#i've put on my shorts and they're not coming off no matter how low the temp drops

[alackofghosts]

i bring a sort of pokemon trainer energy to this grocery store

[therosehost]

ShuririWeek: D1

Fluff + "Don't Go"

cw: allusions to nsfw content

Shuri doesn't hear the humming at first. She's too frustrated.

She isn't Queen, nor is she the heir anymore, but the Elders hold her hostage in meetings and at inane ceremonies for hours as if she still were. It grinds at her skin like sandpaper.

Especially because Shuri knows why they do it. They care. They've watched Shuri grow from a glimmer in her mother's eye to a white-draped shadow by her casket. The elders care for her, Shuri knows this. But that doesn't make the overbearing attitudes any less irritating.

Today's latest antics had involved them - particularly Elder M'Kathu - insisting that every member of the council attend the Prayer of the Hymned Beetle. Shuri had wanted to throw her chair out the window with herself inside.

That biannual prayer had started in the river tribe as a joke ceremony. It was just an excuse for people to be off from work and drink themselves to incompetence.

It had never been taken seriously, that is, until Elder M'Kathu got it into his head that Shuri singing the Hymned Beetle's lament would somehow make her happier.

HA!

By the time Shuri escapes (just barely) and returns home, she's still wallowing in incredulous anger. She doesn't hear the humming, but when she yanks the bedroom door open she definitely sees the dancing.

Riri, as usual, is beautiful. And she's even more so as the golden silks she currently wears make her glitter in the setting sun.

Positioned in the center of the small garden's inner courtyard, Riri's prayer forms are uncertain. Sometimes her knees don't bend all the way they're supposed to. And at one point her arm doesn't extend to the full ninety degree angle the instructions scrolls describe.

But that doesn't matter because of why her beautiful talented dedicated genius girlfriend is praying. Or rather, to whom.

Shuri knows the prayer that slips low and careful from Riri's lips. She knows every note and syllable. It is her mother's funeral hymn. The Honor of Ramonda's is a celebration of her mother's birth and life, and a bitter bemoan of her death. There's a promise there at the end, humming with a grief that Shuri knows in her heart will last all her life.

She had poured her soul into creating a prayer dedicated to her mother. When Riri sings it, Shuri almost wants to cry.

It's beautiful. Her girlfriend is beautiful. Her girlfriend singing the prayer is beautiful.

Shuri moves forward, past the door where she's stopped in her tracks, and stops only a foot away. Riri's robes swirl around her, a red whirlpool of gauze that stops short when Shuri comes into sight.

Riri watches Shuri with wide eyes, lips parted to express her surprise.

"Your form is all wrong," Shuri says and then wants to shove a fist in her mouth. Damnit.

Riri puts her hands on her hips and laughs, her blouse rising up at the movement. "How are you this awkward?" The skin of Riri's stomach peaks out. Shuri stares. The blessed oils make the skin glisten. Shuri bets if she steps closer she could smell the spiced lotuses.

"I'm not being awkward." It's a distracted mumble instead of the annoyed tut she intended but Shuri can't bring herself to care. She wants to lick Riri.

Riri narrows her eyes, crosses her arms under her breasts, and gives a fox like grin when Shuri licks her lips. "Oh, you not?'" she laughs again. "Then what would you call it?"

Shuri pouts. "Giving constructive criticism, of course".

"Criticism." Riri says the word slowly as if tasting the letters. "I think I've heard of that before but I'm not real familiar. Why don't you stop hovering over there and come show me."

It sounds like an invitation to fight or fuck. Shuri is willing to do either or both of it means she can touch her girlfriend. But-

Shuri shakes her head and moves back towards the threshold. "I want to let you finish though."

"I thought my form was shit?" Riri raises an eyebrow.

"It was, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see you pray." Shuri's words are a lovesick trill.

Riri snorts but presses a hand against her own cheek like she does when she's trying to stop blushing "Nah, see, now my feelings hurt. It was supposed to be a surprise but I don't even want to do it anymore."

"Ok, I apologize. I take it back. Finish the prayer."

Riri hums, rocks back and forth from heel to toe, and then reaches for the towel on the stone bench behind her. Shuri flails.

"You have completely mesmerized me and I want to watch you dance forever," She almost gets on her knees. "Please please please finish."

Riri clucks her tongue, watching Shuri with a sly smile as she backs away. "Naaaah, I lost the motivation. Maybe I'll go hire an instructor instead."

Shuri huffs, rushes forward, and catches Riri around the waist. It startles a laugh out of Riri and Shuri huffs again. "Don't go. I'll help you. We'll pray to my mother together. Just, please, dance for me." She makes her voice as soft as her heart feels.

Riri cups Shuri's cheeks, rubbing a thumb under her eye and kissing her. It's a light brush against the lips really, but it's enough to send Shuri's heart into a frenzy in her chest.

"If you're so desperate," Riri says, her voice is sultry, smile teasing, "then I guess I'll entertain you a bit."

"Yes. I am very desperate." Shuri nods firmly.

Riri wiggles out of her hold with a groan. "Don't do that. I feel guilty for being mean when you get all earnest and shit."

"I like to when you're mean to me though."

Riri groans again and throws the towel she'd dropped at Shuri's head. "Shut up and help me already." Her plush lips form a pout around the words.

Shuri laughs and catches the towel. "Anything you want, my love."

"Uggggggggh. Please stop!"

a/n: this is rushed as shit and mostly unedited. but, ya know, fuck it. i really wanted to participate in shuririweek at least one day so here it is!

@shuririweek

[profounddefendorcrusade-blog]

A Second Long Rant About The Koffin Trio

Note: I decided to write about these three again (mostly about the genocide route) because I didn't cover everything I wanted to in my previous take, and you guys seemed to like it (I'm glad you enjoyed it as well, @beethovenus!), so here we go. If you haven't already, please read my previous ts!us post, since this is an addition to that.

Let's just say that the writers really outdid themselves when it comes to the genocide route, especially in regards to Harry and Larry. Never before did a video game leave me feeling so emotionally broken. The battle between the Boogiemen and Chara proves that comedic relief characters CAN and SHOULD be put in serious situations. It gives them much-needed depth.

At the beginning, Harry and Larry didn't take Chara seriously and only managed to make it out of the encounter alive because Crossbones/Sans intervened (which just goes to show how reckless both of them are) they're like annoying but loveable little kids i swear

It's this trait of theirs that led them to their downfall later on. I guess you could say that their appearance was meant to 'lighten the mood' of the otherwise dark genocide route, but it only made things worse for them in the long run. I remember reading a comment on YouTube once, and it mentioned how the Boogiemen resemble horror movie characters who die first due to their carelessness. And aside from the fact that they were not the first monsters to get killed by Chara, I agree 100%

Neither one of them believed that a human was even in the Underground, let alone a serious threat... that is, until they tried picking on Chara ↓

...which obviously didn't end well ↓

When they realized that they really WERE in danger, both visibly began to panic; neither one of them even tried to pretend to be fearless ↓

I've got to say that I love the contradictory traits the Boogiemen share: fearless but fearful, fun-loving but seeking safety, reckless but cautious.

Imo, as much as they like to goof off, they want someplace to come back to even more. Koffin-K is the one who makes the keep a place where they feel like they belong; a place that gives them comfort. KK's presence is what reassures them that they're taken care of. He's the one who makes Koffin Keep home.

In the present moment, Harry and Larry can afford to act goofy and careless because they're convinced that, no matter what happens, Koffin will always be there to save them, provide for them, and keep them safe in general.

There's a difference between who Harry & Larry were before and after they got hired (they seemed to have become more mischevious, more open to goofing off, and even more ambitious and confident).

I find it interesting that both of them were anxious/sceptical about working for Koffin when he first met them:

The two weren't attached to Koffin-K at all at the time. They didn't become loyal right off the bat; It took them (a short) time to warm up to him. And now that they are attached, I'm pretty confident that they're never leaving his side

The thing about Harry is that he used to rely on this one low-wage job and probably thought: "If I take the risk and come to regret becoming this weird guy's lackey, or if he fires me, I might never be able to come back to my safe job again and I'll be left with nothing. I'm not even qualified for anything other than menial chores!" yeah I headcanon that both him and Larry dropped out of high school at like 16 and never went to college in the first place I'm also really curious if Harry used to be attached to his previous boss (who he never mentioned) like he is to Koffin-K now, but I doubt it since he DID accept Koffin's job offer the very next day.

And Larry didn't want to risk anything either, even though he pretty much had nothing to lose. Even if he used to have a job as a janitor (if this is the case, I imagine his thought process was the exact same as Harry's), he still lacked a home. It's depressing to think about how Larry apparently wanted to continue his poor-quality life because he didn't believe anything different or better was out there. Or, he had no idea what having a better life even felt like. Maybe he thought he'd be WORSE OFF as Koffin-K's employee and/or that he'd fire him at some point. I just made myself sad, I love these guys a lot and empathize so much I feel like both of them believe they're not good enough and it hurts

Anyway, back to the genocide route.

After they're rescued, Flowey says:

Already setting up the fact that they'll either be an easy and/or optional battle. Nice.

Then we see Harry and Larry straight up putting themselves in danger to please Koffin-K:

Like, guys, I'm sure he would have understood if you hadn't obeyed his order this time. but they CAN'T let him down; they refuse After all, a mass murderer was on the loose

And once again, we're given a choice whether or not to fight them:

And finally, if we follow them... we get to this scene.

Oh god. THIS scene. Where do I even start?

Alright, time for some retrospect.

So, the two dummies have no way to escape and are forced to fight (with their very last conversation being AN UNRESOLVED ARGUMENT), Larry is ruthlessly pushed off the cliff (is this why it's called the ruthless route? Because if so, it fits perfectly), Harry screams his name and falls to his knees, completely dejected, and doesn't even attempt to run or fight, waiting to join Larry in death.

This moment hurts. This text especially. "Quick on his feet" but not quick enough; Larry's name is no longer next to his

No matter how much they annoy each other, the care is clear as day. That's another reason why I think of them as brothers. Harry is pretty fearful, right? And yet he'd rather turn to dust than live a life without Larry.

Sometimes I wonder how the scene would have played out if Harry had been given given the choice to either flee, stay and fight, or let us finish him off.

Ok, the third option would remain unchangeable, and the second would definitely result in his death whether or not he put up a fight, but the first one...

**ANGST WARNING**

Koffin-K would find Harry in his and Larry's house, curled up on their (now only his) bunk bed, sobbing uncontrollably and blaming himself over and over again. Then he'd hold him and they'd cry together. Koffin would regret not being more transparent with his care for his henchmen, and now that he was only left with one, he'd swear to be the best boss and father he could be.

It would take a while, but eventually Harry would stop crying himself to sleep every night, he'd go back to his mischievous self, he'd pull pranks and laugh and have fun because that's what Larry would have wanted.

Koffin and Harry's relationship would strengthen over time (sooner rather than later) and they'd become a true family. But every day, for the rest of his life, Koffin-K would wish that he had told Larry how much he loved him before he died. Harry would wish that, too.

But there was no way to turn back the clock, and the only thing they could do was hope that, wherever Larry was, he'd somehow know.

...he did.

I don't even want to image what would have happend if the roles had been reversed. Let's just say that Larry would have been absolutely shattered if Harry had gotten pushed off a cliff/died first. Based on his reaction if you beat Harry up during their fight in the neutral route, I don't even think he'd ever be able to move on from the pain of losing his brother best friend (or it would be SUPER hard).

Speaking of these scenes, Harry's first reaction was to get furious, Larry's was to burst into tears. What they have in common though was that they showed care for each other sigh... image limit strikes again

Larry also picked up on the purity of Chara's soul (or lack thereof) and it triggered Chara

It reminds me of how Ceroba picked up on the number of monsters Clover had killed

Long story short, I love how both Harry and Larry have their own quirks and personality. They're not just interesting as a duo, but separately, too. It's sometimes hard to remind yourself how, just because two people are a team, that doesn't mean they don't/can't exist as individuals.

