#bigby fanfic

[elaboratedbee]

Love at first fight? Just a funny and cute thought for a Bigby x S/O 🥺

LOVE AT FIRST FIGHT (BIGBY X READER)

hi! this is probably going to be short instead of a fully fledged x reader but i have a lil muse left tonight and this idea is so cute :)

Imprinting was a funny thing.

Bigby's mother had described it to him when he was just a cub, but the concept was always vague. A bedtime story. A fantasy. Some would even call it a fairytale. He would curl up next to her, fidgeting and kicking until he wasn't being crushed by his brothers and sisters, listening to her sweet voice as she lulled him to sleep. Imprinting, when a wolf found their perfect mate. When your eyes locked together, and the world stopped turning, when your heart rearranged itself to make room for somebody else. One singular moment, that changed your entire life's trajectory.

Bigby wasn't a cub anymore, and he had bigger things to worry about than finding a mate. Unlike certain delusional individuals, Bigby was able to accept reality, and accept the shittiness of that reality. He didn't need to coddle himself with religion, or bedtime stories, or some fantasy of true love that didn't exist. Nobody who had seen the things that he had would believe in any of that.

He shoved his free hand into his pocket, taking a long drag of the cigarette perched in the other. He felt the smoke crawl into his lungs, fill up the hole in his chest for the briefest of moments. He held it there for a second, clinging to the feeling before he blew the smoke out. It rolled over his lip, spilling into the night air as he leaned against a lamp post. Even as he took the moment to relax, his eyes were roving the street, searching up and down.

The scream that cut through the air didn't surprise him, but he straightened up immediately. The cigarette fell from his hand, the end glowing orange as he abandoned it on the tarmac below, sprinting toward one of the numerous dark alleyways. He knew something was off -- or maybe something was just always off in Fabletown. He rounded the corner and screeched to a halt, immediately taking in the scene.

"Hey!" He growled, drawing the attention of the mugger who was trying to wrench the bag from your hands. Bigby ran forward and drew his arm back, but before he could even make contact, you beat him to the punch, literally. Your knuckles crashed into the petty criminal's nose with a satisfying crunch, which turned into a fountain of blood.

"Ugh!" You grunted, following it up by grabbing both of his shoulders and driving your knee upward with all your strength, straight into his groin. The man collapsed like oragami in the rain, crumpling to the ground with a choked off noise. He curled in on himself, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. You readjusted your bag onto your back, scowling down at the figure.

Bigby stared, looking remarkably awkward. He had charged forward, adrenaline pumping, prepared for a fight, and now the energy had nowhere to go. It thrummed in his veins, his blood hot, his eyes a little wild. Sometimes, he felt like an addict. "You alri--?" He began to ask gruffly, but he was quickly cut off by you.

"I had that," you snapped at him, brushing yourself off and glaring in his general direction, "I had it handled, I didn't need you to get involved."

Bigby's face soured, and he clenched his fist. He was no stranger to ingratitude for his work around Fabletown though. "Looked like it," he muttered sarcastically, bending down to drag the whimpering criminal's hands together behind his back and cuff them tightly.

"Excuse me?" You stepped closer, putting your hands on your hips and staring down at him.

"Nothing," Bigby said. And then, after a beat, "just that if I hadn't have distracted him, he would have snapped your damn neck. But sure, you had it."

"Oh, and you charging in here like that was smart? It was a robbery! If he hurt me, it would've been because you stormed in here and spooked him," you accused huffily, "do you even fucking think?"

"I'll tell you what I fuckin' think--" Bigby growled, his eyes flashing yellow at being provoked and he stood, dropping the perpetrator flat on his face and standing up straight. He glared at you, this time looking directly into your eyes.

It hit him like a punch, at first. It was nothing like his mother had described, so much so that he didn't recognise what was happening to him. For a second, he wondered if he had taken a silver bullet to the heart. There was a dull pain in his chest that spread outward, as if his heart was cramping, or twisting. He clutched his chest, almost tearing the buttons of his shirt. The feeling spread, becoming nausea in his stomach, like hundreds of butterflies were trying to escape. His legs felt weak, his arms felt shaky, and before he knew it, he was leaning forward. Like a magnet, unable to resist the pull, he found himself drawn in and in and...

"What the fuck are you doing?"

The question snapped him out of it, and he jerked back. He could feel prickly heat from shame and embarrassment crawl down his neck, and he felt vaguely dizzy. How could he even explain himself? How could he tell you that he wanted to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and take you somewhere safe for the rest of your life? To wrap you up in his arms and breathe in your scent. To experience the press of your lips on his. To consume you whole, until you were one.

He had never experienced something like this, and he felt terrified. Vulnerable. With one look, you had ripped him open and examined him, had rearranged his anatomy and made room for yourself. Not just in his heart, but in every part of his body. In every cell, in every atom, you were part of him. You were his mate.

Bigby cleared his throat, "nothing. Do you want to come by the Sheriff's Office tomorrow and make a statement?" He asked flatly, "uh...?" He raised an eyebrow questioningly and gestured vaguely, searching for your name.

"(Y/N)," you supplied with a nod.

Bigby felt like if he didn't know he would see you again, his body might spontaneously combust. "So?" He asked, sounding impatient and bored of the interchange.

"I'll stop by in the morning," you agreed, "and I'll give you a statement telling you exactly how I had it handled..." You winked at him and turned, walking off. Bigby watched you go until you were out of sight.

[little-strawberry100]

I NEED an opinion, or options really. But I have been obsessed with this TellTale Game called "The Wolf Among Us" for the past WEEK, and have been especially obsessed with Bigby Wolf. I've been reading a fic on him on Wattpad and it's made me want to write on there again. The thing is, the Author of that Fic has the Reader as Red Riding Hood, WHICH TOTALLY FITS. I'm just struggling on what other Fable the Reader would be if I were to write an X Reader or X Male Reader, cause I feel like if I were to also go with Red Riding Hood I'd be plagiarizing them AND THATS THE LAST THING I WANT!!

(Bigby X Reader fic by OneArtsyGamer03 on Wattpad, I'd check it out, it's SOO GOOD!!)

[lil-ms-darkness]

Skin Like Gingerbread - Bigby Wolf x Fem! Goldilocks! Reader

A/N: Hey, hello, hi, so I did not intend for this to become a full blown story, it was meant to just be a couple of sweet one shots because Bigby Wolf and Fables by Bill Willingham is awesome. Yet, here we are, on part three of an unexpected series.

I don't really know how many parts are going to be in this, but I hope you enjoy. I'll create a post linking all of the parts and I'll update it as I post new chapters, that way they're all in one place for all of you who enjoy this series. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. 'Til Next Time! ^.^

Lil_Ms_Darkness

Content Warnings: Description of dead bodies, description of anxiety/panic

Bigby walks up to a squat brown building sandwiched between two five-story tall buildings. A metal framed door with a small frosted glass window is propped open with a chair under a worn green canopy. There is graffiti on the walls around the two larger buildings and some on one of the windows. Bigby approaches the small building and inside he finds 20 tables pushed side to side to make three long tables. Plastic chairs have been pushed to the tables, where Mundies sit and enjoy plates of food. 

