#like i said i love character associations and that includes what other folks associate with their blorbos

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

so. i like character associations! i think they’re fun and can lead to a lot of neat ideas! so i made a list of associations to fill in with any blorbos i choose. and since i’m going to be making multiple self indulgent posts about this, i figure i’ll share the list if anyone who sees this wants to do this too

also, since i’m primarily doing this with gravity falls characters and using the stan twins as examples, i’ll be putting this post in those tags (it can and will be used for non-gravity falls things too, though)

(this is designed to be copy-pasted into a new post!)

anyway, here’s the format i’ll be using:

character name:

color association:

plant association:

animal association:

asterism association:

general-thing-in-space association:

cryptid/mythological/supernatural association:

song association:

specific lyric/s association:

season association:

mineral association:

eyetrees periodic table/random association:

*this last one is basically a random oddness space. is the blorbo associated with wind from the ocean? maybe dreams and nightmares? flesh or space? flesh in space? non-Euclidean geometry? sand specifically from paths that creeping devils have made? anything goes, as long as it’s somewhat unusual or oddly specific

below the cut i have my associations with ford and stan! (and categories can be added or removed depending)

character name: ford :]

color association: blue

plant association: yellow rose

animal association: barn owl, screech owl, great horned owl, cat

asterism association: cetus, gemini

general-thing-in-space association: saturn

cryptid/mythological/supernatural association: gryphon

song association: Misery Meat by Sodikken

specific lyric/s association: ‘oh, what you are is hard to find. you could teach the deaf, or you could lead the blind, just by the shock of your touch, yeah, i know how it feels. or the knife in your stare, and the way that it peels me- over and over, ‘til i’m skinned to the core, i found a hole in my heart that wasn’t there before. i’m just a pale little boy, looking out for myself, but i start shaking for you and nobody else. yeah, i’d like to be just simple and dry, but it rains like a storm, and i can’t fight the sky’

season association: winter, autumn

mineral association: diamond, pyrite, obsidian, ice, fordite

eyetrees periodic table association: floating out in space, black ink, the starry sky over the ocean, sea glass, rain at midnight

///

character name: stan :]

color association: red

plant association: red snapdragon

animal association: shark, grey wolf, maned wolf, fox, coyote

asterism association: hydrus, gemini

general-thing-in-space association: mars, jupiter

cryptid/mythological/supernatural association: werewolf

song association: All That Glitters by Noisemaker

specific lyric/s association: ‘i died at 5:45. yeah, it says so on a sign. and my mother’s crying out her eyes- or is the radio telling lies? juvenile sinner, car crash winner, don’t let the devil take you out for dinner’

season association: winter, summer

mineral association: coal, sunstone, opal, carnelian

eyetrees periodic table association: specifically orange and red fire, sea glass, the thing about the creeping devils, leaning against a car at dusk, finding things that are dustier than you remember them being

///

there are more of these to come :] !

[hotvintagepoll]

Snits Edwards (The Thief of Bagdad, The Mark of Zorro, College, The Phantom of the Opera)—With his expressive, deeply lined face and a physique that made Buster Keaton look like Douglas Fairbanks, Hungarian character actor Snitz Edwards was one of the pre-eminent scrungly little guys of silent-era Hollywood and appeared in some of the biggest movies of that period, in roles like 'Short Innkeeper' and 'The Thief's Evil Associate'. Any character he played was automatically made scrungly by virtue of his unique looks, and he cheerfully leaned into it with a talent for mugging and willingness to be manhandled for comedic effect, whether by a musclebound bully or a troupe of ballet dancers. He injects a welcome bit of silliness whenever he pops up; a true cinematic delight.

The Three Stooges (Turn Back the Clock, Meet the Baron)—They. Were. The. Blueprint. All scrungly guys who came after owe their "whoop whoop whoop woop!" to the Stooges [editor's note: the Three Stooges were submitted as a group but two of their members were also submitted separately, so I've condensed them into a unit and included the propaganda submitted for Larry and Shemp below the cut.]

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Snitz Edwards:

If you needed an actor to play a scrungly little guy in your silent movie, you needed look no further than Snitz Edwards. Standing at about five foot nothing, with a face that was as expressive as it was wrinkly, Snitz was hand-picked by folks like Douglas Fairbanks and Buster Keaton to appear alongside them in their movies not just because basically everything he did was hilarious, but because he was also much loved among Hollywood at large. Tiny, perpetually elderly, and sporting a face only a mother could love--what else could you ask for? [editor's note: untrue. I love his face.]

The Three Stooges:

The rest of the Stooges can pass as normalish guys, (until they open their mouths,) but between his trademark hair, very distinctive voice, and ridiculously reactive face, Larry is the Scrungly Stooge. If he isn't taking a slap, poke, or yank to the hair, he's flinching and twitching to some cartoonish violence along with the audience. And occasionally being an absolute one-liner lunatic that reaffirms why he's one of the Three Stooges. He gives off strong "Possum Spotted By Neighbors' Trash Cans" energy, but a chill possum, not one that's going to hiss or run away. A friendly possum that perhaps has limited survival instinct, but you admire him for his optimism. (Worth mentioning: In real life, Larry let Moe Howard handle most of the business aspects of The Three Stooges, because the one time Larry signed a contract by himself, it was to a completely different studio than his partners. He was also absolutely devoted to his wife, Mabel, having met her in vaudeville as teenagers. It was said that if Mabel wanted Chinese food in the middle of the night, Larry would go out and find some. Due in part to Mabel's dislike of housekeeping, and Larry either having a penchant for gambling or having very poor money-management, the Fines tended to live out of hotels. Regardless, when partner Curly suffered a career-ending stroke in the 40s, Larry still contributed part of his paycheck towards Curly's care. Spendthrift or not, Larry was a very generous soul to the end.)