I'm really curious to see Koffin-K's reaction to these two's deaths. REALLY REALLY curious.

I think that he'd completely break down (before that he'd be in denial) upon realizing that his idiots are actually gone forever and were killed by someone Koffin thought would make a good servant. Still, for some reason, I doubt he would become so enraged that he could avenge them by killing Chara.

Regardless of his reaction, he'd definitely miss them a lot.

When everyone was gone, Harry and Larry were the first on his mind i feel like they're his biggest headache but also the two monsters he loves most, in his own unique way

Random thoughts as a bonus bc why not:

I swear, it seemed like they wanted to say "You're talking to THE COUNT'S lackeys!" and "You ain't the dad of us to tell us what to do!" Also, Harry looks scared/nervous/unsure/ af. These guys really are both cowardly and impulsive

Istg, they act like (man)children with Koffin being their strict but goofy dad mom who makes them do chores when they'd rather laze around (I know it's part of their job and everything but the way they talk about their duties gives me this vibe)

...yeah, just KK acting like an annoyed dad, nothing new to see here

Remember how, in the last post I wrote, I said that Harry and Larry are materialistic (for a good reason)? Yeah, they're so materialistic that they'd even "betray" their boss for some cash (unrelated, but I love this game's humor)

These two have a dog's loyalty, but even their house looks like a doghouse (or maybe it's just tiny compared to the keep). Speaking of the keep...

Interesting that, whoever wrote on this wiki, didn't include the other workers almost like it's just the three of them that are a family while the others are just there for the easy money

[zannolin]

fic author q&a

tagged by @beautyofsorrow <3

why do you write fanfic?

short answer, because i love it and it makes me happy. longer answer, still that. but it makes other people happy too, sometimes, and especially as i am often writing for nicher series/pairings/dynamics/etc, i love knowing that someday if anyone else likes this obscure silly thing, they can go looking for fic about it and mine will be there waiting for them. also i am immensely unhappy when i'm not writing. i don't think i could live without it. and writing fanfic is fulfilling to me in a way that original work often is not, largely because of the community aspect and the low pressure for it to be marketable or revised or support me as a person or an artist tbh.

which of your posted stories do you think of the most even though the story is "finished"?

mmm tough call. the fey au in the sense that it's the world and plot i am proudest of craft-wise. i worked really hard and i think you can see that it paid off. but other than that i think... i think it might have to be please don't hold me to it right now. because i did it just how i wanted. in a way it's like what my boys in bars series was trying to be but didn't quite reach on the friendship level i think.

if you could give yourself fic advice from when you first started writing fic, what would that advice be?

just let yourself write what you want, how you want. you can have flowery prose. you can be weird and vague and metaphorical. you can just write about friends, i promise. and stop looking at your fucking stats.

what's your relationship to fic stats?

well. i think above answers that one lol. i've blocked my ao3 stats. i cannot see hit or kudos or bookmark counts on ANY fics. + i've gotten much better about not expecting anything especially by writing highly niche stuff.

is there a pairing or scenario or friendship that you miss writing? if so, why? if not, why not?

ehhh. the shazamily, to an extent. the shazam fandom is lovely because so many of us are writing family/friendship centric works and that's if not the norm, at least MUCH more common than in other fandoms that i've been in, and i miss that because at heart, i'm a genficcer. i'm a friendshipper. i love platonic and ambiguous relationships so much. so i miss that, but for the most part, i'm actually okay with not writing anything i used to write. that's okay.

what motivates you to write?

i WILL lose my mind if i don't. i can't even elaborate past that like i'll just go bonkers.

why do you write for the fandom(s) you write for?

because i am sick and ill and dying from brainrot and nobody is writing the highly specific content that i crave in the way that i crave it. sometimes there's nothing for the fandom at all, and SOMEBODY's gotta be the change. mostly i'm just like hyperfixated and losing it.

if you're stuck writing a WIP, what do you do?

take a break. do other things like jigsaw puzzles and taking walks and reading books. listening to phoebe bridgers on my floor. the usual. it'll pass. the ideas will come when they're ready.

what do you wish people knew about comments?

a genuine comment is never a bother. NEVER. no author that i have ever met is going to be upset at you for commenting on a fic and saying hey i really loved this!!! or something like that. no matter how old that fic is. no matter if the author has moved on, or put it on anon, or hasn't written fanfiction in years. it is never, ever a bother. when i get a comment on a fic that i didn't JUST post, i rejoice. i lie on my floor and i think about how incredible it is that people are still finding, reading, and loving something that i wrote, no matter how bad i think it is now that i've grown into a different person. i have coasted for WEEKS on the fact that someone left me a comment saying i loved this and here's my favorite part. here's why. this made me cry. this made me smile. this reminded me of my best friend. this is how it feels, really, you got it. any of that. all of it. sometimes a fic is me going "is this crazy??" and a comment is someone saying "no, no, it's not, i see it". a comment that takes like two minutes to type can matter for two years just by being like, hey, this mattered to me. plus like 90% of my friendships online have been founded on the basis of commenting on fanfic so you know, rave reviews from me.

maybe there's a question you wish had been on here. what's that question (and answer)? -> is there a fic and/or author who is doing what you want to be doing with your own writing? who/what?

i can yap all day about inspirations but lately, i am haunted by love me on purpose by smoosnoom in terms of themes, emotions, and pure aching; @thcscus in sheer technicality and prose; the pacing, metaphor, and tone in there's daggers in men's smiles, @beautyofsorrow's sensory work in literally Every fic ever + her fic for the barbie zine none of you losers get to read yet; and @blusandbirds' ability to capture visceral emotion so damn vividly and succinctly.

tagging @blusandbirds @transjlawrence @lordgrimwing @pinkgrapefloyd!

[amplifyme]

Caves and cramps and Cersei

"Did you do this for Cersei?" she mumbles, her question almost lost as she asks it to the ground.

He shouts a laugh. "Little chance of that, bird! Remember the bloody nose I told you about? She gave me that for grabbing her arm when she stumbled going up a stair. She was in a foul mood that day and told me a dog's got no business laying paws on a lion. No, I watched her maid do this for her."

"You are quite good at it."

"The first one's free. Might be I'll want something in return next time. Not a bloody punch to the nose either."

"I am no lion, ser," she retorts and he can hear the smile in her words. "Wolves and dogs are more alike than not, I think. Your nose is safe with me."

"Good thing, that. Wouldn't want to ruin this pretty face of mine."

She giggles and then gets quiet again. He works at her back until his hands begin to ache and he flexes them and pats her between the shoulder blades. "Up," he says as he stands. "Fetch me a tunic from my bag. Don't matter if it's clean."

He squats by the fire and takes what she's dug out. Wrapping it round his hand, he grabs the flat rock from the embers and bounces it in his palm to judge its readiness. "That'll do," he decides, pivoting and dropping off his heels, scooting back until he's slumped against the wall. "Grab the furs and come back here," he tells her. Unwrapping the cloth from his hand, he loops it round the rock, padding it to protect her from the worst of the heat it's leeched from the embers. Sansa settles between his outspread legs and he pulls her back against his chest after draping one of the furs over his shoulders and around them.

"If I had a helm we could heat some water and use a skin instead. This will have to do." Sandor picks up the bundled rock and lays it low on her belly. "Put it where it feels best, girl, the heat will do the work." He sits up, bending them both over as he snatches another fur to cover them in front. He tugs off her cap next, and combs through her hair with splayed fingers. They are soon cocooned, warm and relaxed in their small nest of stone.

"That helping?" he asks after a few minutes.

"Yes, very much so. Thank you."

He wraps his arms round her and covers her hands with his. Her head tips back against his shoulder and she peers up at him.

"How did you know to do this?"

"I've lived twice as long as you, girl. I've learned a few things. Might not be fancy, but it does the job."

"It wasn't right, what Cersei did," she says a short time later. "She should not have hit you like that."

He has grown used to the way her mind works and how she'll hold close something he's told her and think on it, then bring it up again as if they hadn't already moved on to something else. She is a constant delight to him and he squeezes her tightly for a moment.

"Lions, dogs, wolves. They're none of them so different. A pack can only have one leader. She was making bloody sure I knew it wasn't me."

"Not all wild things are like that."

"Most," he argues.

"Not birds. They don't care about things like that. They just want to be free to fly."

He turns his head and nuzzles into her hair, struck by the sadness he hears in her words.

"You may have the right of it, there" he says. "But there's more wolf than bird in you, Sansa, don't forget that."

"Maybe that's why she hated me."

"Who, Cersei?"

"Yes. She pretended to love me, but she didn't. If she loved me she wouldn't have let Joffrey do what he did to me - or to my father. I wanted to be like her once. How could I have been so blind?"

"People see what they want to see. The first time you set eyes on someone, you make up your mind who they are, 'specially if they fit the part. Works the other way, too. Get looked at a certain way enough times and soon you wake up one day and that's who you've become, like it or no."

"Is that what happened to you after Gregor burned your face?"

"Aye, some of it. The rest I took on myself."

"But what you look like, that's not all you are. Not anymore."

"No, and you're no empty-headed bird either."

"You used to think I was."

"Still do, sometimes." His bark of laughter becomes a grunt of pain as she jams a well-placed elbow in his ribs. That makes him laugh even more. He will give her that one. They shift and get comfortable again.

These Scars We Wear - Chapter 16

[the-journey-was-the-point]

Where Mortals Go

Another Linnéa-centric fic! This time, featuring another OC of mine, with some shippy tension, introspection, and headcanons for Dúnedain burial customs.

Summary: Following Calarphain's death, Linnéa reflects on what comes after with her Ranger friend. Relationships: Linnéa/Lanthir Warnings: Discussions on death/the afterlife/grief, mentioned grave-robbing

“The fields of Fornost,  the fortress in Rhudaur, and now here. We really need to stop meeting like this.” 

Linnéa turned her head a fraction, acknowledging her companion. She couldn’t deny his point. It was getting a little ridiculous, and she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from curling upwards.

“True,” she said, turning back to the fields ahead. “Every time I see you, I’m surrounded by dead things.”

Lanthir leaned back against the fence Linnéa was sitting on and crossed his arms. “But you acknowledge, yes, that each time, you were never there against your will?” Then before she could retort, he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t pry. I’ve accepted that you’re simply a very secretive woman. And I respect that, so long as you don’t stray too far into the dark.”

It was the pattern they established from the moment they met in the wraith-infested fields outside Fornost. Lanthir, a member of the Dúnedain, had been on patrol, making sure no dark powers were stirring up trouble in the old fortress. Linnéa had been foraging then, a lone woman in an accursed land. 

She claimed back then that she was an apothecary searching for rare ingredients (which was technically true, except she hadn’t been looking to make medicine). Though it felt off, Lanthir couldn’t seem to refute her. And ever since then, they ran into each other the same way: Lanthir at work, and Linnéa, a strange woman, with her strange friends, in a place full of dead things. 

Tonight, it was in a small town bordering Cardolan. They were tasked to guard the local graveyard, as the townsfolk had trouble lately with brigands stealing freshly-buried corpses. 

“I noticed there's less of you than before,” Lanthir said. “Where is that hired sword, the one with the dark hair?” There was another one Lanthir found odd. 

“Taran? He left to attend to other business. Family matters.”

“I see. And what of that white-haired Elf?” 

A shadow of grief crossed Linnéa’s features, and she took a moment to respond. When she did, her voice was soft and low. “He passed away recently. His people are laying him to rest in Lothlórien. Our other friend, Callonduin -- they're brothers, if you remember-- he joined them for the service.” 

Lanthir was stunned at the news of the Elf’s passing. He slowly moved off the fence and turned to face Linnéa fully. “I am sorry for your loss. Did he die in battle?”

“He made a sacrifice. We're supposed to be waiting on Callonduin's return. In the meantime we’re,” she made a vexed, clicking sound with her tongue, “We're adrift. We took this job mainly to take our minds off our friend's passing. I'm not sure it's working but,” she then gestured pointedly to the graveyard behind them, “it's something to do.”