He looks over to his right to find another table with an array of paper plates, plastic utensils, paper cups, and four people work quickly to fill the plates with green beans, mashed potatoes, a large piece of fried chicken, and a small scoop of mixed fruit. The cups are filled with juice that smells of too much sugar. People move around the space, people coming out with more food from a back room, but his gaze lands on a young woman. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail of dirty blonde hair that falls out of a navy bandana with stars and crescent moons, exposing her strong jaw and high cheekbones. Vibrant blue eyes focus on the food as she works, her slender gloved hands generously filling the plates, and by extension, many hungry bellies. He wonders how [Y/N] has never met her, they’re extremely similar. Almost eerily so. 

”Her name is Amelia.” Woody said, looking away from the Sheriff. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Where does Amelia live?” Bigby asked, arms folded.

“Why do you need to know that?”

“To corroborate your alibi, you’re still a suspect. Be grateful I’m not taking you to the Business Office for holding, until I can prove your innocence.”

Woody glared at him and his nostrils flared,

“I already told you, Wolf, I’m not a murderer! I’ve said it, [Y/N] has said it!”

“Where does she live?” Bigby asked again, his thick brows pulling together in annoyance.

Woody squared his shoulders and Bigby clenched his fists, but both of them could feel silent eyes on them, warning them against brawling without a word. Woody sighed, “I won’t tell you where she lives, but she volunteers at a soup kitchen in the Bronx. It opens at nine, and she never misses it.” 

“What’s the name of it?”

“The Cozy Spot.” 

Bigby nodded and his gaze had drifted back to [Y/N], sitting quietly on the couch. She continued to stare out the window after the two didn’t start exchanging blows.

“[Y/N],” he called, and she turned to look at him slowly, silently. Her eyes were distant, wounded. He hated the look of that distance, “-go to the Business Office. Tell Snow you’re to stay there until I get back. You’re under watch until I’m convinced your life is not in danger.” 

She pushed herself up and walked away towards the front door, stopping briefly at Woody’s side. She looked up at him, offering a small smile.

“I’ll see you later, thank you for your help today.”

Now, Amelia briefly looks up at him as he approaches. She offers a kind smile, grabbing a plate before her brows furrow in recognition, then widen slightly.

“Oh, Mr. Wolf,” her voice is warm and inviting, but he can tell she’s nervous. “I, uh, how can I help you?”

“I need to ask you some questions.” he answers, gaze drifting to the others still filling plates. A young man looks up at them, curiously, then focuses on Amelia.

“It’s okay, Mel, I’ll cover for you.” he smiles, softly. She smiles at him in return and his cheeks tint before he returns to work. Amelia removes her gloves and drops them in the trash, then she unties her apron and hangs it on the wall hook. She guides him to the back room, through the kitchen and into a small office like room. She closes the door and looks at him. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Wolf? I don’t think I’ve ever been visited by you before.” she says, regarding him, cautiously. She takes a step back and sits in the chair, folding her legs and keeping her hands close to herself. He isn’t surprised by her defensive body language, everyone in Fabletown keeps their guard up with him around. It’s both beneficial and a pain in the ass.

“Were you with the Woodsman last night?” 

“Yes, why?”

“He’s a suspect in a case, when were you and the Woodsman together?”

“Oh, uh, I’d say from seven, yesterday evening, to seven this morning,” she examines his face, concern written across her face, “What kind of case is it?” she asks, voice wavering slightly. 

“Don’t worry about it. That’s a long visit, why did he leave so late?” 

“His friend called and said she needed his help. I didn’t ask too many questions,” she shifts, uncomfortably under his gaze. “I’d like to know what he’s a suspect in.”

Bigby shakes his head, “You’re not getting it out of me, so don’t bother unless you want to piss me off;” she frowns as he continues, “Have you noticed anything strange?”

“Like what?”

“Strange people hanging around that you haven’t seen before, an old friend who you haven't heard from in a while suddenly appearing, anything out of the norm?” he asks but she only shakes her head.

“No, nothing like that.”

He nods, She doesn’t seem to be a target. Yet, anyway. But that clears Woody “Thank you for your time.”

She nods and stands, walking to the door to walk him out, but he stops her. “You know you’re not supposed to be interacting with the Mundies like this.” 

She glances over her shoulder at him, “I give back to anyone who needs it, Mundies are no exception.” and she’s out the door. He sighs, not wanting to bother with this when he has much more pressing matters to attend to. As she returns to her station, he makes his way out the door. Standing outside, he walks down the street towards the main street before waving down a taxi. He climbs in the back, gives the address and leans back into the seat. He looks out the window at the passing buildings and people, other cars and street signs. In his mind, a murder map begins to take shape- 

Whoever the killer is, knows [Y/N] well enough to know what she wears to work, knows her scent. Red, the Woodsman, the Bears - but the Bears are at the Farm, if they had left Snow would know about it. Woody was cleared by Amelia, and Red hasn’t been seen in at least a century. He digs a knuckle into his temple as he traces the lines of the map along the glass with his gaze. Who else knew Goldy personally? He thought about her soft eyes, the muffin with butter, the way she spoke to him without a care. He sighs, Who doesn’t know her? She’s not exactly subtle.

The taxi slows to a stop outside the Business Office and he climbs out, steps to the passenger side and holds out some cash.

“Keep the change,” he muses, and the driver snorts.

“Thanks,” the driver grumbles, pulling off. Bigby pushes open the gate and closes it behind him. Trusty John, the doorman, smiles and opens the door for him,

“Good morning, Sheriff.” 

Bigby nods his greeting and steps inside, where Grimble sits, arms folded and eyes drooping. When he sees Bigby, he perks up and nods a greeting, but Bigby has already seen him. He says nothing, though, he’s used to Grimble falling asleep on the job. He makes his way to the large room where King Cole and Snow White keep the Fable community running and beyond human detection. Snow sits at her desk, sifting through papers. King Cole is not here, which is not surprising. 

He looks around, but is surprised to find that [Y/N] is not present, either. A knot in his gut begins to tense. He approaches Snow, and she lifts her face from her work as he steps up.

“Bigby,” she sighs in what sounded suspiciously like relief, “I’ve been waiting for you, a woman is here. She said you told her to come here and wait for you.”

“I did, where is she?”

“Waiting in your office,” He nods, comforted that [Y/N] made it safely, the knot releasing slightly. He turns to walk back towards the door, but the sound of Snow’s chair scraping against the floor as she stands stops him in his tracks, “Do you have any leads on the murderer yet?”

Bigby turns halfway and looks towards her, “I’m still working on it. I have a few possibilities, though. Are all non-human looking Fables accounted for on the Farm?”

“As far as I’m aware, none of them have left, but I’ll call and double check.” she pushes in her chair and a strand of coal black hair cascades past her shoulder. Bigby watches her for a brief moment before he turns and walks out the door, making his way down the hallway towards his office. 

Inside the small room, [Y/N] sits in one of the small chairs in front of Bigby’s desk. She reaches over and gathers some of the pens littering his desk and the pair on the floor. She caps them and carefully drops them back into the pen holder that was laying on its side when she’d entered. She leaves the folders and papers scattered around his desk as they are, lest she make more work for him, or ruin his train of thought for other cases. 