Shemp is just the best at playing the curmudgeonly jackass and come on, who has a scrunglier face than he does?

[cw for disability slur]

[ihopesocomic]

This morning I was in bed thinking about how awful Quite's whole situation was in conjunction with her death. Cause in a prior chapter we're given enough to infer that she's probably been overlooked by her parents in favor of Adement on the regular, and even tho the sisters love each other, we see Adement talk over her too. But then one day, Dad of the Year goes to her personally and tells her to come with him. Quite was probably concerned but also some part of her was maybe hopeful. Her father wants to spend time with her one on one. Maybe this is it? Only for her to be presented in front of some stranger. Then she likely had to listen to her Father talk about giving her to Edge. She probably found out that Edge wanted her sister instead and that this was just Jasper's ploy to not give away his "favorite". After finding that out she'd likely be just as concerned for Adement as she was for herself, but there's nothing she'd be able to do, suddenly Quiet would be attacked. Maybe it was quick, maybe Edge drew it out to prove some point to his associate. Regardless, the last thing she sees is either Edge or the father who only acknowledged her when it was time to try and secure something he wanted for himself.

Proof that you don't need an 18+ rating to present a truly horrific scenario in your comic for your readers to think about, and also that I need to squirrel some cash away so I can upgrade my Patreon tier to read the Quiet Au.

eee thank you so much, anon. This is such good analysis! What you're saying has two components to it:

You can make something for minors and have it be high stakes and "mature" in its execution. Bambi, for example, is indeed a movie with cutesy animals in it but it doesn't shy away from the brutality of nature and humankind. It just does things in a very subtle, artful way that isn't ramming such subjects down your throat. Which brings me to:

Too many folks out there take harsh subject matters and treat it with either insensitivity and carelessness. Which has a major impact on the characters affected. If you don't treat them with dignity, it's very likely that the audience won't and anything you have riding on their deaths is going to fall apart pretty darn fast. And that includes any "trauma" left behind.

We've discussed this before but I'll repeat what I've always said: a death doesn't have to be shown on-screen or on-panel for it to be effective. If anything, what's left to the imagination can be truly more scary than anything any artist can put out there, as anon here has pointed out. Poor Quiet indeed. - RJ

[the-insouciant-scientist]

Character Sheet - Harper

-------

Name + Title: Harper Faraday, the Insouciant Scientist

Pronouns: They/Them

Referred to as: Professor

Profession: Silverer (Ontological Cartographer), Scientist (focus on chemistry, but does a bit of everything)

Closest to: Rubberies

Ambition: Bag a Legend (completed, A Vast Network ending)

Associated stats: Watchful, Persuasive, Artisan of the Red Science

Associated quirks: Steadfast, Austere, Melancholy

Sign of the Chiropteromantic Zodiac: The Lovers

Destiny: The Memory

-------

They say...

"Is that a weasel in their labcoat, or are they just... Oh! It is a weasel! Actually a few weasels. Wait, why are they all looking at me like--"

-------

Backstory:

(warning for vague mentions of both child abuse and neglect, and forced partnership/marriage, also sorry this is a wordy one but I promise it's for a reason lmao)

Isabelle Evans (she/they) was born in 1874 to a lower upper-class family in Norwich, England. She was beloved for what she represented, but not for who she was.

Bear with me, here. I promise this will make sense.

Isabelle's childhood was a lonely one, spent mostly learning how to grow up into a proper lady and trying to avoid her parents' ire. Her education did include reading and writing, to her endless delight, but the majority of it was the usual: embroidery, sewing, violin lessons, how to cook. Not skills she was upset to have, mind you, but what they represented was... less than ideal. The idea of becoming someone's wife one day was horrific to her at absolute best.

Her parents seemingly couldn't strike a balance between harshness and grace in their parenting, and it left her often feeling like she was walking across a glass pane so thin that she could fall through at any moment. She made up imaginary friends for herself to cope with it all, kids her age who liked to talk with her, who were good at the things she struggled with (so they could help when she failed), who understood that her parents weren't just the proud and friendly society folk they presented as to others. Imaginary friends who could hug her tight as she nursed skinned knees and bruises, who could hold her hand when she was scared.

She was eight when she was talking to her parents, trying to understand why they were upset with her, when she realized she didn't feel like she was the one talking. Like words were just flowing forth unbidden. If someone had asked her what her name was, right in that moment, she would have said Eleanor, but would not have been able to say why. The conversation ended with her mother hugging her, a rarity between them, and it had... resolved peacefully? She could hardly believe it.

