#he wasn't 1940s enough for me

[jerich0two]

Heard he was part of the mob in his prime...

Bonus monochrome newspapery version!

Maybe -- just maybe! -- this is my version of Overlord Angel.

[jweekgoji]

hello, you can resquest scenery, TFO Orion Pax, D-16, B-127 and Sentinel wait for their Conjux femme reader to give birth to their Sparkling. (about the others except Sentinel, where they go to the surface and return to Iacon and it would be that they meet their newborn Sparkling)

TFO Chars/Pregnant!Femme!Reader [hcs]

featuring: Orion Pax, D-16, B-127, Sentinel Prime tw: pregnancy, very brief mentions of violence, slighty yandere!Megs by the end, mixture of fluff/angst. word count: ~1940 a/n: I hope I understood your request well. Feel free to correct me if I did something wrong so I can remake it.

Orion Pax.

I feel like Orion (cogless, since it's before they went to the surface) is probably that typical young dad that has no idea how to take care of a child and might as well set on fire the kitchen in attempts to warm the bottle of energon for the sparkling.

But! He is very enthusiastic about it, and he supports you in every way he can; it's just that he lacks any real experience with it. Reading in the archives about sparklings, pregnancy and how to be a good mentor is easy; the hardest thing is to actually deal with it.

There is a big possibility that you are also cogless like him, and I'm not sure Sentinel actually cares about poor pregnant miners to give them at least a one-day off. Your supervisors would constantly remind you to continue working, since there's always a big need for energon.

Orion often picks up fights because of it. Can't those big bullies see that you're sparked? You need rest and good care, not lifting heavy equipment...As usual, he gets scolded by Elita for not doing his job properly, but he makes sure that he helps you with everything. You can rest during your shift, while Orion is happily working for both of you, so you won't be reported to the higher-ups. It's a little hard, but there is nothing he wouldn't do for you.

Following my last statement and the previous headcanons, Orion desperately wants the best future for all Cybertronians. He hates the thought that his sparkling will grow up in the same place as him. No actual home, no equality, only hatred from the others. That's when he sees the opportunity to change the future, he grasps onto it.

It pains Orion to leave you in Iacon. It wasn't really his fault, though. He would have come back to you after the Iacon 5000 race immediately if it wasn't for Darkwing throwing him on sublevel 50, and the next events after that...

Orion gains the maturity he lacked, and with realization of his other past mistakes, he also understands how careless he was before. You're probably scared to death without him; he left you without a word, and now you have to only guess where your conjunx is. How stressed you will be after someone tells you that he's dead.

Just as much as it scares him and makes him angry at himself, it also motivates him for more. No matter what, he will come back to you.

The moment he sees you, he is relieved. The reunion looks awkward, his form towering over your smaller one, but that doesn't bother either of you. When he finally meets the sparkling, his own little spark, all the pain from the last battle is gone.

Orion swears to you that he will never leave you alone after today; with a new spark born in this world, there is a hope. How meaningful it is for his own child to be born the day the Iacon becomes free.

D-16

Just like Orion, D-16 has a little to no idea how to take care of the sparkling. If his best friend will be so happy to be a sire, D-16 has mixed emotions about this.

Don't get me wrong, he is excited about it just like you, but D-16 is the bot who is reluctant when it comes to going against the rules. He is not sure if this is actually the right place and time for the sparkling to be born now. Both of you are cogless, and there is no great future for you. Maybe after countless cycles ago he can get a higher position, a bit better life, but will it be enough to raise someone so young?

Even then, he shows you that he is happy. He doesn't want you to think that he hates the idea just because he's not so sure about your current life.

D-16 is a naturally strong bot, probably one of the strongest when compared to other miners. He gets extra affectionate with his conjunx, holding you close and maybe even carrying you around if you show him the tiniest sign that you're tired. He is really sweet.

As Orion drags him into the race, he begins to slowly lose his cool. His outburst in the cave after finding out about the truth is even stronger. The betrayal, pain, the sick feeling of worry about you and his sparkling. If only Orion didn't drag him into that damn race, he would have been with you, making sure that you're safe, none of that would have happened.

The frustration boils over with each step he makes. He needs to come back to Iacon, to you, but first, he has to get rid of the one who caused the cycles of pain and humiliation.

 The time D-16 gets his servos on Sentinel, ripping him apart in front of anyone, he thinks it is the only way to solve everything. Only he can fix it, and only he can trust himself with protecting you.

You weren't there to see him deal with Sentinel, thankfully. It is for the best to avoid all the stress it could have caused if you saw him. Your dear conjunx is seething with hatred. Sentinel took many things from him; he wasn't even able to be there with you when your sparkling was born. D-16 Megatron will cherish both of you forever, and he will make sure to raise his little one as strong as him, so they won't live through the same events as D-16 was.

B-127

Oh, this one is a little too sad to speculate. Let's say, both of you are cogless but met each other a long time ago before you two ended up on sublevel 50. The moment you two failed to please the higher-ups and also the moment you find out that you're sparked up. What bad timing!

B-127 seems to be more happy than you are when he realizes that he is going to be a sire. A little too happy. Even though he doesn't fully understand it. You might go like, “You're going to be a sire, Bee” and then he hits you with, “I am sparked up??” which is kind of funny. Is that really your man?

Out of other bots, I can see  �� being the best sire ever. Of course, he gets a little confused, but who wouldn't be if they dealt with their first child? You try to explain to him everything you know about the topic, and he quickly catches up on it.

B-127 is already thinking about the names. Does Badasstron Junior sound like a good name for sparkling? Or maybe he should practice combining your names together? Anyway, it really helps him not to get insane down here. Having you around is good for Bee's mental health, though you're not so sure how much time passed since you were demoted.

Even then, Bee shows his caring side. He does get serious when the situation really needs it, so he is constantly tied to your hip because he wants you and the sparkling to be safe. The conditions are not great, but he makes the best of it. No matter how bad it gets, he always makes you smile, even though sometimes he has no strength to keep his cheerfulness.

Bee is happy to have more new friends and to partake in the journey of finding the matrix of leadership, but he doesn't want you to get hurt. That's why (with tears in his optics) you two agree that you should stay. But hey, it will probably not take too much time. He will come back with his new friends to Iacon with the matrix; the energon will flow again, so there's no need for you to stay!

Bee doesn't stop yapping about the fact that he is going to be a sire to Elita. This fella just likes to talk and when he sees the opportunity, he doesn't miss it! Poor Elita has to listen to him how hard it is to choose the name for the baby, or how he is going to be the best sire ever once the group comes back. Ohh, did you know that he also really-really loves you? And his sparkling? Elita barely handles him, but even though she never met you, she knows everything about you.

After Bee comes back to Iacon, he almost faints. First he got a cog, then met the high guard, got a job with the government, AND became a sire? When he sees his sparkling, he feels a little sad that he wasn't there with you, but he will compensate it in no time. Every little move your sparkling makes is cheered by,  and Primus have mercy on the poor bots around him. He is probably that dad who will show you the pictures of his kids...

Sentinel Prime

Being a conjunx of Sentinel has its own perks. Lucky you, no work for you! It will be too bad if you get sparked up and cogless, huh?

Sentinel is a busy bot. There is always work waiting for him, especially the oh so important ‘‘searching for matrix of leadership’ thing. Even then, when he is in Iacon, there are lots of paper jobs and meetings  being here and there since everything should be personally controlled by him.

One of the cons while being sparked up and being conjunx of Sentinel is that he doesn't have much time for you. By the end of the day, he always comes back to your quarters, but it's just so lonely without him! You're always surrounded by the guards, the medics, but they can never replace the presence of your loved one.

All the changes in your body don't help at all, the mood swings, the certain energon cravings in the middle of the night, so-so hard to deal with, but he's a Prime, after all, so that shouldn't trouble him that much...

Sentinel might be a little irritated with it. When you wake him up, just to ask for something Primus-knows-what-next, that will probably take hours to search for, but he has no strength to deny you. If his conjunx wants it, he gets it!

I like to think that Sentinel is probably always aware of your and sparkling's health, but in a slightly concerning way. Yes, he can miss one or two meetings at the doctor's with you, but that doesn't mean he is ignorant. Everything is reported straight to him, so if anything, he will drop his work and join you. There is also a looong track of every checkup you had, and he has a timer that counts seconds to when the sparkling is born.

Imagine how annoyed Sentinel is when he gets humiliated by the quintessons and misses the birth of his sparkling? He practically scowls when someone reports him about it and totally has to restrain himself from strangling someone on his way to Iacon, but he manages it somehow.

Sentinel's mood quickly replaced with warmth for you and the sparkling, even though inside his head, he is still annoyed. How could he miss it? When he planned everything to the last second? The one thing that keeps his mind occupied is the little one he has in his servos. He's not going to leave you two again. At least, when he still can.

[webslinger-holland]

wait, you write for all thunderbolts?! then id' love to see your take on what bucky, john, and bob's reactions would be if the reader opened her door and she's just wearing some lingerie

Prompt: Bucky, John, and Bob's reaction to seeing you in lingerie

Warning: NSFW Below the Cut 18+ MINORS DNI

Bucky: Navigating the hallways had become a second nature to him. He didn't even have to look where he was going to know the route to your room. He was set to train with your this morning, but your notable absence was a cause for concern. He waited a few extra minutes before ultimately deciding to look for you.

He wasn't mad that you didn't show up, just more concerned at this point. He walked straight up to your door and knocked three times, patiently waiting for you to open the door for him.

"Just wanted to check on you since you didn't show up for training. I just thought—" Bucky began. The door opened so quickly there was very little time for recovery.

You're in a sultry, vintage-inspired crimson set. The bra is delicate lace, unlined but structured, with scalloped edges and thin satin straps. The matching garter belt sits high on your waist with black stockings clipped in, giving it that 1940s pin-up flair he’d absolutely lose his mind over. A sheer red robe, slipping off your shoulders, hints at even more underneath.

He didn’t say anything at first—just stared for a heartbeat longer than necessary, lips parting slightly. He thinks about how good you'd look if your lips were red too.

“You always answer the door like that?” Bucky's lips curved into a mischievous smile.

You send him a smirk. “Only for special guests.”

His eyebrow rose just enough to betray the shift under his cool exterior. He raised a hand to casually lean against the doorway.

"Lucky me," Bucky's husky voice breaths.

You laugh softly and move to shut the door, but he quickly stopped you by putting his hand out.

“Wait.” You pause for him. He looks you up and down once more. "You coming to training or not?"

"Yes, I just overslept my alarm." You explain to him. "Give me two minutes."

"Nice outfit by the way," Bucky teases. You roll your eyes playfully before closing the door in his face.

John: Making his way through the hallways, John was carrying a tablet which showcased the latest mission intel. He scrolled through aimlessly, reading some important pieces of information. He had one destination in mind, which was your room because you were being paired together for this mission.

He was already dressed in his suit and he carried his still-bent shield in the other hand. He stopped at your door and knocked with a lazy fist; his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Wheels up in five," John announced loudly through the door. "It'll be a couple hours before we reach—"

The door opened a lot quicker than he anticipated. When John lifted his head to look at you, his words instantly died on his lips and his brows shot up in surprise.

You're wearing a midnight blue set made from sheer mesh and crushed velvet. The bra dips low in a deep V, with soft velvet cups and crisscross straps above the chest that frame your collarbones. The garters are a matching velvet, hugging your thighs perfectly.

"Phoenix," John finished. His eyes shamelessly rack down your body as if he's drinking it all in. "Holy shit—"

"What?" You look at him innocently.

“If I had known you answered the door like that, I’d have knocked sooner.” John takes one look at you in that rich, royal blue and lets out a low chuckle. It's seductive without even trying — teasing without being delicate.

He leans a shoulder on the doorframe and crosses his arms like he’s ready to stay a while. He's clearly enjoying himself.

“You’re loving this way too much.” You observe with a small shake of your head.

“I mean, I’m a patriot." John shrugs. He sends a flirtatious wink. "I support the troops. Especially when the uniform’s that good.”