She twirls a strand of hair in her fingers, looking around the room. It smells of cigarettes and must, although it’s not a body odor kind of must. It’s not pleasant, but it’s not unbearable either. She stands and walks around, touching the metal filing cabinets and the lip of the wooden desk. With a bored sigh, she walks around the desk and sits down in Bigby’s chair. It’s not comfortable, and she feels bad for his back and butt. She looks at the files and her hand traces the edges of one of the manila folders, his words echoing in her mind. ”-a woman is DEAD. Dead and gone.” 

She feels her throat tighten and the back of her neck feels suddenly cold. A woman was dead, and everyone thought it was her. Her hand slips up to her throat, as if trying to feel her pulse and prove that she’s still alive. 

She feels bile rise in her throat and the edges of her jaw feel tight, like she’s sucking on something sour. Nausea hits her quick and hard and she leans over, trying to get her breathing under control. She closes her eyes and tries to inhale and exhale, slowly. It calms her after a good few breaths, and she leans back in the chair, desperately trying to keep away thoughts of her own dead body. She wonders if she’s any better than the murderer, the woman was murdered and glamoured to look like her. The woman was a message, and it was her fault. That woman died because of her. 

She wheezes again and the bitter pucker of her jowls returns, Is it the Bears? Are they coming after me after all this time? Could it be-

A low groan from the door startles her and every muscle in her body tenses, goosebumps raising on her flesh as she stands on instinct. The Sheriff steps through the door and she sighs quietly in relief, but then the memory of his rudeness at her apartment comes back up. She doesn’t miss the quirked brows as he notices her on the other side of his desk, but glancing at his desk, he makes no remark about it. She walks around as he nods a greeting before closing the door. Any other time, she’d be delighted to see him, relieved by his presence she found oddly comforting. Despite what everyone said about him, how they made him out to be, he made her feel safe. But now, she’s upset by the familiar relaxation crossing her shoulders. She wants to be upset with him, she has every right to be, doesn’t she?

"A woman is DEAD. Dead and gone" Her chest feels tight again, and she folds her legs as guilt creeps out from her bones. She smooths out the skirt of her dress, “What do we do now?” she asks, quietly. 

Bigby examines her, the slump in her shoulders, the uncertainty in her eyes, the subtle shake in her voice. He reaches into his pocket and grabs his pack of cigarettes, momentarily deciding whether he wants to smoke in front of her or not. It’s his space, but she doesn’t like smoke- since when did he care if someone liked smoke or not? He pulls out his pack and pulls out a cigarette. 

“Now, I decide who’s going to shadow you.” He muses as he tucks the pack back into his pocket, walking around and sitting in his chair. He ignores the low moan the chair gives out under his weight. 

She nods, slowly and avoids his gaze. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

“I have a few theories, but no solid lead yet.” he answers and leans in to examine her. She shrinks back slightly under his intense gaze. 

“Sheriff, I-” she starts and he waits for her to finish, already able to tell she’s trying to find the proper way to say it, “I’m sorry…It didn’t really hit me that someone is…dead. I didn’t mean to make your job harder for you. I really don’t think Woody is the killer, but I’ll stay out of your way.”

He’s surprised to hear her apologize, even more so to find that it sounds genuine. He doesn’t think Woody is the killer, either, and Amelia’s testimony that he was with her is enough to prove he was with her until [Y/N] needed him. Then again- “You were protecting someone you care about. Loyalty like that is hard to come by. I do have a question, though.”

She looks up at him, finally, “Okay.” 

“What time did you call Woody for help?” 

“Oh, I think around 6:30 am? I can check my phone, just a minute,” she reaches into the pocket of her dress and pulls out a small flip phone, navigating through it quickly. Even with how efficient she is, he’s amazed, technology always seemed to be against him, so he chose a mostly tech-less life. As she pushes buttons on the device, she trembles slightly. The realization must have hit her hard “-6:48 am, Sheriff. That’s when I called him to ask for help. He said he was with a friend but he’d head over to help me.” 

He nods, “Alright.” he moves to take a drag off his cigarette, but his eyes spot it- unlit. He’d forgotten to even light the damn thing. He reaches into his pocket to find his lighter. 

“If I may ask, who are you thinking of watching over me?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Woody, most likely.” he pulls out his lighter and lights it, but before he can bring it to the tip of his cigarette, she speaks up again.

“Can I make a request as to who?” her eyes move up to him and he tries to hide his surprise, but he isn’t very successful.

“Depends,” he says, finally lighting his cigarette, “who do you want?”

“You?” her voice is quiet, again, as she looks at her hands in her lap.

“Me? I’m going to be too busy to keep an eye on you.”

“I can come with you to the crime scenes, maybe even help you.”

“You could damage evidence.”

“In my line of work, I know how to avoid leaving fingerprints on icing, and I’m not as clumsy as most people think. Besides,” she nervously shifts in her chair, “you’re the only person I feel genuinely safe with.” 

He takes a drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side before looking at her again. He knows it’s best to say no, to refuse and send her to Woody, but part of him is intrigued. He meets her gaze, and he sighs, wanting to allow it, but it’s not safe. If he’s too distracted by her, he won’t be able to do his job. Flicking some of the ash into an ashtray on his desk, he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. What about Red? It would give you both a chance to catch up.” he says, leaning back in his chair.

She frowns and sighs, but she doesn’t seem all too surprised, as if she’d expected him to say no. “Maybe you’re right, I haven’t seen her in a while. Am I free to go now?” 

He nods, “If anything happens, call the Business Office. Have Woody accompany you to Red’s.” 

She stands, examining him for a moment before she heads for the door. She pauses and looks over at him,

“Please find the person who did this?”

“I will.” 

She smiles, somberly and walks out, closing the  door gently behind her.

He groans quietly, rubbing his face with one hand, a cherry dropping onto the floor by his shoe. 

The body of the glamoured Goldilocks was taken to the Business Office, discreetly, and had been laid on a stone slab with intricacies carved into the body, and a triquetra chiseled into the sides. In the Witching Well chamber, only King Cole, Snow White, Boy Blue, and Ichabod Crane would disturb him, but he knows none of them will do so. The silence is heavy as his steps echo through the chamber, the only sound to keep him grounded. 

As Bigby walks up, he can smell gingerbread and baked bread, sweets, and death. Her skin is paler than when he’d first seen her, and he takes a breath before he examines her body. He brushes some of her curls aside to get a good look at the bruise around her throat, it is darker than the last time he’d seen her. Her right shoulder sits lower than her left, and he wonders how he missed it. He takes a closer look, 

“Dislocated,” his gaze drifts up to her throat, “did the attacker come from behind? When she fought back, her shoulder got dislocated on purpose or by accident?” He carefully pulls down her dress just enough to check for more injuries without leaving [Y/N] indecent. He stops and corrects his thoughts, It’s not [Y/N]. It’s just a glamour. He quirks a brow as he spots a lump in her left breast, and he hesitates, then examines her face. He considers calling for Snow, briefly, then lifts the top of her dress and reaches in. He finds the more solid fabric of her bra, and reaches further before he grabs the item and quickly pulls it out of the victim's undergarments. He looks at her lifeless face, “Sorry, I had to if I want to find your killer.”