Thereafter, Isabelle noticed things like that a bit more often. In tense moments, feeling like she was her imaginary friends, or maybe they were her. Perhaps that should have frightened her, but mostly she just felt loved, that she had people on her side for once. The odd forgotten day or misplaced needle case was such a small price to pay for their companionship. And from the outside, it only seemed like she had become more confident, more polite, more ladylike. A bit more forgetful, perhaps, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Isabelle found a small passion in botany and flower cultivation in her teens, and made a few friends as well. Her parents loosened their grip on her a bit as they saw how well she was taking to the life they made for her, and she absolutely took advantage of that. It wasn't an unusual sight to see her racing down the street with a friend's hand in hers, off on some adventure or another. Her imaginary friends quieted, less needed, but were never far when she called.

Things became more tense again as she grew into a young adult, though. Isabelle's parents were keen to marry her off while she was still young and pretty, hopefully to someone with money and power. Isabelle (who by today's standards would be considered a sex and romance averse aroace) was... not keen on that. She scared quite a few suitors off over the years by any means necessary, hatpin stabbings included.

At the age of 24 she was set up with one of her friends from her teenage years, her parents reasoning that she'd have a harder time frightening him off. And so Theodore ________ set to wooing her. She tried to shake him off like she had the others, but to no avail. He was absolutely set on making Isabelle his bride. Even went so far as to ask her parents for her hand in marriage, which they accepted immediately.

And so, with the death sentence of her own wedding hanging over her head, she drove herself half-mad looking for some escape. It was only when she heard gossip outside her window about some strange and wondrous cavern below the earth, where London had fallen to before she was even born, that the gears really began to turn. They only picked up speed when she heard of a card game that, when won, would grant a wish.

She could wish to disappear. Or be free, forever. Or whatever she wanted.

And so the Sentimental Spinster hatched a plan to find a way down there. Some petty crime that would land her in New Newgate, and then she could descend from there. But something went very, very wrong along the way. Maybe if you asked her, she could tell you what, but...

A person woke up in a cell in the very beginning of the first 1899, with no memory of how they got there, and in a body they didn't recognize. They quickly gained the name Harper from their inability to stop rambling. The surname Faraday came later, a name from a newspaper to fill the blank space at the end of theirs.

They made their escape as so many others do, and so Harper Faraday came to the Neath, full of curiosity and an insatiable desire to learn anything and everything they could.

The card game lay entirely forgotten in some shadowed corner of their mind, no longer a driving force or ambition.

There were simply so many other things to do.

-------

In-game storyline (not entirely in order) -

Harper took to detective work almost immediately upon arriving in the Neath, which eventually lead them down the path to the Correspondence, and the University. Their dedication to the truth got them kicked out (in what was honestly one of the worst days of their life that they were aware of) but they made it back eventually, even more determined to bring truth and knowledge to light. And set things on fire with the Correspondence, literally and figuratively.

Originally went after the Vake not as a hunter would, but as a cryptozoologist would. The idea of a batlike monster stalking the night, the likes of which no one had ever seen before? That sounded like an incredible research opportunity to them. By the time their internal compass went from "neutralize and study" to "end its reign of terror and kill it", it was... no longer quite them doing so. The Stubborn Vake-Hunter (it/he) was a self that formed out of necessity. Its sense of duty and single-mindedness was the main reason they saw it through in its entirety, untempted by the knowledge the Vake could give them.

They met Elias Leroux (@the-dye-stained-socialite) in 1899 (the first one) a little over half a year into their time in the Neath, in a bit of an incident at the University. Harper had been running full tilt back to their lab with a flask of colorful but deeply caustic chemicals, and tripped and spilled it over Elias's skirts as they had been wheeling in the opposite direction. They whisked Elias back to their lab to neutralize the spill before it could burn them, but Elias insisted that they try to set the color as a dye because they were so enamored with it. The two of them ended up spending the rest of that day doing nothing but experimenting with dyes and chemicals, and marked the start of a fast friendship. Over the years friendship turned to something more, though, and they were married at the Bazaar on May 3rd, 1899 (1901).

-------

Trivia -

They currently have about 440 weasels, including a salt weasel, a weasel of woe, many weasels of social discomfiture, some araby fighting weasels, and enough lucky weasels to overrun a city. Their favorite is a little cream colored lucky weasel with brown splotches on it, named Florence. It likes to curl up in tight spaces, like in their waistcoat, or in weasel-sized Florence flasks. Hence the name. Harper usually has 3-7 weasels on them at any given time.

Very allergic to grass and did not know this until their first Fruits of the Zee. It's not as if there's much grass in the Neath, it wasn't super relevant before then!

The Chorister's Bomb affected them Really Weirdly as a dissociative system. They and their alters are a bit more distinct from each other since then, although their dissociation is still such that they don't actually know that they're a system. They definitely don't have the words for it. Also I never intended them initially to be a parallel to Veils's different identities and selves, but it really did line up pretty much perfectly.

On the topic of their alters, they have an alter who's a Fingerking. No one knows if it's an introject or just a really confused actual Fingerking who tried to possess them and mostly failed. It's a mystery!

They make tea blends as a hobby, based heavily in flavor chemistry and Neathy history. Their current project is a series of blends based on the previous Fallen Cities.

Harper has a tendency to refer to everything scientifically, frequently using the words 'experiment', 'procedure', and 'formula' in place of more common words.

