#leaving it here for someone else to continue

[wingsoffirenews]

Compilation of new(ish) WoF News!

The Darkstalker Graphic Novel will come out on November 4th, 2025 and will be illustrated by Jake Parker! Talons of Power Graphic Novel will also be coming out in 2025.

For some reason around 5 years ago, Lego set a blacklist on the Wings of Fire IP, meaning they couldn't make any merch with them. But as of recently, the IP has been confirmed by an employee to be unblacklisted, meaning it's possible that WoF Legos could be a possibility for the future!

Escaping Peril: Graphic Novel is out early in certain Barnes & Noble locations. Here's an official trailer!

On Instagram, Tui stated that there will be more WoF merch made in the future!

Here's a video of an interview Tui was a part of for The Flames of Hope's launch! Things to note: She says dragons currently think there's no animus magic but with the way the spell was cast it leaves a door open for future animus dragons & at the time Dan Milano (executive producer) said there was a planned release date for the TV show but it was a long while away.

Tui says if she could rename any character it'd be Scarlet because her scales are orange and not red/scarlet.

Book 16/Arc 4 notes: We'll find out more about Beryl, it will have nothing to do with Pantala and it'll take place somewhere we've never been before, Tui says the reason she's disappeared from socials for the past 2 months is cause she's been writing Book 16, Umber is planned to come back and be given a boyfriend (if she doesn't just give him his own Winglet), she wants to bring Blob back somehow, she also wants to bring back Auklet, she mentioned she can't say where Leaf and Ivy are at the moment due to potential spoilers, the book will take place after A Guide to the Dragon World, Tui watched/read a show/book for inspiration on Book 16 that she claims is the opposite of Life in The Underground that contains creatures she calls "the absolute cutest things" but she won't share what this show/book is yet until Book 16 is done (when asked if this means there'll be new dragon tribes, Tui says she can't say and is still deciding on what "it" is), Tui has a planned release date for the book but wont disclose it in case something happens to push it back, she says Peril and Sky will not meet in Book 16 but might make them meet in a Winglet instead, Snowfall will either get another POV in Arc 4 or we'll see her from someone else's POV, she doesn't want anybody else who's already had a POV to have one again in Arc 4, she says she wants to put Lynx in Arc 4 as well, when asked if there'd be a new continent she said she'd like to see Pyrrhia and Pantala on the same map alongside "something else," Tui says there'll be a new ship written in Book 16, right now Tui is working on backstories for new WoF characters that'll appear in Book 16.

Tui says Book 9 was the hardest book to write and says Kinkajou would've happily taken the POV from Turtle which is why she's such an important character in the book.

Tui was inspired to write WoF based on her favorite book series Pern, saying that her idea for WoF at first was to write a book series about dragons' POVs and how they feel about humans.

Voting for where the first FanWing Fest will take place is still ongoing! Places include San Diego CA, Decatur GA, Minneapolis MN, Portland OR, Dallas TX, Boulder CO, Chicago IL, St. Louis MO, Philadelphia PA, Salt Lake City UT, Washington DC, Northampton MA, Southern Pines NC, and Austin TX! It'll take place in April-June 2025 and Tui will be present to read a bit of Book 16, plus there will be other activities planned. The fest will take place in around 3-5 of the most voted cities.

There's currently submissions open for people under 18 to submit their WoF art to be used in a picture booklet that'll be sold at the FanWing Fest. You can only submit one piece per person and the contest ends January 17th, 2025 at 11:59PM EST. In total 250 illustrations will be included. AI art is not allowed and the art must be submitted by your parent/guardian. The illustration must be on a single sheet of unlined 8.5 x ll paper in a portrait orientation, and all submissions must be sent through the website. The file must be named with your first + last name. The art pieces themselves will be judged around February 3rd, 2025 and will be picked based on imagination, creativity and interpretation of the WoF series. Winners will be contacted through email around the same day.

Special Editions for books 2-5 are set to release on September 2nd, 2025. Each will be $10.99 and will have exclusive content, including new covers!

Tui claimed Wren's second favorite dragon is Deathbringer.

Myles Warden, someone who worked a little on the WoF TV show, stated on Twitter that when the show was cancelled, they were pretty far into the show's development.

Although poor quality, this is Tui's concept art for Pantala.

During an interview back in 2021, Tui stated: She chose Snowfall to be The Dangerous Gift's POV because both Starflight and Turtle weren't very active POVs for their arcs' 4th book, her first idea for the third arc was of Pantalan refugees coming to Pyrrhia, she says Snowfall thinks both Winter and Qibli are annoying, Tui likes to look at WoF fanart, when The Brightest Night was just being written is when she had the idea to make a second arc, she likes to leave bread crumbs in books for potential future books, she plans to make a sequel to Dragonslayer and she wants to write more Winglets, she says Kinkajou was easy to write, she likes writing fierce dragons into her books, she has a draft where the boulder to the DoD's cave is animus touched, she says if she were a dragon she'd be a RainWing with a second choice of SeaWings and third choice of LeafWings, she usually gives herself 6 months to write a book, she says Peacemaker will never get Darkstalker's memories, she says something happened with The Lost Heir that made her have to rewrite it with different characters, Peril and Sky and Winter were originally going to also be DoD, Sky's original name was Ember, originally in Darkness of Dragons Darkstalker was going to talk Qibli out of "something" but it was scrapped because Darkstalker would've been too convincing, originally NightWing moon powers were always going to be fake, she got the idea for Darkstalker when she kept getting fanmail trying to understand Chameleon and Morrowseer which made her want to write a bad guy on the outside who was complicated on the inside, Cliff and Qibli are based off Tui's three-year-old son.

In a different interview from March 23rd 2021, Tui stated: She avoids reviews of her books because she doesn't want to get upset and potentially interfere with her work (she said Sundew and Willow's relationship didn't seem weird to her when writing it and believes LGBTQ+ representation should be represented in her books), she has an idea for what the Rainforest Kingdom was like while Sunny was gone during the Brightest Night and would like to make a graphic novel about it, she heard about the WoF Roblox games and thinks they're really cool, she has a melody in her head for The Dragonets Are Coming, she reads her own books once they're published so she doesn't forget anything she's written about, she confirmed dragons don't have eyelashes and that she instead imagined them batting their eyelids like humans, she often rewrites the prophecies she makes to get them perfect, she says it was hard to come up for The Dangerous Gift's title and she came up with 50 different ones before choosing one, she'd like to make a mini series for Ivy and Leaf, she came up with the dragon tribes through inspiration from Animal Planet, she originally believed Anemone would challenge Coral someday but is against it now (saying Coral is a decent queen who makes mistakes from time to time), she thinks the Great Ice Cliff reminds her of Twitter but didn't explain how, she names dragons with things relating to their tribe to help her remember them, she says Mink is based of a friend of her son, she says the reason Snowfall hates Tundra is because every time she appears to remind her of her responsibilities she thinks she's failed in some way, she thinks she's most like Sunny but says there's piece of her in every character she writes.

Tui claims she sees Starflight and Cricket as neurodivergent alongside Whiteout.

Tui considered Swordtail to be The Flames of Hope's POV but went with Luna instead.

Tui claims one out of many reasons Scarlet wanted to kill Glory was because Glory became queen of two tribes while her own life was going downhill.

Tui has expressed interest in the past on making a Winglet for Cobra and Vulture.

The Winglets are being translated to French and will be called Destinies.

We'll be getting graphic novels for Arc 3 and and that The Lost Continent Graphic Novel will be released roughly a year after Darkness of Dragon's graphic novel. Tui says she's most excited to see The Poison Jungle as a graphic novel.

Right now, the WoF TV show is on step 6 of 100 towards completion, and Tui has hinted something "good and important" has just happened with the show that has her very excited. Right now the show is in the writer's room and the script is currently being worked on.

Tui says she has a list of every character's theme song, with Winter's being That's How You Get The Girl by Taylor Swift and Luna's being I Can Do It With A Broken Heart (she didn't say who it's from).

Tui says Snowfall will likely get together with Lynx in the future and that she had chemistry with Sky, but Tui thinks Lynx is better for her compared to Sky.

Tui says if Blaze had won the war, the IceWings would've ruled over the Sand Kingom and that Glacier would've been Book 6's POV, struggling on figuring out how to run 2 kingdoms. If Blister had won, all of Pyrrhia would be set down a dark path. And if Burn had won she'd be a decent and strong ruler, but that she'd be a threat to the Dragonets of Destiny.

Tui claims Winter will find love eventually (that isn't Moon) but right now he has growing to do. She mentioned she's fond of both Winter and Qibli but right now Moon and Qibli are together, but stated they're both young and anything can happen in the future.

In a different interview Tui stated: Krakens do exist in WoF by that no other mythical creatures exist in the series, Tui said if she did make a spider tribe she'd name them WebWings.

[muwapsturniolo]

Cyber Sex 💿 M. Sturniolo

"W-was it good?"

✘ sub!matt, loser!matt, domish!reader, riding, hand jobs, titty sucking, one use of mommy.

PT 1 PT2 PT3

Decided to give yall an early xmas gift!!! enjoy the last part to cyber sex!!!!

Weeks.

It's been weeks since she had seen Matt and given him a blowjob. He had accepted his reward of taking her out on a date, but now it seemed like he was avoiding her.

Which was partially true.

As always, he was focused on his studies, especially with finals coming up. He stayed cooped up in his room or in the library, taking notes on top of notes. Passing all his tests was one of the only things on his mind, the other being her.

He wasn't trying to avoid her on purpose, but he will admit he's been milking the studying excuse.

It wasn't that he didn't like her, he was infatuated with her. It was just the fact the she was...well, her.

Everything about her was intimidating to him, the way she carried herself, the way she smiled, the way she squinted her eyes when she was up to no good.

She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it too.

So here she was, gathering the bags of takeout and other things, leaving her apartment with one thing on her mind.

Matt.

She doesn't take the elevator, knowing that the stairs would be quicker, and she's right.

Soon, she's standing in front of Matt's door, a determined look on her face. She knocks twice and waits impatiently for the door to open.

Unfortunately for her, it doesn't. She huffs and knocks again, but this time louder, the impatience she's feeling only getting stronger. Soon, she hears the muffled sound of cursing and some movement before the door opens.