Lanthir could only nod and listen to Linnéa vent her frustrations. The apothecary pulled her leg up to rest her heel on the fence, almost hugging it. She didn’t mention that Calarphain’s death had driven a wedge among her friends. She didn’t mention it was making her think about her own life. She was no longer sure how much time she and her companions had until they decided to disband, which put her goal of leaving Middle Earth in a precarious position.

Neither of them spoke for a while. Linnéa kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, while Lanthir stared at his hands, opening and closing his fists. 

“Despite our ancestry,” he began, tentatively, “the Dúnedain tend to live short lives.” The Ranger  paused, mentally formulating his next words. Linnéa finally looked up at him, troubled, but curious. “I've lost my fair share of comrades. It never gets easier. Sometimes I'm grateful for that fact, if it means I never take a life for granted.” He brought a fist up to his chest, solemn and intent as he looked into her eyes. “The pain is proof of love, and I'm happy to bear it each time.”

“Unsurprising,” she responds with some mirth, and maybe a little fondness. It was certainly touching (and astounding) how Lanthir shouldered his grief like a badge. “I run into you Rangers in the worst places. Is there a grave like this one, filled with Dúnedain who've passed?”

Lanthir chuckles a bit, some humor returning to his features. “Nowadays, we make it a point to cremate our dead as soon as we can. Many fall in battle, out in the wilderness, and we are far too aware of what foul things can befall an unguarded corpse.”

In the graveyard behind them, Linnéa heard the sound of someone shoveling dirt. One of the other Rangers had taken it upon himself to close up the graves that had been disturbed. 

“We erect memorials where we can”, Lanthir added, “there's plenty of them out there. Then we try to bring their personal effects back to their families.”

Linnéa nodded, taking in his words. They both turned back to the fields ahead, watching for any signs of beasts or brigands. 

Linnéa wondered how Calarphain’s funeral rites were going. She was reminded of her own mother’s funeral many decades ago. Being half-elven, she outlived most people she met. It was just a little bit more jarring now that she outlived an elf. 

It was a blatant reminder of how long she’d been living, and the years to come stretched out before her, now seeming more infinite than ever. 

“If it's any consolation,” Lanthir noted, “I heard Elves go to the Halls of Mandos when they die, where they can be re-embodied after some time. Perhaps one day Calarphain can be reunited with his family.”

“And what of Men?” She wondered. “What happens when they die? Do you expect to see all your fallen kin once more?” Would Linnéa one day rest among her Elven father’s people, or witness whatever fate awaits Men upon death? 

Or would she simply be doomed to an eternity of life on Middle Earth? 

“No one knows what happens when Men die. It's our kind’s greatest mystery, and I imagine it'll stay that way for a long time.” 

[nova-appleade]

I promised this like forever ago and I'm finally posting it now:

Me and My sister's collective ranking of all the Winnie the Pooh animated movies

(That are available on Disney Plus)

Before I start I am completely aware that I probably have a bias to some of these, as I grew up with a few. I tried to look subjectively at each movie and take into account both characterization as well as how the movie feels as a whole and it's plot.

I'll try my best to avoid any spoilers, as well.

9) A Valentine for you (1999): 3.5/10

Starting with the obvious outlier here: I know this is technically a short and not a movie. The fact of the matter is though that I watched it and hated it. It felt... cheap. Rushed. I felt no love or care was put into this while I was watching it. What plot it has makes little sense. Though I understand what they were going for, it doesnt feel fitting for Winnie the Pooh canon. The only reason it has a 3.5 is because the song Tigger and Rabbit sing, while short, is actually kinda cute and catchy.

8) A Very Merry Pooh Year (2002): 5.5/10

I don't have a lot to say about this one, either. It was very cute, for what it was! I enjoyed myself watching this, unlike the previous entry. The split apart plot threw me off, though, and it felt more fitting for multiple shorts rather than trying to make those two plot ideas fit together in some way. Felt very disconnected as a whole.

That being said, I did enjoy the second story way more than the first. I love it when the characters show such genuine care for each other.

7) Springtime with Roo (2004): 6/10

It does pain me to put this movie so low. I mean, a quarter of it is Tigbit FanFiction. That's like one of my favorite things. The conversation Tigger and Rabbit have halfway through always hits me in the heart. You never see them actually have a sit down talk and try to understand each other, and I love that about this movie.

There are just certain things that bother me. Perhaps I'm picky. The movie just didn't stand out to me in a way that the ones above it have. There's no real story. Just felt like Rabbit being hurt for an hour or so.

That being said there is genuine charm here I can see why some might rank it higher.

6) Winnie the Pooh (2011): 6.5/10

I also like this movie. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Tom Kenny as Rabbit is hilarious. This is probably the funniest movie in the whole series. (To me)

My problem with it is also the thing I like about it. The comedy, while funny, also comes as a detriment to the characterization. I feel as if they play up the characters' traits to the point they feel hollow and one note. Rabbit is over the top, Piglet is a kiss ass to Pooh, Pooh is... kind of self centered?? They don't feel like themselves. These characters do not feel like they would genuinely care for each other as true family. The Tigger Movie would never happen in this universe.

Like I said, I think the movie is funny. It's entertaining in its own way. But I can't see it being canon in any way shape or form and that stops me from putting it higher.

5) The Heffalump Movie (2005): 7/10

This is a really sweet movie. It has such a wonderful message, and I love the change they made to the Heffalumps as a whole. I think it really expands the universe.

Roo and Lumpy have such a sweet friendship. I can't very well speak on the messages in this movie aside from "don't judge a book by its cover", but I do think they do a good job of conveying the lesson simple enough for children to understand, while not treating them like they're stupid.

I have no real problems with this movie. I just think the ones I ranked higher are better than it.

4) The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977): 8/10

I feel like this was a perfect introduction to the characters and their personalities. There's something so charming about how it's aged.

I know my bias is showing through with this entry, but even as an adult I truly appreciate everything about it. I think, for the time it was made, it did what it wanted to just right. It didn't want to tell a big story, so it didn't. I don't feel like it needed to, either. I think the stories flow nicely into one another and fit well in the universe.

3) Piglet's Big Movie (2003): 8.5/10

I'll be honest, I grew up with this movie. It's so beautifully charming and heartfelt.

I actually don't have too much to say about it, either, though. I love the characterization and the lesson it tells. I love how the characters feel as if they've known each other for their whole lives and truly love and care for each other like family. It's warm and even when they're fighting you can tell they only do it out of a place of genuine care.

2) The Tigger Movie (2000): 9.5/10

I realize this might be a controversial(?) place to put this movie. I can completely understand why some would put it at their number 1 spots.

That being said, I love this movie with every fiber of my being. And believe it or not, no, I didn't ever see it when I was a kid. I only watched it for the first time a few years ago.

The Tigger Movie is beautiful and gut-wrenching. Most definitely the saddest of all of the movies on this list. I could go on and on about it forever. I love seeing Tigger in the spotlight of anything and I love seeing his emotions and thoughts. The themes of love and family are unmatched. Not to mention the songs! There isn't a single bad one.

The only thing that keeps it from being a 10/10 for me is Rabbit’s role in this movie. I realize I am being picky with that and I don't want to elaborate purely on the fact that it isn't anything but a very minor complaint for me.

1) Pooh's Grand Adventure (1997): 10/10

Literally the perfect Winnie the Pooh film in my eyes.

The songs are catchy and filled with wonder. Each character feels like they were torn from the page of the book. You understand where everyone is coming from in their point of view and you can't help but smile and laugh and cry with them during each moment.

Their family dynamic is so beautiful and innocent. There's nothing I would change about any of it. I still get emotional watching this and the Tigger Movie both.

Hell, Pooh's Grand Adventure is one of the reasons I have been into storytelling since I was young. It is still one of the stories I look back on and aspire to write something as whimsical and pure as.

If you got this far, thank you! These are of course just my personal opinions and I'd love to hear your own rankings! 😊✌️

[whumpitlikeyoumeanit]

Whumpuary 7

Whumpuary prompts should theoretically make up one cohesive narrative, though I'm not currently putting in the effort to flesh out the story around the prompts just yet. I have good intentions to do so eventually. Masterlist. Oh yeah and they're totally out of order, chronologically.

((content warnings: mention of torture ))

promptspiration: @whumpuary 07: Drugged

Whumpee: Draco Malfoy Whumper: Voldemort whump type: comfort fic type: Deathly Hallows "Voldemort learns Draco hooked up with Harry" AU

Snape and Narcissa caretakers while Draco's still a prisoner.

words: ~1000

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

"My lord, eventually you are going to kill him." 

"Feeling sentimental, Severus?"

"Hardly." Snape's voice was dry. "Even as the dubious pleasure of minding students goes, a Malfoy is a special annoyance. But he is a useful tool against Potter, and Draco is not strong. Even the Cruciatus alone will eventually kill him. Sooner, if you keep letting Bellatrix at him."

"That's what I have you for." 

"I am not a healer." He sounded annoyed. "I'll do what I can." 

Draco was lifted into the air by a spell. He didn't resist it. He didn't know if they realised he was conscious and he thought he would prefer it if they did not. Maybe he wasn't, really. He felt very far away from his body, from the situation, like an observer. That was better. 

He was taken to his mother's parlour; even before he was laid on a sofa, he recognised it by the smell. This was where she had once arranged the flowers that dotted the house. They hadn't had flowers in years now, but still their ghosts lingered. 

Something was poured down his throat, vile and no doubt effective. His pain-tensed muscles began to relax and the ache eased. Snape was gentler than he had to be, holding his head in one hand and making sure he didn't choke. It wasn't really a surprise; ever since he saw how perfectly Snape hid the fact that he knew about him and Harry, he had realised that his words may just be just words, no matter how fiercely he seemed to believe them. He really was incredible. 

His mother's clipped steps hurried into the room. "Draco—" Snape moved aside and she took over, sitting with him and holding his head in her lap. He wished he could stay there forever. Her fingers brushed through his hair. 

"I've done what I can," Snape murmured. His voice was so low it seemed unlikely someone outside the room would even know there was talking going on inside. "You're allowed to tend to him?"

"Sometimes," she said icily. 

"When you are, give him this, as soon afterward as possible. It will impede the formation of the memories. Calming charms are tempting but try to avoid it if he's coherent; the long-term effects are unhealthy. He needs sleep—"

"I know this," she snapped, She was snappish from stress, not because Snape was doing anything wrong, but he was the closest thing to a safe person to take it out on. Draco wished he could make her feel better. Her hand gripped his shoulder tightly. "I need something to protect him—"

Snape cut her off. "There is nothing," he said harshly. "Nothing will provide any protection from the Dark Lord's punishments, that would not be obvious and make the situation worse. He will have to endure. This might make it easier to live with." 

She said nothing, but, in a few seconds, Draco felt her move and heard the touch of metal to glass, one of her rings coming into contact with the potion bottle as she accepted it. 

"Pain. Seized muscles." It sounded like he was going down a line of potions. He could sense the shifting of bottles. "Use them when necessary. I don't know when I'll be able to spare more."

"Sleep?"

"No. The demand is too high; Sleeping Draughts and several ingredients are in short supply. Blood-Replenishing."

"He won't need that." She sounded less like she knew that than that she couldn't believe otherwise.

Snape's voice was quiet but inarguable. "There is a mandate that he will be punished nightly, whether the Dark Lord is here or not." His mother's hands held him tight, but she couldn't make that not true. "Not everyone will continue to be entertained by mere pain. Keep it, and hope you're right.

"His mind is another matter. Draco." He didn't respond, willing Snape's attention to go away. "I know you're awake." It wasn't working. He shook his head infinitesimally and turned his face into his mother's stomach. She ran her fingers through his hair silently. That still seemed to be enough of an acknowledgement for Snape. "Practise your Occlumency."

"It doesn't work," he murmured.