They're very friendly with The Manager of the Royal Beth, albeit also absolutely terrified of him. For good reason, I mean. They trust him implicitly to be a safe haven if they have to escape from Veils or anything else, but they are Fully aware that his help will come with a cost.

People tend to completely overlook them when they're next to Elias, which is absolutely fine by them given their wallflower tendencies. It's hilarious though when someone accuses them of faking knowing Elias for clout at Their Wedding... which is also their wedding... that they are marrying them at. Which is a thing that happened to them. Most Bohemians and Society folk view them as Elias's freaky little pet scientist, assuming they know of them at all.

Of the bats, they're probably closest to Wines nowadays (post Vake killing) by default. They help clean up at its revels sometimes out of guilt for what they've done. It doesn't care all that much, probably, but sure as hell isn't going to tell them to stop working for free.

They don't like alcohol. Black Wings Absinthe is the only thing they'll partake in, and that's only out of necessity. Was once possessed by Jack-of-Smiles. This surely has not traumatized them :-) (<- lying)

[hopusthebrainlessfloof]

Hi folks! Sorry we haven't been posting too much art (specifically Koopas, which is why most of you follow us). I feel that... Well, we don't owe an explanation, but we'd like to give one anyways.

This conversation is going to mention disturbing topics, including pedophilia, grooming, SA, and cult-like association. If you are easily triggered by any of these, we suggest you do not read.

For the sake of everyone's privacy, we won't name any of the abusers and accusers. Don't ask us for their contact info. This is not to slander their name, it is to explain what is going on in our life.

As you all may know, we originally got "big" on our blog by posting Mario, specifically Broodal, content. We have always loved the Broodals. We likely always will. Our love for the Broodals eventually led us to look more into what their concept was based on: The Koopalings. We always loved the Koopa Kids from The Adventures of Super Mario Bros 3, but in specifically 2022, we fell hard for these goobers. Special intrest level hard. Our blog turned to focus more on a combination of Koopalings and Broodals, and that's what got us into making fandom friends and participating in art collabs. It was fun, espcially seeing how much creativity everyone puts into their lore for their blogs from their own personal headcanons.

One of (if not the biggest) members of this Koopa ask blog community is @ thekoopalingsandstuff. The amount of thought she puts into her lore is MAGNIFICENT, and the way she impacts mood with her writing is phenomenal. If she wants you to dislike a character, she will make that character as UNLOVABLE as possible. If she hasn't considered a career in writing or storytelling, I honestly think she should. The reason why I bring her up is because in her AU, Dieter was a character that was generally abusive towards Spewart. Deadnaming and purposely misgendering him, hitting him if he didn't comply with something, lovebombing and isolating him... A lot of horrible stuff. In this major arc, named "Dieter's Demise", at the climax, Dieter raped Spewart and was shortly killed by Ludwig. Both Spewart and Ludwig have been sensitive to the incident and have barely (if at all) spoken up about it. We (as we usually do) expressed how much we loved the arc. The writing was great, it made us hate Dieter with a burning passion. It made our heart break to see Spewart's virginity stolen. It shocked us to see, if anyone, Ludwig shed blood in an attempt to save his closest friend. Our blog doesn't create arcs as complex and thought out as arcs like Dieter's Demise. It truly felt like reading a masterpiece. We'll bring up the relevancy of Dieter's Demise later on.

We and our partner first met on Discord in the beginning of 2021, when covid was still very dangerous to everyone, and quarentine was mandated regardless if you were positive with the virus. We met through a person we knew and... We instantly fell in love. On the day before Valentine's day, we proposed to her via OwObot and asked if she would be our partner. She said yes. We were 13 and 15 at the time. We have since been together, for three and a half years at this point. She is 17 and we are 19. We are two years apart.

When creating a storyline for our blog, we decided to add some dating drama between Ludwig and Spewart. At the time, Spewart was SAing and manipulating Rango, which we added to the story (as we do with our other stories where characters get SAd) as a coping mechanism for things that had happened to us. Our stories now contain significantly less SA, but that's not the part I want to focus on. Another character (one of KAS' Broodals perhaps, because this was during a collab) informed Ludwig of how sick Spewart really was, and Ludwig called it off. Ludwig was 17, and Spewart was 19. You might think that of anything we did on our blog, it would be the abuse of Rango that would piss people off. Well, it wasn't.

In June of this year, we were invited to join a project. (By the project manager's wishes, I'm not going to say what it is or speak much on it. All that matters in this conversation is that we're part of the project.) Everything was fine and dandy until the project manager asked if they could ask some questions that were brought up to them by people of concern. We were confused, because we aren't in any drama. (Or weren't as far as we knew.) The points of concern brought up were 1) The fact that we liked KAS' arc in which Spewart got raped. Completely ignoring the storytelling or lead up, ignoring why the creator chose to write such an event into the arc. We... were asked if we liked it, because he got raped. The other question of concern was why Ludwig (17) was dating Spewart (19), since one was a minor and the other was an adult.