"John," you warn him, but he loves when you say his name like that. "You done now?”

"One sec," John holds up a finger to stop you. His eyes drag down the length of your body one last time, trying to commit everything to memory. "Okay. You coming on the mission dressed like that?”

"No," you smile.

John clicks his tongue and turns away defeated. "Too bad."

Bob: It was late in the morning, but Bob had tasked himself with knocking on doors to wake the others up and inform them that Valentina was expecting them downstairs in ten minutes for an 'all team meeting'. He nervously knocks on your door, trying to sound casual but already internally spiraling.

"Hey...uh—" Bob calls through the door, leaning dangerously close. "Valentina said there’s a meeting in ten. We’re all supposed to—”

The door swung open before he finishes. What stands in front of him is the last thing he expected to see, especially this early. It's you wearing some very beautiful lingerie right in front of him.

You're wearing something soft, romantic — a delicate ivory lace set with gold-threaded embroidery that catches the light when you move. A light beige silk robe is draped over your shoulders and the color compliments your skin in a way that makes you look sunlight.

He sees you, stammers a bit, and can’t decide if he should look away or keep memorizing every detail. His eyes go wide. His mouth moves but no sound comes out. Then, all of the sudden, it's like his brain catches up to him.

He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and puts his hand over them for good measure. His face turned all pink too.

"Bob?" You ask.

"Listen—" Bob tries, but his voice cracks in betrayal. "I'm not looking. I was looking. I’m not now.”

“You were definitely looking.” You tell him, slightly amused even if he can't see it on your face.

"It’s okay—" Bob attempts to excuse himself. "Y’know what? I’m just gonna—"

He spins on his heel and tries to walk away too fast, bumping into the doorframe. You wince at the contact, but he keeps walking down the hallway blindly nevertheless.

“Meeting! Ten minutes! Bye!” Bob called over his shoulder, still slightly traumatizes and blushing harder than ever.

"You could at least tell me if I look good," you yelled teasingly.

Bob answers back in the distance. “YOU LOOK GREAT!”

[sideblogtointeract]

Theseus' Guide to Ruining a Perfectly Good Ship in a Bottle

A list made on the loosest association of words, with an even looser tie to this fanfiction

Stan

Give him an Amati model kit and he is happy as a clam. He's moded several already and resold them as "ghost ships" in bottles and "wreckage of a ghost ship" in a bottle for the ones Soos or Mabel drop.

Mabel

Lego model of ship in a bottle. After its built she'll change out vingettes/scenery. Soos, Wendy, and Stan are deeply invested in the unfolding soap opera Mabel crafts with it.

Dipper

Is really excited to make his first ship in a bottle, and he'll make one! Just as soon as he finishes reading a book on how to do it, and reads the other three he asked for his birthday. Maybe he'll go to the library to checkout the books the books he got used in the citation. He's going to build the ship, believe you me, he really isn't going to move onto something else in t minus 4 months. This ship? Getting built.

Ford

"Oh you meant as in an actual ship? Hah!" Ford has been maintaining an excellent example of Darwin's "Beagle in a Bottle" experiment for years now NOT a replica of the HMS Beagle in a bottle you silly.

Bill

It's the 1940s, your run is just beginning but already you feel like your life is over because prom is in two weeks and you just know Arch is going to ask Beronica not you to go with him. Can you blame him? You're just good ol’ dependable Vetty, girl next door Arch's on again off again no-on again “let's not put labels on this” girlfriend. Beronica is everything you're not she wears short skirts which you also wear but it's different. She's cheer captain and you're… also cheer captain — sometimes your co-captain it depends on the issue. Anyways she's rich, and beautiful, and perfect, and wonderful, and if it wasn't for the fact she was a brunette you'd have nothing on her.

“Oh Pops! What am I going to do?” You whine to the man working the bar at the soda shop.

“Well it's as I always tell you crazy kids, answers aren't found at the bottom of an Egg Cream.”

“But they sure are delicious!” Your longtime friend Bottlehead — wearer of cool hats and, more recently, cooler shades —  stops eating table napkins long enough to quip.

“And how!” All three of you laugh before Bottlehead goes back to slurping down  plastic straws like they're spaghetti. 

“If you want Arch to take you to the dance, just ask him yourself.” Pops suggests, like an out of touch square.

“This is the prom, Pops, not Sadie Hawkins!” You complain, pushing your half finished Egg Cream away. 

“Besides, I tried. I think he’s avoiding me.” You add, sinking into your seat.

“Say! Why don't you go ask that cursed fortune telling machine at the abandoned fairgrounds?” Bottlehead suggests, reaching for your abandoned drink.

“Golly that's a great idea! Bottlehead, if your mouth wasn't full of glass I could kiss you!!!” Bottlehead suffers a hug from you instead as he continues to consume your discarded order. cup and all.

You sock hop out of the establishment and cross the street to the abandoned fairgrounds.

Hopping over the rusted turnstile and side stepping some police tape you make your way to the culturally insensitive but period accurate fortune telling machine. Feeding it one of your hard earned and always valuable pennies the automata jolts to life. 

The words are garbled over the loud clacking of the doll's mouth, out of sync with the tinny audio. Which is fine, the opening number is an offensive milieu of ethnic stereotyping. The real magic is when you press the button with your wish in mind and the machine prints out the most accurate supernatural reading it can.

You know it's accurate because, unlike biological fortune tellers, machines don't care about sparing your feelings from the celestial forces that rule over you. Just the facts. 

“Please tell me how to get Arch to ask me to the dance.” You whisper your wish before slapping your hand onto the golden glowing button and watch as your destiny is printed onto gold backed ticketape.

For a brief second you hear a faint whimsical giggle as you rip off your printed fortune.  Looking around you see no one in the abandoned fairgrounds.  It’s just you, the chalk outline you're standing on, the automaton with its outstretched hand to shake, and the police tape surrounding you.

“That’s odd,” you muse. “When did you move?” You ask but the better question is how did it move?  Because aside from the rudimentary motions reserved for nutcrackers the machine’s body was a plaster mold that had no joints to move.

Yet here it is, hand out in greeting.  No. Not greeting, a deal and if you keep over-analysing I am going to take it back.

“What?” You ask as the internal narrative becomes as structurally unsound as the White House during this time period — look it up.

You turn to go to the Daleriver Library — now certified communist book free — to do just that, then are reminded by the text that you still need to read your fortune for our readers!

“If you want to be with your one true… loves?” You pause to puzzle at this but not for any longer than it takes to read this sentence.  “... forever. Then shake my hand.” You Continue.

“Your friend, Bill?” You don’t know who that is but you bet he is really keen and neato to have a name like that. You feel really embarrassed that you don’t remember having a friend like that. It would be really rude to leave a pal hanging, especially when they went through all this trouble for you.

So you shake the cold hand of the automaton before you. You don’t register that the glass pane wasn’t there, that the hard resin arm moves like flesh— no, all your focus is on the bright gold cat eyes looking back at you and the return of a giggle that grows into an outright cackle.  

Wind whips around you, police tape flying like ribbons caught in a tornado, and you stand still in the eye of it.

“Hiya Vetty,” The automaton greets, jaw held open like a snake— or like a smile, let’s not be rude.  “long time fan first time crossover. You and I have got a lot in common.” The machine continues but the tin from its voice box layers with the voice in the wind that has stopped laughing and now talks in sync with it. 

You don’t try to speak, you want to, but I don’t need to write around your wants anymore.

“Both of our fandoms question our interest in men and we share the same banana yellow pantone. Me for my body, you for your hair and… eyes?” The voice coming from all around, you guess correctly that this is Bill — smarty that you are, that earns you a free can of brown meat! — finishes. You don’t know what he looks like exactly but from the description he sounds like a real dream boat.

“My eyes aren't —” You hold that thought and pop a squat in front of the fortune telling machine. You jimmy open the front and reach inside it.

“Bet you weren’t expecting so much organ meat?” You ask yourself but you're not the one talking.

You pull your red stained arm out of the warm pulsing mass before you to free a pristine glass bottle. In its reflection you see your mouth split into a painfully wide grin scrunching your now golden eyes, a mirror image to the automaton leering over you; below that you see a tiny version of Arch banging his fist against his transparent prison. 

“Ever Dream of Jeannie kid?” Asks your new best friend, still borrowing your body and voice.

“Of course you don't! That's not for another 20 years!” Your hands uncork the top of the bottle.

The soft “tink” of glass tapping concrete reverberates in the abandoned fairground.  A moment passes in silence. 

Then you see shoes.

“Two down,” Bottlehead says, bending down to grab you. If he hears you and Arch’s pleas he doesn’t care as he gently returns your bottle prison back into its warm nest of organs. Gold eyes look over slick sunglasses and give you a wink. “... one to go.”

[yesimwriting]

Middle Ground

A/n i've been talking about exploring other iwtv time periods so this drabble is me branching out of my comfort zone a little and writing a fic set during the 1940's, coven paris era

(i'm writing this with the same dynamics as bestie-verse in mind so i guess this can count as a bestie!reader au, but the only context you need to understand this fic is that reader is best friends with louis)

Summary: When a quiet evening of reading with your best friend is interrupted by the only vampire you've ever disliked, Louis decides that the best way to thaw the ice between the two of you is to have Armand walk you home.

----

The stiff, grainy feel of the material beneath your fingertips is familiar enough to soothe you out of any uncertainty. Though, the growing frequency of your visits is making the small reminders of normalcy your mind once desperately latched onto less and less significant.

As if to prove to yourself that you've truly surpassed the need for subconscious sources of comfort, you shift in your seat, your shoulders relaxing against the sofa's cushioning. You tap your index finger against the edge of your book's hard cover as your other hand moves to turn to the next page.

Hm. The new page brings a new chapter, which is exactly where you promised you'd stop. However, reading ahead by a page or two wouldn't be unforgivable. If you're careful enough about it, you might even be able to get away with reading until the novel's protagonist gets past this particular problem without--

"Don't," the sound of Louis's voice derails your attempted plotting.

You straighten, spine pulling away from the couch as you turn your head enough to narrow your eyes at him. "You promised you'd stay out of my head."

"And you promised you wouldn't read ahead." Louis lifts his head away from his own book, the almost-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth making it clear that your attempted betrayal isn't as offensive as he's pretending it is. "We're both liars."

The underlying sentiment pressed into his words forces a sharp to settle between your ribs. It's a feeling you only really get when you're around Louis, a sense of total understanding, like you could verbalize every thought you've ever had or never speak again and still be understood exactly the same.

You grin, "Then I guess it's a good thing we found each other."

"I guess it is."

You allow the sentiment to linger there for a moment longer before turning your attention back to the book on your lap. "Is Claudia here? I think she'd like this story more than some of the others we've been reading."

The question gets to him more than you wanted it, the corner of his mouth tugging itself downwards. "She's at the theater, she's got a show tonight and they're probably going to have her stay after for a little while."

It's not a surprising response. While the pieces of information you've been able to gather about their coven and the Thèâtre des Vampires paint a less that perfect picture, Claudia seems committed to making it all worthwhile, and even if she wasn't, from the few times you've helped her study her lines before rehearsal, she does seem to find some genuine joy in performing. Besides, at least she's willing to seek out a greater sense of vampiric connection.

You press your thumb against the book cover's edge. "Why aren't you there, too?"

Louis doesn't exactly react, but something behind his gaze seems to close itself off. You should have expected the shift. Since the initial revelation of his secret, Louis has been open about the details that you've been willing to ask him about. However, the coven as an entity has always felt like a bit of sore point.

You don't mind his hesitancy as much as you used to. Meeting Armand and seeing the little girl costume they put Claudia in was enough to quell your curiosity about the theater's inner workings.

After a second, Louis relaxes his shoulders in a way that almost feels like an attempt at compensating for something. "I'm better off reading with you."

The sentiment, though kind, feels incredibly evasive. "But you can read with me anytime." You relax your hand, pulling your fingers away from your book and towards your lap. "And it might be good for you..." Louis gives you a look that feels much too amused. You didn't mean to stumble onto making an actual, serious point. "...To spend more time with people that are like you."