He lifts up a small tube and twists off the top, dropping out a single strand of [Y/N]’s golden hair and an incredibly small sack doll that looks like her. His jaw sets and he looks at the two items before the body glows bright green, illuminating Bigby’s shadow on the ground behind him, and bouncing off the wall on the other side. A woman with dark brown hair and pallid olive skin takes the place of the glamoured Fable, and his eyes widen as he takes in the scent.

She’s a Mundie

The bruises around her throat remain just as gruesome as they did before the glamour faded. 

A Mundie was taken, glamoured to look like a Fable, and then murdered. He clenches his jaw, as everything settles in his mind. It’s worse than he thought at first, so much worse. He looks over her body and sighs, not even knowing who she is. He sighs, and his gaze lands on her clenched fists. He reaches down and tucks his fingers under hers, but her fingers are hard and stiff- rigor mortis. He tries to be as gentle as he can before giving up and forcing her hand open, hearing a grotesque crunch as he does so. A small crumpled paper falls out onto the stone slab. He picks it up, unfolds it and reads it. His eyes widen and he growls, “DAMNIT!” He turns and sprints out of the Witching Well chamber- 

We know what you did, Wolf. Your hands are stained. -Red Riding Hood

[ghcstpyre]

ash 💚 25 💚 she/they 💚 reader insert writing blog 💚 keanu reeves brainrot

*•.¸♡ guidelines. masterlist. muse list. about me.

requests: OPEN! 🧡 asks: OPEN!

follows back from @ashtnketchup

currently writing for: ted "theodore" logan / eddie munson / john constantine

divider by @/strangergraphics

[i-am-mystic]

Peter discovers a new kink.

Bigby can turn green

Reynauld limit breaks

Dismas says IGNIS

[voidscarredadjudicator]

FABLES IS PUBLIC DOMAIN NOW, THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!

[press-f-to-rat]

So. I might have done a thing. A friend (LOOKING AT YOU @kingassblast ) got me into Darkest Dungeon. And I got attached to Bigby and now I've been writing about my new favorite little scrungly pretty much non-stop.

We were just rambling to each other in DMs when suddenly, I had an idea for a prompt: "Paracelsus' research of the Beast finally amounts to something."

And so, I got to writing a little bit :))) Naturally, this isn't canon compliant, but simply a little what if. I know a lot of people (Myself included) really like to make Para and Bigby friends, so. I wanted to write a little something that perhaps would create a rift between them :) a little angst, as a treat :))

Anyway, that's enough rambling from me. Hope you enjoy!! It's below the "read more" :)

'Y-you created your own?!" Bigby's voice thundered through the air, shaking all the delicate glassware Paracelsus kept in her laboratory. "A-and not just that, but—You...you inflicted it upon yourself? V-Voluntarily?!" His voice trembled with some form of horrified rage, that anyone would willingly bring his own wretched curse upon themself.

Paracelsus, on the other hand, spoke with her typical level-headedness, though she could not stop the flow of cool indignation bubbling up from deep within her. “But think of the progress that will come of this! Should you not be glad that perhaps your curse might bring about some good?"

“What g-good could outweigh the d-damage done by bringing another m-m-monster into the world?!"

She could see the green ichor bulging in his veins with every word, the outlines only growing more apparent with his rage.

“Bigby," the Plague Doctor countered, "I have it entirely under my control. My experiments have made sure of that. It cannot harm anyone unless I will it.”

“Th-That is what it wants you to think! And then—wh-when your guard is down—it will exact i-its vengeance!" His voice felt edged with the bile of his blood, seeping from the dark recesses of his mind, where the Beast lurked. Betrayal—That was what this was! She had betrayed his trust! He had thought she would help him—Use the Eldritch poison in his veins to ease the curse. But this! No, no good could come of this. This was madness.

“If I knew that th-this is what y-you were going to use m-m-my blood for, then—I n-never would have let you h-have it.” The words burned in the air where they hung, hot with fury and pain.

There was a pang in Paracelsus’ chest—Was that guilt? Oh, but she knew guilt, and she knew how to bottle it away in her mind like any other poison she’d dealt with. “Then you’re simply ignorant to the potential it holds.” She hissed.

Bigby said nothing. Instead, his blood boiling with rage, he stretched his lips into a snarl, showcasing row after row of sharp, animalistic fangs. A roar erupted from his throat as he tore out of her laboratory, nearly ripping the door off its hinges and slamming it behind him so hard the building shook.

The Plague Doctor sighed wearily, removing the thick, leather gloves she wore to reveal her own hands, unexpectedly transfigured into scaly claws. She flexed her fingers and clicked her ebony talons against one another, feeling her brows furrow beneath her mask. Perhaps that conversation had affected her more than she thought.

Perhaps… perhaps this was a mistake.

But there was no going back from here. Her choice was made, and no matter what happened, she would have to live with it.

It was only now that she took the time to question… What had she done?

[coffee-in-veins]

Day 30: Horrors of the Deep

an entry for darkest prompts promptober 2022  

previous days: 1, 2, 3,  4, 5, 6,  7,  8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29

now available on ao3 too

Horror NOUN - an intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust; a thing causing a feeling of horror.

* * *

I sleep like the dead, nonetheless, I am lucid If dreams have a meaning, perhaps I should tune in To the signal that beckons, familiar it seems Be silent, you might see yourself in its beams

-- Nightmares never End by JT Music

When the scariest thing he had ever met that pretended to be an aristocratic woman offered him payment for going into some sarded bowels of fuck-knows-what infested Estate, Dismas was pretty sure he read the contract carefully and it didn't say anything about herding some cats. Sure, being in a group required some adjustment to both team’s tactics and personal performances. Required communication skills most of them – solitary by either life, rank or choice – sorely lacked. But it was doable for the most part. Those who couldn’t find someone who would’ve tolerated them at the very least, quickly found themselves to be conveniently sacrificed to keep others alive.

And yet, when he looked at his current predicament, this was the only thing that came to mind. Being set up as a fucking cat herder. And he hated the bastards! Cats. Not his teammates.

Well. Usually.

Because currently he was stuck in a cave with three people who were dead-fucking-set on drowning in brine as he drowned himself in the remainder of whiskey which was mercifully spared from the sad fate of being used for cleaning wounds by being quaffed first.

“Pathetic,” he heard a hiss behind him, followed by a smack. “You lack the will of the Light. How dare you even call yourself the sister of battle?”

“Pain is a gift from the holy Flame,” came an immediate answer, fifth if the highwayman was counting properly which he most likely wasn’t. “I cherish it! Again! I beg you, the messenger of the blessed Light, I… I sinned so grievously!”