"No," Snape agreed. "You will never be able to hide anything and I would discourage you from trying. I hope for all our sakes that you don't have something somehow worse that you need to — although at this point it seems nothing is beyond the scope of your ability to make bad decisions. But if you can maintain control of your mind, it may preserve your sanity." 

The 'for a time' went unspoken. Maybe it would keep his mind strong enough to take being dragged out in front of Him… every night…. for more torture, for no reason, nothing he could do to end it… Maybe it would. For a while. But if anyone made an effort to break him, he would break. If He lost control in his anger and didn't care if he stayed sane, he would break. Even if anyone became overzealous and went too hard, he could break… If it went on for too long with no end in sight, maybe then he would still break…

"All right," he said quietly. His mother held his head. 

"Give him a few drops of that. It's too late to do anything for tonight's session, but I don't need this conversation on display."

She stroked his hair and turned his head up, and dropped a small dose of a horribly sour potion into his mouth. He heard Snape's footsteps retreating from the room and put it out of his mind, hoping that everyone else would have forgotten about him and he'd be allowed to stay, for a few hours.

[pokeglitchden]

Elapsed hour spent on lockdown at the lab is now approaching... 20 hours I think? Likely spending the night here tonight. I'm not sure if Team Snagem is still at large in Hoenn, but they're not giving us clearance to leave until it's certain there's no danger to the lab.

So! In the mean time lets meet some of the Glitch Pokemon here at the lab! I've put together a short film to introduce them! This is definitely just to make something productive of my time, and not an attempt to stave off the crumbling of my sanity after being at the lab for TWENTY HOURS over two days. [ID video begins with a rather grainy camera coming into focus on a scene that looks like this.

S-This is Query! Our first Hoenn Glitch Pokemon, and currently the only glitch pokemon at the lab that is native to Hoenn. It's name is a single Question Mark, which... might seem odd since it looks like two, but it is truly a unique little glitch pokemon.

ID- The sound of a deep, low wooshing sound is heard from the ? S- It may be hard to see, but Query here is really only an inch tall. It is however, incredibly dense, weight in in at a whopping 489 pounds. Luckily, it commonly hovers slightly above the ground, so picking it up is just a matter of getting under it, like this.

S- As you can see, it has no problem being held or handled, and generally exhibits a mild and passive behavior. This may be because in spite of its appearance, looking, acting and even battling as a fully formed pokemon, Query is in reality an Egg which will one day hatch! What this means about the nature of Pokemon Eggs in general has yet to be even hypothesized about yet!

S- But I'm rambling! You're of course going to want to see what Query can do in action! So far, it has only learned to respond to the command: Tackle, but due to its incredibly dense nature, it deals a punishing amount of damage! Show them Query! ID- A small Dummy is set up at the end of the room. Query slowly floats backwards before slamming itself into the fighting dummy, which immediately knocks it across the room. There is a light crash in the distance S- Er... I think that's good enough Query. Anyway, that's about all there is to say about our Query! I hope you've learned something about the wonderful world of Glitch Pokemon from all this.

ID- Simon returns Query to its pokeball, and stops before the camera once again.

S- There's really only one other Glitch Pokemon that I can show you, and that would be-]

[The clip is abruptly cut off here]

Huh.. how odd, I thought I took more footage with that. I guess I must have run the tape too much. Bad habit.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed our little educational film and I also hope they let us out of this lab soon!

Any time now.

Anyway, good night Hoenn! Thanks for listening! Feel free to write in if you have any questions about Query or any of the pokemon we have here at the lab!

-Simon

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 22b

*Warning Adult Content*

MINE - Part 2

"Five minutes."

"What?"

"We're waiting five more minutes and then we'll go in there together if the Doc hasn't already come out with some news," Josie says, softening her tone. "I got your back, okay? Always."

Knox nods and bites the inside of his jaw to keep from getting choked up.

It's been a long time since he's felt this... low.

This worthless.

This hopeless and utterly exhausted.

Like nothing will ever go right no matter how hard he pushes himself.

The last time he felt like this had been when his mother passed away and that was several years ago.

He'd felt whatever it is that was beyond numb, and the support that he desperately needed was nonexistent.

These days, he feels like he's barely holding on but he's grateful because he doesn't have to go through life's dips alone anymore.

His brothers are great but they're also the opposite of sensitive.

Their advice usually falls along the line of 'You'll get over it, bro. Drink a beer and stop stressing.'

By far, Josie is the best at providing comfort and encouragement.

Knox would always joke about how she should go back to school to become a therapist.

"Oof. Somebody just woke up," Josie giggles, reaching for Knox's hand.

She places it where hers had been on her stomach and his eyes light up when he feels a little kick.

"It still boggles my mind that there's a human being growing in there."

"You ready for them to come out?" Knox asks.

"I don't know. Some days I think I'm ready for motherhood, and some days... I... I feel like a hot mess who doesn't deserve to be anyone's mother," Josie confesses, tears welling up in her eyes. "Sorry. My hormones are all over the place right now."

Knox doesn't have a therapist hat that he can put on, so he's shit at giving advice.

He does the only thing he can think of and pulls Josie in for a brief hug, allowing her to have her moment.

They separate when the door to the bedroom opens and the doctor steps out with his supplies.

"How is he?" Knox blurts out.

"Stressed," Keith answers. "And mildly dehydrated but Mr. Robinson will live to see another day. I gave him my wife's card..."

"Great. You think he's going crazy," Knox mutters, growing uneasy. "This is bullshit."

"No, it's real life. My wife is a licensed psychologist who specializes in trauma, which he exhibits symptoms of," Keith clarifies, defensively. "She can help him. I told Mr. Robinson the first five sessions will be free. She's spoken with a few of you before, so of course everything will be kept off record. Whether Mr. Robinson reaches out or not is up to him but in the meantime, keep fluids in him and... uh, try to keep your 'club business' out of his sight."

Feeling unrightfully judged, Knox narrows his eyes and steps forward with clenched fists.

"Thanks for coming out on such short notice, Doc," Josie moves to stand in front of Knox while waving for Keith to hustle his ass down the hall. "Your money is waiting for you in the kitchen with Gavin. Safe travels back home. Goodbye."

"You all take care now," Keith nods, then speed walks down the hall without looking back.

"I know you're itching to get in there, so tell Everett I'll check on him later," Josie squeezes Knox's arm, pulling his attention back to her. "If you need anything, you know where to find me. And don't forget about what I said earlier..."

"Your sermon is saved, Red," Knox taps at his temple.

They share another hug before she turns around and leaves.

A good portion of the tension that'd been wrecking his body dissipates when he enters his bedroom and sees Everett sitting up going through one of his many shopping bags.

"Hey. You should be resting, not... doing whatever the hell you're doing."

"I've got to find it."

Everett ignores him and continues with his search.

He doesn't hear the door close or the lock switch.

He doesn't acknowledge Knox's presence when he sits on the bed, not until the bag gets snatched away from him.

"Hey. I was..."

"Not resting," Knox interjects, his voice soft but firm. "You should shower and get some sleep. It's been a long fucking day for the both of us."

Everett nods in agreement, breaking eye contact as he nervously fiddles with his hands on his lap.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "For sneaking off like I did. Today wouldn't have... Everything that happened today is all on me. I almost got my friends killed. I almost got you killed," his voice cracks and his pretty brown eyes glisten with fresh tears.

He quickly wipes them away before they fall.

"I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass. If you... If you want to send me back home, then I'd understand. I wouldn't hold it against you, I swear."

"Look at me, Everett."

"I am not sending you any fucking where. The thought has never crossed my mind," Knox places his index finger underneath Everett's chin, gently forcing his head up until their eyes meet.

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine to protect. Mine to care for. Mine to..." the four letter word dies in Knox's throat.

He swallows hard before continuing.

"You're mine, kitten. I'm not letting you go."

'Not Yet.'

"Do you believe me?" Knox asks.

"Yes," Everett responds, reaching for Knox's hand.

He pulls it away from his face to kiss Knox's bruised knuckles.

"Are you in pain right now?"

"I..." Knox's heart swells with emotion at the tender gesture.

He shakes his head.

"I'm fine. How are you feeling?"

He can deal with a few bruised knuckles.

What he can't deal with is Everett's pale appearance and the absence of his smart mouth.

"Doc said you're stressed out, which I get but also dehydrated."

"Yeah, I'm a little lightheaded but other than that, I'm okay. I drank a bottle of water but I probably need to drink a few more before I go to sleep."

Knox nods in agreement.

"I was going to suggest the same thing."

"Also, I don't want to sleep in that other room anymore," Everett confesses. "Want to stay in here with you. Can I?"

Knox smirks.

"I planned to move your shit back in here after you went to sleep, so we're on the same page."

They share a laugh.

"Need you to be honest with me, kitten. Will you?"

Everett nods.

"What's on your mind?"

"I want to know what you and Finn argued about."

Everett doesn't hold anything back as he tells Knox about the argument he had with Finn.

Knox sits quietly and listens, his blank expression giving nothing away.

"I get it now. He was just looking out for you," Everett finishes. "Please don't be pissed at him whenever you see him again, okay? We've already apologized to each other through text. I'm over it."

"I'm not. He never should have let you out of his fucking sight," Knox grumbles.

"I almost knocked his head off with a hot frying pan. I would've let me leave if I were him," Everett laughs.

Knox grunts in response, softening a little.

"Can I have my bag back now? I was looking for something important before you rudely snatched it away."

"Looking for what?" Knox raises a brow, curious.

"I'm not telling you... yet," Everett grins, mischievously. "Now give me the damn bag."

Knox responds with a playful eye roll but does as he's told.

Everett resumes his search, soon letting out a high-pitched squeal when he finds the item that he had been looking for.

"Close your eyes," Everett orders. "Now."

Knox sighs.

"What the hell are you planning?"

"Just close your damn eyes, man."

Knox huffs and obeys, then Everett proceeds to rummage through his pants pockets.

When he finds Knox's keys, they jingle for several seconds and then Everett grabs Knox's left hand to give him the keys back.

Knox can't tell the difference in them until after Everett tells him to open his eyes.

"I saw it and immediately thought of you." Everett holds his breath as he watches Knox inspect the small keychain with a mixture of amusement and affection. "I-I know you're not really an accessories kind of guy, so you don't have to keep it on there if you don't..."

"I love it," Knox lightly traces his thumb along the tiny panda's head, unable to stop the blush from settling in his cheeks. "Can't even remember the last gift I received, so this is..."

A cute little panda with a beaming grin and one paw lifted in greeting.

A simple gift to some but a priceless gift to Knox.

"It means a lot. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Everett can't help but feel a sense of warmth spreading throughout his body.

He figured Knox might get a kick out of the silly keychain and laugh.

Nothing could've prepared Everett for this type of vulnerable reaction.

"There's one more thing I want to give you, though."

Knox finally looks up.

"What's that?"

"Me."

Everett places a hand on Knox's cheek, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes his eyes just before leaning in to press their lips together.

[https-cyber-slxt]

Pervert!

Sub!Ghost x FemDom!Reader

"No Farah! We don't like eachother like that okay? We're just friends"

"You always tell me that! Yet you stare at him like you're about to devour him at every meeting we have"

Well she's not wrong, Ghost has always had your heart since you joined TF 141, sometimes you even think that you joined TF 141 just for him, but yeah no, Price, your brother, forced you to join the 141 because he needed more "manpower".

"I do not! It's just..... How I stare at people in general"

"You have no hope Lieutenant"

After a long day of work you decided to head to your room to change into a more comfortable pair of clothes, maybe relax and listen to some music.

You search your drawers for a comfortable pair of panties but can't seem to find your favorite ones, maybe you left them in the wash?

You quickly put on a some shorts and head down to the laundry room, searching in the women's section for your underwear, but it's nowhere to be found. Maybe Farah had them?

Jogging to her room you knock three times and almost she immediately answers, "Oh hey (y/n), what's the matter?"

"I know this might be a weird question but did you take any of my underwear?"