He shifts slightly, posture easing again. "You're like me." The words are said with a genuineness that you can't turn into anything else.

You let yourself smile. "You know what I mean."

"I'm around the coven enough." Louis speaks slowly, his voice even and flat the way it always is when you imply worry. "And I see plenty of Claudia's shows."

It's a response you don't feel the need to argue against. While your visits with Louis are becoming more and more common, you don't see him every evening, and while you are willing to stay up later than usual to spend more time with him, you don't exactly keep the same hours. He likely spends more time around the coven than you're aware of.

"Okay," you begin slowly, "I jus--" You're cut off by the gentle groan of hinges being pushed out of their resting position.

You move on instinct, your back pressing itself against the couch's cushioning as you turn to face the door. Louis made it sound like Claudia would be gone for awhile, but it's not so early in the evening that the thought of her return is inconceivable.

The door's pushed open further, revealing a tall figure in dark clothing. You press your lips together to keep from frowning.

Armand takes a step forward, firmly entering the space before shutting the door behind him. There's no hesitation in his movements, no indication that he'd ever consider acknowledging your right to the time you planned on sharing with your friend.

At the general sense of misfortune clouding your mood seems to be mutual, his gaze lingering on you for a moment too long before flitting towards Louis. "I didn't realize you were still entertaining your book club."

Louis lets out a small breath, a subtle attempt at dismissing Armand's exaggerated formality. "I told you she'd be here tonight."

He takes in the response in as he moves further into the room. "Even when you don't think to let me know, she usually is."

You lift your chin slightly in an attempt to seem steadier. "I'm not here that often." It's an honest enough argument. You and Louis have no choice but to build lives on opposite schedules and you do dedicate a fair amount of your time to the art classes you initially came to Paris for.

"Often enough."

The retort feels incredibly petulant for a being as ancient as he's meant to be. "What a biting argument."

Louis angles himself to better face you, mumbling your name in a tone that you've learned to understand as a warning. It's not uncommon for Louis to redirect you as a way of keeping the peace between you and Armand.

"Allow her to make all the comments she'd like." There's a tranquility to Armand's mock-defense that presses into your skin uncomfortably. "Perhaps they'll help her when she finally learns what it feels like to move through this world without the privileges I've offered her."

It's a threat that you've become relatively accustomed to. Armand prefers to remind you of the vampires whose existences are defined by Armand's influence rather than threaten you directly.

"Leave her alone," Louis's response is pointed yet not strained or overly concerned. You're not sure what to make of it. "You know she's no threat."

Armand tilts his head slightly. "Any mortal that knows enough can be perceived as a source of danger." His attention shifts onto you. "Even the fragile ones with terribly delicate features." There's a tension there, a hardness forced into the syllables that you can't make sense of.

You press your thumb into the corner of the hardback's cover. "I'm not that fragile."

He holds your stare. "I'm sure you believe that."

There's nowhere left for the argument to go, but the thought of looking away first feels too much like an attempt at retreat. You keep watching him, your mind noting the color of his eyes more than you'd like to. The shade of them seems to be impacted by the flat's lighting, the nearly amber color turning into something darker.

Before you can begin to dwell on the difference, Armand turns his head to look at Louis. You're more satisfied by the likely imagined victory than you should be. "I'm assuming that you'll be occupied for the rest of the evening."

It would be an easy thing to embrace your right to be here, but there's a good chance you've already significantly pushed your luck. Besides, for reasons beyond your comprehension, Louis enjoys Armand's company. If the two of them want time alone together, then they should get to have it. You'd likely have to leave soon anyway, staying out past a certain hour isn't appropriate, no matter how platonic your company is.

"Actually, you'll have Louis to yourself soon." You close the book on your lap as you angle yourself to better face Louis. "It's later than I meant to stay."

Louis frowns. "It's not that late."

While you have stayed over later than you should before, you do have to be relatively careful about the hours that you choose to spend out of the house. Your Aunt Celia was generous enough to not only fund your studies but to also allow you to stay with her, and she's a woman of older values. The last thing you need to do is give her a reason to concern herself over what you do during your spare time.

"I don't want to worry my aunt," you begin carefully, "You know how Celia is."

Louis responds with a suspiciously agreeable, "Alright." He moves slowly, marking the page in his book before shutting it. "We'll talk about the book tomorrow, then."

"Yeah," you nod, "Tomorrow."

Louis straightens, his focus shifting away from you. "Armand can walk you back."

What.

The thought of being left alone with Armand in any capacity leaves your mind reeling without direction. You're slowly growing accustomed to keeping your mental reactions in check, but manufacturing 'correct' mental reactions hasn't become much easier.

When you can't figure out an appropriate mental response, you decide to focus on the tangible. You bring your hands together on your lap. "He doesn't need to do that."

"No, but the two of you need to start tolerating each other better."

You're not sure why Louis thinks that spending more time around Armand will make him more likable, or why he particularly cares about the way that you and Armand interact with each other considering how little he seems to mind Armand's treatment of Claudia.

Maybe it's Louis's way of keeping you safe despite your physical limitations. Armand sees no point in your existence, ending your life would mean nothing to him. He doesn't even owe you the kind of inherent loyalty everyone owes to those that are like them.

"And Armand doesn't mind." The words are little more than Louis's attempt at placating you.

The false sentiment briefly blankets the room in a flat silence. Armand shatters the quiet with a tired sigh. "I do not."

His acceptance of the situation does nothing to ease you. For all you know, he's viewing this potential privacy as an opportunity to get rid of you peacefully. Still, you can't bring yourself to give him the satisfaction of your worry. "Okay."

Before you can dwell on what you've just agreed to, you push yourself to stand, your hand pressing into the couch's cushioning. Louis's palm settles against the back of your hand before you can fully straighten. "Be nice."

You finish pulling yourself away from the couch. "I'll try."

----

Silence has a way of magnifying darkness, of stretching dimly lit streets into paths not meant to be taken.

You push against the feeling, your gaze focusing on the stony pavement beneath your shoes. At least the weather's fairly nice, there's a slight chill to the evening air but there's no sharpness to it. The night's also a little cloudier than usual, but the potential threat of rain feels far away.

You turn your head just enough to see that Armand is still dutifully walking by your side. "It looks like it might rain before morning."

If he's surprised by your attempt at conversation, he gives no indication of it, his expression remaining flat. He hums once in acknowledgement of your words instead of actually responding. There goes the bonding opportunity Louis was hoping for.

"You dislike me." There's nothing tactful about his delivery.

You blink, unsure if you're more thrown by the suddenness of his voice or the bluntness of the accusation. While you've never been particularly warm to him, you're not cruel either. And even if you are, on occasion, harsher than you should be, it's only because you're drawing from his perception of your existence.

Still, it's one thing to make a snarky comment during a conversation and another to openly acknowledge disliking someone. You keep your eyes focused on the ground. There are only so many ways you can respond to that kind of comment, and most of them aren't applicable when you're conversing with someone that can read your thoughts. You don't even have the option of offering him a polite lie.

"I never speak ill of you to Louis." It's the closest thing to direct denial that you can manage.

Armand steps begin to slow as he digests your response. "How diplomatic."

You lift a shoulder in an uncertain shrug, "I can't think of another reason for you to care about whether or not I dislike you."

He briefly stills before angling himself to fully face you. "It's not about your opinion mattering."

The reaction is strange enough to get you to stop. You turn towards him. "Then what is it about?"

Armand blinks, pressing his lips together for a long second before responding, "You dislike me." He takes a small step forward, and even though the increase in proximity is minimal, it feels oddly tense. "You don't know me, but you dislike me."

There's a quality to his voice, a heaviness that's almost moving enough to make you wish you were capable of offering him some kind of comfort.

"I..." You begin uneasily, "I dislike the way that you and your coven have treated Claudia." There's something unnerving about being so open, so honest in front of him. "And don't--don't hold that against her, she doesn't complain to me." That's another truth. While you and Claudia have at times discussed and even joked about the little girl costume, she never lets herself seem to upset by anything in front of you.

"She hasn't?"

"No," you say firmly, "My disgust over the irony of an immortal forever trapped in a child's body being forced to play a little girl night after night is my own."

He takes another step towards you. "It's easy to be disgusted by my actions when you're unaware of the alternatives, but others in my position would have been much less kind to both of you."

Instead of remaining as neutral as you should be, you let out a tired sigh. The argument that he's not as bad as he might seem because at least he's not worse isn't as effective as he thinks it is.

"I also dislike the idea that a lesser cruelty should be considered a kindness."

He's quiet for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he regards you. Something uneasy roots itself in the pit of your stomach. "It's easy to be noble when nothing is expected of you." Armand takes another step forward. "There are things that have to be done to maintain order." Another step. "If I do not do them, someone else will."

The justification isn't enough to convince you that all of his actions are a sacrifice for the greater good, but it is a glimpse into his perspective.

You give in with a soft sigh, taking a step in his direction. The shift is an insignificant one, but you trust him to interpret the movement as the middle ground it's meant to be.

"I can understand that." You're not sure that the phrasing accurately portrays how you feel about what he's shared, but it's the closest you can come to explaining it. "Though I doubt my understanding of anything means much to you."

He watches you for so long a part of you begins to doubt if he's going to respond at all. Then, in a voice so low you're not sure if he's speaking more to himself than to you, he says, "It means something."

The gentleness of the phrasing is so consuming, you can't think of anything else to say. With no warning, he turns towards the path again. "Come on, if we stay out much later your aunt might decide that you're more trouble than you're worth and send you back to the states."

The threat of being sent back to America is a little too specific. Can he see past conversations in your head? Or is that something you think about often enough for him to have picked up on it? Deciding to not risk the destruction of your fragile piece, you let go of your questions and start to walk forward.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow evening?" The question is more shocking than anything else you've experienced tonight.

You blink, a part of you more relieved than you should be about the fact that he's no longer facing you. "Uh--Besides meeting up with Louis, not really."

He nods once, "You should come to our show."

You can't think of a response. While Louis hasn't been able to keep your existence a total secret, he seems happy to be able to maintain a certain level of distance between you and the vampires he's not as familiar with. Claudia doesn't seem to be nearly as wary, but she's never asked you to attend one of their shows either.

"If the thought frightens you, you don't need to attend." Armand offers you the chance for escape with a care that's nearly insulting. "I can understand why you might find the prospect unnerving."

"I'm not afraid." You don't realize how much you mean the words until after you've said them. You're not worried about being immediately torn to pieces by the others or what you might see, but...you are a little concerned about how Louis may react to your attendance. "I just--I wouldn't want to do anything to make Louis uncomfortable."

The silence that follows nearly feels like a challenge. "I think it would be good for Louis, he can only choose to spend time with a mortal over attending our performances so many times before the others begin to question his loyalties."

That, unfortunately, does feel like a fair point. Louis's never said anything about the coven to make you worry about how your friendship impacts the ways the others view him, but from what you've gathered, the coven can't possibly take kindly to how much time Louis spends around you. Louis might be worried by the thought of you being within the coven's proximity, but at least he'd be there, too.

You nod once, hoping the motion is enough to mask any uncertainties on your end. "Okay."

"You'll sit with me." Armand turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you from over his shoulder. "It's the easiest way to keep the evening simple."

The explanation only amplifies the uneasy feeling settling in your stomach, but there's a lot of things you'd be willing to do before allowing Armand to know that you're nervous, "Okay. That makes sense."