Dismas rubbed his face tiredly and took another swing, shaking a few straggler drops of whiskey from the empty flask on his eager tongue. He had an odd respect for teachers and parents now. They only slapped their kids with their hands or maybe rods. Currently, he wished he could strangle this whole moron circus, but even more than that he wanted to come back to his pillow alive. He would sleep it off and drown himself in enough whiskey to forget this all like a nightmare, and he cared not if he had to steal some of Rey’s cut to be able to afford so much booze. Or if he could survive such intoxication. Or how the insufferable knight would have to put in the actual elbow grease to pull him back from the blackout this time. Anything that was capable of bleaching this all from his head and eyes was fair game by this point. And frankly, this was Reynauld’s fault, so it was only fair that he would have to clean up the mess.

Another smack, followed by the feverish:

“Pain is the gateway to divinity! It hurts, yes… B-but also… oh, sweet Light, go through me through your messenger!”

Sure, the brigand was in no way, shape or form a religious man but even he knew that was not a tone for a holy prayer.

“Eyes down while addressing a holy man, you cowering sheep!”

Another slap.

Despite his better judgement, Dismas’ already hard dick made an appreciative twitch, which only added to his mounting irritation. And that same holy prick had the audacity to chastise him for “degeneracy” when the ex-brigand asked for a mere slap on the face! Or the balls to have a freak out when he caught the rogue with a knife and fresh cuts on the back of his arm – oh, that one was a disaster that ended up in a shouting match and Dismas being dragged first to Cloister and then to Paracelsus to make sure that he wasn’t insane and dangerous to himself. Which he obviously was – duh, why else would he end up in Hamlet otherwise? – but not by the measurement which sufficed his hospitalization, much to Rey’s surprise.

And now that same bloody knight was doing things that Dismas wanted him to do to him for so long and while he was sitting right fucking there, Reynauld, for sard’s sake, to his face, literally, with someone else--

Now, he shouldn’t finish that thought if he knew what was good for them both, tempting as it was. And as if he was even more cursed than he usually was, there was not even a drop of whiskey left to shut up his mind. He wasn’t hurt! Why would he be hurt if Reynauld was slapping around someone else, stressed out of his goddamn zealous mind – enough to make all the church glisten fall off and reveal an ugly, cracked core?

Dismas wasn’t hurt.

And that was the point of him being pissed off so much.

He wanted some de-stressing too, for sard’s sake.

The ex-brigand took a calming breath, trying to switch his irritation to something else. Like the smell of a rotting urca carcass. Or that the map was washed away by the tide. Or that he was out of gunpowder. Or that the supposed monster of a man, chained and insisting that he was dangerous for everyone involved, fell into sobbing melancholy when Rey snapped at him one too many times and was now covering near one of the stalactites. Or that this is what their supposed soothing camping quickly dissolved into.

Oh, sod it.

“I fear I am trapped inside of it,” he heard a weak voice beside him. Bigby was rocking back and forth, rattling his locks and chains. “An eternal nightmare…”

Dismas shook his trusty flask, hoping to hear some drops splashing inside, but alas, so he hid it and patted the dangly man’s shoulder.

“Relatable, man.”

“Better that someone strong face these monsters,” the man repeated, hiding his face in his knees. “I don’t want to see those nightmares, I don’t want to…”

The ex-brigand winced at the sound of another smack, feeling that his pants will need a wash not only from all the blood and mucus, and forced himself to look away from the scene which was more suited for a brothel than for two supposedly holy people:

“Ya n’ me both, pal, ya n’ me both.”

“Soon my fate will be upon me,” Bigby finally spared him a glance. “And you.”

“Well, ain’t ya the ray of sunshine in this shithole, feh.”

Unfortunately, the cursed one refused to acknowledge his prodding and the highwayman remained alone with accompaniment he would rather not acknowledge. Oh well. It wasn’t like the knowledge that his life was bent over a crooked fence was anything new to Dismas. He just never imagined it was that bent over.

With yet another irritated sigh, Dis tried to relax his tense muscles and have some respite during this mixed bag of insanities, but there was an irritating tapping of dripping water on his shoulder. He moved to the side, but the tapping remained. So he moved once more, cussing the piss-sprinkling brine and the humid caves, but the water grabbed his shoulder and—

Wait, what?

“Dismas, by Light’s grace, how can you behave in a manner so undignifying? Being tossed out of that den of sin and into the mud does not befit a warrior!”

Ow, his head. Ow, why was the crusader so fucking loud? No, he was usually loud but… ugh…

“Where’s… Junia?” Dis slurred as the knight tugged him up and onto his shoulders.

“In the transept where she should be.”

“n’… Bigby?”

“I care not where that atrocity dwells,” Rey grunted as he lifted him and stomped angrily towards the barracks. “Light, grant me your strength. Dis, you reek.”

“Of brine?”

“Of booze!” the crusader snapped and complained. “I just washed that shirt for you! Do you know how hard it is…”

But all Dismas could think about was the existential crisis of having a stiffy to a nightmare about a religious sadist slapping a religious masochist while having a nightmare of not having any booze and yearning for a pillow.

What the fuck was even his life.

[riddle-me-ri]

a/n: *gasp* a fanfic in 2024?? and it's not batman rogues?? Well..atleast it's...somewhat kinda sorta was DC comics?? I really wanna make this blog more..multi-verse based. So here's my shot at a "The Wolf Among Us" one-shot with Bigby Wolf and a female reader. This was a combination of re-reading the comics and watching way too many Tex Avery cartoons rip and despite all the other stuff I wanna work on I just had to get this story written and out there lmao who doesn't love the typical club singer openly flirting with the main character?? It's a classic right?

Content Warning: slightly suggestive heavy touching and flirting, but nothing explicit.

Word Count: 1.1 k

Bigby Wolf x F!Reader - Zeroing In

You push back the curtain just enough to see a tiny slit into the crowd beyond the stage.

You tried to focus your vision to pierce through the smoky haze that filtered the room and the figures in the audience. 

You kept your eyes peeled for a certain gentleman in particular…

You've been trying to get Bigby Wolf to come to your shows for a while, but he declined. Always too busy or preoccupied somehow but he always mentioned “maybe some other time.���  

You only managed to reel him in tonight because you mentioned how a possible suspect of his often frequented the club you performed at.

Knowing his persistence for answers, he couldn't deny the invitation…

And maybe…just maybe you could entice him to keep coming back for you.

You inhaled softly when you finally managed to make out his rich brown slicked back locks and warm brown eyes. 

Some muffled giggles left your lips as you saw him look around with a look of indifference but also on alert for who could possibly be the suspect you informed him about.

“All right, you almost ready, girlie? You gotta full house tonight, looks like even the sheriff swung by…dunno what the hell he wants but I’ma need you to put the customers at ease…lighten them up the best way you know how ‘k gorgeous?” 

“Yes ma'am!” You replied over your shoulder. 

“Who are ya lookin’ out for anyway?” Your boss, Carol asked, her head tilted in a curious angle. 

You giggled fondly to yourself as you stole one last glance at Bigby before you had to put on a straight sultry face. 

“A lady has her secrets…” You teased as you backed away from behind the curtain and straightened out your dress. 

Carol shook her head with a smile. “Eh, sure keep your secrets, girlie.” 

You winked at your boss before taking your position in front of the curtain. 