"Uhh no, not that I remember of, why?, you missing some?"

"Yeahh you know that really comfortable pair? I literally can't find it, and I've checked everywhere, but it's fine I'll use a different one, thanks Farah"

You both share your goodbyes and you leave, but you decide to go tell Price that you're headed to bed, due to his bad habit of barging into your room without knocking and most of the time, he ends up waking you up from your peaceful sleep.

Luckily his room was right next to Ghost's, and just as you walk past it, you hear something from Ghost's room, it sounded like...whimpers? You decide to ignore it and bother your brother instead.

But before you head back to your room you decide to knock on Ghost's door, just to see what he's up to.

*knock* *knock* *knock*

"Simon? You okay?"

Silence....... Nothing but silence.....

His door slightly creeks open.

"Miss Price?" His voice low, almost sounds like he's been crying.

"Hey, um, are you okay?" You look down at his legs, they're shaking, almost unable to keep himself up.

"Y-yeah just um, a little tired, but I'm fine"

"Can I come in?"

Hesitating, but finally agreeing to let you in his room, you politely walk in, making sure not to step on anything important.

His room was quite a mess, clothes all over the floor, cables as well.

"I'm sorry about the, mess, I've been very busy lately and I've hadn't had enough time to clean up" he confesses.

You stay silent, nodding your head to say that it's fine, but then something caught your eye, something grey, that something was your underwear.

What was it doing in Simon's room!?

You decided not to ask him about it, and just ended up asking if you could sleep in his room tonight because "your room was too far away and you didn't feel like walking all the way there"

He agreed, and soon after, you fell asleep, Simon silently watching you as you slept, his heart pounding, such a pretty girl in his bed, sleeping so peacefully, he didn't dare bother you and he ended up taking pictures of you, little did he know, you weren't fully asleep yet.

The next morning, when you woke up, Simon was right there next to you, dead asleep, you decided to wait until he woke up to confront him.

20 minutes later, and he finally decides to wake up, you hop off the bed, and stand up ready to confront him.

The moment he stands up, he's instantly pushed up against the wall, feet barely off the ground.

"So you really think I'm just gonna ignore my underwear on the floor? Or the fact that you took pictures of me in my sleep? What are you, some kind of pervert!?"

He was too stunned to answer, well more like too aroused, the woman he was hoping to be dominated by, pushing him against the wall and off the floor just turned him on, and so out of nowhere he answers you with a simple "f-fuck y-yes"

Shocked by his own words, he put his hand over his mouth to keep himself shut.

Slowly but surely you realized that, he wanted this.

So you teased him, you threw him onto the bed, standing in between his spread legs, you put your hands next to his head, lifting his head, he goes in for a kiss but you dodged, and end up kissing his jawline, then down to his neck, you slowly lift and remove his black tee, revealing his toned body.

You start from his shoulders, biting and sucking slowly leaving dark hickeys all over, then you go down to under his ribcage, leaving small but delicate kisses, then you reach the more sensitive parts of him.

His waist was quite a sweet spot, one small hickey or kiss and you'd hear the most cutest whimper from him. You looked up at him for permission to take his pants off, he slowly nodded, slightly out of breath.

After taking off his pants, you noticed the bulge in his boxers, "my~ already hard for me?"

He grew even harder after hearing your statment

"Don't worry darling, I'll help you"

You took off his boxers, revealing his massive hard-on, you wrap your hand around it and started pumping your hand up and down.

Ghost couldn't keep himself quiet, moans and high-pitched whimpers escaped him, you used your free hand to keep him quiet.

God he looked hot like this, toned stomach covered with sweat and a little bit of pre-cum, hand over his mouth with muffled moans escaping him.

With how much louder he got, the closer his orgasm was.

"C-cuming! God f-fuck!"

The moment you heard that, you stopped.

"No! N-no! Why di-d you s-stop?"

Small tears left his eyes

"Do you deserve to cum hmm?"

He aggressively nodded, desperate for his release.

"Then beg for it"

Taking your hand of his mouth, he instantly spoke.

"G-god f-fuck please! Just let me cum Mo-mommy! I need it so m-much! Just please!~"

Convinced, you put your hand over his mouth again and continued to pump his cock faster than before.

"Yes! Yes! Fuck! Cum-Cuming! aH!"

"Oh god, thank you, thank you!"

Finally calming down from his high, you spoke coldly

"Come on, we still have work to do Simon."

A small whimper leaving him, as his legs are still twitching.

[iovelore]

❝ MORTAL TALES ❞ ( O1 )

summary and word count: a certain fae can’t help but find amusement in the youngest elfhame’s prince‘s frustration. wc — 1493

pairings: the cruel prince!cardan greenbriar x fem!reader

contents and warnings: jealousy, hinting of threesome, mentions of knife (nothing extreme), suggestive content, mutual pining-ish, fluffy?

a/n: i used tcp cardan because i couldn’t see any context of y/n being used in a fic in the other books (i also need it for the next part </3). i tried my best to include the tail bit since it didn‘t come out right, ill add it in either part 2/3. cardan is a bit ooc (i made him a bit idk how to put it besides: sub?man whore. because i believe that’s what he is 😁). and y/n resembles jude just a little bit with the blade thing, but only a little because jude is neither very flirty or open up about her sexuality (more so in the first book) and that’s what i made y/n like.

also, since this was more in y/n’s perspective, next part will be more so cardans <3

Y/N's legs crossed as she leaned her head on locke's shoulder, while Poppy, a half-faerie: who Locke has shown great interest in— for all the wrong reasons — sat before them and told them of the mortal tales her father would recite to her every night or the ones she gathered on her own from her adventures back where the humans lived.

Y/N found them odd: how they all were almost nothing compared to the people here; they were fragile, but she found similar enjoyment in them all nonetheless — and perhaps she had the eldest duarte to blame for her obsession with all things mortal, and Poppy's tales weren't helping either — which has unfortunately gained her the harsh scowls from the youngest prince of Elfhame.

Though that was no surprise. The boy had never been kind enough for her to realise that his treatment towards her was almost cruel — not that it had mattered, because to Y/N it was a show; she knew where his feelings lay, and it was nothing but amusing. To everyone with eye sight as clear as day, he'd never liked her, but when in class, when he believes her to be ignorant of his stare or his wagging tail; she has a classmate whisper every move his body makes, and it fuelled her heart all too much.

"It's not quite normal there, unlike here, if anyone decided to walk around with it they'd get humiliated till they're six feet under," Poppy snorted, covering her mouth with the back of her palms.

Locke turned to stare behind him, catching sight of the prince and Nicasia — both pouting miserably (one much too obvious than the other), and at that, he smiled. "Oh you’re right, tails are quite odd aren’t they? More so on a prince,"

Y/N shrugged at that, "It's alright, I do think Cardan makes it quite, charming? He’s always wagging it around like some...was it a cat you called it?"

"Yes a cat," Poppy shook her head positively, "though don't say that out loud, I doubt he's as clueless on mortal knowledge as we think he is."

Locke hummed, a smirk growing on his lips as he kept his eyes trained on his friend, Y/N following suite of his gaze and sultry grinning at the boy from afar, ignoring Nicasia — causing his eyes to widen momentarily, before the scowl found home on his face once more.

"He's never quite liked you has he?" His words were soft against her ear, his lips landing gently beneath her ear-lobes, kissing it tenderly as he kept his eyes trained on his flaring friend — who if one squinted, could perhaps see smoke escape his ears, if they ignored the immense swinging of his tail.

Y/N smiled, a small amount of malice lacing her intentions, "hatred I'd say, though he doesn't think I'm that foolish does he?"

Poppy, who now stared at her feet, hands tugging the grass with a blush coating her tanned features, "he's looked like he wanted to murder Locke."

Y/N snickered, a sickeningly sweet one at that, as she lowly muttered, "it’s all working then, sweetness."

Later on, when Y/N was left with no one to keep her company — as Locke found himself adorning Poppy and Nicasia's presence, alone — she took notice of the emptiness of Locke's home. It was beautiful, nothing as extravagant as Hollow Hall, yet she found herself admiring the interior all the same.

And as her hands traced the designs etched on the walls, as if it were a reminiscence of her first time staring upon them, a deep, and rather annoyed cough fleed her from her thoughts.

she stayed in position, her back facing Cardan and only gripping the knife resting on her waist, "now what would the prince need at a time like this? Should he not be in his humble abode by now?"

"Should you not be with your lover boy? Or is it that you enjoy using people like he does?" His tone was hostile as he spat his words, however the light softness that rippled around it was evident and Y/N couldn't help her lips tugging upwards.

She turned around, staring at him — where he leaned cooly against one of the walls — with squinted eyes, faux contempt present in her stare, and he shifted in his spot at her gaze.

She swiftly walked, her steps careful as to not trip on her dress. And when she reached him, she, boldly, placed her hands on his chest, dragging it downwards firmly — and his thumping heart beneath his rib cage could be faintly heard from the short proximity between them.

Y/N titled her head when he clenched his fists, but found a smile etching on her lips when his eyes were lightly fluttering. "Do I really threaten you that much that your hatred towards me is the only thing that keeps you going? It's pathetic truly, especially for a prince."

Cardan gulped, mind hazy at the contact and his body was supported by his tail, that was wrapped roughly around one of his legs. He could not utter the next words without stroking her ego, and it was then he'd wished — though he'd never admit out loud — that he were mortal, because he needed to lie if not keep his mouth shut.

More so with her trapping him, her knees coming forward and slightly spreading his legs, so that the entirety of his body leaned upon the wall. And despite him towering over her due to one of her legs bending in-front of the other, he could not move, catching sight of the shiny blade securely placed on her hips and her rigid grasp on them.

She had been around a certain mortal for too long, he thought, and at that his sneer was present again.

Y/N gently bit her tongue to stifle the giggle from escaping her, "what, cat's got your tongue?"

His lips were tightly sealed, and though he already knew the effects she displayed were affecting him, greatly, he refused to acknowledge her — especially that any movement could cause his legs to move slightly forward and brush . . .

She shook her head with a light hearted laugh that had his heart beating just a little bit faster, just a little bit. Her hands releasing the grip she had on her blade, before placing it on his cheek and patting him smoothly.

"You're quite humorous you know, would be a shame if you wasted all that energy on 'hating' me when it could be used for something else, you decide, my prince." she said, her tone sensual and low, before gradually stepping away allowing room (only a small amount at that) for the boy before her to breathe, she let one of her fingers crawl delicately on his hollow cheek bones, that though looked sharp, were as soft as anything could be.

Cardan's eyes widened ever so slightly, now registering her words, "are you flirting with me?" He asked. The space between them now slightly obvious, and he hated it — almost as much as he pretends to loathe her.

Y/N raised her brows, crossing her arms in an unlikely childish manner before nodding, "you're quite oblivious you know? Yes."

"Well," the confirmation enabled a smirk to appear on his face, only to be dismissed by her voice, again.

"Well? Is that all? Because I have things to do, and if my offer does not interest you then I'll gladly leave and find another willing volunteer," she purred, ignoring the way his brows harshly and quickly furrowed, creating a crease, "how about Locke? We are reasonably close, and he does not have a tail — which looks a bit foolish, don't you think?"

He was blushing crimson now, red sparklings littering his pale cheeks, but then his lips curled up — however, he does not look as frighting as he's expecting to be, he knew that, especially with her knees still resting between his thighs (which is all he's trying to drift his mind from at the moment).

"I don't see anything off with it, I've been told it makes one interesting. You've spent too much time with mortals and those alike." Cardan's jaw clenched and his chest was rising a lot more than it was a few minutes before.

Y/N pursed her lips, "Well then, show me how interesting one can get." She leaned forward, her breath fanning atop his lips and he found his own hitching.

His eyes were wandering from her eyes, which he secretly adored, to her lips, and he subconsciously nodded, leaning forward.

Only then, her hands rested on his chest, pushing him away slightly and his head came in contact with the wall yet again, and he had to bite his bottom lips in hopes that she had no idea how much he’d needed her, all of her.