" Hell-" Matt's breath catches in his throat as he sees her in all her glory. His eyes widen, and he fixes his glasses, looking off to the side.

"H-Hey what are you-" She ignores him and pushes her way into the apartment, looking around for a few seconds before setting her items down on the coffee table.

"Alright Matthew, let's talk." The tone of her voice makes him look down at the floor.

"You have been avoiding me, I don't know why, but you have, and to be honest, I don't like it. So what's your issue?"

He scoffs softly and crosses his arms, looking like a scolded child.

"M'not avoiding you..." He trails off, knowing good and well that he's lying. She stands in front of him and tilts her head, not believing him for a second. " Oh really? You're not avoiding me? Fine then, guess I'll go tell someone else that they wo-No!" He shouts unexpectedly. A small smirk makes its way onto her face as he watches him fidget anxiously.

"I-I'm sorry ok? I just....Like I said, you make me nervous, and then finals are starting, so I've just been everywhere... I-I didn't mean to make you feel bad o-or anything." Her smirk drops as she realizes this runs deeper than him simply avoiding her.

He truly was scared and nervous; this was all new to him, and he didn't know how to navigate it, and finals coming up wasn't helping him at all.

She softens her demeanor as he continues on, rambling in an attempt to clear the air. "I-I do want to take you on a date...I just don't want to disappoint you o-or embarrass myself..." She wasn't dumb, she could read between the lines.

He didn't want to disappoint her sexually.

"Matt....You don't have to worry about th-"

"Ok but it is something to worry about! I'm 21, and I've never done anything remotely sexual! All I do is stay to myself and study! I might as well be called a loser! hell, maybe even an incel!"

She stares at him with a straight face, "Matt-"

"And then here you are, the most experienced person I've met, the most prettiest girl, and yet I'm being a pussy and won't even take you out on a date! I'm fumbling! Hard! If this were a test, I'd fail!"

She finds herself smiling softly at his academic analogies.

"Are you done?" She asks him once he finally stops talking. He huffs and adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "Good. Now shut up and listen to me." She takes a step closer to him, his breath hitching.

"I don't care about any of that, ok? I don't care that you're a virgin and that I was the first girl to hear you moan." His cheeks flush a soft pink, his palms getting sweaty.

"What I care about is a boy that I find cute, sexual feelings aside, won't take me out on a date.....Now, I got takeout and a Lego set I'm not building alone. Do you want to join, take a break from studying?"

So there they were in Matt's living room, giggling and building a Lego set, the empty boxes of takeout discarded on the coffee table. The tension once in Matt's shoulder had disappeared, now knowing nothing was expected of him, and she wasn't worried about any of that.

He was able to relax, slowly coming out of his shell. She enjoyed his company, his witty remarks, his dad jokes, and the way he laughed. She was getting to know more about him and his life.

He was a good person to be around.

"I don't know where the piece goes!" He grunts in frustration as he tries to shove the Lego piece against another. She chuckles and snatches the instructions off the floor and holds them up. "This is why we have instructions, but no, you're too good for instructions.'' she teases.

He looks at her with a face of mock annoyance, "I'll have you know I've built multiple Lego sets with no instructions!" He points towards the various sets displayed around his apartment.

"Ok well, clearly your no instructions streak is over." Matt huffs and snatches the instruction from her grasp, shooting her a sharp look when he hears her snickering. He looks down at the small words and begins to read them, his eyes darting across the page as his tongue pokes out in concentration. As he does so, she takes the time to really examine him.

He had on a white thermal along with some grey sweatpants, his hair was a bit messy from how many times he ran his fingers through it, and he just looked

good.

"I think I got it!" His shouts of excitement brought her out of her daze, her eyes trailing down to the paper pamphlet falling to the floor. She sits on her knees and moves closer, their faces side by side as he puts the Lego piece in its correct spot. His hands moved quickly as he put the other parts together, his body bouncing in excitement.

It doesn't take long for the display to be finished, Matt's head whipping towards her.

"Done! Told you I didn't need the-" His words trail off once he realizes how close she is. She feels his body tense and his breath hitch, his eyes darting between her lips and eyes.

She quickly takes notice, the corners of her mouth twitching gently.

"Do you wanna kiss me?"

Her voice comes out in a teasing whisper, her eyes taunting him. He gives a slight nod, his tongue darting out to lick his dry lips.

"Y-yeah...."

"Then kiss me."

It's cute to her how scared he was, the way he slowly leaned forward and softly placed his lips against hers. She hums and stops him from pulling away, deepening the kiss and taking full control, allowing her tongue to enter his mouth. She pushes him back against the bottom of the couch and climbs into his lap, pressing her chest against his.

She giggles softly feeling his cock begin to harden underneath her, the tent growing bigger and bigger. She grinds against him, enjoying the way he whimpers softly.

She goes to pull his pants down, but he quickly grabs her hands, stopping it from going further.

"W-wait wait! I-I'm sorry, I umm-" He clears his throat as he pulls away from the kiss, his breathing ragged.

"Hey hey-" She caresses his face and chest gently, trying to calm him down. "What are you saying sorry for? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I-I want to I just...." His face turns beet red as he thinks about him being a virgin. He knew that she already knows this information, but having to say it out loud, the thought, It was just embarrassing for him.

"I know, that doesn't bother me Matt."

"I-It doesn't?" He was confused, why would it not bother her? Why isn't it bothering her? Don't girls want a guy who knows what he's doing in the bedroom?

She smiles and plants her lips against his once more, " Nope-" she trails a few kisses up to his ear before whispering,

"- It's the perfect way to teach you what I like."

He can't help the groan that leaves his mouth, the thought of her morphing him into her perfect plaything, her teaching him how to please her....He loved it.

He slowly lets go of her wrists and allows her to pull his sweatpants off along with his boxers. She wastes no time, wrapping her hand around him and slowly jerking him off. He sighs out, the stress and tension in his body fading away with every stroke.

Her thumb swipes over his tip, his lips parting slightly. Her hand felt better than his, it was so soft, smaller than his own.

He's embarrassed with how quick his balls tighten, his dick twitching in her grasp. He was close to cuming, and that's not what she wanted.

She pulls her hand away and moves back, pulling her own pants and underwear off. She settles back down in his lap, grinding their bodies together. Her bare and wet cunt only provide him with more pleasure, his breathing speeding up rapidly.

"Gonna let me ride you?" She asks breathlessly, her own pleasure rising due to his tip nudging her cunt repeatedly. He finds himself nodding eagerly, too excited and lost in pleasure to form a complete sentence.

She smiles and crashes their lips together once more. She situates herself on top of him, lining his tip up with her entrance before sinking down.

It's always the slip-in that gets her.

Her head falls onto his shoulder as his head tilts back onto to couch cushions, her thighs quivering at the stretch.

He was perfect, just as she had thought. He stretched her out just right, filling her up to the point where she found it hard to breathe.

This was a new and exciting feeling for him, it took everything in him not to cum on the spot. Her spongy, wet, and warm walls felt different from the ones inside her mouth, and he didn't know which ones he liked better.

She begins to move back and forth, grinding against him before starting to bounce up and down. Her soft and pretty moans flow through the apartment, making it harder for Matt to think straight. She was like a siren, clouding his mind with her sweet melodic songs, luring him to the ocean for his death.

His hands stay limp at his sides, his fingers twitching as they itch to touch her.

But he was scared, scared that if he did touch her, she'd disappear, and he'd wake up thinking this was all a dream.

"Fffuck Matt, s-so big!" She pants in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck as she continues to bounce on him.

Her thighs and calves quickly become tired, a pout forming on her face as she looks at him, begging him to help and touch her.

"T-touch me Matt - Shit!- P-please!"

He couldn't say no to that face, he'd be dumb if he did.

So he finally caves, wrapping his arms around her like a bear and helping her keep up with her own movements. He adjusts his legs so they are propped up, and gently begins to buck his hips, meeting her every time she lands on his lap.

She gasps as he hits that special spot deep inside of her, her orgasm getting closer and closer. Their lips connect once more, their tongues messily fighting and their teeth clashing.

He holds her tightly, his fingernails digging into her skin, leaving small indents.

He needed to be closer.

Without a second thought, he removes her shirt, her breast falling free and bouncing in his face. He doesn't know what came over him, but neither of them was complaining.

She throws her head back as he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, and fondles the other. He sucks gently, using his teeth to gently nibble on the skin.

He moans in delight, his eyes closing, his glasses lopsided as he finally gets to experience all that he's been waiting for.

"Shi-it! S-so close, please please please, don't stop!" She begs, urging him to push her over the edge. He follows her directions, not changing anything he's doing, and continuing to pleasure her.

He feels his own orgasm approaching, his whimpers turning into loud and deep moans.

"Fuck, pl-Oh god! M-mommy!" He didn't even realize he said it, but she heard it loud and clear, and it was just enough to push her over the edge.

She moans loudly and falls against his chest, her juices trickling out and down his shaft. The feeling of her walls clamping down on him repeatedly was enough to make him follow her lead, hot spurts of cum painting her insides.

They lay against the couch, the both of them panting softly, still wrapped in each other's embrace. She slowly peels her body away from his and smiles at his flushed cheeks and dazed expression.

"W-was it good?" He asks in between labored breaths, his nerves clear as day. It was obvious he was eager to please her, wanting to hear her praises and words of reassurance.

"You were perfect pretty boy......Can you handle another round?"

