end at least. Please, if you need my services, just call upon me.”

Dusk disappeared after this words, but her summon sign stayed. Tempest laid a hand on it and determined that it was still warm.

“Are you done? Can we leave already?”, Ornstein growled.

“Ornstein, you act strange.”, Tempest said, putting both hands in his hip as he addressed the dragon slayer. “That was the princess that your friend, the legendary Abyss Walker, saved and you intended to just walk away? Every child knows this story. The story about the knight and his trusty companion, the grey wolf, who traversed the darkness, slayed a beast and saved the princess of the golden town!” Tempest had gotten starry eyed again as he recited the tale that his mother had to tell him dozen of times as a bed time story.

“...That tale isn't true...”, Ornstein murmured and turned around.

“What?”, Tempest said. He had the impression that Ornstein had just said that this story was false, but he wasn't too sure. The dragon slayer had muttered the sentence under his breath and with his helmet on he was barely audible.

“Let's just leave. We wasted enough time.”, Ornstein said and started to walk but stopped when Tempest didn't move. “What are you waiting for, idiot?”

“Ornstein, don't you hear a voice...?”, Tempest said and took off his helmet. Hm, strange, he still could hear the voice but it was muffled, even without his ears being covered. That was when he realized that the voice came from inside his bag.

“What? Nobody is talking besides you and me? Don't tell me you go insane, little Storm.”, Ornstein said.

“I swear, there is a voice...”, Tempest put his bag on the ground and searched through it, various items flying around, including a sunlight medal, his white and orange soapstones, a few glowing souls and various keys. “Aha, there it is...”, Tempest said, withdrawing the broken pendant from his bag. “The voice is coming from here.”

“That thing... haven't we found this in the archives?”, Ornstein asked.

“Yes, it has been in a golden golem just like Dusk.”, Tempest nodded. “And now I suddenly can hear a voice from it.” He brought the pendant to his ear and frowned. “Hm, I can't really make out what it is saying...” He walked a few steps with the pendant on his ear and then exclaimed: “Hey, it is getting louder the nearer I get to the water!”

Tempest then stormed off and Ornstein hastily put his belongings back into his bag and shouted: “Little Storm, don't leave your stuff lying around like this!”, before following him into the water.

Tempest still had the pendant at his ear, murmuring to himself, sometimes stopping and shaking it, until they were at the far end of the watery body. Tempest just stood there with his mouth open, as he stared at the swirling vortex in front of him. Ornstein took a step back. He had a bad feeling about his, a very bad feeling.

“This hasn't been here before...”, Tempest said as he took a step forward and extended a hand.

“Idiot! You don't touch any mysterious swirling vortex!”, Ornstein scolded Tempest, still holding onto his bag, but it was too late. A large, extremely large hand, came out of the vortex and engulfed Tempest as a whole.

“Oh, you fucking idiot!”, Ornstein groaned and jumped in, trying to pry the hand open with his spear, but to no avail. He could feel the familiar sensation of getting pulled through space and time and landed hard on his stomach in a small, overgrown and dimly lit cave, fighting back the usual nausea after a teleport.

After he had regained control over his stomach, Ornstein pulled himself up and searched for Tempest who he found in front of a bonfire. “Come on, why doesn't this work?!”, the little Storm groaned. “Why can't I warp from here?”

Ornstein stood up and stomped over to Tempest, throwing his bag on the ground and putting both hands in his hip. Tempest turned his head and gave Ornstein a weak smile: “Oh, hey Ornstein...”

“You IDIOT!”, Ornstein yelled. “Where have you brought us?! Why did you think going near a swirling vortex was a good idea?! We could be anywhere!”

“...I am sorry...”, Tempest said, gaze down on the ground. “It appears that we are stuck here, because that bonfire won't let me warp.” He gave another weak smile that vanished instantly when Ornstein gave him another glare. That glare that Tempest couldn't see but very well feel.

“I... I promise I will find us a way out of here! For now, we should go forwards and see where we are.”, he shot up and collected his bag. “Thanks for picking up my stuff by the way, Ornstein. It would have been troublesome finding the way out of here without my things.”