As the curtain slowly pulled back, you began your sexy saunter across the stage in time to the smooth jazz number that started playing. 

Cheers, whistles, and soft applauds welcomed you as patrons took delight in the bits of skin your dress revealed as you began singing your seductive tune.

You tried not to immediately lock eyes with Bigby, even as tiny shocks of excitement coursed through you from feeling his eyes on you.

Mid-way into your song, you began to slowly make your way down the stage and into the audience. 

You began teasing some of the audience members as you strutted around the floor. You'd let your hand glide across one man's shoulders, another you'd pat his cheek.

You couldn't help but notice Bigby shifting in his seat out of the corner of your eye. 

You giggled inwardly, you weren't about to leave him out. 

As you slowly approached the sheriff, you couldn't deny the stretch at the corners of your lips, slightly breaking your seductive aura to show genuine delight. 

You quickly recompose yourself however, as you began softly singing the bridge of the song. 

As the band played an instrumental portion, you wrapped your arm around Bigby's neck while your other arm brought your hand to cup the side of his face. 

His eyebrows raised slightly as his eyes try not to look into yours.

You could feel him gasp under his breath as you graciously and freely sat side-saddle in his lap. Your proud smirk didn’t fade as he glanced at you with a surprised, hesitant expression. 

You wished he would naturally react to the mood and wrap his arms around you, but he seems to have his hands deadlocked to the arms of his chair.

You almost jump out of your skin when he harshly whispers into your ear, his hot breath fanned your exposed shoulder. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

“My job…like you.” You whispered softly back. 

Bigby huffed, before grumbling, “Where is he?”

You comb back a bit of his hair as you slide off his lap. “I’ll show you…”

In an attempt to not be super obvious, you engage with other patrons before getting to the suspect. 

When you finally got to the suspect, you teasingly caressed the underside of his chin with your index finger, before you made sure to make eye contact with Bigby.

He nodded as he looked down at the man who had such a lovestruck look on his face he didn’t even notice the sheriff taking inventory of him.

You head back to center stage and finish your performance with a glamorous flourish before the curtain falls as the club is filled with rampant applause and whistles. 

You exhaled as if you had been holding your breath underwater throughout the whole performance.

You’ve been singing for as long as you can remember. You’ve performed for plenty of audiences all over…and somehow this performance seemed the most nerve-wracking and the longest one to you. 

“So…the sheriff, huh?” Carol inquired with a smirk. “Can’t say I saw that one coming.” She handed you a cup of water. 

“Oh, shush,” you take the cup from her hand. “...a girl can dream, right?” 

“Hey, for Fables, the lives we live and where we come from…dreams are just the beginning.” 

You offer a small half smile before making your way back to your dressing room. 

Suddenly all the confidence you had going into the night started dissipating as you realized that perhaps, you should let go of this infatuation you have. He didn’t seem all to pleased or eager by your stunt…or maybe you just genuinely caught the sheriff off-guard…

You two get along fine. You’re able to converse with him casually, you were one of the few Fables outside of the Woodlands that weren’t either sour with him or scared of him. One of the few that you felt were genuinely in his corner. 

At least…you hoped he felt that way, at the very least. He may not hold any romantic feelings for you, and you could live with that, but you wanted him to at least know he had someone who believed in him. 

You began wiping off your make-up in your mirror when you noticed through the reflection of your room that something was slipped under your door. 

When you turned around you half-expected nothing to be there and your eyes were playing tricks, but surely enough there was a tiny folded up piece of paper there. 

As you tightened the belt around your robe, you walked over to pick up the note. 

You unraveled the note to see some hastily drawn handwriting that you can barely make out. 

Hey-

Thanks for the tip, I was able to get the guy and hopefully he’ll spill his guts soon enough. 

Also, I enjoyed your performance tonight, despite the heart attack you gave me. 

May come back to see you one of these nights. 

Stay safe and see you around.

-Bigby

A tiny flutter filled your chest as a small slowly grows across your face. You cling the tiny note to your chest and let out a tiny excited squeal. 

You couldn’t wait to head home and get some sleep to dream of what’s to come.

[elaboratedbee]

As a fellow Bigby lover, I must share my latest thought: I’ve been unable to shake the thought of Bigby being super reluctant to discipline his kids as youngsters. It HURTS to be the one to say no or have to send them to time out, especially when they cry about it. 🫠

idk how i didn't see this but you are sO INCREDIBLY CORRECT

everyone expects bigby to keep his kids on a tight leash and be pretty harsh with them (because does he have another setting?) but they're all very very wrong

bigby literally is obsessed with his kids, but he has a lot of insecurities and anxiety about being a father, which he hates talking about because he's repressed as fuck. he sees himself as a monster, and he's terrified the whole time before becoming a dad that he's going to struggle with staying in control around them, or that he's not going to be around for them like his father wasn't. he doesn't want his kids to turn out like him, he wants them to be better

this basically manifests itself in bigby... being a gigantic softie for his babies

he cannot say no to them for the life of him, especially when they get upset or beg or cry, he gives in 9/10 times which is absolutely awful and just causes more problems because they're used to getting their way lmao.

he is very very soft with them, he's the kind of dad who cannot handle his children growing up whatsoever, he literally carries them everywhere and he hates when he has to step in and discipline them, but he does reluctantly do so when they're fighting with one another. even though he knows logically he is in the right, and would be actively letting them down if he didn't parent them, his insecurities play on their mind when they're upset and he feels like a monster. he feels super guilty whenever they're sad or unhappy with him. it’s pretty funny, because he’s the sheriff, so he should be good at handing out punishments, he’s just not when it comes to his little ones

if anyone comments on his parenting or even WORSE?? his kids behaviour, he literally picks them up and puts them on his hip and becomes that 'don't talk to me or my son ever again' meme because his kid did NOTHING wrong you fuckin prick

bonus: bigby has an extra soft spot for the runt of the litter like his mother did for him (darien calls winter the runt a lot), and would be extra extra soft and always pay them special attention, just giving them a little bit of extra love and protection to make sure they know how loved and cared for they are, maybe taking their side a little more often than is justified :')

[little-strawberry100]

I fear I may be very VERY OBSESSED with game 'The Wolf Among Us' to the point of actually doing school work on it.

I'm writing a whole argumentative essay for "Is Black Market Glamour as bad as the Fables think it is?" In my AP English class, and in Crative writing we are working on character development in which I made an OC which is basically just the Reader in the Fanfic I'm writing for Bigby on Wattpad and Ao3. (It's to help me understand how I want the Reader to act and why she is helping Fabletown as the Deputy.)