[transformers-spike]

Helloo, I'm wondering if you can do a sh comfort with any character from tfp plz :3

From the ☣️ annon

Went for Starscream because I know his brand of comfort is... questionable but entertaining to write - also (sfw)

You’re in trouble. Big fucking trouble. You can stay in your little lab all you want, fiddling with genetic samples with the grace of a high schooler dissecting a frog, lacking your usual precision. Yes, you got yourself into it. No, your past self refuses to apologize to the current you. And while you may understand what pushed the old you to make this decision a week ago, personal growth isn’t going to do shit after the stunt you’ve pulled. Starscream is your abductor, yes, but he’s also your “guardian” so to speak; the Decepticon responsible for your continued wellbeing. This has not stopped him from threatening your life back when you were being “rescued” from your old job, but there’s no use dwelling on it. The point is, there’s a degree of mutual trust between the two of you. In exchange for a wide variety of resources and access to actual alien technology, you’ve been hard at work handling projects he’s tossed your way. You pride yourself in it, because who wouldn’t after spending decades perfecting their craft? Or getting into a ludicrous amount of student debt… Your stint with the government was, admittedly, your lowest point; MK-Ultra 2.0 type experiments you only agreed to as a morally and financially bankrupt newcomer with a grudge against society as a whole after working half a decade in retail. To say you regret it is to put it lightly. At the very least the Decepticons are honest about their intentions, no “protecting the people” rhetoric; if they’re going to cyberform the Earth then you’ll be there with your bucket of popcorn watching it all unfold. Although, past you wasn’t quite as eager. Guilt racked your brain, tormented you well into the night, reminded you every waking moment you could only be an instrument in someone else’s plan, a pawn that would unquestionably follow its master even if it meant digging its own grave. Yes, you’re doing better now (you think), and you were concealing the secret just fine until you misjudged the boiling point of an experimental concoction and got a face-full of glass. It could have been worse, you had shielded yourself with your arms, earning only a couple scars on your face (and a frightening amount on your arms). That’s when Knock Out came in. Oh Knock Out. You cunt . Of course he was being too kind; it wasn’t from the chunks of glass he was removing with a pair of forceps, nor the tears of pain running down your face (you honestly expected him to go “Ew” and toss a blanket over your head so he wouldn’t have to look). It’s because he had seen the week-old cut along your arm. He didn’t make a fuss, didn’t point it out, didn’t so much as pause while treating you. Oh no – he sent you a message first thing in the morning informing you he relayed the extra detail to Starscream and sent you the Cybertronian equivalent of a shrug emoji. Your first reaction was to threaten his life through text, which he responded to with an eyeroll.

This leaves you here, waiting at your post, counting down the seconds to doomsday, hands shaking cursing yourself for spilling the (thankfully non-corrosive) substance down the beaker. You try to seem casual when the door opens up. You try to steady your breathing when you feel his footsteps. You try to put down the beaker and greet him – which drops and shatters. Staring down at your work, mouth agape, you don’t have the strength to look him in the optic after three major blunders in under 24 hours. Although it’s hard to avoid his gaze when he commands your attention with his presence alone. “Hey,” you say, sweating profusely. “Nice day we’re having. Out here in space, I mean.” His expression is one of exasperated frustration. “Oh don’t patronize me.” He scoops you up like a naughty kitten, glaring daggers at you. “Show me,” he orders. You cradle your arm to your chest. “But, Knock Out bandaged it yesterday-” “Are you trying to waste my time?” You hang your head low and undo the wrappings at a snail’s pace, desperately stalling, praying for anything to intervene and pull Starscream away so you can scramble under your desk and hyperventilate in peace. But your boss doesn’t have time to waste. He groans dramatically before plucking your arm and tearing through the bandages in one clean cut of his talon. “I swear it’s not that bad,” you say, the antithesis of convincing, cringing inside as he observes the scars in eerie silence. The expression he wears is unreadable. His optics drag from your arm to your face. You swallow. “It’s just a scratch-” “No,” he cuts you off, voice bursting with anger. “Do you take me for a fool?” “Wait I didn’t mean it that way-” “Shut up.” He glowers down at you, claws tightening around your arm. “I will remind you, human, that you are an investment . And I won’t have my investments break of their own volition. So tell me,” he drags you closer, sending a sudden burst of pain which you dare not show, “ why would you do it?”

“I… I don’t… I don’t know how to explain,” you whisper. He scoffs and rolls his optics. “Is it so difficult to collaborate? If you won’t tell me, then I can’t help you.” The words ring in your ears. You go weak in the knees. “Help me?” you echo, incredulity heavy on your tongue. He flashes you a look of utter confusion. “What? Did you think I would punish you? Oh, please , it’s not my modus operandi. I have a more refined manner of supervising my subordinates compared to… I’m sure you can guess whom. Now stop wasting my time, and tell me why .”

“Uh… it’s a long story,” you babble, still reeling from his words. “Then shorten it, I don’t have all cycle.”

“I’ve been plagued with some… pretty horrendous thoughts at night, among,” you vaguely gesture at your makeshift lab, “the stress of deadlines.” He contemplates you, arching an optical ridge. It feels… strangely human compared to the apathetic stares of your old bosses. You’re a number here just the same, except it will be significantly more difficult to replace you. “I can’t change the deadlines,” he starts in an oddly soft tone, scrutinizing your reaction. “However, I can procure the proper medication to avoid another incident. .” You flash him a bewildered look. “Antidepressants?” you ask incredulously. “I was referring to something along the lines of ambien or adderall.” He releases your arm and taps his chin. “Perhaps both considering your current state.”

“Oh…” You blink. “I didn’t expect you to know this much about human pharmaceuticals.”

He scoffs again, putting an offended servo to his chassis. “Unlike us, you humans are exceptionally fragile, mentally and physiologically. I had anticipated some manner of a breakdown, although not this severe.” “So am I forgiven?” you ask, a mild attempt at sarcasm to clear the ambiance. It earns you a glare. “No,” he declares unsurprisingly. “I will be confiscating the hazardous materials.” You cock an eyebrow and point at the glass vials behind you, two of which are very obviously missing from the rack (and one whose pieces are mostly dislodged from your arm). He ex-vents loudly, slapping a servo to his face. “I was referring to the sharp instruments in your possession.” His voice is muffled. “Fair enough,” you say. “And B09F will be dispensing your medication.” “A bit excessive. But sure.” He scowls at you between his digits. He seems… terribly overworked. Cybertronians don’t have eyebags, but you swear there are dark lines under his optics. You clear your throat and avoid eye contact. “Thank you. I appreciate it quite a bit. You’re much better than my previous employer.” Said previous employer orchestrate your kidnapping and made you work towards humanity’s downfall with a blaster to your head. This, you leave out completely. He freezes for a split second. Slowly, he removes his servo to contemplate you better. “Odd,” he remarks. “I thought humanity would treat you better as one of their own.” A smile spreads across his face. “No matter. At least someone can appreciate the effort I put into running a tight ship.” You return his smile in spades. “I’m sure I’m not the only one.” “Flattery won’t work on me,” he scoffs. A moment passes by. He opens up an optic like a dog waiting to be pet. “Well?” he urges. “Uh… I’m sure others admire you just as much as I? You’re… the best commander on the ship? You’re the most competent person I know?... You’re a better father than my dad ever was?” His optics snap open. “Are you comparing me to your genetic progenitor?” “To an extent? In the sense that you’re a better mentor and guardian than mine ever was.”

He squints at you. “You humans are terrible towards your own kind. Although I suppose I should accept your compliment.” His wings flick in a show of… begrudging content. “Now, take the rest of the day off.” You beam up at him. “With the condition you’re bound to your quarters.” You look down in disappointment. “Fine, you can roam around the perimeter as long as B09F chaperons you.” “Sure thing dad,” you say in an attempt at humor. He furrows his optical ridge. “If you start calling me "daddy" I'm tossing you out the airlock.”

[sunderwight]

Honestly fascinated trying to figure out how both of Ambessa's kids ended up being diametrically opposed to her whole jock spartan might-makes-right mentality.

Tthe obvious answer, of course, is that Ambessa's husband (Kino's dad, and the guy Mel thought was her bio dad until recently) was way more of a diplomat and way less of a fighter, both philosophically as well as in terms of skill. And that he's the one who passed this on to the kids.

This fits well enough as an answer. The guy in the portrait certainly looks more like a talker than a fighter, and we know that Ambessa has a thing for pretty, submissive men thanks to her whole introduction in S1. Also, regardless of Mel's genetics this is presumably the man who raised her and is her father in the "nurture" sense of the equation, so it would be completely reasonable for her to take after him.

However, there are a few issues here.

One is the fact that even when Mel is talking to who she thinks is Kino about the possibility of one of them being a bastard, or of a bastard half-sibling existing, neither of them mention their father at all. While I doubt either of them would hold illusions about Ambessa remaining faithful to a spouse (for all we know the guy's still alive while she's off carousing with twinks), you would think that if both kids were close to their dad or took after him particularly, there'd be at least a passing mention of him in the midst of this discussion.

Maybe Mr. Medarda died a long time ago, though. Perhaps it's a topic so buried that it's an established habit to simply never mention it. Or maybe there is an issue of estrangement between him and his children for other reasons. He doesn't seem to have factored into Ambessa's decision to send Mel away, nor is his potential grief brought up around the subject of Kino. Despite confirmation of his existence, he seems (ironically) to be out of the picture, though it could also just be that the writers wanted to leave their options open for what he might be like in case another Arcane-adjacent series comes into production. I am fairly sure that Mel is the most likely character from Arcane to create continuity into a show about Noxus or Demacia or something, if we get another LoL series, especially since her story feels the most unfinished.

However, there's another possibility, which is that Mr. Medarda up there was such a nonentity in his kids lives that he doesn't come up because there's not much of a relationship to acknowledge. In which case, even if he is more of a diplomat (and he and Ambessa were a political marriage, presumably?) it'd be hard to credit him with influencing the kids so significantly.

One of the interesting things about Mel and Kino is that even though they are at odds with their mother on a lot of topics, topics that even seem to tie into prevailing Noxian cultural ideals (so, things they'd have been overall raised to believe in by the rest of their house and not just their mother too), they are also kind of astonishingly confident in expressing themselves?

So, somebody must have been supporting their alternative viewpoints and validating them as opinions worth expressing, even if they weren't things Ambessa approved of or actually wanted to foster in them as opinions/philosophies.

I think an interesting option is that it was Ambessa herself who did this, actually.

Ambessa's lore mentions that she figured out really early on that Kino did not share her temperament at all. Also, that she started searching about for ways of ensuring not only her house's domination, but the survival of her children specifically. Because the succession in a Noxian noble house doesn't seem to be guaranteed by birthright, which means that Kino and Mel would probably face rivals from their own family if they seemed too weak or vulnerable to lead, and someone else contested it. An easy way to remove a "weak" leader would also be to just kill them off. That's even apart from external rivals (like the ones who actually did kill Kino).