I never thought we had to ever say this, but we are NOT pedophiles or pedo sympathisers. We are not rapist sympathisers. Though not the same as rape, we were groomed three times and assaulted sexually once between the ages of 13-16. We vowed to, if anything, NEVER DO WHAT OUR ABUSERS DID. We were exploited sexually. We were brought into a server full of ADULTS OVER 20 (we were 16 for context) whom had brainwashed us into thinking we were being abused by our mother, and who at MULTIPLE TIMES mentioned that they "couldn't wait until we were old enough to join the 18+ channels". To even be ACCUSED of being pedophilic, or liking content due to someone getting raped, shed a massive tear between us and people that we thought were nice, friendly, charismatic. Friends. We thought they were friends.

This has left a very sour taste in our mouth. We tried to make plans to rebrand our blog, but honestly? We feel that our trust has been broken. It hurt us, a lot. We've recently been getting into more That's Not My Neighbor since March, and... It doesn't seem like we'll be getting out of it soon. It's comforting to us, how fun the community is and how many ideas have been made to fill in holes where the creator hasn't gotten to patch up quite yet. The canon lore is mysterious, and leaves you hungry for more. And it seems like, especially after what has happened, work and our personal life, our blog focus is shifting on more TNMN. And at this point, if that's the case, so be it.

We'll still lurk in the Koopaling community. We won't stop supporting our favourite artists just because of what happened to us. But I sincerely don't see us resuming our Koopaling/Broodal/Koopa Kid asks anymore.

Thank you for reading. [LUDVIGGY] & [RENGO]

[these-written-reveries]

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[maglors-anion-gap]

1, 11, and 13 from the nice asks, please?

[for this ask game]

A fanon characterization that you love:

I really enjoy fanon lalwen. She's not in the silm and she gets almost no exposition elsewhere so she really is the blorbo personality I invented. Lalwen the best friend of fingolfin, lalwen fingolfin's right hand man, lalwen the loud and the smiling, lalwen the lesbian -- idk I just really like how some folks have turned her into the big, gregarious lady, especially since most of tolkien's ladies fit different niches (tolkien would have exploded if he'd ever met a butch dyke, I don't think he'd know what to do with a woman like that). Otherwise, I like fanon maeglin a lot. Singly handedly fixed tfog for me so that I didn't have to avoidantly flip past chunks of it. Maeglin's canon behavior is obviously a real-world phenomenon (and the reason I had personal issues enjoying tfog) so there's value in analyzing that. But at least for me, it's been very nice to see people examine the interplay between low self-esteem and outward confidence, the trauma of adolescence and the adult responsibility of growth and recovery, inquisitive desire for greener grass and the feeling of freakishness or otherness. I think a lot of it takes themes present in the original but pares away some of tolkien's dated coding and the broader discomfort casual fans might want to avoid.

11. Recommend a fic with an unusual/original headcanon or characterisation that you loved:

I would recommend Half Mourning by @skyeventide! One, I love the idea of Maeglin having Dwarvish tattoos. There's so much depth there; that they'll fade and take a part of his identity with him, how distancing himself from the bad parts of his life has forcibly distanced him from the good or familiar parts as well. Two, Maeglin as a mirror for other people! Gaia has really masterfully captured something I didn't know I needed to see in Maeglin. He's usually written to be either charismatic and biting, or withdrawn and dejected (and to be clear, I enjoy both). But this fic kind of opened a third door: Maeglin who is whatever the situation requires, who has past associations and familiar customs but no real positive tether to his identity, the knowledge that he is not unwelcome but that he does not belong, that the easiest way to avoid scrutiny is to mimic the person in front of him. I felt very called out.

13. Recommend a fic (can be your own!) that features something you wish was written about more:

This is actually a series (sorry) but The Years Start Coming and They Don't Stop Coming by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor! I am very taken with Visitor's Celebhir (trans celebrian). I think a lot of folks (myself included) often write trans characters as having transitioned to their canon genders (for example, transmasculine maedhros is a staple of mine). And I love this, it's great! It's one way to explore. But I think for a while, at least what I saw, there was a bit of a stir across fandoms about best practice for writing trans characters (eughgghhh) and the Arbiters settled on "needs to match canon gender" and then enforced that vigorously. So personally, I love love love it when people take a canon character and say "I'm transing their gender the opposite direction." It requires you to analyze the character, pare them down to the characteristics about them that will never change (similar to the analysis required to set them in a wildly alternate universe) and then overlay on top of that the new characteristics of what it's like to be trans, how they interact with the world now, how that changes their character, etc. For example, Visitor's Celebhir has a certain tension with Galadriel that wouldn't exist in that manner for Celebrian. Very very tasty analysis going on. (I will be posting transfeminine caranthir soon - I say, having said this for the last three months). TL;DR: I think we should trans more characters, and if your first anxiety is "what if I'm transing them wrong??"/"I heard someone say you should never trans a character like this" you're probably *not* transing them wrong and it's going to be fine (and people love to beta so!)

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Fan, Scrooge's sister (A Christmas Carol)

Tagged by anonymous

Favorite thing about them: Her warm, joyful, affectionate nature, and the love she gave Scrooge in his otherwise lonely childhood.

Least favorite thing about them: That so many adaptations leave her out, and especially that she's left out of The Muppet Christmas Carol. That movie would be even more perfect if only it included her visit to young Scrooge as his school, as well as a reference to their stern father to explain why young Scrooge never went home for Christmas.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I'm very affectionate to my loved ones.

*I love Christmas, especially with family.

*I love music, as it's implied that she did.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I don't have a brother.