“You have bigger problems than your things right now, little Storm.”, Ornstein growled, making Tempest duck.

“I already said sorry. Ornstein, I am aware that I messed up. Like I always do. But... I have the feeling that this pendant wanted me to be here. The pendant brought me here. And you too. So I guess we have some kind of task here and when we are done with it, then the pendant will bring us back.”, Tempest rambled.

“...If we are getting out of here, no, when we are getting out of here, I let you cook the most vile meal I can think of.”, Ornstein grumbled.

Tempest shuddered only at the thought of this. “Yikes... but I guess, I deserve it... Let's... let's just move for now. We won't find out where we are by staying in this tiny cave.”

“You have a point.”, Ornstein sighed, his anger still lingering, but he started to slowly calm down. “Then lead the way. You brought us into this mess, you bring us out of it.”

“On it.”, Tempest said and followed the cave until they were in front of a fog wall.

“These things never mean something good...”, Tempest said, taking a step back.

“Are you going through it or not?”, Ornstein asked, feeling his anger resurface.

Tempest checked the Estus on his belt which was filled to the brim and then nodded. “Follow me closely, Ornstein.” He then braced himself for the cold sensation of the fog wall and strode through it.

The first thing Tempest noticed once he had crossed the fog wall, was that his feet were getting wet. He sighed, that seemed to be a trend lately. He had been pretty wet to begin with, though, it would have been nice to be able to dry in the meantime.

Tempest's worries about his wet feet got scattered once he heard a roar and his gaze fell on an enormous beast, with the body of a lion, wings and horns. The creature then made a sizzling sound, one Tempest was far too familiar with and he ran for his life once it shot a quick series of lightning bolts his way.

“I knew that something unpleasant would be behind the door! There is never something pleasant behind them!”, he screamed. Well, besides Ornstein and when Tempest had encountered him the first time behind the fog door, he hadn't found it very pleasant to get stabbed to death with a spear right away.

As Tempest outran the last lightning bolt, he thought about the best way to attack this creature. It looked swift and nimble and it could probably fly. Which it did right at this moment, shooting another lightning bolt into the middle of the area, which spread from the impact in a circle. Figures that the lightning would stay on the water for a while.

It probably would be the best when Ornstein would be able to clip the creature's wings. Speaking of Ornstein, where was he? While Tempest was doing his best to stay alive, that creature was just as swift and nimble as he thought it would be, he managed to get a glimpse of the dragon slayer who still stood at the entrance of the arena, seemingly petrified.

“Ornstein! What are you doing?!”, Tempest screamed, running into his direction. “Help me out! Clip its wings or something!”

“A bird... and a cat... why does it have to be both...”, Ornstein murmured to himself, still not moving. Tempest jerked his head around to see that the “bird-cat” as Ornstein had just labelled it, was in the air again and in the process of swiping down.

“Ornstein! Move! Or it will get you!”, he yelled, hurling himself in front of the dragon slayer and getting the full brunt of the attack. Oooh, that had hurt. Tempest could practically feel how this claws ripped the flesh from his back and how his rips broke when he was hurled into the watery ground.

That finally got Ornstein out of his stupor. “Little Storm!”, he yelled.

“I am... fine..”, Tempest groaned and searched his Estus. “Ground this thing, please!”

Ornstein gave Tempest a nod and then jumped into the air, landing on the bird-cat just in time before it could make Tempest fly again by ramming him with its horns. Tempest found his Estus and quickly took two sips of it, feeling how the gashes in his back closed and his broken ribs knitted itself together, scrambling to his feet, gasping as he saw the struggle between Ornstein and the creature.

Ornstein had placed himself on the back of the creature, his left hand had gripped a horn while his right hand clutched his spear. Instead of attacking its wings though, Ornstein had quite some trouble staying in place, he seemed to use all his energy to not get knocked off the creature's back. Tempest quickly registered that Ornstein had trouble, because the bird-cat was a lot smaller than Ornstein's usual prey. Ornstein was used to fight dragons, beings that were large enough that he could stand on their neck and wouldn't have trouble balancing, the much smaller creature he was handling right now gave him a hard time finding his balance.