----

armand: oh no you'll have to sit next to me all evening so that no one kills u 🫢

also keep in mind that this is a little experimental to me so pls don't judge it too harshly <33

[marciabrady]

"He was a struggling actor when he and Mother met. She had just returned from a war-bond selling tour." While only seen in minor roles, Stephen Crane was the charmer of Hollywood and had gone out with every female star, from Betty Grable to Lucille Ball. On three back-to-back nights, he took Lana Turner out, then Ava Gardner, then Rita Hayworth- a move which was considered legendary, even by Hollywood standards. Lana was his favorite though, after the dissolution of their marriage, he had a brief affair with Rita in the 1940s. "They had known each other anywhere from a few weeks to a few months (depending on who's telling the story) before July 17, 1942, when they flew to Las Vegas and got married. Their union was sealed by the same justice of peace who joined her in wedlock to Artie Shaw. 'Tie it tighter this time, Judge,' said Mother to Judge Marshall. "I think Mother always had a hold on his heart. My father never said a word against her. He was always very protective to the point of getting into fights with her suitors long after they split [like Frank Sinatra]. Frank wouldn't go to any of my father's restaurants, even when they were the most popular places to go. They got into public fights over Mother a few times, before and after my parents married. Frank thought that Dad was some sort of gigolo, not good enough for mother. The first time I know of them ever being civil to each other was at my twenty-first birthday party, in 1964.After her divorce from Bob Topping and his from Martine Carol in 1953, I recall him asking at the end of one of our Sunday outings if she ever asked me about him and if I thought there was a chance they might get back together. 'Well, I don't know,' I said. I was thrilled, but Mom wasn't interested in reuniting with Stephen. After he passed away, I found a couple of scrapbooks he had. Of all the press he received over the years, all he had held onto were those from the time of his marriage to Mother." -Cheryl Crane

LANA TURNER & STEPHEN CRANE footage from a Los Angeles Air Base during WWII, 1943

[maraudereestauderelb]

Second Favorite Place (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary:

Cooking in a creaky kitchen. Slow-dancing in a one-room apartment. One kiss turns into two, then three—and somewhere between candlelight and quiet music, Bucky says those three little words.

“Right here…” he whispered, fingers trailing down. “That’s my favorite place.”

Set in 1940s Brooklyn, before James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes is deployed in the beginning of Captain America: The First Avanger and long before he becomes the Winter Soldier.

Warnings:

Fluff, Mild smut / sensual content, PTSD / nightmare (brief mention)

If you'd like some music to set the mood, click here.

"I had no idea you were able to cook this good!"  

"I had no idea I was able to cook this good on that stove! When is it from? 1915!", you laughed and emptied the glass of Brandy in front of you.  

"Very funny, doll. It's not like I use this thing a lot. But looks like I got myself a girl who's a great cook. I'm a lucky guy", Bucky smirked at you who was sitting opposite him at the small table in his one room apartment.  

"Yes, you are." 

"More?", he asked as he raised the liquor bottle and refilled your glass after a nod.  

It had been the first time you had cooked for him in his tiny apartment, the first time you had dinner all alone and although the room was cramped, the kitchen old and the heating furnace sounded weird, you couldn't have imagined anything more romantic than this exact moment.  

Bucky had lit a candle on the table and had only turned on a dim light in the corner of the room. Music was playing quietly from a radio. 

Your cheeks were already warm from the alcohol and your eyes were sparkling in the light of the candle in front of you as you studied Bucky's appearance.  

"What is it, doll?", he asked interested when he realized your gaze roaming over him and captured your Y/E/C eyes in his blue.  

"Nothing", you grinned shyly.  

"What are you thinking about?", Bucky didn't give in and reached for your hand on the table. 

"Just how happy I am to be here."  

"Well, I'm happy you're here too", he replied before he placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand which sent even more blood to your cheeks than before. 

After you had taken another sip from your glass you got up to clean the dishes, but he got up as well and stopped you.  

"This will have to wait."  

"It's not a big deal, I'll be quick and-" 

 "Or you could dance with me?" 

How were you supposed to deny him anything when he looked at you through his crystal-clear eyes? 

Shaking your head over yourself you let him lead you to the only small spot that wasn't blocked by any furniture, so you had about one square meter to dance. 

But that small space was enough.  

Bucky placed one hand on your lower back and held your other hand in his close to your bodies, while your other hand rested on his shoulder. 

You leaned your temple against his strong chest and closed your eyes while your bodies slowly moved to the song on the radio.  

With surprise you realized that his body so close to yours didn't make you nervous anymore, his warmth and scent calmed you down and you felt like your heart had started to beat in the same rhythm as Bucky's.  

It was hard to believe how much luck you had. 

As if to make sure you leaned your head back to look at him and recognized he had been eyeing you the entire time. A smile crept up on your lips and revealed your white teeth before Bucky leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips. His lips gently glided over yours before his tongue slid over them.  

His tongue caressed over yours smoothly as you breathed in each other's warm breath. 

When your lips separated again, both of you opened your eyes again and looked at each other happily for a moment before Bucky whispered: "I love you, Y/N." 

And although his words came as a surprize you answered without hesitation: "I love you too." 

The kiss that followed evolved a lot quicker without losing any of the first kiss's sensuality until you felt how his hand glided further down, and you stopped him before he reached too low.  

With raised eyebrows and a grin, you tried to hide, you looked up at him while he just smirked. Wordless you shook your head smiling, leaned your temple against his chest once more and closed your eyes, hoping this moment would never end. 

The next morning 

Sleeping in Bucky's arms was different. Different from sleeping alone in your bed. His strong arms around you felt like a shelter, his heart beating in his chest against your back setting the rhythm for yours and his warm breath tickling in your neck softly. 

You had wrapped your arms around a pillow and inhaled his scent when Bucky suddenly started to move in his sleep, waking you up.  

It took you a moment to realize where you were until you found your orientation and turned around to your boyfriend who was nervously mumbling in his sleep.  

"Bucky, wake up", you started shaking his shoulder.  

Through the sunlight that forced its way through the curtains you saw how his face grimaced with pain.  

"Bucky, please wake up!", you screamed which finally ripped him out of his dreams.  

His chest was lifting and sinking in an unsteady rhythm, and he breathed in as if he was drowning as he automatically grabbed for both of your wrists and pushed you away from him, his eyes filled with panic until he finally seemed to recognize you and loosened his grip immediately. 

"I- I'm sorry, I-"  

"Shh", you quickly interrupted him: "It's okay." 

Your hands slightly shaking you cupped his face and leaned your forehead against his, which was glistening with sweat.  

"I'm here, it was just a dream, Bucky." 

As if he was drowning, he twined his arms around your naked torso and pressed you against his chest. Slowly you felt how his breathing became steady again and when he had calmed down, you pressed your lips onto his. 

"What was your dream about?"  

"It was nothing", he answered, his voice croaky and incredibly hot.  

"Was it about the war?"  

This time it was his hand that cupped your cheek and gently caressed over it while he smiled down to you softly: "It was nothing, love."  

"You know I'm worried every time you call me anything instead of 'doll'."  

The soldier chuckled quietly. 

"You might be right, but it's okay, because I'm here with you at my second favorite place in this world." 

"Second? What's your favorite then?", you questioned as you raised your eyebrows and watched his grin grow wider when you felt one of his hands slide down your body between your legs. 

"Right here...", he whispered and caressed the insides of your thighs while he captured your lips in a sinful and wet kiss.  

"Bucky", you sighed between kisses and buried your fingers in his hair to keep his face right where it was. 

Your tongues gently traced over each other and your lips only separated once when Bucky started to move his fingers over your core, making you cry out in pleasure. 

You picked up his rhythm. Your kiss only became more and more uncontrolled and messier with your movements and sighs and moans filled the air in the small apartment when suddenly someone knocked on the door loudly, which made you freeze.  

"Are you ready guys?", Steve asked happily. "It'sme, Steve!", he added. 

"Oh shit...", you panted nervously. "Maybe he'll leave if we're quiet", Bucky suggested smirking which made you giggle.  

"Come on guys, we wanted to go to the park today, remember?" 

"Oh no... How could we forget about that?", you sighed and fell back into the sheets. 

"We're coming!", Bucky shouted towards the door and wanted to get up to get dressed but you tried to hold him back: "No, no, no, Bucky..."  

"Look how cute you are slowly getting frustrated!", he laughed quietly: "Hurry, you don't want to get in trouble, doll, do you?" 

"What are you doing?", Steve asked in front of the door.  

"Just a second!", Bucky answered while he put on a pair of briefs, pants and his button-down shirt that had been laying on the floor. And while he put on his shoes, jumping towards the door you finally managed to get up as well.  

"Hurry up, doll", he winked at you once more before stepping out of the door to his best friend.  

"Finally! What took you so long and where is Y/N?", Steve wanted to know before Bucky had even closed the door behind him.  

"Oh you know her, just a second before you knocked she realized that she didn't like her hair and decided to do it again...I tried to tell her it's looking beautiful but you know her", Bucky made up an excuse while Steve eyed him suspiciously not quiet believing his story. 

-> MASTERLIST

[iwannascreameurekaa]

"if it's okay for poc to be cast as originally white characters then why can't we cast white people for poc characters"

Great question I have a wonderful answer for you

to start this is about a post I saw about Leah playing Annabeth Chase in the Percy Jackson show. Someone in the comment section was complaining about it and saying that they think a white person should be casted for Hazel if there's ever a live action heros of Olympus. This person claimed that if race has no meaning when casting a black perosn for Annabeth, then why would it matter for Hazel?

here's where this person is so incredibly wrong that it confuses me on what their brain is used for if not to make a complete thought. Hazels race was one of the most important things about her backstory

Hazel was a woc in there 1940s she went to a school for colored children. She legit experienced segregation. The whole reason that she had a connection to Leo is because she went to school with his grandfather sammy and the only reason she knew sammy was because of that school for colored children. Just that is enough to tell her that yes her race does in fact have a meaning and isn't something you should change

then the person in the comment section started talking about Frank.. then Leo and then piper. Basically they ranted on and on about any poc character

Let's start with Leo now. I'm bringing back the hazel point because again the only reason that he and Hazel had a funky connection at the beginning of moa is because of that school for colored children. Leo's Hispanic heritage is also important when concerning how his life with his mother was up till he died. One of the reasons he ran away from his aunts house was because she was religious and constantly called him the devil.

what about Frank? Well his Chinese heritage connected him to Poseidon which made him related to Percy which isn't massively important but you know it's a plot point so I see no point in getting rid of it

and piper? One of the first things we find out about piper is that she is bullied for being cherokee. The FIRST thing we see of piper interacting with characters besides Jason and Leo is her experiencing racism. It is insane that some people think that's just a thing that could be thrown away. Her Cherokee heritage also relates to her main character development in the trials of Apollo and lots of her "wisdom" is old cherokee stories her grandpa would tell her

and tell me one fucking moment in the series where Percy or Jason's race was important. Other than them being Greek/roman because they're all Greek and Roman so shut up

oh but since everyone's complaining about Annabeth being black in the show that must mean that her being white in the books is SOOOOO important

... it's not. In fact she's literally 1000x tanner than most of y'all depict her in the "canon" fanart so... yeah. And those of y'all saying "what about her being blonde that's her main character thing blah blah blah" I'm sorry is this the 2000s??? Blondes being dumb is a horribly outdated stereotype that is only ever used in a joking manner now back when the lightning thief was written in was a thing used against blonde women but now it isn't.

You know a certain group that is targeted and deemed dumb because of how they look? People of color, specifying black women.

Annabeth Chase being black is probably one of the best casting decisions ever, and I say this knowing that race wasn't the main thing when casting. Leah is the perfect person to play Annabeth and I will die on that hill. She has the script determination and the emotional range that makes her the perfect candidate for Annabeth.

If Annabeth Chase were real she would love Leah and she would hate you all for saying Leah isn't her.

Rant ended. Get your heads out of your asses before you say more racist shit.

[semicolonsspace]

Him (your favorite) (Stiles//Dylan O'Brien)

No use of names. Just pet names and Y/n.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Roleplay, unprotected sex, edging, begging, praise kink, degradation kink, Bondage (use of handcuffs), breeding kink, stretch kink(?), mommy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace.

"Honey, I'm home," he yells as he shuts the door. He would always do this, he would always say it's 'hilarious'. Y/n found it humorous so soon after they made it a thing she started doing it as well. But except she put her spin onto it, talking like a 1940s housewife that just got back running errands.