*My father has always been a kind man.

*I haven't died young, leaving a son behind.

Favorite line: "Yes! Home, for good and all. Home, for ever and ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be, that home’s like Heaven! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I was going to bed, that I was not afraid to ask him once more if you might come home; and he said Yes, you should; and sent me in a coach to bring you. And you’re to be a man! and are never to come back here; but first, we’re to be together all the Christmas long, and have the merriest time in all the world.”

brOTP: Her brother Scrooge.

OTP: Her husband, Fred's father. Especially if he was as handsome as the actor who plays him in her deathbed scene in the 1951 film.

nOTP: See "brOTP."

Random headcanon: She suffered from chronic tuberculosis most of her life. This is what the Ghost of Christmas Past referred to when it described her as "Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have withered." Fred's birth itself didn't kill her, but weakened her and hastened her death from her illness, much like what happens to Frances Earnshaw (who by coincidence shares her name – "Fan" would have been a nickname for "Frances") in Wuthering Heights.

Unpopular opinion: I wish adaptations would stop making her the older sibling, when in the book she's much younger than her brother, and stop making her more serious than Dickens made her. I have nothing at all against the gentle, nurturing young woman played by Carol Marsh in the 1951 film Scrooge, but she isn't the Fan described in the book: a little girl who, despite her physical frailty, has the same lively, joyful spirit as her future son Fred.

Song I associate with them: The folk song "Barbara Allen" (the melody only, not the lyrics), because the 1951 film so effectively uses it as her theme.

"Christmas Wishes" from Scrooge: A Christmas Carol (2022), one of the few musical adaptations to give her a song of her own.

Favorite pictures of them:

This illustration by Charles Edmund Brock.

Ira Stevens in the 1938 film.

Carol Marsh in the 1951 film.

The uncredited child actress from the musical Scrooge, 1970.

Joanne Whalley in the 1984 TV film.

Rosie Wiggins in the 1999 TV film.

Leah Verity-White in A Christmas Carol: The Musical, 2004 (more shabbily dressed than the other Fans because of the changes this version makes to Scrooge's backstory).

From Disney's 2009 CGI film (a cute little thing even if Robin Wright's attempt at a child voice isn't very convincing).

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[moonmoonthecrabking]

another rtc eurovision post (i'm so sorry for my brainrot y'all) with me associating a song for each character

fair warning, this is *LONG*, so i'd suggest scrolling past if you don't really like long posts :)

i don't think that anyone pre-canon would've watched it but, you know, post-canon everyone lives au, afterlife, take your pick either works!!!

mischa: as previously stated, stefania by kalush orchestra (ukraine 2022) is his top of all time. wikipedia describes its genre as "alternative hip hop and folk" which is basically this song is awesome/talia. it being a tribute to the frontman's mother also deeply resonates with him, missing his own mother. other favourites include soldi (italy 2019), dark side (finland 2021), lie to me (czech republic 2018) and kuula (estonia 2012) because... in addition he loves everything ukraine's sent (aside from 2012. imagine being able to have pride and audience support for practically every entry from your country). he just finds so much enjoyment and nostalgia in it (ie me projecting onto my fave). he was so surprised when noel knew about it and that he had a buddy in this uranium hellhole to chat about it. has a crush on alexander rybak (norway 2009) and chanel (spain 2022). he still does not realise he is bisexual. he starts a betting pool with the choir for each new contest (and all the ones only he and noel have seen. the two get sad at first that they can't participate with those ones, but then decide to fuck with them)

noel: his winner of 2022 was in corpore sano (serbia) for The Drama and The Art, but he also supported fulenn because france (the man was so disappointed when they got second last). his all time favourite is l'enfer et moi (france 2013), because frenchwoman singing about how she would make her ex's life hell meant that he could graft on his dreams to that. because he's canadian i don't think he grew up with it like mischa, i think that he went down a youtube rabbithole when the march he turned 14 somehow or other and fell in love. he loves all the songs like n'oubliez pas (france 2015), voila (france 2019), tout l'univers (switzerland 2019), and bonds with mischa over zitti e buoni (italy 2021 who am i kidding everyone knows måneskin, thanks to @curious-georg for that idea!!!). sometimes he puts on playlists of the earlier competitions while he's studying to imagine a morning in france. has a crush on half the male entrants.

i haven't thought through how the rest of the choir gets exposed to it because it's pretty much a "after canon once they're friends, wherever they are, au or not i don't know". but basically i have a feeling that one time on movie night it's mischa's turn and he brings along the 2021 contest (because it's one of the best of the most recent and the hosts are so good) and noel goes BATSHIT and everyone else is just like "hey... what?? this is four hours long" and then it starts and they end up really enjoying it, with them going through all the contests (sometimes on mischa's night, sometimes on noel's, a couple for constance's too) and watching them live (because i said so)

ricky: they love the entries that are just a lil quirky. a lil different. their favourite from 2022 was eat your salad (latvia), mainly because the audience *screamed* out "PUSSY" to fight the censors (eurovision is a family friendly competition). the peak songs for them were at the start of semi 1 and then it all went downhill from there. and their goat? space (montenegro 2017). if you haven't seen that video, bestie, you should. they really do watch it for the memes, epic sax guy (run away aka moldova 2010), anti-crisis girl (ukraine 2009), "but in the end, they didn't" (the 2019 host talking to that year's cypriot contestant about cyprus coming in second in 2018).