Y/N stepped backwards, finally standing straight. Her hands on her side once more and she gave the prince an alluring smile, "I'll see you later, cardan."

He glared at the spot she had been standing in once she’d left, and he knew that it was a silly game she’s playing.

And what is a game if it involves one player?

[hanazou]

𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙪𝙪𝙮𝙖.

(while being shorter than him)

— a chaos of fun!

Word count : 1.5K

Shelf : Hardback

Genre : Romance and fluff, slight crack

Note : Sorry, anon! There was technical issue so I have to post this without your ask! I hope these are detailed enough to your expectations? I wrote more than I expected I would. Once again, thank you to the-foreigner for helping me figure out the tags!

Please enjoy!

 Where have you been all his life?

To say that Chuuya would simply be attracted to you because of your height sounds shallow, so let me phrase it this way; Chuuya is so used to having look up to people since many are taller than him all his life, both men and women, so it kind of does something different to his psyche when he sees you, being shorter than him.

Not to sound stereotypical but it's a given instinct that when you see someone shorter than you, you get the impression that they're cute and it triggers your protective instinct, right? This is what Chuuya feels about you. And since this sensation is new to him, he cherishes it.

Also, since Chuuya leans more towards masculinity, in your relationship with him, you're making him feel more manly. To speak a bit bluntly and in a nutshell, you boost his ego.

You make him feel even more confident and comfortable with himself. It's not that he wasn't confident before he dates you, you're just making him bolder with more sense of control and masculinity, making him feel validated. More dominant and more alpha.

But what does all of that mean, you ask? Here's the highlight of this post; Chuuya will pamper you as your prince charming while simultaneously being your playmate. Perfectly balanced.

Why? Because seeing you being petite, smaller than him, makes you appear as someone he should protect, but the romance doesn't replace the fun. When it comes to being Chuuya's darling, things never get overly cheesy. Yes he can be romantic (he is), but he's not the type to use sweet talks 24/7. He uses his "rough" ways to communicate his romanticism, one of them being your equal, hence the "playmate" dynamic.

Chuuya tells himself that you're his cute, little darling. He will say this to you straightforwardly except the "cute" part. If he casually and accidentally calls you cute from a slip of his tongue, you can definitely tease him back to get even.

He can be the big spoon and the "top" of your relationship, but he will be a switch if he's feeling sluggish. Being the "lead" sometimes makes him need a break, not from you, but from the energy it takes. Chuuya is an emotional guy and can be downright hysterical, and that takes energy, so he will turn to you for solace when he's worn out. To achieve that, Chuuya will utilize your height to bury his face into your neck or lean his forehead on your shoulder when work wears him down.

"Stay like this for a while," His voice blurs into mutters with his face on your shoulder. "Just three minutes."

Pat his head. Do it.

If you're the one feeling low, just put your head against his chest when you're both standing. Chuuya will be confused at first, but he'll silently ruffle your hair with your forehead still against his chest. It will be calming, I promise you.

Whether you're Port Mafia or a regular civilian (I find it easier for him to date someone from the PM though), you can count on Chuuya to be protective. He's already a protective guy by nature but when he sees you, his shorter darling, anywhere close to danger, that protective instinct doubles or even triples.

In fact, he wants you to rely on him. It's not that he wants you to be dependent—Chuuya just wants you to know that he always has your back. He's the combination of loyal and protective, so he wants to prove those qualities he takes pride in to you. Trust is a strong element for him, and by letting him know you count on him, you’re already securing his utmost loyalty and love.

One of the highlights of this post is his hat. You're shorter than him and it makes it easier for Chuuya to just plop his hat on your head on random occasions. No words, no thoughts, just putting his hat on you. It's the subconscious acts of love like this that makes him feel whole with you.

Kouyou will like you for colouring Chuuya's life. She'll make comments about how you both are fun to watch at, especially when you're both doing your silly dating antics, such as "My, my, energetic as always, aren't you both?"

Speaking of dating antics--Emotional maturity? We don't know her.

Doesn’t matter if you're only 2 cm or maybe 10 cm shorter than him. He will take any height advantage and have fun with it. A little too much, in fact.

Chuuya is not above using his ability to put objects in places he knows you can't reach but is close enough for you to struggle, just to watch you squirm. Confidence does things to this man, mischief being one of them. On the instances where you really can't reach up and it's not because of his tricks, something like this is bound to happen ;

"Huh, can't reach the top shelf, can ya? Don't worry, I've got you." He says, chest huffing with pride, before getting a ladder himself.

"...."

Mostly will lift you up to help since he wants to take the small chances to bond with you over simple moments. Short people solidarity. The height boost isn't much since short + short doesn't exactly equate to being tall, but hey, it's the thought and the comedic moments that count.

Speaking of comedic moments;

"Have you reached it yet?!" He asks loudly, craning his head from below you to see upwards. You're sitting on his shoulders and he's making sure he doesn't move around too much, or else you'll fall.

"Just a little bit more—!" You grunt, arm stretched. "Lift me up more, will you? Jump or something!"

"Do you want to fall? Forget it! Just reach higher!

"Maybe I can stand on your shoulders. Hold still--"

"Oi, this vest is 60,000 yen! And this is already the highest I'm lifting you! That's enough, I'll lower you down and just use my ability!"

"No! I'm already grazing it!"

And then you both will proceed to bicker in that weird, eye-catching position, for at least 2 more minutes. It will end if you either jump off him or he floats you down using his ability, and usually it's the latter.

[Sometimes the positions will switch (you lifting him up) but he's a solid 60 kg, it will be a challenge for your muscles and a good workout routine. Good luck getting him to agree to it though.]

[If that happens, chances are your legs will wobble just within seconds from lifting him. Good thing is it increases the humour and mischief in your relationship, downgrade is that it's too silly and stupid to look at to make it feel romantic]

Want to get back at his pranks? Here's a solution. Chuuya will vaporize if you use his clothes. He's taller than you, so let's say his shirt looks like a dress on you.

"W-What do you think you're wearing?!" Is what he shouts, but his flustered face says otherwise. [Bonus: for more critical hit, wear his choker(s). It does ‘things’ to him]

Yeah it's the little things like this that boost his confidence and optimism, and you don't mind him acting like the prince charming in an armour.

If anyone calls you (or even both of you) short, Chuuya will be pissed and defend you and himself since he assumes you also don't like being mocked for your height. He takes it upon himself to "fight" for you too. He has the "we're in this together" mentality.

And so do you. If any Port Mafia's enemies try to waver your confidence or Chuuya's by mocking your heights, it's going to be hell at that point.

If Dazai ever spots you and Chuuya together in public, he will say "Congratulations, Chuuya! You finally found someone shorter to date!" just when Chuuya mumbles "What's that shitty Dazai doing here?" under his breath.

Chuuya will try to kick his face while yelling "Huh?! What'd you just said about us!?"

Don't take what Dazai said personally, he did it to get on Chuuya's nerves, not yours. Instead, why don't you hold Chuuya back so he doesn't chase Dazai?

“Don’t you ever get bored arguing with him?!” You struggle to pull him back. You have to shout to outmatch his shouts.

Chuuya will be interested in height-related shenanigans with you, such as actually reading obviously fake advertisements that promises height growth and asking you if you're interested. He will only do this with you because he knows you won't make silly/berating comments about him. As I've said, trust is the secret ingredient in dating Chuuya.

"Hey, do you think this is real?" He shows you the poster he picked up. The dirt left by his sole on it is still there.

"Chuuya," You try really hard to stop sighing. "At this point, we have to stop lying to ourselves,"

But if the advertisement doesn't sound fake, let's say it utilises supposedly "effective acupuncture techniques", you will lessen the mature act and entertain him a bit.

In short, you and Chuuya will have an energetic and youthful relationship. It doesn't matter where you two are, be it in the cities or the ground zero of battle; if you two are there, people will see one hell of a lively, energetic, short duo.

📜 ; like what you read? visit my bookshop!

[roleplayerconfessions]

689908921297764352

Okay, I'll bite.

Your small sampling of roleplayers is not an indication, in any capacity, that all or even most roleplayers put their activity status in their blog. So it's not that simple. Also, "low activity" and "high activity" strictly means the rate at which someone posts. Activity level. Activity has nothing to do with post content. These posts could be anything, not just roleplaying. You could be high activity and post a billion graphics but not a single thread. You could be low activity and post only a thread reply every, let's say six months. I'm one of the people who prefers to follow people who don't just post gifs, but I'm still okay with "low activity blogs". Don't confuse the two.

A lot of people approach me to roleplay with me, insist they're going to start roleplaying "soon", then they never do. (Same with the "I'm going to post this weekend", which turns into "this month", which turns into "I'm on this other blog"). Both of which are fine, but as a long-term roleplayer, I can't manage this. I burn tf out. I can't speak for others, but after this happened ten or twenty times to me, I gave up on that. Now I don't follow someone unless I see they've actually roleplayed somewhat already. I already do avoid blogs that indicate they're short-term.

Same as 2. And again, most people will just avoid blogs like that if, like someone else has already said, there is simply no evidence that indicates they RP. People can't look at a blank blog and confidently say the person RPs elsewhere unless there's actually indication of it, and I'm sure nobody is going to ask them because that could come off as invasive, right? A lot of people hide roleplays (notably smut) off-site because they don't want people knowing everything they do, so if it's not voluntarily mentioned, it's probably not a good idea to ask, especially in the current uh, social climate.

When you say people "aren't looking hard enough", it sounds like you haven't the faintest clue what being a long-term roleplayer actually entails. And if you are a long-term roleplayer, you aren't coming off like you're respecting people who are. If you take one look at my blog, the density of my writing, and the detailed stories I'm looking to write, you could not tell me with a straight face it would be easy to find partners on tumblr. You could not tell me with a straight face that people who regularly remake (and drop or create muses) are "few" in numbers and not a very, very large portion of the RPC on this site. Of course not everything is meant to be accessible, but that is far beyond the point the last few ask(s?) have made. I would wager 1% of roleplayers are even a match for someone like me and my partners (I have found two after four years of searching), and that's before you even consider if the muses and mun personalities are compatible. If I'm not trying hard enough, tell me: how many blogs do you see where the threads have lasted more than a few months? Six months? A year? Where the plots aren't just simple premises, but full-blown stories with beginnings, middles, and ends, because they were given the time needed to develop? Where there are more than two or three replies? And if not single threads, then series of threads. People who strictly write long-term things don't often advertise or promo their blogs either, because they never get any bites, so that makes it even harder to just find blogs by association with others. You have no earthly idea how much time I've spent looking for writers like that on tumblr and come up with nothing, and I'm still looking. I'm sure at least one person's reaction here will be to assume maybe it's an attitude problem or something, and I assure you (or anyone else who instinctively thinks that is an explanation that can make everything I've said here moot) that I'm very kind to people, I don't whine or post negativity, and I stay in my lane. It's a matter of availability between long-term and short-term blogs. And there are just more short-term than long-term blogs. This is a social media website geared first and foremost toward content sharing and trends, so that is almost a given.

In response to this ask about this submission.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b. barnes

chapter thirteen - “sober desires & the reminiscence of a winsome smile”

delicate masterlist

word count: 4k

synopsis: wakanda gets a visit from our favorite captain, two drinks is too much rum for a reticent psychologist, and bucky knows (& feels) more than meets the eye.

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

[A/N]: this took so long to write but WHEW this chapter!!!! pls let me know what you think >:D

The knock on the outside of his hut was followed by a deep accented voice, one that he had heard before.

"Sergeant Barnes?" it called.

Quickly enough Bucky was outside, facing the king of Wakanda himself. He wasn't sure exactly what to say. You see, the majority of their past interactions included the Black Panther trying to kill him. T'Challa was kind and Bucky trusted him. It was just... a little awkward given the history.

"Your highness," he greeted.

He smiled bashfully at the title.

"I have some news for you."

Bucky's head cocked to the side, curious. News? Should he be worried? He hadn't been expecting anything.