Y/n rounds the corner to the front door. She was wearing his favorite, his T-shirt and shorts— or at least he thought she was wearing some; She wasn't. She was doing errands around the house in his shirt—Which mostly consisted of organizing the new room they had just renovated— more like Y/n renovated because she wanted it to be perfect!

"Hello, dear," she says in her housewife's voice. He laughs at her and pulls her in by the hips to kiss her. His hands snaked under the shirt she wore and slapped her ass when he realized she was only wearing underwear and his shirt. "You tryna kill me today?" He asks in a guttural groan. Her forehead rested on his as she smiled lovingly at her boyfriend of two wonderful years. "Not currently."

He gave her a playful shrewd look. "I think I'm already dead, then," he hums suggestively as he pulls hair out of her face, then resting his hand to cup it. His soft touch sent a chill down her spine as she stared up at him with lust that was masked by playfulness. "Oh, yeah?" She starts as she bats her eyelashes. "Well, I guess I might have to resurrect you."

He looked intrigued by her choice of words, choosing a decision for himself he indulged her humorous antics. "How so?"

"By laying you on my sacrificial altar bed and extracting your life force fluids," she jokingly purrs at him. That seemed good enough for him because he slung her body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. As he walked he shreaded his layers then threw her on their bed.

Y/n scolded him for being so careless, as she almost hit her head on the metal bed frame. She pulls him down, and pulls his shirt off effortlessly—as she had done it so many times before due to the numerous times of "catching up sex" they had due to his work. She pins his pale buffed arms to the mattress while speaking. "Now, baby. Don't you remember how I said 'I' have to extract some fluids?"

He looks up at her and smirks. He decided to indulge her roleplay and started improvising lines. "Please, don't hurt me— I'll be good— you said you needed fluids, take my spit anything but my blood!" He whined with feigning horror. But she knew he was aroused, she could feel it— feel his 7-inch cock pressing— begging to be drained by her— and if he was lucky he could have her cunt to grip her tight.

Y/n chuckles darkly, something he thought was too authentic to be in their present roleplay. "I never specified which fluid I needed, dummy."

His eyes widened when he 'realized' what she meant. "By all means, go ahead�� just don't kill me— please—" he begged once more. Y/n plants a soft kiss on his pointed elf-like nose as if saying 'good.'

That led to having him cuffed to the bed for hours. Her hand wrapped around his cock— jerking it just to stop before he would release. She wanted him to explode when he did so. And she wanted it to be inside of her. She wanted to feel the familiarity of the thick warm liquid rife her up just for it to enter her cervix. She was on the pill, plus she had a few boxes of plan B she liked to keep a stack of.

"Mama! Please! Just let me cum! I'll be good!" He screams, fake tears streaming from his eyes. Some of them were genuine tears from how delicious the pleasure was.

"Will you be my little ingredient holder?" She tilted her head as she spoke, speaking in the most condescending tone she could muster. "I need lots of human sperm to make my potions, would you like that? For me to milk you dry every day?"

He lets out a guttural groan that she didn't think was part of the roleplay. This was purely him. He was enjoying every bit of this, lapping up all the attention his girlfriend gave her.

The last statement was proved by his hips thrusting into her hips in an attempt to chase his orgasm. She stops and rubs his stomach. "How many times was that? 6 times? 6 potential orgasms just for me to stop... That makes me powerful don't you think? To have the ability to stop you from doing something your body chases? It's okay though, you'll get it soon."

Then her cunt was hovering over his red cock that was tortured for the last 2 hours. He nodded eagerly as he babbled how much he needed her to finish him off— to give her the "ingredient" she needed. She sat on him, wincing at how big he was, Every time she had him in her at first she would always be shocked by how much he stretched her fluttering walls.

"Going to be the best ingredient ever— make the strongest potion," she praises, continuing their little roleplay. He didn't seem to be acting anymore due to the immense pleasure, mostly just him begging for mercy for her to finish him off finally.

"For fucks sake— please just ride me, mama— need it," he whines, actual tears falling down his face. He was ruined— disheveled. And she felt glorious; she had done that. She had made him feel so divine just for her to deny his unholy release six whole times.

Y/n clicks her tongue and slaps his chest slightly, before reaching back and squeezing his balls. By his reaction she knew it was painful from how much he groaned— a different type of groan— he needed that release and she was just toying with him— She had been toying with him this whole time. "Next time you won't finish. I may need the ingredient but I can always use other fluids," she warns darkly.

He seemed to get that she was still roleplaying and nodded, breathing a sorry that was soon sucked in as she started hopping on him, his dick curve hitting her spot every time she sheathed onto him.

Her hands rested on his pecs before finding his nipples and tugging on them harshly. "Pretty boy looks so good fucked out for me," she whispers into his ear, her one hand caressing his sweaty hair. "Only for you." His eyes flutter, his mouth staying open. She kissed him— now instead of hopping, she was rocking into him, which seemed more sensual to them as they moaned in sync, telling each other they loved each other, completely forgetting about the roleplay. Now it was just the couple of two years that have lived with each other for eleven months.

Y/n reaches for the cuffs and he shakes his head while begging a no. "Keep them on, please," he moans.

Her mouth forms a smile before opening from the pleasure. She gets an idea so they both have what they want. "Wanna feel you touch me," she says uncuffing one singular cuff. His hand immediately finds her hip while his hips thrust into her—seeming like he was trying to gain control.

"Fucking being a brat for not letting me cum, baby," he groans as he pinches her nipple. She smiles at him before kissing his neck. "Good," she whispers, before unlatching the other cuff. Then she was flipped on her stomach, her ass in the air, her face buried in the mattresses as he plunged his abused cock into her. "Oh, you feel so good—way better than your hand, that's for damn sure," he murmurs breathily. Y/n was clawing at the mattress, bratty almost pornographic moans being muffled into the light grey satin sheets.

She lifts her head finally, positioning her body to arch, her elbows propping her up as he continued to rail her pussy into oblivion. "Cum in me— wanna feel you-"

He cuts her off before she continues with a humorous moaning chuckle. "Trust me, I'm gonna fucking milk every fuckin' drop inside this pussy, gonna stuff it full so you can carry my baby," he growls, making his thrust harder to punch— not kiss— her cervix. She squeals as a sudden wave of intense pleasure knocks her out. Her vision faded black and he coaxed her, his thrust becoming sloppy before he stilled in her. He doubles over from the climax, whispering praises into her ear. "S'good, I love you so much, honey," was all she could make out.

She thought he was the one who was going to be exhausted but he kept going, his cock continuing to piston inside of her for round two. She was more than okay with it, letting him use her just how he wanted; he deserved it.

By the time he stuffs her brim full with a second orgasm, she is on her back. The cum oozed out of her cunt as he pestered wet-sloppy and open-mouth kisses all over her neck and chest. She was bound to have marks all over her in the morning. "Look at that, baby," he says as he plays with his release around the hole. He was still inside, his finger lapping up the release and stuffing it back into her.

"Fuck, don't do that, or we're doing a round three," y/n squeals. He smiles cheekily at her and stuffs his finger into her again.

His cock and his finger were both inside, stretching her to limits she never thought she would be able to with him. Then he starts thrusting slowly, his vacant hand holding her ankle in the air so he can have maximum access to his favorite toy.

"We need to get those ankle holders like hospitals have so I can fuck you better," he says between grunts. "Or a fuck machine so I can get payback."

At the mention of the machine, she screams, especially because he removes his finger and presses it onto her stomach. "Scream for me again, baby: tell the whole fuckin' neighborhood I'm breeding my little whore again."

And she did, she couldn't take his rough thrust with his hand pushing on her stomach, it made her tighter— sensitive. But she could not bring herself to stop such amazing pleasure.

His stamina never seemed to shock Y/n. It did at first, having to beg her to eat her out. She let him, barely saying no simply because it was a win-win. He would always say "I get pleasure from eating my girl out, I don't need anything else." Which she loved, it almost became a love language for him to do so. While she answer emails for her stay-at-home job—when he was home that is— he would rarely pass an opportunity to either 1: eat her out or two: fuck her while she worked— and trust the universe, he made sure she would take it while working whatever she did on her computer.

He soon got tired of the position and pulled her by her thighs, manhandling her and flipping her back on her stomach. Y/n pushed herself down the bed, her feet touching the ground in front of him. He pushed himself back in, his hands grabbing her hips so he could pull her back onto him repeatedly. His thrust was a little harder, exactly how she wanted right now, making loud pleasured moans to leave her lips— along with many praise for him for how good he made her feel.

She then pushes herself off, causing them both to stand, he gets the hint and pulls her close, grabbing by the throat to choke her. Her vision fades a bit, from the pleasure of his cock hitting her cervix and his slender hand stifling air from her throat. "I love you, honey. 'Missed you at work; 'Could only think of my beautiful girl all alone at home," he says between moans. "My good fucking girl," he growls as he moves her hair from her face just to return to her throat. His thrust never faltered either, his words, and admiration, all pushing her over the edge so hard she went limp. "Did I fuck you too dumb, baby? Awe, my poor baby." He then pushes her face back into the mattress, spreading her cheeks to gain better access to his cock moving into her pussy repeatedly. "Take me so well," he groans, massaging the fatty flesh of her rump.

Y/n was too far into subspace to talk. She could barely even comprehend his dirty words, plus the painful pleasure she had from overstimulation of her recent orgasm was going straight to her head.

He continues to fuck her, eventually picking her back up and carrying her to the bathroom—while fucking her. Her arms wrap around his shoulder lazily, his hands steadily gripping her ass to push her onto his cock repeatedly. He lays her down in the huge circle bathtub, turning the water on and continuing his work to chase his own orgasm. "Baby, fucking love you and your pussy, both of my girls make me so happy," he then doubles over, his face going for her neck, stifled whimpers escaping his mouth traveling from her neck to her ears.

Y/n holds him, her hands rubbing his back as he finishes for the third time inside of her. "I love you too, dear," she whispers. He whimpers causing her to chuckle. "Too sensitive?" She asks, feeling his dick twitch inside of her. He nods into her and she splashes water onto his body. "You wanna take a nap in the bathtub?"

He moves his face to look at her with a dumbfounded expression. "Honey, as much as I love being in your embrace, I don't want to risk you drowning."

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Too Dangerous for Kids

So, recently I had reason to go back and read Jason's post-crisis debut comic Batman (1940) #408 and it clicked really hard that basically the central theme of Jason becoming Robin was that Robin was too dangerous a job for kids. Before he becomes Robin, Dick got injured, badly, by the Joker, and Batman swore to never endanger another child like that, which is the reason Dick stops being Robin at all

Batman (1940) #416

And I'm friggin realizing now that the posing in Death of the Family is straight up a mirror to this scene of Dick having been shot?? I'm losing my mind???

Batman (1940) #408

Like, look at this in universe magazine shot with this talk on the radio compared to Bruce holding Jason and tell me this was not deliberate????

Batman (1940) #408 and Batman (1940) #428

And THIS TALK?????

Batman (1940) #408

I just... HMMMM, idk there's something very fascinating to me that the theme of 'this is too dangerous for kids' has been there in Jason since day zero.

It also makes me sympathize a lot with poor Dick who got fired "cause it's too dangerous for a kiddo out there", when he was no longer a child, and then WHAT DOES BRUCE HAVE WITH HIM NOT EVEN A YEAR LATER?!

Batman (1940) #416

He's devastated by the realization there's a new Robin, then harsh and critical of the new Robin because he's sure they're gonna screw up and get hurt

Batman (1940) #416

Not because he wants his old job back

Batman (1940) #416

Despite his misgiving about the mantel being passed on at all, at the end of it, he still gives Jason his respect and acceptance into the role

Teen Titans (2003) #29

And this has such fascinating parallels to Jason's reaction to finding out there's a new Robin after him!