constance: her 2022 winners were not the same (australia) and i am what i am (malta) because she loves the expression of the internal self and hearing peoples' emotions through the melodies. her all time favourites are monsters (finland 2018) and cry no more (netherlands 2017) because of how both are personal, one is upbeat in its self-empowerment, while the other is about familial love and support. she relates to and desires both. otherwise, anything with a gay kiss. she screamed at the full-on makeout session that occurred during this time (lithuania 2015). and marry me (finland 2013) made her VERY happy for that kiss at the end. even then, it takes her a while to realise she is Not Straight.

ocean: her 2022 winner was hold me closer (sweden), then river (poland) because it genuinely moved her, then die together (greece). she hates I.M (israel) with a burning passion, and everyone except her sees the irony in that. from other years she loves last dance (greece 2021), only teardrops (denmark 2013), popular (sweden 2011), lipstick (ireland 2011) and euphoria (sweden 2012). she has a spreadsheet ranking her placements for each year they watch, as well as the rest of the choir, and uses that to predict the results of the betting pool mischa started. sweden and greece are in her top five every year. she put if i were sorry as her first place when they were watching the 2016 edition and mischa refuses to talk to her for the rest of the night (this one actually isn't me projecting i just think it'd be funny).

penny/jane: because this idea isn't super-solidified, and her character isn't either, it's hard to know. i think that she's a menace and loves the voice cracks and mistakes (i feel bad if i direct people to certain entries for that!!! but if you know, you Know). the best guess i have is that her favourite 2022 entry is miss you (belgium) because of the religious allegory and shifting genres (like in the ballad of jane doe), but i will take suggestions!!

this was a really long post, thanks for sticking around if you got this far!

[blacklight-ghoulette]

alright so i'm seriously in the dark, what happened?

it'll be easiest for me to quote the reddit posts I read on it.

Going under a cut due to length so I don't kill anyone with a wall of text.

From u/awkwardtiefling:

"For those who make it to this thread first, a summary:

Per(lead guitar aka Fire/Dew) is connected in some way with a model named Paris. Paris supported Trump and has posted culturally insensitive content in the past, i.e. a bellydancer looking costume tagged as "g*psy" amongst other typically associated ones, and posted a photo on Thanksgiving while wearing a stereotypical Halloween store style Native American costume, war bonnet included.

They were also upset that she had a weird phase with King Tut and were unhappy that she was "sexualizing a child." He died at 19 so that's not really the issue. Just seemed like a weird and ultimately harmless phase.

From there, they assumed they may have been dating and got very, very upset. She's in a long term relationship with Don McLean of American Pie fame and I believe he's also in a relationship with someone as well? But they've dug through old photos to jump to conclusions and presumably harassed Per off IG with shitty messages, which is unfortunate because now he's being called childish for completely stepping away and removing himself from the issue. Paris is still being hounded as being racist and dangerous(because she supported Trump and obviously hates all LGBTQ+ people).

He's going to care more for her even if she's not squeaky clean than what some deranged kiddos on Twitter think about her. Sucks for him and the rest of the group, though. I have no doubt they'd start pestering the rest them about this.

edit:

Since I know they're poking around Reddit, it's one thing to point out the issues with a person and it's another entirely to harass someone off the internet because of who they're associated with. Some of you certainly did just that and need to accept that some of you needled him into reacting the way he did. Per is likely fully aware and just happens to be able to overlook Paris's past for who she is now.

As far as Paris goes, she probably isn't going to take any of your concerns into consideration. Nobody reacts well to being bombarded and she's just going to dig her heels in and ignore you the more you do it. If she's ever truly regretful for what she did, she'll apologize when she's ready or has a PR person badger her into it."

From u/SchoolfGhoul:

"Pword stand for Per. It's the real name of the lead guitar ghoul. Twitter folk seem to have a real issue with just using his name. They were complaining about the fact that apparently he doesn't like being called 'Dewdrop' and were making a real drama out of thinking like the fandom had upset him or something. The guitarist is a 40 year old man who probably doesn't give 2 shits about some nickname some fans made. However clearly he does take issue with all the drama and vilification that's being going about over who he chooses to be friends with. It's all really stupid and thanks to a few idiotic, immature teenagers who can't deal with someone else spending time with a guy who they have some obsession with, Per shut down his Instagram. I don't blame him really. The man has had a successful career since the late 90s as a Death Metal musician where he could play guitar without being harrassed on social media. I enjoy speaking to the Swedish Death Metal community group on FB. It's where all the cool fans and musicians hang out."

From u/ya_boi_jayy:

"It's a load of horse shit, I'm sure at this point you already know what's going on but I'm adding on to the story. I was added to a Ghost group chat a while ago for some reason. Here are some things they've said about Per.