Tempest needed to help Ornstein somehow, distract the creature long enough so that he could find his balance and stab at least one of the wings. His first thoughts were his pyromancy, but Ornstein didn't like fire and when he would be confronted with it, he probably would have a bad reaction. So Tempest drew his bow from his back, getting an arrow into place and aimed... If only the creature would stay still for a moment! He let the bow go and the arrow fizzled next to the creature, not hitting anything at all. Tempest internally groaned and loaded another arrow, only to see that the creature's head had jerked around and stared into the direction of the arrow that had missed. This distraction had Ornstein given enough time to balance himself. Tempest reacted quickly and shot a second arrow, which hit the creature into the side and it growled in pain and jerked his head at Tempest.

“Now, Ornstein!”, Tempest yelled.

“You don't have to say this twice, little Storm!”, Ornstein shouted back and drove his spear deep into the frontal left wing of the bird-cat. Blood gushed out of the wound and the creature hissed and screamed in pain as Ornstein was quick-witted enough to clip one of the wings on the right of the creature too.

After another rain of blood mixed itself with the water, Ornstein jumped down from the creature's back and landed right next to Tempest. “Be careful, it's angry now.”, he hissed.

“At least it won't be able to fly up anymore.”, Tempest said, clutching his sword with both hands, determining that his shield would be of no use in this battle. Tempest gasped when he saw the creatures spreading its two remaining wings, surely it wouldn't be able to fly like this anymore, but the creature didn't intend on flying, instead it flapped the wings forward and a strong gust came his and Ornstein's way. The dragon slayer pretty much grabbed Tempest vest at the back of his neck and jumped into safety with him.

“That thing is dangerous...”, Ornstein murmured as the creature needed a moment to recover from the heavy attack.

“So how do we fight it?”, Tempest asked.

“There aren't any tricks to use here. The arena is flat, so we can't use the ground to our advantage. In fact, the water at the bottom gives the creature an advantage, because of its lightnings bolts.”, Ornstein said.

“Speaking of...”, Tempest said as he heard the sizzling sound and both him and Ornstein dodged in different directions once a large lightning bolt impacted the ground.

“Can't you use the water for your lightning?”, Tempest asked as he ran next to Ornstein, away from the bird-cats deadly claws that tried to rip them apart.

“Good thought, but on one hand, that creature probably is rather sturdy when it comes to lighting and on the other hand, I would shock you too.”

Tempest shuddered. That didn't sound too thrilling. He wasn't eager having to die to Ornstein's lightning once again and this time the dragon slayer wouldn't even intend to kill him.

“So we have no choice but fight it head on?!”, Tempest shouted and rolled into the water to dodge a blow from the deadly claws.

“Exactly.”, Ornstein twirled around and his spear connected with the flank of the creature. Blood seeped out of the wound but it wasn't very impressed. “Damn, like I thought, it isn't very susceptible to lightning.”

“But it bleeds.”, Tempest said. “So far I could kill everything that bled. Or, somehow bled.” He charged in with his sword raised only to fly through the air once the creature had rammed him with its head.

“Little Storm, you need to be more careful when to attack.”, Ornstein said, running to the point of his supposed impact with the intent of catching him, but the bird-cat didn't let him and so Ornstein had to back away when the creature swept at him.

In the meantime, Tempest had impacted and found his Estus to once again heal the broken bones he got from the impact. In the meantime, he had gotten used to it. Of course it still hurt, but knowing that his Estus would just heal him in a few seconds, made the pain very much bearable.

Once Tempest had put his Estus away, his eyes got wide when he saw that the bird-cat was in front of him, but turned around, its rear in Tempest's vision. He shot up and ran over to give the thing a good slash, but stumbled backwards when he realized that the creature had a scorpion's tail and lashed out with it, the stinger mere inches away from his shoulders.

“Crap! Ornstein, this thing has a scorpion tail!”, Tempest yelled. “Don't let yourself get hit by its tail, it probably is poisonous!”