Red Hood: The Lost Days #4

He is devastated by the realization there's a new Robin, then attempts to brutally dissuade the new Robin from keeping the mantel because he's sure they're gonna screw up and get killed

Teen Titans (2003) #29

Not because he wants his old job back

Teen Titans (2003) #29

Despite his misgiving about the mantel being passed on at all, at the end of it, Tim still has his respect, and perhaps even his acceptance into the role, although he was far too violent about it to actually properly give the role over like Dick did for him.

Teen Titans (2003) #29

Neither of them have a petty, jealous reaction of you replaced me, but instead have a tangled mess of "I was sloppy, I wasn't good enough, I got hurt, and now you put an even less prepared child in the line of fire?!" Jason is wildly more violent about it, but at the core I feel like the sentiments are the same, and it kinda makes sense because really the end of their times as Robin were very similar to each other, just Jason's was wildly more violent!

I can't help but wonder if maybe part of Jason's reasoning somewhere along the line was "Now I finally get why Dick was so harsh on me back then." And... honestly I don't think it is. Cause while it would make sense it just doesn't seem to be a parallel either of them is conscious of.

It's just this fascinating set of reflections neither one seems to see.

[talkbycolor]

the nun and the soldier

A/N; I ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT THIS AND THOUGHT LOL WHAT A GOOD IDEA FOR AN OS

Pairing; "[REDACTED]" x AFAB!Reader

CW; cnc? for someone who doesnt know how to put limits the line is very blurry, you will guess / daddy kink but in a priestly way / def religion kink, breeding but im not sure if its just a kink, worship but im not sure who worships who the most / this is more like an au like 1940 battlefield where [REDACTED] is a soldier and MC a nun

The night was like a classic old horror movie scene.

And how not to be scared? Outside the cathedral it was raining heavily, the skies were roaring from the electrical storm and the only lighting was the holy candles, that place was a refuge for the homeless.

After all, many people needed comfort in times of war.

You had decided to stay until midnight, praying to your father to protect the soldiers in battle, that the families would stop going hungry, you held the wooden cross that hung from your chest so tightly, begging for the massacre to stop, the times They brought sadness to the entire nation and God had to save them.

A loud clap of thunder echoed outside the cathedral and the doors were opened, the cold of the night and the wind caused the flame of some candles to go out, so holding the cross tightly to your chest you turned to see who dared to break in. with such violence in the house of God.

"Who's there?" You asked as you walked towards the huge wooden gate.

A man in uniform walked in, soaked from the rain, he looked tired, hungry, hurt, he barely made eye contact with you you felt a chill run through your entire body, not just because of the weather.

"I need food" He was a soldier, you nodded immediately and helped him walk to take a seat on one of the benches while you went to the warehouse for something the man could eat, there was food stored that was going to be donated, or that's what the priest said.

You returned with canned food and some water for the stranger, who snatched your things to eat like a dying dog, water running down his chin and eating haphazardly as he breathed heavily.

"Sir, are you okay? Where is he coming from?" You didn't avoid being curious when asking those questions, although just one cold look from him was enough to make you close your mouth.

…

You only heard him chewing, the man seemed to have had a really bad time and it was no wonder that you could tell from miles away that he was a soldier, and since he came alone, there was a high probability that he was one of the few survivors in the trenches, but you are not going to assume too much.

"Father, please help this poor man to heal his wounds safely, to regain his strength, to protect his life on the battlefield and the lives of our nation -…"

"Stop talking shit" he interrupted you in a vulgar way, causing astonishment on your face, even disgust.

"That is no way to speak before the lord" You scolded him, the black-haired man only laughed hoarsely.

"Bring me clothes, I'm freezing in this" he demanded arrogantly, getting rid of his wet clothes, your kind soul heeded his words, because that's what you were, right? A sweet nun willing to help the needy, love your neighbor as your god ordered.

"Excuse me, I only found the priest's old clothes and I'm not sure they fit him, I hope they can help you" You said as you returned to the bench, he once again snatched the things from your hand.

Yes, he was a rude man.

The minutes passed, the candles continued to melt at the altar, you were praying in front of the golden statue of your lord while the soldier was resting on the benches, grunting at his wounds and trying to stay warm.

"Hey, nun, since you won't shut up come here, I think I know how you could keep that mouth busy" The man suggested with a cheeky smile, it was unheard of how he could say such things in the lord's house.

"Hey! That's enough of-…"

"It wasn't a question, come here or I'll come for you" his voice was sharp, and with no intention of continuing to listen to you, seeing how you froze in surprise he grumbled and took the trouble to walk towards you.

Right in front of the golden statue of your god, he subdued you to the ground and lifted your robe to reveal your underwear, that man was shameless because he simply buried his face between your asscheeks to inhale deeply.

"HEY! HEY" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" You begged him, confusion and disgust replaced with terror, but… he was a soldier, a man willing to sacrifice his life for his nation.

"Please, honey, aren't you supposed to be a helpful sweetheart? You promised to help me stay warm, and this is my last dinner before I die?" He murmured on your back, riding you without a word, his hands had already pulled down your underwear while you were busy in your thoughts.

"Oh my god, this can't be happening, I'm supposed to stay pure" You whimpered as you covered your face, too embarrassed by the situation but not trying to push the man away.

He was an angel sent by god to save the country, it would be so rude to reject any order he gave.

He ground his hips against yours in a messy manner, he hadn't even prepared you well when your pussy was already engulfing his cock.

"Wow, you're so tight, so it's true that nuns are virgins, right? I feel so lucky to be the one to take your chastity, dear." His voice was teasing in your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut to endure the sudden intrusion, you were Pretty sure you would bleed.

No one would pass by the cathedral at that time of night, much less in a storm, the clicking of both skins echoed in the enormous building, right in the eyes of your lord.

"P-please forgive me Father for I have sinned, forgive me so much" A hand grabbed your jaw to silence you.

"You better ask thanks to the Lord because you will soon have a son, I will take care of filling this pretty pussy of yours to the brim, okay, angel?" He mocked your prayers but the seriousness in his voice was immaculate, he really wanted to impregnate your womb with his seed.

Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay in the doggy position, the soldier was selfish, penetrating your wet cunt for the sole purpose of having his release and getting you pregnant.

"S-sir please slow down, I feel like you're going to break me" You begged, snot slipping out of your nose as well as tears at how disastrous the situation was, the problem wasn't that the man was using you, because he was part of the brave army that risked his life, it is logical that you want to help.

"... We shouldn't be doing this in the Father's house." Sob quietly, your body reacted so well to his touch and it was inevitable not to moan, causing echoes in the cathedral.

"No, no, angel, call me father, you don't want your lord to hear you acting like a slut in his holy home." His calloused hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you like a wolf would its prey towards its nest.

"My god, angel, you feel so good, I'm melting between your walls, I want to spill all my essence inside you, you're being so good for me, I promise you it will feel better" He whispered lovingly despite the furious thrusts. that you received. "Don't worry, this is what your god wants, right? Demigods are worshiped with flowers, real gods need blood." His tone felt so somber, his hand traveled to your crotch to caress, collecting said blood, your blood.

So if he died on the battlefield, he would at least have left his inheritance in the world and he wouldn't be completely forgotten, right? His greedy hands ran over every inch of your skin under your tunic, squeezing the flesh, he too seemed inexperienced too, moaning and letting out incoherencies as he ground his groin against you, saliva running down his jaw as he moaned like a dog, panting, his eyes rolling back, sharper sounds until you both trembled violently.

Just as he said, you were dripping, as soon as a mirror cascade came out of you and warm semen was present from your pussy, his member was already a little more flaccid as he observed such a work of art in front of him.

He didn't want to die, he wanted this stupid war to end so he could get this nun pregnant and raise a child together.

"It's okay, you'll be okay" he murmured one last time as he clung to you, taking you into his arms with a blank look, but his words weren't.

He promised that when all that was over he would return to you to take care of you and the baby, that was what he wanted most, a life without daily blood, peace.

It's a shame that the promise would never be fulfilled.

♡

[bambi-kinos]

hello! have you read Pete shottons book? What are your thoughts on his observations of John and Paul, particularly what he says about their songwriting and stuff like that?

Honestly when I read "John Lennon: In My Life", I noted that Pete did not talk very much about Paul. He did indicate that he was not close to Paul and that Paul kept him at a distance. He also claimed that Paul only visited John to write songs and that otherwise Pete didn't think Paul was very close to John? But it's been 3 years or so since I read it so I can't claim perfect memory. To me, it seemed like Pete was minimizing Paul out of jealousy and also wariness. Cynthia's book "John" took a similar tack where she claimed Paul was not a big visitor to Kenwood and that he wasn't that close to John.

It's pretty obvious that Pete and Cynthia knew more than they said but John's intimates never took to Paul. Paul kept himself aloof and then John's friends and loved ones would try to battle for supremacy in his life. Between Paul keeping his distance, John being himself, and then the tension between Paul and everyone else, there's a lot of minimizing and obfuscation going on. Which itself is very telling in its own way because when we compare this to Paul's statements and primary source documents and the Bailey shoot...it's incredibly obvious that Paul meant a great deal to John. So Pete and Cyn weren't telling the entire story.

That is also due to the times they grew up in, people born in the 1940s aren't going to be communicative about that stuff. Paul is only just now unwinding enough to say something, letting bread crumbs drop (to what end?!), and saying that he and John loved each other. So it makes sense that Pete and Cyn didn't want to blab about John and Paul.

Pete's book is a very interesting read and I definitely recommend it to everyone. You can tell where he's embroidering in places to protect John but there's also places where he's completely honest and tells the truth about John in the way only a best friend can. It's incredibly obvious how deeply he loved John and honestly it rolls into the romantic at times! Pete's book is a very honest read of John and his motives. Pete Shotton is the one who originally diagnosed John as "always needing a partner" and being unwilling to go out on a limb by himself.

@backbenttulips and I have talked it over a lot and I think we decided that there's a timeline where John ran off with Pete and The Beatles never happened but John got to live a long and happy life.

If Pete Shotton has a million fans, then I am one of them. If Pete Shotton has ten fans, then I am one of them. If Pete Shotton has only one fan then that is me. If Pete Shotton has no fans then I am dead. If the world is against Pete Shotton then I am against the world.

[lunesviolettes]

Void - 04.

(This series was originally posted on my Wattpad, so I’m bringing it over here)

pairing: MCU!bucky barnes x MCU!female reader

word count: 2.2k

summary: Y/N was far from any normal girl in Brooklyn during the 1940s. Her physical and mental strength were far from ordinary and her mother and father were nothing short of strange, just like her. Secrets and strange occurrences were all that she had ever known and with the approach of a second global war, it seemed that everything would only become stranger. A powerful organization, a target on the back of a young girl, a serum, and an infinity stone were all that it would take to change everything she knew about her world.

chapter warnings: none

a/n: This fanfic follows the course of the MCU movies (The First Avenger - Thunderbolts). It’s more focused on the story aspect of the MCU and is very much a slow burn type of story with not a lot of focus on smut.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

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"So it's not complete yet?" You asked, ducking down until your eyes were level to the beaker of a bright blue liquid. It was beautiful, but there was something almost sickly about it. Like it was meant to kill rather than grant them incredible superhuman abilities. "Yes."

"How do you know? I mean you had to have tested it before, right?" You turned, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked to Erskine. "It was tested...but I'm afraid that is classified information." You hummed, glancing back over your shoulder at the small beaker of liquid.

Your eyes narrowed as you took in the array of varied chemicals in their own separate vials. "Can you tell me everything that has been put in it so far?" You asked, to which Dr. Erskine was happy to explain to you.

You were truly amazed at the number of compounds that existed in one small mixture. Your mind was nearly caving in on itself trying to figure out what exactly needed to go in it. Abraham Erskine seemed particularly eager to not disclose what had happened to the first test subject, but that was the information you needed. If you knew what reactions were produced on the human body then you could use that to determine what needed to be added. So far, you were lost. Without that information, the serum might as well have been trashed.

After days and days of working and pleading with Dr. Erskine if he could just tell you what happened, he finally caved and sat you down for what you figured would be a very long conversation.