[iaus]

okay. i figured it out. putting this under a read more because i'm absolutely fucking bonkers and this went deeper than i expected to.

wall of text under the read more eheheh.

let's start out with jace (my beloved) who made making a character sheet so easy by being an obviously straight up sorcerer. i'm making the assumption that all teachers at aguefort somehow got to level 20. and here is what i came up with using standard array, no rolls:

strength: 10 (+0) dexterity: 14 (+2) constitution: 17 (+3) intelligence: 8 (-1), it is a 5 in my heart but i'm not messing with numbers for standard array purposes. wisdom: 12 (+1), which i think is in line with canon because i feel like i remember him having to make a WIS save and bleem said he only had a +1 charisma: 20 (+5), i think an argument could be made for his CHA to be higher but i don't... remember him doing any damage spells or having to make and CHA saves so. again, for standard array purposes i'm leaving it. he's at least 22 CHA in my heart.

but so with all the numbers out of the way... that leaves figuring out spell splots/subclass. because of fanfic (do i need to namedrop? we know what fic) i went with divine sorcerer.

gave him heightened, subtle, quickened, and careful metamagics but could be convinced of others.

for feats i lined him up with:

fey touched: misty step without giving up a learned spell slot as well as a +1 to CHA bringing it to 18 actor: +1 charisma to bring CHA to 19 as well as advantage on deception and performance checks when trying to pass yourself off as a different person. prodigy: expertise to deception as well as proficiency with a language and tool kit didn't think about language or tool proficiency... but i am strangely fond of jace having proficiency with a forgery kit. skill expert feat for another +1 to round him out to CHA 20 (as well as expertise in persuasion).

now i also figured that even if he isn't an adventurer, he might have some gear so gear wise i gave him a ring of protection, bloodwell vial +3 (brings his spell save to a whopping 22), and a barrier tattoo (rare) which sets him at a comfortable 18 AC and takes up 3 attunement slots. (i know he did not have 18 AC but i love him more than bleem)

now. spells.

taking into consideration that jace has canonically used or implied to use: enlarge/reduce, misty step, counterspell, bigby's hand, and flesh to stone (which... i hadn't realized was a sorcerer spell), and detect magic. that leaves SOME wiggle room with the rest of his spells.

this is the spell list i generated thinking about my own characterization of him and considering that i think he might've been more used for control magics and they probably would have used oisin for more offensive stuff since... wizard.

and as i was typing this i realized that jace and oisin did use some sort detect thoughts or something.... though. it could have also been a dominate spell? anyway.........

cantrips to level 2

3 to 5

and finally 6 to 9.

so OF COURSE this is gonna be so different to what bleem used because he probably used an npc stat block and just added very minimal flavor to it. but this is what i've come up with.

now. porter is a lot more straightforward literally between my textpost about his multiclass split to now i finished his sheet.

once again i used standard array. and made him an 18 barbarian path of the zealot, and 2 level paladin. he does not get an oath with only 2 paladin levels which i think works for his narrative.

strength: 20 (+5), however i do want it noted that porter HAS to have a 27 to strength to get his +8 and his +14 to strength saves and athletics checks. dexterity: 14 (+2) constitution: 17 (+3). considering that bleem said porter was health over AC, this means he has to have something artificially inflating his CON or just basic hit points. because a barb/pal multiclass with average dice is only 190 HP which for a bbeg is laughable. (again, i know that bleem did not use actual character sheets but, pre-final fight bear with me) intelligence: 8 (-1), his INT is also a 5 in my heart but not messing with standard array. wisdom: 12 (+1) charisma: 13 (+1), i do think that porter has more charisma than this. he is genuinely a creepy guy, but i think he's at least a +2 maybe even a +3. but i digress. i used standard array.

now for feats. i selected these with the thought in mind that porter's (pre-final fight) weapon is a vicious maul (extra +2d6 on crits) and i'm ASSUMING he's just going for straight damage which is scary.

Great Weapon Master Crusher (+1 to STR) which basically gives him the ability to once per turn push a creature away from him if he hits it with bludgeoning damage. it ALSO gives him advantage on a creature he scores a crit that does bludgeoning on until the start of his next turn.... scary opportunity attacks Athlete (+1 to STR) and makes it so it only takes 5 feet of your movement to stand when knocked prone, climbing doesn't take extra movement, and you can make a running jump with only 5 feet of movement vs 10 ability score increase (+1 STR, +1 CON) brings STR to 20 and CON up to 16 for a +3

now with the paladin multiclass, porter does not get access to the barb capstone and instead gets access to 2 paladin spells and smites. however, with this multiclass he can only smite twice.......... like bro....... LOL

his extra stuff is funny because he only has 10 lay on hands charges so he can technically get rid of disease/poison but only twice per long rest LOL. 2 divine sense which eh. and then 6 rage charges which isn't bad. but. i digress.

anyway. this was more of a huge thought exercise in order to justify what i'm doing in my fic. and also to think through if i really do want to multiclass my own barb.

funnily enough...... realized path of zealot gives me some wiggle room with stuff.... ehehehe.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Hello again!

Thank you so much for welcoming me into your corner of the internet (it really feeds into my Ac obsession, as if I needed more of that lol, but really it’s nice to see other ppl that like some side characters ahem *likeFedericoand Greencoat*ahem). And thank you for your answer abt Feducia as well, I’m glad you liked the library gifting idea for I have another one : Imagine if the library had secret alcove(s) and/or passage(s) and one of them lead to a small balcony. Do you think Federico would stand below said hidden balcony to read poetry/Lucia’s favourite pieces while she stood up there and admired him from above ? (A bit like the infamous balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet, the inspiration came after reading @giuliettaluce’s seriously adorable fanfic “Upon their holy act, the heaven smiles”)

Oh! I also really like your Aranea x Mephisto ship and I’m so excited abt your new(?) OC Tatiana Volkov bc I seriously thought the Flables/The Wolf Among Us fandom was dead when I arrived late as usual 😂 And I love both ships dynamics, I think it just suits them very well

Hope you had a good day and keep going, xx

(Ps Im sorry abt the long long asks I’m just excited to share my ideas with you)

Hello there again, Nonnie!!!

Please, do partake in coffee that I just made (wish I could truly offer you one through the screen)!!

AND OMG YES. PLEASE, DO ALLOW ME TO ABSOLUTELY FEED INTO THE HYPERFIXATION FOR ASSASSIN'S CREED.

I myself have been going strong for almost 5 years, AND AM STILL GOING STRONG.

THE OBSESSION IS REAL

So please, do sit tight and enjoy the ride!

AND OMG YES. YES.

FEDERICO AND GREENCOAT ARE MY BEBE.

Like, I still get super SUPER salty about the fact that Federico has met his end basically 5 minutes in the game (infact, around here, we absolutely throw canon out of the window, and Fede is alive, well and living his best life with his love, somewhere in Italy - in my particular case, in the Kingdom of Sicily with Lucia. Trapani has never been more beautiful than when they lived there!).

To say *absolutely* nothing of HOW SALTY I AM ABOUT GREENCOAT. 2 MINUTES OF TRAILER, AND UBI HAS NOT DEIGNED TO GIVE US A *GLIMPSE* OF WHO HE WAS, WHAT'S HIS REASON WERE, HIS PURSUITS, NOTHING.

BUT.

As salty as I am about that, I am also immensely grateful, because if the Baguette Bois were full-fledged NPC, then I would have never created my Mathias, and as you will see now that you are here, he is my most beloved brainchild alongside my darling Dorothea <3.

SO YES.

WE STAN THE TERTIARY CHARACTERS THAT ARE BASICALLY OCS!!

Now, onto your question:

YES.