Which means that even if her kids had different values and priorities, Ambessa would probably have wanted them to still present those opinions with ferocity and confidence. If they cower to her, they will cower to others, and that's worse than them just not being aggressive combatants or warlord types. If you're gonna be a peacenik weirdo (by Ambessa's standards) in Noxus then you better damn well still be an assertive one.

I like this idea partly because the image of Ambessa trying to balance her kids having totally alien opinions about things like the value of life and importance of compassion, with trying not to actually beat down their spirits about it. Just spending a lot of their formative years being like, ugh, I have to listen to my nerd ass loser children tell me why they think mercy is a good idea. Such a fucking chore. Anyway great job presenting your arguments kids, lots to think about, let's go get ice cream. Then Mother has to fire one of your military tactics instructors for daring to call you a couple of wieners. Again. Even though she's right.

[starspangledbatter]

⭐️ “Dead Wife Rag”???: The Amazing Digital Circus Theory ⭐️

⭐️ About a day or two ago, Gooseworx released the entire soundtrack of episodes 3 and 4. Excited, I went and prepared to explore each and every one of the tracks individually. That is, until something strange caught my eye. This thing specifically, was a name for one of the latest tracks titled “Dead Wife Rag”. ⭐️

Now, this name could simply just mean rag. Rag as in a syncopated rhythm. But what if “Dead Wife Rag” is actually a double entendre? Let me explain…

🌟 You see, Gooseworx seems to title her tracks based off of the scene her tunes takes place in. “Character Quirks” plays during the living room scene where the characters show off what happens when they don’t breathe. “Still Friends” plays during the moment where Zooble comforts Gangle and admits that they are still Gangle’s friend, regardless of what happened at Spudsy’s. ⭐️

Now, knowing this information, the time and place where Gooseworx’s tracks take place seem to hold prominence in the track’s title names. So, knowing this, where exactly does “Dead Wife Rag” play within the series?

⭐️ Here. This is the scene where this track plays. The scene where a dead wife, Martha Mildenhall, explains to Ragatha that her husband accidentally kills her with his gun, while telling her about men and their “silliest priorities”. This scene follows with Ragatha turning to Jax, agreeing with Martha that she knows the feeling of dealing with a man who puts his own feelings over anyone else’s. ⭐️

Now, why does this matter? Well, what if I were to tell you that “Dead Wife Rag” actually means “Dead Wife Ragatha”, and that’s what makes the name a double entendre. This isn’t just my Bunnydoll bias speaking here. I actually mean it. Consider this.

⭐️ Jax’s episode is described as “guns!”. A gun is the thing that Baron uses to kill Martha, resulting in her demise ⭐️

⭐️ Gooseworx has said in the past that she “apologizes to the Bunnydoll shippers”, meaning that there’s something that could happen in the future that may strain their relationship, which could possibly involve abstraction. ⭐️

⭐️ When asked how Jax would react towards Ragatha abstracting or going missing, Michael Kovach responds with a tragic but surprising response (go to the 1:25:45 mark). He states that if Jax realized that Ragatha abstracted, he would be devastated. This is because Ragatha was someone he knew the entire time during his time at the circus. He would then continue to repress these feelings and pretend that everything is fine (like he did with Kaufmo, the stressful aftermath at Spudsy’s etc). ⭐️

⭐️ Jax’s episode (the gun episode) will explore each and every character, showing the audience how their personalities have changed amongst being at the circus. Maybe Ragatha and Jax used to be closer in the past? Maybe they weren’t always at each other’s throats? ⭐️

⭐️ So, where does this all lead to? What does all of this mean? Well, what if Jax does something in the future that hurts Ragatha emotionally. Something irredeemable, something unforgiving. What if Jax causes Ragatha to accidentally abstract, leaving the circus to cope with the death of one of their longest-surviving members? ⭐️

⭐️ Like Kinger said “In this world, the worst thing you can do is... make someone think they're not wanted or loved”. The worst thing you can do to Ragatha is make her feel hated or unloved. She doesn’t want Jax to hate her, despite how she feels about him and his actions. Jax always seems to push away others and constantly uses them for his entertainment. The only time he actually thinks about anyone but himself is during times that lack distraction. Maybe he says something that convinces Ragatha that he hates her. She believes in the one thing she can’t live with acknowledging. ⭐️

The guns aren’t actually guns. The guns are a symbol for a device or an event that leads to the accidental demise of a loved one. Kinger isn’t the only parallel to Baron. Jax is Baron. Ragatha is Martha. She’s “Dead Wife Rag” and he’ll have to live with what he has done. For the rest of his life.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

༉‧₊˚. 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size vampire!reader

— summary: after centuries of isolation, your familiar forces you to finally leave the confines of you manor, and a nice surprise awaits you.

— warnings: mentions of past vampire hunting, hints at isolation and depression, mentions of death, the reader is a REALLY old vampire so she kinda doesn't know how modern day romancing works, spencer is confused but kind of flattered.

— wc: 1083

⋆ a/n: HIHI!!! this was an original idea that i refused to sit on, so it just came out of my brain as i went. there's some random vampire lore but honestly it's just vampire reader being smitten with loser reid sigh (please ask me about them).

masterlist | AO3

You don't really remember the last time you've talked to a human.

It was a chosen isolation of course, because the last time your kind had been out, you were hunted practically for sport. So, you weren't very enthusiastic to see the world.

That was hundreds of years ago, though, vampires had long been dismissed by new generations, so you could go out if you wanted to, and your familiar, Knox, was very hell-bent on reminding you.

Sure, you've been cooped up in your home in the woods for some time now, but you had everything that you needed. You had a good food supply (i.e., the wide selection of animals), your piano, and your cat. That was all you needed.

And yet somehow you found yourself sitting on a bench during broad daylight in a human park.

You were one of the few vampires left in your faction, so the sun wasn't a bother. Your skin would get mildly irritated, but that was it really.

Your abilities were all based on your age, you had grown out of the sensitive infancy that was being a newly sired vampire.

It helped that your place of seating was covered by a tree, though.

You nervously pet Knox who was sitting in your lap, his tail swishing lazily without a care in the world.

For a creature who served a nocturnal being, he sure was fond of the day time.

He basked in the way the sun hit his pitch black fur just right, the rays warming up parts of his skin that you could not.

You weren't very cold anymore, sometimes cool to the touch, but never freezing, like a dead body.

Your lips were pressed together in a thin line, and you were sure you didn't look very approachable, especially not in your all black get up.

You were attune with the times, of course. Trends were changing, there was technology now, and things weren't as hopeless as they were back then, but there were just some things that remained the same.

“You are too stiff.” Knox stated simply. “You look as if you are constipated. I took you out here to make friends, not to hide from them.”

To anyone, his words sounded like a meow, but to you, it was like nails on a chalkboard.

Your fingers paused their stroking, and he swatted at them, and you huffed, but yielded to his bratty yet silent demand.

“I have already told you, Knox. I am not interested in making friends with humans.” You swallowed the dryness that was in your throat.

For the first time in years you had been around human blood, and a lot of it, so it was a bit overwhelming. Not so much so where you felt like attacking, but there was an underlying sweetness in the air.

“It doesn't matter what you are or are not interested in. You are lonely. It is as simple as that.” He continues, “As your familiar, it is my job to help you.” He stretched. “So –” Knox finally settles again, “This is me helping.”

“I am sure it is.” You state with a roll of your eyes.

It wasn't like being here was bad per se, just different, unfamiliar. You were one of the very few immortals that feared the unknown.

Vampires always thought they had all the time in the world, and that had led them to their inevitable ends. You know yours will come one day, by your own hand, or someone else's.

“Look, if you don not wish to stay here, I will not force you; but we will be back again –”

Knoxs’ chirping fell on deaf ears as you smelled the most pungent thing in your life. You could practically taste it in your mouth, it was heavy on your tongue. Heavenly.

Your keen eyes instantly shot to your left where a lanky man was approaching you, albeit hesitantly.

“Excuse me, but could I sit here?” He gestured to the spot next to you, and you just blinked. You zeroed in on his pulse before shifting your gaze to the wood.

“Sure.”

Your reply was breathless, and he gave you a closed lip smile. It was… fastly endearing to say the least.

“The cat that brings bad luck.” You heard the handsome man say from beside you. You blink again.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your cat.” He motions down to Knox with a quick dip of his head. “Usually people associate black cats with bringing bad luck, though it's obviously just a superstition.”

He sounds awkward, and you could see the self-deprivation written all over his face, as though he knew he had said something wrong. You didn't like it.

“Are they now?” You hummed.

You looked down at an intrigued Knox, who was caught between watching you and the human.

“I suppose it makes sense.” You say with a small smile. You bring your nails up to scratch behind his ears. “He may not bring me bad luck, but he sure is a lot to deal with. Very chatty.”

Knox hisses and swats at your hand again.

The human looks alarmed by the action of your cat, and somewhat confused.

“Cats don't normally relax that fast after showing distress.” The human says, perplexed. “Strange. He must be a special cat.” There's the purring.

‘Egotistical’ You wanted to say.

“I…” He gulps. “What's your name?”

You finally force yourself to meet his gaze, and you are absolutely love struck.

He smells divine; he has the features and the intelligence to rival any of your ancestors before you.

You state your name. “You?”

“Dr. Spencer Reid – but… but you can just call me Spencer! The Dr is just a formality…” You cut off his rambling by accident, “You are just magnificent.”

Spencer chokes on his words.

“I - I’m sorry?”

“I said you are magnificent.” It has been a long time since you've been in the public eye, but this was how one made their intentions clear, no?

“I… thank you.” Spencer flushes a beautiful hue of red, and you can hear and smell the blood moving to his cheeks.

“Why of course.”

Things go quiet for a moment, maybe even a little bit awkward, but you were prepared for that. You were vaguely aware that wooing now was different to how it was back then.

“So, tell me more about these superstitions.”

Spencer visibly brightens up at that.

Maybe the human world wasn't so bad after all.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[two-white-butterflies]

CHANGED | part one

Description: You have found that there are different types of love. Self-serving ones who grovel when abandoned in pity for themselves. However, there is another greater form of love, one that creates life. What happens when your husband uses you in the creation of the rings?