"I am assuming you know who Hitler is," he began, earning a hesitant nod from you. "He had come to me, telling me that I would make his people strong. When I expressed my lack of interest he instead sent someone from Hydra, or rather the head of Hydra, Johann Schmidt. An ambitious man that wanted the greatest power known to mankind. When he heard of my plans for this formula, he seized the opportunity to take it."

"And what did it do to him?" You asked, although part of you was unsure you even wanted to know said information. "It changed him. Yes, he became stronger, but his skin had begun to burn away. The only reason he is still alive today is because of the strength the serum gives to him." So the serum worked to an extent. There was just a side effect.

"Radiation." You whispered, biting away at one of your fingernails. You barely heard Dr. Erskine's response as you shot up from your seat, crossing towards the nearest slip of paper you could find. "There wasn't enough radioactive exposure! There needs to be some sort of electromagnetic radiation with enough stabilizing properties to help properly activate the serum. There's no missing ingredient in the serum, there's just somethin' that needs to be activated at the same time!"

You released a small breathless laugh, meeting the eyes of Abraham Erskine who still seemed in a state of shock at your outburst. "Now I just need enough time to figure out exactly what kind of electromagnetic rays will be weak enough to not permanently mutate the host. If I can just do that then...Dr. Erskine! Are you coming?"

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

"Miss Y/L/N, I am sure you have already met Mr. Stark who, like me and your parents, is part of the Strategic Scientific Reserve. He will be assisting us in our quest to find what sort of radioactive wavelengths will give us the best results." You were the first to nod, smiling briefly as his eyes landed on your own. "That was quite the argument between you and your parents." He responded to which you felt your face heat up in embarrassment. "Sorry you had to see that."

"I'm not. I've seen how passionate of a person you are and that seems like something we need on our side to defeat these damn Nazis." Howard Stark pulled you into a short side embrace and it was then that you realized he must not be a huge fan of human touch…or any interactions at that. Interesting. You thought to yourself. "So, Dr. Erskine tells me you need help to create some form of electromagnetic radiation that will help activate the serum properly."

You nodded, following the man around the room as he moved from one machine to the other. Soon, you fell into step beside Dr. Erskine, leaning over to whisper into his ear. "Is he always like this?" The doctor stood back to his full height with a smile, nodding to which you released a quiet chuckle.

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Days passed. Weeks passed. Nights were spent working down in the lab underneath the antiques building and you found yourself growing closer to both Dr. Erskine and Howard Stark. You often called the man ‘Mr. Stark’, something he was not fond of in the slightest because he claimed it made him sound older than he was. One of the smaller offices in the lab was soon stacked with piles of paper that were filled with each of their experimental ideas.

On the days that Abraham Erskine was not available, you and Howard would be working side by side, or rather laying across the desk in various uncomfortable positions as you scanned through your hastily written words.

"I don't think any of these are quite what we are looking for," You announced on a normally quiet Monday afternoon. "Polonium is a no-go unless we want to kill the tester. I don't think we're gonna find any answers in these damn elements." You laid your head down on the desk, overcome with a sense of defeat and exhaustion. A month had passed and still nothing.

You could barely remember the last time you spoke to your parents, Steve, or even Louise. You had no idea how Bucky was doing during his training and it was only contributing to the mass amount of insanity you felt had been taking over your mind.

Howard lifted his head, blinking away the few minutes of sleep he had just gotten. "If only we could just create our own electromagnetic radiation that could do whatever we wanted it to..." Your voice slowly died off as you met the wide eyes of both Howard and Abraham Erskine. "It's not a terrible plan." Dr. Erskine said, clicking his tongue as he sorted through the papers in front of him.

You smiled, pushing yourself away from the desk before sprinting from the room. The bright lights ahead led you straight into the open lab space and you began to compile all the information you collected over each of the radioactive elements and what they were composed of.

As the days carried on, you and Erskine had spent the most time together, conducting tests and trials of small samples of what elements or compounds were in his possession. With promising results, the two of you felt that you were closer than ever to finally creating a successful formula. But there was one issue. None of the elements produced an electromagnetic radioactive current strong enough or weak enough to activate the formula.

It seemed that you were so close to the end goal, but there was one wall in your path that none of you could seem to climb...until you were finally left to your own devices.

You had originally planned on working with a small sample of Uranium Ore Pitchblende, attempting to crystallize it and work through each of the nonmetals it could be combined with that you had access to. You made sure to take note of the sort of reactions it would have with water. The next steps were the process of finding Radium, breaking it down, its dissolving process in water, and that was what you thought would be your one-day examination before resuming work with Dr. Erskine.

What you created had been entirely by accident. It was when you rose to leave that you knocked over a small vile of what you could not visually label due to its nearly translucent color. Your first concern was that it had touched another sample, but, upon finding no such reaction, you managed to compose yourself and your heartbeat long enough to put on the proper protection before disposing of it. Long hours were not uncommon and that day, in particular, had lasted nearly forty-six hours without any sleep.

To say you were fatigued would’ve been an understatement, but it still came as a shock when you moved into the path of the chair right beside you and hit the table as you fell. You cursed underneath your breath and slowly dragged yourself back up onto your feet. As you neared the table, you caught a strange and foul odor leaking into the air. It was as if you were shaken awake by an imaginary force. Sleep deprivation was no longer a concerning factor as you moved away from the table at inhumane speeds.

The sample of radium you were working with had jolted during the fall, a few particles of its dissolved substance meeting the remaining droplets of the translucent liquid. What you found went beyond anything you ever believed was possible. The combination of the two liquids had crystallized completely, creating an entirely black substance, its edges sharp but brittle as a few of its peaks crumbled onto the table.

You were captivated by its existence. One could almost say that it was beautiful. Far more beautiful than coal, but nothing like diamond. The horrible stench soon left the air and you felt it was finally safe enough to uncover your nose. You were unsure how many minutes had passed of you continuously staring at it on that table, but it was long enough that your legs began to fall asleep from holding you upright.

With a pair of tweezers in hand and a spare test tube, you slowly pushed the substance inside, knowing it would’ve likely been brushed aside into the trash otherwise.

Despite how late it had been, you stayed in the lab, observing it underneath a microscope to better process its properties. How is that possible? You thought, checking it once, twice, and then a third time before you realized you were not imagining anything. It was almost similar to Uranium, but in the center was what looked like a kaleidoscope of textured patterns. What you were looking at was something you had never seen before and that alone seemed impossible. The elements and their appearances were something you took pride in knowing.

This however, it was a mystery. You didn’t dare say the words out loud for they seemed too foolish. I might have just accidentally created a new element…or created a new variation of some previously existing one. Even hearing it spoken in your mind seemed unhinged. Narcissistic almost. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but somehow it did. You were working with something that had not yet been recorded…ever.

The particle you broke off, had already changed when you peered back into the microscope. The kaleidoscope in the center had separated into two and seemed to be shrinking in front of your eye. The two pieces eventually came back together into the original shape you observed before repeating the process again. The number of protons or neutrons did not change, and that had eventually raised the question of whether or not what you were observing was similar to gamma decay.

If it truly was like gamma decay, you might have very well found the missing piece that was needed to bring Dr. Erskine's project to life. You just needed to test it. You found one of the extra vials of the serum that was made and placed a small sample onto the slider before breaking a piece off of the black substance, placing them together. The reaction that occurred was almost immediate. The serum turned a deep shade of black before it was completely absorbed by the foreign substance.

Okay…not what I was expecting. You said to yourself, soon turning to the next best thing. A sample of your blood would likely show similar effects that the true test would. Your hands shook throughout the entire process and although you had only taken a small sample of blood, you couldn’t help but be concerned. Another small piece of the substance was broken off and you put it in close proximity with your blood, watching with a careful eye underneath the microscope.

The cells in your blood had begun to split apart as expected, but very quickly burst. Your eyes widened and you sat back, frowning. Dr. Erskine himself said that the serum alone wouldn’t work. A single injection of the serum with the substance would only repeat Johann Schmidt’s failure. This new substance should work. You saw the gamma decay…or what you believed to be it with your own eyes. You just needed some sort of contraption. Something to break down the substance into its radioactive components.

A chamber to neutralize and stabilize it. The substance was the key, the machine would be the activator. And that’s where Howard Stark would come in. "I did it." You whispered victorious, pushing yourself away from the lab table. You had accomplished something that seemed impossible only a few months prior. With your eyes clamped shut, you lifted your hands into the air, a silent cheer escaping you.

Next Chapter

[socoolinmypajamas]

How does Oliver Fog timeline works?

So... a thing that really confuses me about 2.3 is how does Oliver being recruited into the Foundation fits into all of that.

Because of 37, we know there was a storm that send the world to the 1930's. Spathodea mentions in 1.5 that there was a famous Uluru Games in 1938 in which the Foundation took a big role in making the games possible. Considering that 1939 does sound like a plausible year for a historical event to trigger the storm, we can safely say that 2.3 takes place in 1938.

Now, here's a problem.

Based on Apeiron's records we have no storm ever sending us to either the 1940's or the 1950's. The closest thing is when it sent us to 1966, the era of characters like Regulus, and every character from 1.1 and 1.3.

Oliver is 15. His dad died in 1952, a few years before he turned 15 according to his anecdote (I could be wrong on this one tbh) and, like I said, the 2 years closer to 1952 would be 1939 (13 years prior, which makes sense for Oliver to be born but not for being recruited) and 1966. (14 years ago, which makes sense for him to be recruited, but not to be old enough to remember what happened to his father, which was expliclity said, he does. It was that whole thing about how good Arsenal was doing in the late 40's -early 50's) And if all this wasn't enough, so far I haven't being able to find a single moment in which Sir Fog, Oliver's dad, was adressed as Arthur. Like, Arthur is most likely Oliver's dad but it annoys me how even when Flutterpage talks to Oliver in the Wilderness, there's room for the possibility that it was just them THINKING they were talking about the same person.

Iunno, I'm probably wrong or over thinking it, but it's a detail that keeps bothering me.

[captainsophiestark]

Oldies And Goodies

Bucky Barnes x Reader

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Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Bucky's not a fan of modern dating conventions, until Sam sets him up on a date with a good friend who shows him the potential of the modern world.

Word Count: 1,543

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

My eyes scanned the restaurant, trying to make out Bucky through the dim lighting. After a moment, I caught sight of him at a table by the window. I smiled and started heading his way. As soon as he noticed me, he shared my smile and stood to greet me. Always the perfect gentleman. My heart skipped a beat, and I made a mental note to make Sam some cookies or something as a thank you.

Sam Wilson, a good friend of mine even before he'd taken up the superhero mantle, had recently introduced me to the second supersoldier out of time that he'd befriended. Bucky Barnes, the reformed Winter Soldier, was a little different than the Man With A Plan Steve Rogers, but he'd been different in a way that I liked. We'd hit it off pretty well, and with a some meddling from Sam, we'd set up a date within a few weeks of first meeting each other.

I'd spent an hour and a half making sure my outfit looked just right and trying to convince my nerves to calm the hell down. It was just a first date, with someone I was already friendly with. And I knew Sam wouldn't steer me wrong. Tonight was going to be fun.

Once I got close enough to the table, Bucky pulled a small bouquet of roses out from behind his back, holding them out to me with a lopsided smile. I gasped, taking them from him with a slightly disbelieving look.

"I've been told the flowers are a little old fashioned, but... it seemed like the right way to go," he said. I gave a little laugh, taking a moment to smell the roses (literally) before beaming back at Bucky.

"I love them," I said. His shoulders seemed to relax a little, the smile spreading to cover the rest of his face as he took a few steps closer to me.

"I'm glad. Here, let me get your chair."

He pulled my chair back from the table, gesturing for me to sit down. I nodded my thanks, trying to ignore the butterflies exploding in my chest as he scooted the chair back in for me like it was nothing. I gently laid the roses down on the table as he took his seat across from me again.

"Thanks for finding this place," I said, scanning the restaurant to take in the ambiance this time, instead of just searching for Bucky. "It's... really nice."

"Yeah, no kidding," he said, huffing a small laugh. "Honestly, I'm... a little out of my depth here. A lot's changed since the last time I asked somebody on a date."