YES.

TRIPLE YES.

I *absolutely* believe that Federico would stand below said balcony and recite Lucia's favourite poems ( probably the Canto 5 passage of Paolo e Francesca from Dante's Commedy, her most favourite AMONG ALL).

I can envision it so well, with Lucia just beaming and listening to him as he recites those poems, waiting for him to just climb up her to her balcony (because she KNOWS he would do that. Man cannot stay away from climbing around, as much as he likes to make it believe that it's becasue he needs to follow Ezio and make sure he's not going to fall face first lolol).

AND OMG YES, JUST LIKE ROMEO AND JULIET. ABSOLUTELY

(it kinda helps that my FC for Lucia is the beautiful Olivia Hussey as Juliet from Zefirelli´s movie).

AND I KNOW RIGHT??? @giuliettaluce IS THE *ABSOLUTE* PROFESSOR WHEN IT COMES TO ROMEO AND JULIET, AND HER WRITING IS JUST SO IMMENSELY BEAUTIFUL.

Seriously, she wrote for me the Federico/Lucia one-shot based on Romeo and Juliet that was EVERYTHING, and she wrote for me a one-shot about Mathias/Dorothea that I have never shared, but that I reread truly often and it melts my heart each time. She is such precious friends and beautiful person, it warms my heart SO MUCH knowing that you appreciate her writing <3 she deserves ALL THE PRAISE.

ALL THE PRAISE.

AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

MY MEPHISTO/ARANEA AND BIGBY/TATIANA.

they are my "dark pairings", so to speak, because while I love to dwell in FLUFF galore, and this is something that I generally explore with my Assassin's Creed pairings (though, there is a certain dose of darkness there as well), with Mephisto/Aranea and Bigby/Tatiana I LOVE to explore the darker side of the relationship between two lovers (though, tbh, Mephisto/Aranea take the crown in this, but that's easy because Bigby and Tatiana are still very much decent people altogether, while Mephisto is a freaking Archdevil and Aranea is his Warlock/Consort, so they are bound by their own character alignment - which is firmly on the evil side).

AND OMG, LISTEN, NO FANDOM IS TRULY DEAD UNLESS I AM DEAD, TRUST AND BELIEVE.

I AM STILL HERE, WRITING AND DRAWING STUFF FOR FFXII, AND IT HAS BEEN ALMOST 20 YEARS SINCE ITS RELEASE.

So trust and believe, no fandom is ever truly dead, and you are MORE THAN WELCOME to discuss whichever fandom you fancy at present! :)

(and please, do not worry about sending me long asks. I *ADORE* reading them, the longer the better. GIMME A DOORSTOPPER ASK OR GIVE ME NOTHING LOLOL I am kidding of course! always feel free to send asks as long or as short as you prefer, at your own convenience <3 just know that they are always welcomed! <3)

WISHING YOU A PLEASANT, BEAUTIFUL DAY NONNIE.

HERE, TAKE SOME LASAGNA I MADE AT LUNCH.

*gives lasagna in tupperware*

--Nemo

[swan-of-fabletown]

Keira couldn't believe this Keira: That is the stupidest thing I heard, Bigby: I know even a mundy doesn't do something like that. Get your eyes tested Crane. It's old news. I don't know what's worse, you doing those marks like student work or those fanfics. I would rather say it's both.

Keira was mad about those fanfics and marking her letters as if it was schoolwork, not that, but she couldn't hold her anger any more. Keira: I can't believe you, Crane. You still have a crush on me, even when I told you I don't love you. I am so pissed & going to say this one more time and make sure you hear me very clearly. I WILL NEVER EVER GO OUT & I DON'T LOVE YOU. GET THAT YOU M***********. Both Bigby and Cinderella were shocked to hear Kerry saying something out loud and they knew Keira rarely swears. Bigby: Calm down Keira, Crane needs to listen to what I need to say.

[purpleandstarlight]

@hateweasel it's time for yet another part. I'm kinda trying to space them a few hours at a time so as not to spam but if it bothers u still lmk and I'll just go like 1 or 2 a day?

-DLTD: "Chapter 259: The Messiah is Among US"

Me: ...Sus.

-Me: This happened before Among Us was even released, wich makes it funnier...

My friend: The real messiah is the author...

Me: Immagine being the messiah but writing a fanfic longer than the bible that is all about demons.

-A villain was talking to a minion named "Bigby" but i somehow?? misread it as "babygirl" and it was hilarious to me.

-Copypasting this meme from a message:

DLTD:"The blonde giggled almost uncontrollably as he pulled away to see Ciel blushing from being hugged in front of his arch-nemesis; a hue that only darkened, spreading to his ears when the blonde kissed him. All the Hellsing woman did in response was roll her visible eye and climb back into her car."

Hellsing: [Insert the Queer People Ciel meme here]

-The start of me realizing Dan is fruity, and my friend beginning to ship Dan x Kris because of me...Its the beginning of a tragedy.

-Me being rightfully upset about the love potion and hating DaffyDuck even more. I HATE the concept of Love Potions. They're creepy. I'm grateful of the fact that you recognized that and incorporated how creepy they are into the story.

-In a one-off chapter, Ciel had to babysit Luka and was like "Oh well he's just gonna watch the TV I can mind my own business" wich concerned me greatly at the time because YOU DONT LEAVE KIDS ALONE!!! EVEN IF THEYRE JUST WATCHING THE TV!! THEYRE KIDS!! THEY ARE A DANGER TO THEMSELVES!!! thankfully Ciel followed Luka soon after and I calmed down.

-i kept calling professor Irons "The iconic professor", as we all should. Then at one point I called him "Iron" and my friend corrected me. My friend. Who has heard the name once or twice from me long before that happened vs me who was actually reading the fanfic for several hundreds of chapters. I am really bad at names.

-When Ciel was scared for Oliver in the "found a dismembered foot while on a school trip" arc I was losing it too bc I was, and always will be, an Oliver Midford Stan.

-I at this point in the past told my friend about the Travis-tells-everyone-he-discovered-the-truth-ages-ago scene, wich caused present me to remember something that I should probably tell u in the rereading commentary, and I have a tumblr post about it already anyway, BUT. THE WAY THAT HAPPENS LIKE 20 CHAPTERS IN, BEFORE TRAVIS WAS EVEN FRIEND OR INTERACTED MUCH WITH ALOIS. AND STILL WENT "Okay so my new classmate is actually a Demon who eats souls but you know what? That's his business." AND THEN BEFRIENDS SAID DEMON. ICONIC. LEGENDARY. HILARIOUS.

Like I think you just forgot that they weren't really friends back then yet (i think this happened before the haunted house, or maybe slightly after, but way before they were actually pals?) but?? It's funnier this way.

Mate saw an acquintance he barely spoke to make a deal with another schoolmate and promised to eat her soul in exchange and he went "This is nothing to be concerned about." and moved on with his life.

[joz-yyh]

Leaving this HC here: Bigby's beastly half is not without it's uses. Because of his eldritch blood, he can both speak and understand R'lyehian and Enochian. (yes, this has to do with Bigby singing a prayer in my fanfic)