Pairing: Annatar/Reader reincarnation trope that i am a sucker for

Mairon — admirable, splendid, and gorgeous.

Your husband is perhaps the greatest maia to ever grace the lands, his gentle touch, his kind smile, his beautiful auburn hair — and his strong shoulders that you have found yourself massaging as of the late. "You are spending far too much time in Lord Aulë's smiths." You opened your mouth to speak, while continuing to massage his back.

"We are doing good work, my love." He defends.

The way that his eyes glitter at the slight of crafting, he brings the finest little treasures to your shared home every day. He creates stories behind the treasures, claiming them to have come from distant lands — you always answer him with a giggle, and he finishes every tale by telling you that he only made it up.

"We spend little time together. I've missed you." You sigh.

He turns to look at you — his eyebrows merged together, eyes filled with concern. "I apologize, lover." He pouts, and you press a kiss to his lips. "...and our child has longed for you too." You place a hand on your stomach. "Aulë says that a great darkness grows," Mairon says.

Goosebumps travel down your spine as you remember whispers of Melkor's darkness, he has always gone against Eru Illuvatar. "He visited the gardens yesterday, Iellas and I were looking for fruits for today's feast. He spoke to us, told us that this world is flawed." You informed, feeling the dread pool in the pit of your stomach.

Mairon rises to his feet.

He looks deep inside of your eyes, searching for any trace of — an emotion that you are unfamiliar with. "You must not speak of that encounter to anyone else, tell Iellas to do the same," Mairon commanded, his voice firm.

"We must tell someone. If Melkor seeks to sew discord — create a conflict that cannot be resolved by mere words, then the very peace of our realm is thrown in limbo." You whispered, afraid that anyone else would be able to hear. "Eru Illuvatar sees all." Mairon affirmed.

You wanted to argue with him — tell him that a dark cloud follows after Melkor, a cloud that you are sure obscures Illuvatar's vision. You stare deep into his eyes again, allowing those sea-green orbs to bring you peace. Mairon knows better. His power exceeds yours.

"— as his children, we must fight against temptation. It is our test." His eyebrows relaxed, but you could sense that there was a deeper meaning to his words. In his eyes, you could see conflict, of both light and darkness, of safety and reckoning. "I see no future in following Melkor's faith. No one shall follow after him, for no one shall desire to leave this paradise." You stated.

Valinor is beautiful — its green fields, warmth, and its promise of eternal peace. Only a fool would leave. Only a fool would follow after a dark mist of dread.

He cups your cheeks with his hands. He presses a soft kiss on your lips. You inhale his scent of roses. "We do not have to worry about that — because we are safe here. The whims of the Valar are beyond our hold, we can only do what makes us happy." He smiles.

"I love you, lover."

"I love you most,"

Mairon slowly turned distant after that, he'd make up excuses — tell you that there was work needed to be done in Lord Aulë's smiths. He'd wake up early in the morning and sleep late in the night. He'd whisper in your ears — all the ways that this world is flawed, all the creations of Illuvatar that are broken.

His songs, which used to feel like feathers and bamboo leaves, now turned grim, reminding you of rocks grinding upon rocks. You tried to intervene...you tried to help him, but one day he just left, without a note, without a word, without a goodbye.

The light that used to fill your child with strength now dwindled like their father — their movements became little, until one day, you were sure that there was no longer life inside of your stomach.

"You are the fairest of Illuvatar's creations," Yavanna's voice echoed throughout the large chambers. "I feel your light." She adds.

"Lady Yavanna, there is no life left for me to live." You opened your mouth to speak, and after centuries of crying and mourning your beloved and child, all joy has shaken off your body.

You kept your eyes on the floor, bowing in the presence of the Valar. Great darkness has consumed these lands and corrupted its people, even your husband, who was more powerful than you. "The Grey Havens exist to provide us with peace. It saddens me that you cannot find it here," Yavanna tilts her head.

"I do not wish to be...How I am jealous of mankind, for their souls can leave this sphere, unlike mine, unlike ours." You breathed.

How beautiful it must be, the feeling of release. The feeling of not having to be in this world anymore, simply a spirit or an energy that floats, incapable of thought, incapable of action, finished in existing.

"It is not death that your spirit seeks, but the privilege of forgetting." Yavanna looks deep inside your thoughts, feeling your memories flow through her veins. "Do you wish to forget, child? To have a new beginning?" She inquires, she is not the most merciful of the Valar, but she sees herself inside of you — she loves Aulë in the same way that you love Mairon, and the thought of her lover being pried out of her hands, it makes her shiver.

"If you will allow me, my lady." You say with hidden pleading.

Yavanna raises her hand — and everything turns to black.

Halbrand — veiled, hidden, shadowed.

You always hated staring at the sea, your mother says that the Grey Havens are always waiting for you out there — but it sounds so dreadful being stuck there, unable to do anything, unable to speak to any other creature besides elf and valar.

But now, you are stuck in the middle of sea, drowning because you refused to learn how to swim.

"Help me, please!" You scream, and a man helps you on his raft. The 'man' gives you a thin-lipped smile, saving you before you can inhale seawater. A cough escapes your mouth, feeling the unforgiving sun kiss your bare skin. "Thank you," you breathed.

The man standing in front of you is ... strange.

He has long brown hair that reaches past his neck. He has a charming beard and a mysterious fea. "What are you called?" He asks, feeling waves of familiarity crash over his body.

This elf maiden standing in front of him — with raven black hair and piercing purple eyes, he feels something hidden inside of her. 'I love you, lover.' His wife's voice floods his thoughts. Halbrand is in this raft because of you — because he wants to chafe his knees, earn his spot back in the Grey Havens, earn his spot back to you.

"Artanis," you say, your name sounds like a prayer.

Artanis, one of the names that he was supposed to give his child. He closes his eyes for a second, imagining his child standing in front of him, a smile ghosts his lips, how old was the child now? Ten thousand years? Fifteen thousand years? He has lost count in Morgoth's caves.

Will he even recognize you or his child? Will he even be allowed to see his family?

"I am Halbrand," he introduces himself.

"...and what are you doing here, Halbrand?" You raise an eyebrow.

"I cannot tell you, fair-Artanis." He chides.

You kept your distance from him, instead, choosing to sit on the farthest corner of the raft, intending to jump ship the moment that this blasted thing touches land.

Halbrand continues thinking about you, unaware that you are sitting right in front of him. "Where is your raft headed?" You asked, he tilted his head — for a second, your voice sounded so familiar. "...I doubt that we will be able to find safety until landfall." You added.

He chooses to ignore your chatty mouth.

"You are a deserter, aren't you?" He says with certainty. Nothing has changed with these elves, they've always run with their tails in between their legs.

Your eyebrows merged together, offended at his insinuation. "Do I have the look of a deserter?" You raised an eyebrow.

Halbrand admits you have the grace of a noble woman, the light of the two trees hiding behind your eyes. He chuckles, he must've wounded your vanity.

"You don't have the look of someone to whom things happen by accident," he teases, his eyes trailing back and forth between your eyes and your lips. The way that your waterline looks...no, it is the sea that is making him remember these memories of you. Of your warm hands massaging his back, of your fingers gently braiding his hair.

"Which means you were running. Whether toward or from something, I haven't decided." He placed a finger on his lips, pretending to be deep in thought.

You have landed right inside of his raft, it is biblical.

"Duty demanded that I return to Middle Earth. That is all that you need to know."

"Important Elf business, no doubt."

"What have Elves ever done to you?" You snapped.

You had already finished your studies by the time Halbrand learned to walk. Speaking from experience, it is always the youngest ones that have a lot to say!

"Do you blame us for your being stranded here?" You queried. Horrible people have horrible stories to tell. "Worry not, Artanis, it was not the elves that chased me from my homeland. It was the darkness that I am sure still remains there." Halbrand looks off to the far distance.

"Your home, where is it?"

"What's it matter? It's gone now." Halbrand interrupts. The light of the sun casts an eerie glow on his face. "I know something of the pain you carry. My father dedicated himself to eradicating darkness. My mother — she lost herself to temptation." You shared.

Your mother was one of the few people that Sauron stole from the Grey Havens. He sewed chaos into the very realm that he once promised to protect. "Morgoth has done terrible things to my kind," you continued. "— my aunt, her husband was Mairon before he became Sauron."

His eyes widen slightly, but his face shifts back to normal before you can notice. "Your aunt, did you know her?" He cannot fight against the urge to ask a question — even when it is uncharacteristic of Halbrand.

"She begged Yavanna to grant her new life. I was born centuries after her spirit left the Grey Havens." You informed. "...and her spirit, where is it now?" Halbrand tried to make his voice sound curious — like something that a human would say after hearing a tale about elves.

"Not even Yavanna knows," your lips pursed into a thin line.

Silence permeates throughout the atmosphere. You turned to look at him again. "What's that around your neck? Is that a mark of your people's king?" You stared at his neck.

"My people have no king," his voice turns cold.

He cannot return to the Grey Havens now. He must find you.

"But if they did, where might that kingdom be found?" You asked with furrowed eyebrows, a plan beginning to form. "What if I told you we might be able to reclaim it?" You say, hoping to ignite a fire of hope in his heart.

Halbrand will be useful to you.

"I am afraid you are short an army," Halbrand scoffs. There was something inside of him that shifted — like mechanical gears suddenly turning in the other direction. Darkness follows him, and engulfs his figure, but you are unable to see it, thinking of it as nothing but his strong fea.

"Leave the army to me." You state with confidence.

"Do you usually plan or do these schemes come to you in dreams?" Halbrand stares. "Why're you stranded at sea, anyways?" He interrogates.

"Because rather than rest in glory, I chose to seek out the very enemy responsible for your suffering." You raise your chin.

"Look, Artanis. You didn't cause my suffering, and you can't fix it." Halbrand breathes.

"I have pursued this foe since before the first sunrise bloodied the sky. It will take longer than your lifetime even to speak the names of those they have taken from me." You argued, he cannot help but roll his eyes again.

If only you knew.

"If you want to murder orcs and settle a score, that is your affair. Don't dress it up as heroism." He spat.

"Are you going to tell me where the enemy is or not?"