"Well, for what it's worth, you've been doing pretty damn well so far."

We shared a smile, but then a silence settled over us that wasn't entirely comfortable. As much as this night seemed perfect, I couldn't help agreeing with Bucky. This place wasn't totally my scene, and I was starting to feel a little out of my depth, too.

"So..." I said, taking a deep breath and meeting Bucky's eyes again. "What exactly did dates look like back in the 1940s? One of the handful of times I talked to Steve, he said you set up a pretty cool double date to... some kind of expo?"

Bucky's eyes fell to the table even as his mouth pulled up in a smile. He nodded, talking as much to himself as to me.

"Yeah. Despite how it ended, I was always pretty proud of the Stark Expo one. We got to see a car fly long before any of that should've been possible. Walking around, looking at all the exhibits and experiments... honestly, it was incredible." He looked back up at me, the soft smile still in place. "Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of major, groundbreaking expos happening tonight for us to swing by."

"Damn. That would've been fun," I said, gently reaching across the table to take Bucky's hand in my own. I bit my lip, then looked up at him with a smile. "You know, Steve also said you're kind of a nerd."

Bucky snorted. Clearly, that's not what he'd been expecting me to say. He shook his head, but when he looked back at me, he had a smile on his face.

"Steve's got quite a few stories of his own that he should keep in mind when he says things like that."

"Well..." I took a deep breath, hardening my own resolve. Bucky and I were friends, and for whatever reason, this restaurant didn't feel right for either of us. I needed to trust him and our relationship so far, rather than pretending for norms or anybody else's approval. "Look, I don't know about you, but... this restaurant is lovely, but not exactly my usual vibe."

Bucky sighed, shaking his head and pulling his hand out of mine.

"I know, it's not really mine either. I just-"

"Hold on. I have an idea for a solution that might suit us both. And I think it'll be super fun."

Bucky stared at me for a few moments appraisingly, the faintest ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

"You know, I'm not used to letting the other person plan the date. But I guess I can make an exception."

I grinned. "Good. Because I have an idea that didn't exist in the 40s, but is the kind of modern thing I think you'll be able to get behind. You trust me?"

"...Yeah, I do."

"Good." I took Bucky's hand, grabbed my roses, then stood from the table. "Then follow me."

****************

"...and in the original, Gollum volunteered the ring as a prize for Bilbo winning the riddle contest!"

I beamed at my date as he raised out of his chair, the few beers we'd had and his passion for Tolkien pushing him to make his point loudly after being called on for the bonus question of this round of trivia. The host grinned, ringing a bell and pointing at Bucky.

"Aaaaand that's correct! Mark that down as three points for Oldies and Goodies! Hang tight everybody while we update the scoring, and we'll be back with our final round in ten minutes."

With that, the bar dissolved into chatter again as everyone went their separate ways for the break in trivia. Bucky settled back down into his seat with a sigh, then carefully cut his eyes towards me.

"So... was that a dealbreaker for you?"

I laughed. "Are you kidding? You got us three points, all while schooling the rest of the bar on some nerdy shit! It was hot."

Bucky laughed at that, shaking his head even as a smile stayed in place on his face.

"Alright, I've done a lot of complaining to Sam about how much dating's changed since I last did it, but I'll admit... I like this."

I grinned. "I'm glad. And for the record, I like it too. As far as I'm concerned, being able to have fun and kick ass at bar trivia with someone is one of the best green flags there is."

"Well, good. Because that table over there is right behind us in the points, and after they shouted out the worst string of horseshit about the Hobit I've ever heard with complete confidence, there's no way I'm letting us lose to them."

"Hell yeah! I'll go grab us another round, and then we'll make them wish they'd never come to this trivia night."

I jumped down from my seat and started heading past Bucky to the bar, but he caught my arm before I could get very far, his expression more serious than I'd seen it all night.

"Hey. Thanks. For getting a round of beer, for agreeing to come out with me tonight, for bringing us here... it's the best time I've had in a while, and you've been pretty much the entire reason for that. So thank you."

I smiled, my heart speeding up in my chest as I took a half-step closer to Bucky and softly kissed him on the cheek before leaning back.

"You're welcome. Thanks for being willing to try out something as new and chaotic as bar trivia. Maybe we could even make it a weekly thing?"

Bucky beamed back at me. "Sweetheart, I would love that."

"Okay, good. Then start getting ready for the next round, because if we're coming back here next week, I want it to be in defense of our title. This is the beginning of the trivia power couple Oldies and Goodies."

"I like the sound of that," Bucky said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned into me a little. I smiled, and he pulled me into his side, squeezing me tight before letting me go so I could get us both another round.

My dopey smile stayed on my face even as I got to the bar. I'd always had butterflies in my chest when I was around Bucky, but now, it was more than that. Being around him made me happy. I felt comfortable, and I didn't want the night to end. And luckily for me, he apparently felt the same way.

Destroying our enemies at trivia was just the beginning for us. And with no ending in sight, I truly couldn't wait to see what came next.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[purplekissinger]

How Tom Riddle married off his cousin

Late 1940s. Y/N is Morfin Gaunt’s illegitimate daughter. The Death Eaters take turns proposing to Tom's dearest cousin. He does not like a single candidate. Platonic.

(Death Eaters speak quite freely with Tom, but this is like… my hcs lol…... they got out of school yesterday, they are still classmates and not the members of some underground cult)

Abraxas Malfoy sighed heavily, tapped his wand on a scrap of parchment and pushed it towards Tom. Tom lazily picked it up and ran his eyes over it.

"Ten thousand Galleons?" he asked mockingly. "If you're thinking of buying my sister, that's not a very generous offer."

Malfoy snorted, waving a dismissive hand, as if to say, ‘look at this merchant selling his sisters’.

“How much do you want for her, then?” he asked, sounding hurt. “Mind that this offer is for you. Y/N won’t haggle over her upkeep. There won’t be enough parchment to write down the price.”

Tom turned the scrap of paper over with a bored expression, pretending to think about it. Then he carefully placed it on the table in front of Malfoy.

“Cassie, do you know how I met her?”

***

It was the end of August, the last summer before his final year at Hogwarts. The month had been dry and hot, but on the day he needed to drop into Knockturn Alley on business. As luck would have it, it started raining. The long-awaited, thundering rain that raised the dust on the pavement. The alley was deserted in an instant, passers-by rushing in all directions, someone conjuring a transparent umbrella over his head. Tom slipped through the half-open door of the shop, hoping to wait out the downpour.

It was quiet inside, dimly lit and somehow... cozy. He sniffed and immediately recognized the intoxicating smell of old books, unlike anything else. A moment later, when his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw them: on the shelves reaching the ceiling, on the counter, on the steps of the wooden staircase. Old ones and ancient ones, disheveled and neat, with monograms on the covers and without no covers at all. The shop was a bookstore. Tom, a great connoisseur of books, immediately bent over an inconspicuous tome and opened it in the middle.

"Good day, sir! Welcome to the Godsend," a friendly voice rang out. Y/N, whom he didn't yet know was Y/N, peered at him from the utility room.

"Pretty," Tom thought. "And polite."

 He smiled back at her.

***

"Where’ll you live?" Tom asked.

"Asked" was putting it mildly. The White Wyvern was so crowded he had to nearly shout in Dolokhov's ear. Antonin nodded, took a big swig from the bottle, throat bobbing.

"I have a flat nearby," he shouted. "Not a Malfoy Manor, of course, but liveable. Y/N is a wonderful girl, she'll decorate any shack it'll seem like a palace."

That was true. Y/N sometimes joked about being Wendy on a pirate ship. If there was even a drop of comfort and warmth in the headquarters, it was she who brought it there.

"A wonderful girl, that is correct," Tom said, looking away from Dolokhov. "Tony, are you sure you’ll have anything to talk about? She's a Parselmouth, just like me."

"We'll manage," Dolokhov smirked. "Y/N is such a modest girl, and a docile one. You see, I told her the other day that I’d ask you for her hand. She said, "As Tom says, so it will be."

"She can’t be more right," Tom said.

***

An hour later, Tom still couldn't leave the "Godsend." He forgot about the case, which never happened to him before. He felt bitter and absurd at the same time; there he was, standing at the counter, chatting with the saleswoman like some lazy schoolboy, in no hurry. As if there weren't goblins waiting for him in the next block with goods that could easily land him in Azkaban. As if his soul wasn't split. As if he didn't have four murders on his account.

He didn't want the rain to end. It was easy with Y/N. She understood him with half a word, with half a look, they finished each other's sentences, they read the same books, they even smiled the same way.

"Why didn't I see you at Hogwarts?" Tom asked, tilting his head to the side. "I would have remembered."

Y/N smiled sheepishly and shrugged.

"I had to work. I helped my mother here since I was a child, studied a little when I could, mostly on my own. Now I'm preparing for the OWLs. A bit too late for that, but still…’.

"And your father?" Tom asked after a pause. Asking about such things is rude. If they didn't mention a father, you probably already know where he was. But in that hour he and Y/N had spoken in such a way that Tom thought, If soulmates exist, it’s her.

“Merlin knows where he is”, Y/N shook her head indifferently. “Mom saw him a few of times. He called himself a prince, heir to an ancient family… Mom told me, he was a scruffy guy, but a charming one. They left me this ancient family name, so the Hogwarts letter addressed me as Y/N Gaunt, but I’d rather use my mother's name... Oh, be careful!”

Tom dropped the book he was holding.

“What?” he asked sharply. “Come again? Gaunt?”

For the first time, Y/N feared the look on his face.

***

“Tom, I don’t get it. Are you even going to marry her off or not?” Ray Lestrange asked irritably, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “You refused to even talk to Mulciber - that I can understand. Tony’s no prize either. But what's wrong with Rosier? I won't even mention Malfoy, who can easily drown Y/N in gold, and his name is quite respectable”.

Tom stirred his tea absently, as if he hadn't been listening.

“Rosier botched his mission twice, we’ve spoken, and I’ll sideline until he learns to behave”, he finally said. “As for Malfoy... Drowning someone in gold doesn’t require much gold”.

“Tom, that was figurative”.

“I know. And forget the name”, he added coldly. “Y/N has Slytherin’s blood in her veins. She is no less in status than Princess Elizabeth, and you want me to marry her off to some rich upstart from overseas?”.

"There you go again..." Lestrange said wearily. "Fine. No worthy groom for your precious cousin in magical Britain. Tom, no offence, but what now? I understand your fears. She’s your blood, you want the best for her...”

"No, you don't understand.

***

Y/N was everything. Home, family, comfort. A friend, a light in the window, a breath of air. She was what he lacked and what he couldn't live without.

If he knew who’d kept Y/N from him for sixteen years, he would kill them without any wand, bare-handed. But there were too many guilty ones. And instead, Tom strangled those who dared to look askance at his little sister or think badly of her (not figuratively, he was a skilled Legilimens already). Fortunately, few were foolish enough.

Another taboo was talking to Y/N about the organization. When Nott hinted at something in her presence, he writhed under Crucio within an hour. She knew nothing. She didn’t even know that Tom had sent her father to Azkaban.

Sometimes he wondered if he’d split his soul to find its match. If so, he regretted nothing.

***

Of course, Tom didn’t explain all of this to Lestrange.

“… Then why lead them on?” Ray asked wearily. “Marry your precious princess yourself and be done with it. There is no law against it, neither Muggle nor magical”.

“As if I’d ask Muggles for permission”,  Tom chuckled. “Ray, has it ever occurred to you that there are soul bonds beyond romance?”

“You mean you share one with her?”

Tom didn't answer. The door creaked upstairs, and Y/N's sleepy face appeared on the balcony.

“Oh, Mr. Lestrange!..” she exclaimed. “Tom, why didn't you warn me that we had guests?”

Tom looked at her as one might look at the sun, gold, a masterpiece, a beloved child, a mother. Like no one else. Lestrange felt a chill.

“It's alright, darling. Come down”, Tom said softly. “The tea is fresh”.