"Captain Rogers is on his way here. He was alerted about our recent complication with N'Jadaka," he said, referring to who Bucky guessed was who Y/N called Erik Killmonger, "and he asked to come check in, make sure you're okay."

Steve was coming. His mood was immediately uplifted. He hadn't seen his oldest friend for months. It was weird to have Steve feeling the need to make sure Bucky was okay; it was usually the other way around. Nonetheless, he was excited. And he had the sudden urge to tell Y/N.

- - -

READER

"Sharon. Hey," she said into the phone.

The friends hadn't spoken since Y/N left for Wakanda - security measures since Sharon helped Steve and betrayed the... well everyone.

"Y/N!" Sharon greeted. "How is everything? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, no I'm totally okay. The Killmonger thing was more the royal family's deal than mine. I was just hiding out in some bunker with Barnes."

Concerned weaved its way into Sharon's voice. "Oh my god. Did anything happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, historically, stress hasn't affected him well..."

She wasn't sure why she almost got offended. "No... he was completely fine. He doesn't lose control out of nowhere and turn into the winter soldier. It's a lot more complicated than that... We were fine."

"Oh, that's good. Listen... I'm actually on my way to Wakanda right now."

"You're-... what?"

"Steve needed to check in on Bucky after Killmonger. Wilson and I are coming too."

They must all be together. It makes sense considering what happened after the disaster in Berlin, and then the airport fiasco in Germany and then... everything in Siberia.

Aw, they're in hiding together, Y/N joked in her head. She almost laughed out loud.

"Oh. Is that safe? For you? For everyone?"

"I've been careful. We've all been careful. But, things don't always go as planned. And T'Challa feels bad about putting you guys in a dangerous situation when he was supposed to protect you."

"It wasn't his fault."

"I know. We all know. But, it's kind of his way of making up for it: letting us stay so that Steve can check in on Barnes and we can cool off for a bit."

"Was Rogers mad?"

"Well, he wasn't thrilled that his best friend was trapped alone in a country that just got taken over..."

He wasn't alone.

"...he was mostly worried," Sharon continued. "Still is."

"Right."

"Alright, well I got to go. We'll be there in a couple hours."

"I'll see you. Be safe."

"See you."

- - -

BUCKY BARNES

"Hey Buck," the happiness in Steve's voice was genuine as he patted his oldest friend on the back in the middle of an embrace. "How you been?"

"A hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you, that's for damn sure," Bucky smiled.

Sam Wilson stood next to the star spangled man with a plan. Bucky briefly glanced at him.

"Wilson," he deadpanned.

"Barnes," he returned the greeting.

"I was worried when T'Challa told me about Killmonger," Steve said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that they let you stay here, but I just didn't think I'd have to be worried so soon."

"It's alright. Everything turned out okay and I was fine the whole time. You don't have to lose your head."

"I'm not losing my head."

"You never had it in the first place."

The blonde changed the topic of conversation.

"You were with that therapist right?"

"Yeah."

"What do we think about her?" he asked with equal parts caution and suspicion. "Do you trust her?"

Bucky wasn't sure why he was almost offended.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you know what happened the last time you were with a psychiatrist..."

"Yeah well, this one doesn't have a personal vendetta against the Avengers."

"You sure she's alright?"

He looked serious, and Bucky could see the genuine concern etched into his friend's face. Steve was truly wary.

"I'm positive. She's helped so much since I've been here. I really trust her."

"Okay, if you say so. I trust you."

Bucky smirked. "Hey uh... is Sharon with you?"

Sam said nothing but radiated a smirk to match Bucky's perfectly, a kind of smirk that only a ball-busting best friend cracks.

"She is..." Steve replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing. Just wondering, that's all."

"She said she wanted to talk to a friend."

"Oh, she's probably with Y/N."

"Who?"

"Y/N. Dr. Y/L/N. 'The therapist.'"

"I didn't know they were friends."

"Why do you think Sharon recommended her?"

"She said she knew 'the best' person to help."

"That true. She's crazy smart."

"As long as she can do the job, I'm all for it, no matter whose friend she is."

In a short-lived thought, Bucky wondered what Steve Rogers would think of who else Y/N was friends with. He wondered if Steve would think it was strange to be friends with your doctor, or if he'd be pleased that Bucky had gotten close to someone, anyone else in this world.

"How long are you guys staying for?" Bucky asked.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Honestly, we were only planning on staying for like a week or so. We've been moving throughout Europe, and the other day, when we were in Prague... it was almost really bad."

"We need to stay low for a while," Sam added.

"What did you do?" Bucky asked, used to Steve getting himself into trouble.

"It's a long story..."

"What did T'Challa say about it?"

"He said to take as much time as we needed," Steve filled him in.

"You know, I'm startin' to really like this guy," Sam nodded, smiling. "Obviously when he went all cat murderer on you, he was a bit of a pain in the ass. But now? Guardian angel."

Bucky shook his head at Sam's nonsense. What an idiot, he thought. He wondered what Y/N would think of Sam, but then a more pressing question popped into his head.

"Where are you guys gonna stay?"

"I'm guessing there," Steve said pointing behind Bucky.

When he turned around, Bucky was shocked but he also wasn't. Behind and around his hut stood three more just like it, but slightly smaller. He could've sworn those weren't there yesterday, but that's the beauty of Wakanda. They were ten steps ahead of the rest of the world and he guessed that included speed building as well.

"I will never stop loving this place," he admired.

-

He tried not to sound too eager when he knocked on her door. She looked shocked but didn't really try to hide it.

"Oh," she sounded confused. "Hi, Bucky..."

"Hey," he grinned. "I have a proposition for you."

Her eyebrows lowered as her lips twisted into the most devilish smirk. She could communicate an entire joke with just her face.

"Not like that!" he exclaimed.

She laughed, smirk morphing into an endearing smile. "Like what then?"

"Steve wanted to have like a bonfire sorta thing to catch up since we're all together for once. You know, just like drinks and stupid stories from the forties. D'ya think you could part with your paper work to grace us with your presence?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure?"

"Of course. I'd love to have you there."

She wrung out her hands. "I don't know, Buck. Is that really appropriate? To have your doctor hangin' out with your friends?"

"That may be, but that's not what I'm asking. I want my friend to 'hang out' with my other friends."

Out of her composure seeped a meek smile. The air felt softer to him.

"And maybe you can analyze Wilson and tell me what his biggest fear is later," he added.

She snickered.

"Okay. Lead the way, James Buchanan."

-

The fire was a monster, roaring and crackling with all the life in the world. Bucky loved it. He loved the warmth, the heat, the lack of cold.

"I'm gonna get another drink," Y/N said. "You want anything, Buck?"

"I'm all set," he smiled, gaze lingering for only a second too long.

"Sharon?" she turned. "You?"

The blonde shook her head. "Oh, I think I've had plenty."

Surrounding the fire sat five chairs. All but one was empty as Y/N went to get her second drink. Of course they were in Sam's hut, Bucky thought. After all, even though it was Steve's idea, Sam was most excited about the whole thing, actually sitting down and just relaxing instead of fleeing from belligerent governments.

"Therapist's pretty," Sam noted with a smirk once she was out of hearing range.

"Y/N," Bucky corrected, mind going completely elsewhere. "She's so smart."

"Smart enough to call you Buck..." Steve said, catching on to Sam.

"What?"

"She calls you Buck."

"Yeah, so? You do too."

"Yeah, but I've known you longer. And I'm your friend."

"She's my friend too," he shrugged.

"She's your doctor..."

"And I'm a hundred year old man with one arm trying to get un-brainwashed in a country that the rest of the world doesn't even know exists. None of this is conventional."

"...fair," Steve said, with only a little bit of skepticism. "Are you guys close?"

Does spending hours alone talking with someone in a hidden bunker make you close? Does them comforting you after a nightmare and then subsequently allowing you to get the best night sleep you've had in forever? What about making daring voyages to quaint waterfalls and laughing a kind of laugh that makes your heart swell? What about-

"Buck?"

He shrugged. Again. "I guess so."

Sam narrowed his eyebrows. "How close?"

"Wilson," Sharon admonished exasperatedly. "Y/L/N's his doctor, come on. That's inappropriate to suggest."

Sam put his hands up in mock surrender. Briefly, just briefly, Bucky imagined kicking the leg of Sam's chair and watching him fall back. He didn't, obviously. But it would have been funny if he did.

The seemingly never ending conversation was cut short when Y/N returned, drink in hand, and took her seat next to Bucky.

"What'd you get?" he asked, demeanor subtly but swiftly changing into something lighter, something happier.

"I don't know, but it has rum in it," she shrugged sardonically before clinking her glass with Bucky's.

"Cheers," Sam raised his glass, trying to engage.

Y/N wordlessly, and with a half-smile, raised her glass in his direction.

"So," Steve started, comfortably crossing his legs and leaning back into his chair before asking Bucky, "you wanna know what actually happened in Prague?"

"Do enlighten me. I've been waiting all night."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

The rest of the night went on sort of like this. The group took turns telling stories and then listening. Cracking jokes and then laughing. Everyone but Y/N, Bucky noticed. She just... sat and drank, livelihood only extending to the borders of her seat.

He hadn't seen her like this before, and he found himself stuck halfway between confused and worried. Had something happened? Had something wrong been said?

He kept an eye on her as dusk melted into night. He told himself it was because he was concerned, but that was only in addition to the way he was magnetized to how she looked with the light of the fire gleaming on her skin.

After she would finish a drink, she'd stare into the fire for a little while, before leaving to get another. When he made sure no one was looking at him, he'd look at her. Discretely. At her eyes. The reflection of the fire in her pupils made him wonder if she would burn the fire before it could ever burn her. He was all too aware of the heat that accompanied her gaze. It was a ravishing burn that made him ache for the searing feeling as soon as it was taken away.

He didn't dare think of it for too long or else he would get distracted. And someone would call his name, pulling him out of a trance he didn't want to be caught in. A trance he wasn't sure he wanted to admit that he was in.

The night remained as such until someone - he couldn't remember who - said they were tired, and everyone bid their farewells, and wished their good nights.

Y/N spared about a side hug to Sharon before walking off on her own. Bucky half volunteered, half insisted on tending to the fire to make sure it went out, only to ignore it as soon as everyone was gone and follow after his psychologist.

He caught up to her as she was in the middle of opening the door to her living quarters.

"Y/N."

She turned around in the spot, door wide open, staring up at him.

He bore into her eyes, looking at something, noticing her dilated pupils and hazy stare.

"You're drunk," he said, but it sounded more like a question.

"Yeah."

"But you don't seem drunk?"

"I'm not wasted," she padded into the room, carelessly leaving the door wide open for him to walk through. "Just drunk enough to remember why I didn't drink in college."

She rubbed her eyes.

"Think I want another one," she sighed, heading for the door with a bitter smile. "More rum."

Bucky gently closed the door, maneuvering himself in front of it, and blocking her from exiting. Another drink is definitely not a good idea.

He changed the subject. "Why didn't you drink in college?"

Her eyebrows raised, introducing a look that said Really? You think I don't know what you're doing?

"Wow, look at you being the voice of reason for my otherwise inebriated brain."

Nevertheless, she cooperated.

She sighed. "It just... makes me miserable. I'm a sad drunk."

"Better than a mean drunk," he offered.

"Possibly. It's a real mood killer, though."

"That why you were off all night?"

"Off... ? I don't know, I guess so... I'm usually pretty inconspicuous when I'm drunk. Didn't think anyone would really notice."

There was no hesitation when he spoke.

"I did."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry. Just... why did you keep drinking if it only makes you miserable?"

"Alcohol is a depressant," she breathed mechanically, as if speaking was difficult. "It depresses your nervous system, then you get disinhibited. Then you don't care about rationality and just drink! Then in the moment it feels kinda good... but then it makes you sad... and then you need more to blur the feeling away. It's like... the worse you feel, the more you need to drink... but then the more you drink... the worse you feel..."