"The Southlands." He finally answers. His plan is already fully formed inside of his head.

"I need to know how many the enemy were, under whose banner they marched, and then you are going to take me to their last-known location." You demanded.

Seeing as his wife was no longer in the Grey Havens, and his child could have traveled to Middle Earth during the interim. He could only purse his lips before saying: "Alright, Elf." He relents.

But the moment that you find out about the truth.

It shall not be his fault.

COMMENT TO GET TAGGED

[itz-mfkn-de]

hii i saw you wanted requests and I’M HERE <3

please please please could you write some mattheo riddle fluff!! maybe with hates everyone but her trope

Here’s a short little Drabble abt this trope! Could def see myself writing a little fic about this if enough people want me to!!!

AH tysm for this request darling 🤗🤗 I loveeeeeeeeeeee this trope it’s so mmmmmmm idk it brings something so ugh in my heart 😋

———

“Okay, cunt.” Draco leaned against the desk throwing harsh words at Mattheo. The pair arguing, per usual, about who was better at quidditch.

He kicked the boys stool next to him, nearly sending Draco flying from his chair.

“Watch it, fuck head.” Mattheo spat harshly at the blonde boy. He may have called the man his friend but he had little patience for him when he acted like someone inflated that giant fucking head of his.

The bickering continued between the two and became harsher by the minute. anyone with eyes would’ve thought that these boys hated eachother, but in reality that’s just how Mattheo treated his friends—If it was anyone else talking to him like that they would’ve already had their face beat into their fucking skull.

Draco scoffed at the term of “endearment”Mattheo had labeled him with.

He snapped his mouth open, ready to throw a slur of random profanity Draco’s way, but you had came into his peripheral causing him to snap his head in your direction.

“Hey, Matty? Do you have notes for this class? I accidentally fell asleep..” you mumbled while fiddling with your books in hand.

His eyes softened once they locked onto your face.

“ ‘course I do, love. Here, sorry my handwriting might be a little hard to read. If it is just ask and I’ll tell you what it says.” He hands you his paper he had been lazily writing notes on and gave you a soft smile.

“Oh, thank you Matty! I really, really appreciate you letting me borrow them.” You squeal at his kindness and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before spinning on your heel to return to your seat.

Mattheo’s sharp gazes followed you back to your seat, never breaking away from your alluring yet soft form.

“No fucking way.” Draco had mumbled, breaking Mattheo from his intense focus on you.

“What?” He had asked the blonde boy with a bit of anger leaving place in his words.

“You fucked her?” Draco asked incredulously.

“What? No you dumb shit, why would you ask that?” He nearly seethed, he hated when Draco talked about you.

“I mean cmon mate, you’re completely pussy whipped. There’s no way you didn’t at—“ Draco continued to drone about the subject, not seeming to notice the very angry Mattheo next to him who only seemed to be getting more red by the second.

“Do yourself a fucking favor, malfoy, shut the fuck up.” He replied with venom laying his tone.

Draco laughed at his friend.

“Definitely pussy whipped.”

[arixella]

Beneath the Storm

╰┈➤ pairing: Sanemi x fem! reader

a/n: none

summary: Sanemi reveals his vulnerable, loving side to his partner during a quiet moment, showing her the depth of his feelings and the safety he finds in their relationship.

wc: 650

contains: fluff

The sun had barely begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of amber and gold, as you sat outside of Sanemi's home. A gentle breeze carried the scent of pine and wildflowers, contrasting with the sharp, intimidating demeanor Sanemi was known for. But here, in the quiet of the countryside, you saw him in a way no one else ever did.

Sanemi emerged from inside, a towel slung over his shoulder, his hair still damp from the bath. He paused when he saw you, his expression softening as his eyes met yours. You offered him a warm smile, patting the space beside you.

"Come sit," you urged.

He hesitated for a moment, then relented, plopping down beside you with a faint grunt. You leaned against his shoulder, feeling the tension in his frame slowly ease.

“Long day?” you asked softly, your fingers brushing against his hand.

Sanemi scoffed, but there was no bite to it. “Same as always. Training brats who think they can take on demons with guts alone.”

You chuckled, lacing your fingers with his. “Sounds like someone I know.”

He turned to you, a playful glare in his eyes. “You calling me reckless?”

“Just brave,” you teased, leaning closer to nudge him. “And maybe a little stubborn.”

Sanemi huffed, though the corners of his lips twitched upward. “Tch. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

The banter was easy, familiar. But as the silence settled between you, you noticed the way his hand tightened slightly around yours. He had something on his mind. You’d learned to recognize the signs—his jaw clenching, his eyes flickering to the horizon as if searching for words.

“Sanemi,” you said gently, your free hand brushing against his arm. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, with a deep sigh, he turned to you fully, his gaze softer than you’d ever seen it. “I don’t… say it enough. How much you mean to me.”

Your breath caught at the rare vulnerability in his voice. Sanemi wasn’t one for grand declarations or flowery words, but in this moment, you could feel the weight of his emotions, raw and unguarded.

“I know I’m not easy to deal with,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “I’m rough around the edges. Hell, I’m rough all over. But you… you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like this.” He paused, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Like I’m more than the scars and the anger.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you squeezed his hand. “Sanemi, you don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me. I love you for all of it—the good, the bad, the stubborn.”

He exhaled a shaky laugh, his lips quirking into a small smile. “You’re too good for me.”

You shook your head, leaning in to rest your forehead against his. “We’re good for each other.”

For a moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you and the warmth shared between your intertwined fingers. Sanemi’s lips brushed against yours, tender and unhurried, a silent promise of his love. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment.

“You’re my safe place,” he murmured. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“And you’re mine,” you whispered, your heart full as the golden light of the sunset wrapped around you both.

In the quiet of that evening, Sanemi Shinazugawa let down his walls, showing you a side of himself no one else would ever see—a man who loved fiercely, with every piece of his battered heart.

♡♡♡

[annawayne]

hi anna 🪷🤍

do you have any aruani headcanons for jealousy? feeling angsty tonight xd

Hello, Darcy! 🖤

Oh, thank you a lot for asking! I actually have some thoughts on this...

Let's imagine that in this scenario, Armin and Annie didn't get together after Rumbling, immediately swept by the endless responsibilities, just catching longing gazes across the rooms and space, half-smiles, and some quick wave of their hands when they meet during the day. Still, none of them doesn't returns to their boat conversation, afraid to hear something that would break their hearts, that it was just a "moment" and nothing else, and also because they are both pressed with an enormous list of things they have to do - being now responsible for the rebuilding of the world in ruins is something that leaves so little space and time for themselves: while the world was healing, rising from the ashes, their own lives losing colors with every day, tucked between infinite things to do, guilt for the things they did to each other and "much important" than the erratic quiver inside heart muscles when their eyes meet, sending ripples of oxymoron mix of tickling heat and cold goosebumps all across the skin.

Torn apart sometimes for weeks, then months, when Armin usually goes to the negotiations, sometimes with Jean or Pieck, Annie is left behind, feeling with each day that the distance between him and her grows not even in miles, but in something more grave and not tangible, something that thrives within her core with trembling fear of something she isn't sure what for, leaving her hollow and alone, so ironically familiar to that four years in crystal. Every time, during the late hours of the night, when only the cold silver moonlight caresses her body, Annie decides to talk to him once he returns. She'll say everything she was craving to tell him for so long. Still, once Armin is here, every time, suddenly, she sees how he changes and grows, becoming farther and farther away even from that Armin she only met not so long ago and who is still a mystery to her, someone she didn't have a chance to know. He already slips, following the currents of the unstable world, and every time, her throat is crashed with the dark hands, blocking her breath and words from her mouth. His gazes are still on her, but as time passes, Annie doesn't understand if there's the same craving in his eyes as in hers, as only being washed with his eyes always makes her both wanted and lonely.

It continues till one winter day, when Armin, her, and Pieck are called to the office of Müller, who was one of the generals in charge and who offered Armin to make an alliance with one of Marleyans, preferably from one of the powerful families who managed to survive during the Rumbling.

"It would make a great image and example to the world," Müller said that day. "Marleyan and Paradisian, untied by the wedding vows, show that humanity has entered the new age."

The big folder lays in Armin's hands, his eyes wide, and she could hear his breath hitched, pulled through his tight lips, and yet, all Annie could think about was the photos and resumes of women in this folder, as Armin's fingers turn pages. Smiling, beautiful, intelligent, educated, much more cheerful, someone who didn't ruin his homeland and someone who would do a better job in knowing him. Someone braver enough to speak to him. Annie feels like the nauseous waves churn her stomach, and she knows that she doesn't have any right to feel this way - he isn't even hers. He doesn't give her anything except long stares and heartache whenever she sees him in her dreams when he's holding her close, whispering sweet nothing, where his lips on hers, his hands around her, and-

All of it lives only in her head. He never was hers to feel this way. Armin never promised her anything to feel this biting, bitter avalanche of jealousy, clouding her mind with a murky veil of acid thoughts that erode her mind with the sharp realization that she already felt so heartbroken all these years ago, back in Stohess, when his eyes, his beautiful eyes, distorted by fear and despair, looked at her from the bottom of the stairs. She had no right to feel this way, as if all her world shattered to pieces when, in the first place, it was she who destroyed everything for him and who lied to him. He didn't betray her because she was never on his side, but why did it feel so sickening and hurt so badly?

It's all the same now, in the office room of Müller, when the crisp winter sunlight creeps into the stuffed room, where all she can hear is the rustle of pages as Armin's fingers turn the pages of this folder with smiling women with bright eyes and intelligent gazes, with women who have a background behind them, the roots that have a long history, and not like hers - poisoned, abandoned and unwanted from her birth.

Annie doesn't remember how she left the office room. She knows that she has nothing to give him, nothing worth his attention and his love. She knows that it's not fair to feel so heartbroken and the crawling jealousy streaming in her blood, but Annie also doesn't know how to stop the cold tears streaming down her skin set aflame. She doesn't know how to repair something that never was even in her hands, but something that feels as if her imprints are left there after she crushed it. Why is she even surprised?

It has always been this way.