“Damnit!”, Ornstein cursed. “Whoever made this creature thought about everything!”

Made? Tempest was a bit confused at Ornstein's word at first, but judging that the creature had the body of lion, horns of a goat, wings like a bird and the tail of scorpion, it felt truly like someone made this creature. Surely a hybrid animal like this couldn't exist naturally.

“Little Storm, distract it for me.”, Ornstein said.

“...What?! How?!”, Tempest shot up and felt his knees getting weak. He didn't think that he would be able to stand his ground against this thing without Ornstein's help at all. In fact, all he had did so far was supporting Ornstein and get hit.

“Just get its attention on you, I only need a minute.”, Ornstein said and jumped up into the air, landing onto the creature's back another time. Oh, that was what he meant. Tempest got out his bow and shot an arrow at the creature immediately, not caring if it would hit. To his surprise, the arrow hit the creature right between the eyes and it howled in pain.

Which apparently was just what Ornstein needed, because Tempest could see how the creature doubled over and shook his head, hissing and growling in sheer agony as its tail dropped to the ground.

“Now we shouldn't have to fear anything anymore.”, Ornstein said, suddenly standing besides Tempest, who gasped in surprise.

“Other than its teeth and razor sharp claws.”, he said.

“They are easily enough avoided.”, Ornstein said, preparing himself for his dash attack. “Once I wounded it, you come in and give it the final blow.”

Tempest nodded, hoping that his body would obey him. He watched as Ornstein dashed forwards and left a nasty gash in the creature's side with his spear. Tempest ran behind Ornstein as fast as he could, which still felt awfully slow and then drove his sword deep into the creature's open mouth.

It convulsed for a second or two before collapsing into the ground and Tempest could feel how the soul of the creature got drawn to his dark sign. He let himself fell onto the ground, not caring that he would get wet again, and panted heavily.

“Little Storm, are you alright?”, Ornstein asked, having coming over to him.

“Ornstein, that was so scary...”, Tempest said, shuddering. “I barely did anything. You carried the fight. I needed all my strength to survive.”

“And you didn't die.”, Ornstein said, laying a gloved hand on Tempest's shoulder, who flinched at this touch. Normally Ornstein wouldn't get so physical.

“Hm, I guess...”, he said. “Though... if not for you, I don't think I could have won. I probably would have been dead in ten seconds.”

Ornstein's hand disappeared from Tempest's shoulder and he could see the dragon slayer fidgeting. “...It was you who brought me out of my stupor. If not for you, it could have very well been me that would be dead... And you know... it would have been permanent...”

Tempest shuddered, this time not because of the fight, but because of Ornstein's words. “Don't say something like this, Ornstein.”, he said, looking gloomily at the ground. “I don't want to see you dead.”

“Oh? That was very different when we fought in the cathedral.”, Ornstein said.

Tempest shot up, practically yelling: “I didn't know back then! Besides, you killed me like … thirty times and I failed to kill you, so you have no right to talk!”

Ornstein chuckled: “That is the little Storm I want to see. Now, let's find out where we are so that we can find our way back.”

“I hope there will be a bonfire soon. I need to repair my armour, I want o spend my souls and you didn't had a break for a while, Ornstein.”, Tempest hummed, scanning the area and then heading for a tunnel he could spot.

“If you think I need a break to eat, I am still full from breakfast.”, Ornstein said. “I still would like to take your offer on a break, though I don't need more than a few minutes.”

“I will surely need a few minutes at the bonfire, but you can take a longer break than that, Ornstein.”, Tempest said. “Aren't you exhausted after running around the whole morning and fighting?”

“...I was used to much worse.”, Ornstein simply said and dropped the subject altogether.

The tunnel led the duo into a clearing with a bonfire, where Tempest cheerily ran towards and lighted it, working on his armour and on using up soul power while Ornstein disappeared into the bushes for a little while. Strange, he had the feeling he had seen this particular clearing before, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Once Ornstein returned to the bonfire and sat himself down, waiting for Tempest to be finished, he noticed that the little Storm was staring particular hard at a certain wall.