"How are you drunk but still talking... sorta still like you usually do?"

She smirked, looking like she was trying not to laugh. He was glad she was smiling.

"Maybe you're not the only one with heightened metabolism as a result of the serum..."

He looked at her quizzically, amused. She wasn't making total sense, but he couldn't find it in himself to give much of a damn. She smiled, again.

"Kidding. I just have outstanding self-control."

She plopped down on the floor, deciding that she no longer wanted to use her legs. Fine motor function was overrated for intoxicated people.

He sat down with her, next to her.

"If I tell you a joke will you be less sad-drunk?"

"I already am 'less sad-drunk.' I wasn't before, but," she took a breath in, "now you're here, so... improvements have been made."

"That's good 'cause I was worried before."

She glanced up at him with brazen eye contact. Her face held a mixture of what looked like a confused and pained expression, as something changed. Some sort of realization or reality check.

She wiped her hands over her face. "God, this is so ridiculous. I'm sorry. You shouldn't be worried about me, that's not your job. I'm sorry. I should just go to bed, and you can leave..."

"I know it's not my job. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I was alright- it... it's not like I was crying at the fire or something. I was fine."

"After your second drink, you were silent almost the entire time."

"You were counting my drinks?"

Not exactly.

"I was paying attention."

"To what?"

To you.

"You completely turned into yourself. Your elbows and legs were drawn in close to your body: unrelaxed and almost apprehensive posture. You were nonverbal, didn't make any jokes, no sarcastic commentary. I was literally purposefully saying things I knew you would correct or tease or laugh at and nothing. I was waiting for a 'smartass' or a 'there's a reason behind everything' explanation or anything science related. But there was nothing."

Her face was blank. It took her a second to catch up. Blinking slowly, she shook her head, eyebrows furrowed, all emphasis on the word. "Why?"

Her tone was truly confused. It was like she, in her heart of hearts, for the life of her, could not believe he was concerned.

"Y/N you're my friend," he chided. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She averted her gaze. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

"Look," his voice was soft. "I know you know everything and you know my mannerisms and micro-expressions and you know when I'm lying and whatever else 'cause you're a genius psychologist. But is it really that hard to believe that, after all the time we've known each other, I know you a little too? That I saw you for once instead of you always seein' me?"

"I think you're the only person who sees me."

The words leaked out before he thought to analyze them, tone lower than a whisper.

"Well I can't seem to look at much else."

He had never felt such potent silence. Did he just fuck up majorly? They just sat, on the floor, eyes glued to each other like twenty year old dried cement. He didn't think he could move away if he tried.

"I see you now," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Blue," she breathed. "Your eyes are so blue. I don't... think I've ever seen that shade of blue."

It happened exponentially slowly, but the closer her face got to his, the more his chest felt like it was going to burst in the best way possible. As if liquid light poured into his lungs, inflating his chest and igniting every nerve with adoration.

Her lips hovered over his so lightly it was as if it wasn't even happening, like her affection was a ghost. But it was happening, and he could feel it. He could feel the softness in her lips and the smell of the rum she drank as they combined into the wondrous dual sensation that permeated throughout his brain.

They weren't kissing by any stretch. Their lips were hardly touching. However, in that moment, he was at her mercy. He was prepared to bend the laws of nature to her will if she would allow the continuation of this feeling for even a fraction of a second more.

Until it stopped and she waned away like the moon bidding adieu to the morning sky.

Her voice shook. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't... it's-"

"No. It's not okay. It's not okay."

He leaned back, examining her face. She looked confused and embarrassed and scared.

"Y/N, it's fine. It's okay, seriously, don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry, I'm... I'm drunk and I'm disinhibited and it's affecting my judgement and making me impulsive. I'm sorry."

He couldn't be exactly sure, but it sounded as if she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince him.

Neither of them moved a muscle.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

She was silent, frozen. It reminded him of a past conversation about the fight or flight response.

Bucky stood up and offered his hand to the woman sitting on the floor in front of him. "Here."

She took it gingerly and stood up with him before wide eyes stared into his apologetically.

"Please don't feel bad," he pleaded. "Barely anything happened."

"Still..."

"Why don't you just get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow. I promise it won't seem like such a big deal when you're sober."

She nodded but they both remained motionless, hands still together. He knew they needed to let go, but her hand didn't move, and she just kept looking into him.

"Okay," she whispered.

She walked him to the door, hand still in hand, and until he was forced to let go of her to open it. He stepped, ever so slowly, out of her room and onto the grass outside. He looked up at her, the doorway between them suddenly feeling like worlds of distance. They stood on opposite sides of the open door like statues. Bucky didn't know what to do and he wasn't sure what to say.

He settled on a, "Goodnight."

He tried not to make it sound so weak and timorous but he failed entirely. He didn't want to leave her like this. Guilty and alone. God knows he knew what it felt like.

Her voice was dry and quiet. "Goodnight."

He wasn't sure when the door shut or which one of them had shut it. The only thing he was sure of was the feeling of formidable regret pooling in his stomach.

On one hand, there was regret for letting her lean in and get so close because now he was scared that their dynamic was ruined and worried that Y/N felt awful. On the other hand, there was regret that he just let her pull away. Regret that he didn't lean in more and shamelessly drown in her. Regret that he didn't unapologetically suffocate himself with the softness of lips, the inebriating smell of rum on on her tongue, and the utterly bewitching taste of her he was sure would follow.

He wasn't sure what he felt, to be honest. He was a muddle of emotions of which he had no idea how to sift through. Momentarily, he wished he was drunk so he wouldn't have to think so hard. Then, he remembered the saying, "drunk words are sober thoughts," and he was damn glad he was stone cold sober; he could only imagine the things he would say to her if he was drunk.

This lead him to pondering, it got the gears in his brain turning. It made him wonder. Maybe... just maybe... if drunk words were sober thoughts, then what if drunk actions were sober desires?

Thinking like this could cause him read the situation completely differently. Thinking like this could make him read the situation in such a way that conceived the slightest sliver of hope for emotions gone repressed. Hope is dangerous...

Hope is dangerous, so Bucky shoved it down into the deepest cavern of his brain, the very same cavern where his feelings for her resided. It was a monster in a cave, growling and hissing menacingly. Intensely.

It scared him, this intensity. It scared him so much that the only way he could fall asleep was by thinking about the way James Buchanan sounded when she said it with a winsome smile.

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[forthegothicheroine]

terribly sorry if this is a bother, but i would Love to hear your ranking of the Into the Dark movies.

Looking at the big list, it looks like I actually missed a couple, so this is my ranking of the ones I did see. Some incidental spoilers.

19. Treehouse

Man, of all the horror movies not to kill off the main character...

18. Uncanny Annie

Working with board games for a living, there is so much more you could have done with the idea of an evil board game than just giving it a creepy little girl horror host! Make fun of Arkham Horror and its intricate and convoluted rules system, where the players die if they forgot one stupid expansion special rule! Or do a low budget adaptation of LJ Smith's Forbidden Game, that would kick ass.

17. They Come Knocking

There's just nothing really to say about this movie, which is a shame because the Black Eyed Kids are very visually creepy, and the idea of them haunting an RV where you can't easily escape them has a lot of promise. It shouldn't be trite and boring. Alas.

16. The Body

This was apparently based on a short film, and that makes sense, since after we learn the genuinely entertaining premise it kind of devolves into padding. I will give it points for a hot villain, even if he's bargain basement Johnny Lee Miller playing bargain basement Patrick Bateman.

15. Good Boy

Great premise, mediocre execution. I love the idea that a dog can also be a werewolf, and I love taking the fact that dogs react when their owners are anxious to a deadly conclusion, but the movie just sort of petered out instead of going somewhere.

14. All That We Destroy

This should probably be higher up since it's very well made, but I hate the main characters. True, I am supposed to hate the main characters. Still, if I'm supposed to hate the main characters and I do hate the main characters, is that good or bad?

13. Down

I was conflicted about where to put this on the list since I love the first half and hate the latter half. Turning a romantic comedy premise into a bottle episode thriller is done really well, with the tension rising as we see the truth behind these characters past their sexual chemistry, but then it becomes a psycho chase movie, and just a meh one at that. Maybe just watch it until the reveal.

12. Midnight Kiss

This is just kind of a basic slasher (or a giallo? Maybe that's a better word for it, what with the black gloves and the fact that the killer has an actual motive), but I've rethought it upon reading reviews pointing out how cool it is to have a shlocky genre movie about gay people. They don't get killed because they're gay, the bad guy isn't a bad guy because he's gay, but the gay characters and setting are still vital to the plot, and that is indeed pretty cool. And even before considering these things, it's fun with a stylish bad guy costume.

11. A Nasty Piece of Work

This one is basically a worse version of the movie Cheap Thrills, but it has Julian Sands and is arguably less of a bummer, so that's not nothing. I wouldn't be surprised if evil rich people forcing their workers to perform increasingly fucked up things for monetary prizes becomes its own whole genre.

10. Pooka

This one is has actual ambition, artistry and a very creepy monster design, but I don't like movies that tell you two thirds of the way through that it was all a dying dream and didn't really matter. I don't even like Mullholland Drive.

9. Flesh & Blood

This one should probably be lower down since it's not breaking any new ground and you can instantly see where it's going, but I have a special appreciation for it because in my opinion, it handled its plot much better than critically acclaimed Hannibal handled the very similar Abigail Hobbes plotline. Flesh & Blood understands that a girl rebelling against her emotionally incestuous serial killer father figure is her goddamn story, not something to make some other man sad.

8. Pure

Very genuinely creepy! Even creepier knowing it's only barely an exaggeration of actual father-daughter purity pledges! But I actually think it might have worked better without the supernatural angle; all the most disturbing and striking moments were the mundane ones.

7. Crawlers

Am I the only one who likes this movie? It has bad reviews on letterboxd but I thought it was fun! I like the drug-dealing survivalist heroine, I find her narration very entertaining, and I was satisfied with the concluding 'spot the imposter' test with the shapechanging aliens. They could have done more with the pub crawl premise, though (I think the movie Grabbers is supposed to do that better.)

6. School Spirit

As soon as I saw that this was a slasher movie pastiche of The Breakfast Club I was fully on board. (The kids are arguably more sympathetic than their Breakfast Club counterparts!) The villain reveal gets a little silly, but I appreciate the Psycho reference, and the final girl's speech to the killer is absolutely iconic.

5. Pilgrim

The first one I saw, cheesy yet engaging enough to make me want to see all the others! I would watch a whole franchise about either the villain or the final girl. (I also want to mention that I like how Into the Dark's colorblind casting gives us a mixed race family with a black heroine, which adds some unspoken subtext to her conflict with the pilgrims.) I should request this for Yuletide one of these years.

4. New Year New You

This was a very good thriller riding on its very realistic villain; most of us don't personally know a Jason Voorhees, but plenty of us know childhood bullies and all of us know of loathesome influencers. Unfortunately, the realistic characters make the increasingly unrealistic easy kills and resolution harder to accept. Still worth watching. And it's cool that it has an all-female cast!

3. Culture Shock

I probably would have enjoyed this more if I hadn't spoiled myself for the twist, but it was still very good! It's very interesting how it turns from a gritty real-world thriller to a full on Twilight Zone episode. The way classic Americana becomes grotesque reminds me of the Fallout games, which in this case is a compliment. And it actually had something to say, which not enough horror movies do.

2. I'm Just Fucking With You

This one is the best actual horror movie, genuinely disturbing and scary. The line between petty internet trolling and cold-blooded sadism gets blurrier and blurrier. It lets you know that if you actually met the Joker you would fucking hate him.

1. Pooka Lives

This is probably not actually the best movie, but as a former reader of Slenderman blogs it warmed my heart. (You don't have to watch the first Pooka movie, though the tonal shift is artistically interesting.) It's such a funny take on the evolution of creepypasta, plus Rachel Bloom kills Will Wheaton! This is what I want from low-budget horror comedy.