With her heartbeat loud in her ears, Annie doesn't hear the footsteps behind her back - fast, a staccato of the hushed clicks of the feet against the wooden floor, so when someone's arms circle her back, Annie's body reacts just like it used to. Immediate attack, no second of hesitation, but when her elbow is already midair, ready to hit, she turns away and sees him. Armin, in front of her, his eyes, once again, are on her, but she sees how his irises now have another shade in them. Something she wasn't familiar with, but something she suddenly hit with the mixture she almost forgot - ripples of oxymoron mix of tickling heat and cold goosebumps all across the skin.

And, maybe, this time, it would finally push the words they needed to say from their throats.

--

Oh well, here it is! Thank you for reading, and I really enjoyed writing all of it, so thank you so much for asking me!

[pinnedmother]

How do you think Messmer deals with feeling jealous? Or when his partner is jealous?

Thanks for the request ♡ I did both.

Messmer's jealousy

He gets jealous extra easily, not even by anything to do with romance or flirting (he’d completely blow up then), but for your attention in general. He hates when you give more time to someone else when he’s right here; hates when you smile at them, when you laugh at their words, when you look them in the eye for too long.

Why, why, why every person in his life he loves more than the world itself always has to disperse their precious attention to other people? He feels empty, utterly abandoned and forgotten, even if you were lightheartedly conversing with someone for nothing more than a minute. It stings in his chest.

Despite being incredibly dramatic in his way of thinking, Messmer is still self aware enough to understand that he’s merely experiencing jealousy and that this emotion is dangerous if he would let it get the better of him. He tries to suppress it to the best of his ability as to not cause a scene. Still he’ll frown and stare daggers in you and the other person, hoping you’ll notice and mercifully absolve him of this sensation.

You’ll need to have empathy 60 the way he masterfully hides his feelings. He wants you to know, but also doesn’t. If his serpents in their attempts to help would try to get your attention themselves, he’d get silently mad at them and forcefully tug their slithering bodies away from you.

If you don’t notice him long enough, he’ll just leave as quietly as possible. Trying to be nonchalant about his departure as if he simply has other matters to attend. Internally, however, Messmer’s melting, and seething, and burning everything around him to a crisp.

Later he would seem colder than usual and more distant. Messmer craves your presence, but doesn’t want to seem desperate at the same time. He also needs you to show that you still care for him. It may be childish, but he truly does need this affirmation. He wants you to seek him out, ask what’s wrong, show him your warmth, and smile a more genuine smile than the one you showed to this other person. In exchange, he would redouble the affection you gave him.

However… If you were to commit such an unforgivable sin as to openly flirt or even romantically involve yourself with someone… Well, hopefully you didn’t forget that your lover is a genocidal war general, known for the purge brutal enough to be removed from history, because otherwise you’d be shocked and horrified to see your paramour burned and impaled on the highest spike there is. Messmer would do it; no remorse, no regrets, only cold rage. If both you and he even decide to continue after this mess, you’ll be the one to carry the blame in its entirety, he won’t hear any of it if you’d try to call upon his conscience. You’ll have to work exceptionally hard to gain Messmer’s trust once more, and no matter what you do it’ll never again be at its fullest. It was a scarring wound, one that cannot be forgotten nor forgiven.

Your jealousy

Messmer’s confused at first, not understanding a shift in your reactions and behavior. He would catch on at some point though, and will try to persuade you that there’s nothing to be jealous about: you are the only one he loves and he needs no other.

If it’s not enough, he would cater to your demands: sending people away, shortening the time of discussions, taking a more reserved and aloof demeanor or even holding your hand while addressing others. Whatever you’d want, really. He knows exactly how miserable it feels, so if he can ease it for you – he will.

Messmer secretly loves that you’re so possessive of him. He still wouldn’t make you jealous on purpose however, your comfort is far too important, but the feeling is pleasant.

[firecrackerroot]

My hand slipped, a little bit. In fairness, Agatha had bought that specific gift more so for her own enjoyment than the comfort of her child. Would she ever admit such a thing aloud? Probably not. However, as soon as Rio destroyed the wrapping paper and stared at the box, she knew exactly what had gone through Agatha’s mind. Biting her lower lip, Agatha shrugged any remaining guilt away and Rio chuckled.

“Is this how you want to see me?” Rio asked and Agatha’s smile only widened, kissing the top of young Nicholas' head while holding their son tighter. “I think it’s kind of cool, actually.”

“Put it on, then.” The tone of Agatha’s voice probably shouldn’t have been as coarse but then again, it was just them in the room. Everyone else had already left to let the baby rest after a very festive first Christmas.

“It says in the box he’s too young for this kind of fun, Agatha.”

“Okay, so? He’ll grow into it by next summer.” With a wave, Agatha pushed a little more. “Now put it on, let me see it in you.”

“Fine, fine.” Shaking her head in disbelief, Rio took off her jacket and opened the box. After adjusting the straps in what seemed to be the right measure for her figure, she gave Agatha one more look. “Anything for you, mama.”

“Oh.” Agatha pursed her lips, emotions were still running all over the place and that simple word always got her feeling a certain way. “Just do it.”

Leaving her wife and son in the living room, Rio found the nearest mirror in the house and put the baby carrier on. Taking a moment to inspect herself on each side, ensuring everything was in place, she returned to their family space and picked up the first pillow from the couch, shoving it inside.

“Would you look at that?” Chuckling, Agatha held her hand out for Rio to assist her in getting up from the couch and, carefully as to not startle baby Nicholas awake, she gave the stand-in pillow a squeeze. “He should fit here just fine.”

“And do I look fine?” Rio’s question got Agatha’s smile to turn into a smirk, rivaling the one from Cheshire’s Cat. “Because that’s why you got this, isn’t it?”

“You look like a dream come true, my love.”

Between kisses, months passed by and Nicholas, as predicted, grew into the carrier by the summer. At first Rio would barely move at all, afraid she’d disturb him, but over time she learnt that he enjoyed sharing activities with her. Months turned into a year, and then two, which was the age limit for that specific carrier if it wasn’t for the fact that they had used it so often Agatha decided to gift Rio with a new one. By that point in time, Nicky had already said his first words, one of them being “kango” or “rooroo”, which they soon learnt was short for kangaroo, the name of his carrier.

One day, after a long and nearly infernal day at work, Agatha returned home to find exactly what she’d always dreamt of seeing. In the kitchen, preparing dinner for the family, stood Rio, with her back turned to the door. She was humming a song, as per usual, and swaying in the way that meant she wasn’t alone. There was someone in the pouch, dancing and cooking with her. After doing a half twirl, to reach the kitchen island and pick up the tray for the pancakes, Agatha saw Rio in her full splendor: lazy shorts and tshirt, kangaroo carrier and Nicky, holding a spatula for his mommy to use.

“Surprise!” Agatha said, making herself noticeable despite having already been caught staring by the door. “My lady.” She added, blowing a kiss to Rio before looking down at their smiling son. “My prince.”

“Mama!” Nicky giggled, waving the spatula up and down while kicking his little feet in excitement.

“Yes, buddy!” Picking up the spatula from his hand before it got sent flying across the room, Rio turned back to the stove. “We have to finish dinner first, remember?”

“Panpan!”

“Exactly.” Flipping the pancakes from the pan to the tray, Rio moved as quickly as possible. “Pancakes for three.” She continued, stacking them up.

“Breakfast for dinner, uh?” Agatha asked, placing a hand on Rio’s shoulder and a kiss on top of Nicky’s head.

“You said you had a bad day,” Turning around just enough to face Agatha, the two shared a quick kiss. “Figured this would lift your spirits.”

“Everything about this,” Agatha gestured with both hands, over the pancakes and her wife carrying their son in her kangaroo. “Is enough to make anything bad go away. Works like a charm.”

“Just like magic.”

“Just like magic.” Smiling from ear to ear, Agatha placed a tender kiss on Rio’s cheek. “I love you.” She whispered.

“Love you more.”

read THIS immediately for agathario tooth rotting fluff

[rebelliousstories]

Online Shopping

25 Days of Ficmas

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader

Fandom: Marvel

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Strong Language

Word Count: 1,779

Main Masterlist: Here

Marvel Masterlist: Here

Summary: Trapped in his own home, there’s very little that he can do to express himself, or show that expression to anyone else. But Sergeant Barnes ain’t no quitter; he just has to navigate a new world.

Consider Donating: Here

Going out to a physical store during the holidays was a but too much for Bucky right now. Sure, he could go into high stakes, life-threatening missions with no problem. Dealing with crazy crowds of angry shoppers trying to get their last minute gifts? Absolutely not.

However, he had yet to find the perfect gift for a certain someone. This one woman that went to the same bar that he frequented that he actually had a lot in common with. Read the same type of books, enjoyed similar music; even had the same affinity for obscure, random, useless facts.

So here Bucky was, days before Christmas, struggling to find the gift he wanted to give her without leaving the house. He was supposed to meet her at the bar Christmas Eve to spend some time together, and he was hoping to give her a present then. However, there was no way he was going to leave his apartment to go shopping.

That is, until James remembered something Sam had mentioned recently. There was shopping online. It was a brilliant idea, with just one small problem; he had no idea how it worked. Begrudgingly, Bucky tried to talk himself into contacting his partner. He knew that Sam would never let him live this down.

Forcing himself to pick up the phone, Barnes reluctantly dialed up the number. Part of him hoped that he wouldn’t pick up as they line just kept ringing and ringing and ri-

“Bucky, what’s up man?” Sam answered with a cheerful tone.

“Hey, Sam. I, um…” Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes as he talked himself into actually speak. “I need your help with something.”

“Sure, man. Whatcha need? Hold on, one sec.” There was some shuffling on the other end of the line before Sam came back on. The sound of children laughing, and people chattering came through. “Alright. What’s up?”

“Could you help me shop online?” Bucky asked, shifting from foot to foot.

“Come again?”

“I-I need to buy something and I don’t wanna go into stores right now.” He tried explaining as he paced around his apartment.

“Bucky, are you sure there isn’t someone else who could help you out? I’m on the opposite end of the country right now, man. What about that chick you’ve been talking about? The one from the bar.” Sam stared out into the vast open waters from the dock of his family home.