“What are you looking at?”, Ornstein asked, putting the visor of his helmet up to drink a little water.

“...There is a mushroom with a face growing out of this wall.”, Tempest said and pointed at the aforementioned direction.

Ornstein's gaze followed the one of Tempest and once he saw the mushroom that Tempest had mentioned his canteen fell out of his hands. “But... that's.. Elizabeth... this can't be...”, he said, hands shaking.

“Elizabeth? You tell me, that mushroom has a name? Can it talk? I am going to talk to it!”, Tempest exclaimed and ran over to Elizabeth, leaving Ornstein alone with this thoughts.

If that was Elizabeth, then... no, it couldn't be. It had been hundreds of years ago. However... he did had the feeling that he had seen that bird-cat once before, in fact, he was pretty sure he had drawn a picture of it once. Back when he had come to Oolacile to attend Artorias' burial. That had also been when Princess Dusk had introduced him to Elizabeth, the mushroom lady had helped him with a particular bad self induced stomach ache.

Ornstein's gaze wandered to Tempest who was talking with what supposedly was Elizabeth, he seemed excited and... confused. After a while he waved to the mushroom and came back to Ornstein.

“Ornstein, that Elizabeth mushroom said strange stuff.”, he said. “She told me that I came from a far age and then asked me if I could rescue Dusk who has been snatched away by a creature of the abyss. But... but... why did she ask me? Wasn't it Artorias who did this? And what did she mean I came from a far age? I don't understand anything she tried to tell me...”

Ornstein's breath hitched at Tempest's words. Could it be... did... they travel through time...?

“Little Storm...”, he choked out. “You know that the time in Lordran is convoluted.”

Tempest stared at Ornstein with a bewildered look but then nodded: “Yes. This is why I sometimes can see the phantoms of other Undead or the messages they leave and...”, he shuddered at this, “I can even see how they died sometimes.”

Ornstein shook his head: “This situation is different. I mean, everything you said is true, but... that pendant you had... it... threw us a few hundred years back...”

Tempest's eyes grew wide and he searched for the pendant in his belongings: “This old, broken thing?!” He stared very hard and intense at it. “Hey, when it brought us here, maybe it can bring us back.”

“It wasn't the only thing bringing us here.”, Ornstein said. “Remember the vortex?”

“Yes.”, Tempest gave Ornstein a sheepish smile. “You got really mad at me for having touched it.”

“Well, I think we need to find a similar vortex like this...”, Ornstein said. “Then we might be able to find ourselves back in Darkroot Basin at our own time...”

“Hmmm...”, Tempest said. “Elizabeth mentioned something about the abyss. Maybe we should search there?”

“Wait...”, Ornstein said, a hand at his helmet, “Little Storm, what exactly did Elizabeth tell you?”

“Hmmmm.”, Tempest paced up and forth as the tried to recall. “Like I said earlier, that I am not from this age and then she asked me to rescue Dusk. That is the part which confused me because I always thought it was Artorias who did save her.”

Ornstein suddenly shot up and hissed: “Artorias!”

“Huh?”, Tempest said. “What about Artorias? Wait, I think that Elizabeth mentioned him too... Wait, is he still alive in this time?! Is he here? Are you telling me I can meet another knight of Gwyn?!”

“Stop talking, just come with me.”, Ornstein grabbed Tempest's arm and practically dragged the small Undead along. He never thought he would have a chance to relive this fateful day, but here they were. “It might not be too late... We have to hurry!” Next chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/617920779524440064/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-26-fandom-dark

[peyton-warren]

Omg. 🤣😂🤣😂🤣. I need plot behind my smut even if y’all don’t see it.

I should just fucking build a writers tag list. @adulting-sucks @ronearoundblindly @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @jvanilly @nana1000night @neil-gaiman @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @deandoesthingstome

Love when writers do an insane amount of unnecessary research for their fics. I follow an author that did like 8 months of intense research into 14th century Scotland so they could write smut about it, and guess what. It was some fucking incredible porn AND I learned about old Scottish politics