“Well, um… that’s who I’m getting the thing for. I kinda don’t want her knowing.” Scratching the back of his head, Bucky felt uncomfortable as he had been forced to say it aloud.

“Ooo, you sly dog, man!” Sam cheered. “Whatcha wanna get her?”

Now, there was a blush creeping up his neck from the man’s words. “A set of books.”

“Okay, now we’re working with something. You probably don’t have amazon set up yet so, can you find this set online? Like the Barnes and Nobles or Books-A-Million websites?” Wilson instructed, fully getting on board with this idea.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on.” Behind the phone, Sam could hear Bucky moving through his apartment to sit at his computer. Clacking keys, and mumbling were the only indicators that any progress was being made.

“Okay, okay. I found it on Books-A-Million. Add to cart, right?”

“Yep. See you got it man. Now, when you hit check out, you have the option of choosing whether or not to ship it or pick it up in store.” Sam continued to explain, trying to get his friend through this.

“Which do I pick?” Bucky was so confused staring at the computer.

“Whichever will get the item there faster and on time.”

“Will it say that somewhere?”

“Can you read the damn page?” Sam sighed, now, rolling his eyes.

Bucky snorted through his nose in contempt. “Alright, it says it can be at my apartment by tomorrow. What do I do now?”

“Click checkout and put in your card info.”

Some more clicking and typing occurred before James came back to the phone. “I think it’s done. Listen, um thanks Sam. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, man,” Sam started, “I just expect to be invited to the wedding.”

“Ha ha. Bye, Sam.” The phone call was disconnected without another chance for a reply. Leaning back in the desk chair, Bucky was fiddling with his hands as he thought about what he was going to do with wrapping.

He was not the best at presents, even back in his younger days. His sister or mom would always wrap presents for him, while he could, at best, put something in a pretty bag. Bucky was not even sure if he had wrapping paper around his apartment.

Which meant he needed to go get something to make it pretty before giving it to her. Which meant having to go out into the crowds of shoppers. A memory of seeing some wrapping paper at the bodega on the corner popped into his head. Maybe James could skip the lines and crowds that made him feel anxious.

Two nights later, Bucky was standing outside of the bar that they were supposed to meet at. In his hands, a gift bag heavy with the weight of books rested. The cold December air nipped at his cheeks, and made his breath appear in front of him, but he could not just walk in just yet. He was still trying to work up the nerve to go in and meet her. This night could be the end of their friendship in one way or another if he did not play it right.

Exhaling sharply, he pushed open the door. Scanning the room, Bucky smiled as he saw her happily sitting with a few drinks in front of her at a booth. Walking up, he opened his arms just in time for her to launch herself into them.

“Bucky! I missed you. Come on, I got the first round.” She kept a beaming grin as she hugged, and led the man over to his booth.

“Hey, missed you too. Thank you.” Sliding in, he set the gift bag on the seat as he sat down. Barnes clinked his bottle against hers and took a sip.

“So what have you been up to?” And thus began their conversation that would branch off into an evening together.

He loved hearing her talk. Even if she read the dictionary, Bucky could just listen to her forever. There was something calming about it. His mind was often flooded with too many voices, too many memories; it was just too active. This was the kind of voice that he could relax to. It gave him a sense of calm he could not replicate anywhere else.

“Oh,” her voice broke him from his trance. “Before I forget, here you go.”

A gift bag was set on the table, and pushed across to him. Bucky, with wide eyes, gently grasped the handles of the bag, and pulled it closer to him.

“What is it?” He whispered, eyes tracing over the decorative paper coming from the top.

“A bomb.” Her voice was deadpan, as was her expression. Leveling her with a similar look, Bucky chuckled when he saw her beaming now.

“Open it, silly.” At her encouragement, James delicately tore into the bag. Below the tissue paper, there was a box-like object wrapped in beautiful wrapping paper. He plucked it from the bag, and turned it over in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. Tearing a stripe through the paper, the second he saw what was inside, he became giddy.

“No. You didn’t.” Resting in his hands now, was an original 1937 copy of the Hobbit. The bindings were fresh, as if someone had recently redone the book. A distinct old book smell wafted into his nose when he opened the book. Flabbergasted, Bucky shifted his gaze between the book and the woman across from him.

“You mentioned you’d like to read it again and someone at my book club was looking to sell it. He gave me a steal because we’re friends. Said his grandfather originally owned it, and brought it with him when he moved to here from Germany.” She casually explained, shrugging and taking a swig of her drink.

“I… thank you. Truly,” Bucky reached his hands across to hold hers that was on the table, “I just- I don’t know what to say besides thank you.”

“It’s not a problem, Bucky.”

“This, um-” he cleared his throat, “makes my gift a little coincidental.”

Bucky reached next to him to place the bag on the table. He sat there, with bated breath and rapt attention as she began to dive into the bag. As opposed to her gift, his was just placed inside without wrapping paper. But James at least put some pretty tissue paper on top. And yet, even without the wrapping paper on the present, she was giddily pulling the books from the bag.

“You got the entire Neon Gods set for me? Oh, Bucky…” she sighed dreamily as she held and looked over each cover and backing.

“Yeah, well. You mentioned you’d wanted to read it.” Bucky smirked, catching a glint in her eyes. He did not want to get his hopes up, but he loved that little glint.

“You’re such a sweetie. Thank you.” Getting out of her seat, she went across to his section of the booth and wrapped him in a hug. Bucky pressed his nose into her hair, enjoying the comforting feeling of her embrace.

She sat back after a moment, and looked over her books again. “I still can’t believe you got me the entire set. All I got you was a single book.”

“Hey,” he shook her lightly, “don’t do that. I love this single book. However…”

At this she perked up. “However?”

“Maybe, you’d be able to get me one more Christmas present that’s been on my wishlist,” came Bucky’s ask, albeit very hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?”

A second of utter silence passed between them. So long that Bucky was genuinely about to retract his statement, chalking it up to a joke. A very lame joke.

“I’d love to.” She muttered, dropping her eyes down to the shirt covering his chest. James breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nervous chuckles passed between the two of them as they took in the situation at hand.

“Okay, then.” Bucky threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in closer. He pressed a kiss to her hair as he basked in the triumph of the moment. Totally worth it in his book.

[royalarchivist]

[puppyeared]

Why are ppl scared to call it what it is and say we’re still going thru covid on top of seasonal illness. Like. That’s pretty important right. I was watching the news and they were like oh yeah we have an unprecedented number of flu cases “as well as other sicknesses” without actually saying Covid. No announcement abt vaccinations or masking or anything. Also if I hear someone joking abt “war flashbacks” for mentioning covid I fucking hate u

[evecolourshock]

What if an AU from that point tho, featuring Uncle Zuse making sure his nephew (all grown up now) gets home...

Gem bringing someone new into the End Of Line doesn't happen all that often any more, but that's more a lack of new Programs to introduce than anything else. The new guy looks lost and confused and adorably determined, but he's hiding a lot of fear under that expression and Zu- Castor, he's Castor now, keeps forgetting that - Castor tries to extricate himself from the latest attempt at tracking down himself to find out what's going on. No newbie should be that frightened, especially not in his establishment.

"I brought your boy. Flynn." Gem murmurs, half-sultry in the way that means she's done something Castor's probably not going to like. But he can't think about that right now, because-

Your boy Flynn.

Boy Flynn.

Sam.

Why, Castor hasn't seen him since he was a tiny thing, barely knee-high! Sam's bigger now, much more developed, but Castor can still see that small curious mischief-maker he used to look after when bigger Flynn had other things to do.

Sam's probably forgotten him by now - User memories don't function like Program ones, and it's been a long time. But Castor has not, so he pulls Gem aside with a low growl. "What did you do."

"Enforcers will be here shortly." Gem tells him, looking like she thinks she's done a good thing. That look swiftly disappears when Castor snarls and pushes her away. "But, the reward-"

"Not worth his life." Castor hisses. "Bigger Flynn, whatever, he abandoned us and will get what's coming to him. But not the little one. Did nothing wrong."

Gem frowns, puzzled, but Castor sweeps over to Sam quickly. He can't burn time like that, need to go now, they're on the clock-

"I'm looking for Zuse." Sam tells him quietly, even before he says hello. "An ISO named Quorra sent me."

"You found him. Now Quorra, Quorra, Quorra..." Castor muses. "Ah, yes. The one that got my bar burned down the first time." Never mind he was sheltering others at the time - really disillusioned him to the idea of rebellion, if nobody was willing to help those in need of it.

Sam winces.

"Her actions aren't yours." Cas- Zuse shrugs. Sam wanted Zuse, he's getting Zuse. Knew Zuse, too. "Passage out, yes? To the beacon." He chivvies Sam off towards his stash of vehicles. "Come, come, no need to stand around waiting." Sam trails him like a lost Bit, scared and forlorn. Damn Clu for scaring this boy. Damn him all the way.

"No, no, no, these just won't do." Zuse frets to himself. None of the batons he can grab easily are... well. They're not good enough, all aesthetic and no substance. He needs-

"Ah!" He snaps his fingers. Pulls a lever. He's only pulled this lever once before, during an evacuation, trying to give everyone their best chance of survival. The lever glows, falls into his hands - a personal baton with a few extra tricks - and he scoops up an exposed silver-white slim thing. The only one left in the hidden drawer - he didn't see much point in replacing the rest, after their creators disappeared into the wilds. Wouldn't be the same.

"Never thought I'd need this old thing again." Zuse murmurs, passing it to Sam. "But it's better than all of theirs." He smiles kindly, really - it's been too long since his smiles were real, and maybe it shows. "Ever flown a lightjet before?"

Sam shakes his head. Zuse would have been pleasantly surprised and a lot wary about a yes.

"Alright. Now, they handle a lot like a lightcycle here, no fancy User pilot skills needed." Zuse soothes. "Only difference is adjusting height - you use your legs for that. Pull your heels up towards you to go up, push them down to go down. Simple, yes?"

"Heels up to go up, down to go down." Sam repeats. "Got it."

"Good lad." Zuse claps him on the shoulder with one hand, inputting the command to iris open his launchpad with the other. "Now just stick by me, and we'll get you home safe."

i rewatched legacy recently and i cannot believe gem says "i bought your boy flynn" to castor like wtf that's so funny