"manz is a grown ass adult acting like he's 12"

"He woke up and chose emo😭"

"like babe, you are not the main character. don't get me wrong, i love per but.. ARE YOU THAT DESPERATE FOR SOME 😺"

"yeah he posted some edgy lyrics in his story and deleted his account an hour after"

"Per bestie I loved u sm, all this for some 😺😺? HDNDB"

"man he was so desperate to get his 🍆💦"

"they have matching bracelets?? they're in sweden together? they're definitely sleeping together"

"he deleted his Instagram last time when he got caught cheating on his ex fiancé, he is definitely sleeping with her"

This is such bullshit, people can't mind their own business. It's fucked up. For some reason they hate him now meanwhile yesterday they were all like "omg he's so cute i love him sm 🥺🥺🥺" PLUS they're all saying that they're the mature ones.

Here's what Per posted on his story before deleting it.

"Just cause you don't understand what's going on. Don't mean it don't make no sense. And just 'cause you don't like it, don't mean it ain't no good. And let me tell you something. Before you go taking a walk in my world. You better take a look at the real world. Cause this ain't no Mister Roger's Neighborhood. Can you Say "Feel like shit"? Yeah, maybe sometimes I do feel like shit ain't happy 'bout it but I'd rather feel like shit than be full of shit. And if I offended you. Oh, I'm sorry but maybe you need to be offended. But here's my apology and one more thing, FUCK YOU!""

So, yeah. All this shit.

[authoressskr]

Tracking Death and Magic, pt 2

Characters: f!Reader [known in this fic as Duchess], Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Phil Coulson, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, mentions of Dr. Strange, OFCs

Warnings: Language, death, angst, and no Beta   ::    Notes: this was written for @captain-kelli’s #ckcomebacktour – WELCOME BACK!!    ::   Word Count: 10,414

Mythological + Fairy Tale Creatures AU feat. Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Bucky, Alpha Werewolf/Vampire!Steve, Giant!Hulk side Bruce, Born Witch!Wanda, Hellhound mix!Reader

Someone is hunting down those with Fae blood in New York. And no one can figure out why or who is behind the crimes. So higher ups in the city hand the case over to SHIELD, who deals with the more difficult supernatural cases. But even after two weeks, this small elite team can’t seem to figure out where the person or persons responsible will strike or the reasoning behind it. Anyone with a drop of Fae blood is scared…scared of being kidnapped or killed. Time to call in some outside help.

Prompt: [*In Part 1*] “All of those people are alive right now - all because of her.”

[ Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, translate, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. 18+ ONLY PLEASE, all content providers don’t want serious repercussions from underage interactions, myself included. ]

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and *very* appreciated! -+-

Part One

You could feel it as you walked up to the sidewalk where Cyrus had been killed. The now dried and cleaned sidewalk not hiding it’s dark shadows from you in the waning late afternoon light.

The creeping, underhanded power of the Seelie Court brushing against you.

The poison is a prominent smell to your hound side still since it’s only been a day and a half. Cyrus’s soul hasn’t lingered, so that at least is a blessing, but the conversation with your uncle and this fresh site is putting your nerves on the very edge. You can ‘see’ the faint magic outline where he died, you knew he’d be wearing his homemade medallion to ward off evil. Swallowing, you kneel where his feet would have been, reaching out with your magic.

The flashes that echo painfully through your mind make you gasp.

The cloaked figure is stealing magic. Taking it violently. To him, the more violent and quick, the better. It honestly just makes your stomach roll, the saliva building in your closed and clenched mouth.

But why? You can taste the lighter magic associated with the Seelie Court - the Court of Light - the kind that humans and others often think of when they think of the fair folk. The court thought, it doesn’t deal with humans or others unless absolutely needed…

When you told Hades you suspected a member of the higher courts on your little walk, you hadn’t anticipated to be able to feel it. The boots, the glistening silver swords, the escape when you had moved a forgotten tiny part of the sithen under the alley -- now it all makes a lot more sense now. The shiver that runs down your spine at the implications this creates. May the God and Goddess spare all those innocents involved, you pray quickly.

A henchman for the shining Seelie Court, sweet baby Jesus. What had you gotten yourself into?? What had SHIELD stumbled into??

The residual death is quick, but still it steals into you, taking away what little baited breath you had. Feeling the tears prickle your eyes as you try to figure out these new pieces of the puzzle.

Hades can’t help you - Gods can’t interfere with other pantheons businesses, good or bad.

Hades can’t save you from the other half of yourself.

It was something you had always known in the back of your mind, but the harsh slap of it hurt more than the death and falling pieces of this horrible plot. But...just maybe there could be a light in this cave of fae intrigue and murder. There are others whom you can save.

The three stolen wouldn’t be taken to the sithen, that would be too obvious of their involvement. Plus, they were fae and thus could leave as long as not put into a dungeon there and theoretically had enough power and know-how to do so. But had the cloaked figure been draining them, you weren’t sure if they could get out or away.

So, that would mean they were still somewhere close by.

The last traces of magic from the murder, Cyrus’s own traces, and your hellhound senses in overdrive to track everything - you’re drowning as the sun sinks just a tad lower in the sky, creating the beginnings of the lovely orange autumn color you adore. Fall was closer than you remembered. You can vaguely hear your name being said, like being underwater almost. Then you can smell sage, lemon and juniper - the sweet smells of the entrance to the Underworld.

The way the newcomer says your name grounds you, while Bucky calling your name brings you closer to the surface - your mate...Bucky brings you back to reality. And he’s protective and bristling slightly at the other man who is holding your arm’s firmly.

You’re looking up at the slightly blurry face of a traditionally handsome Greek man, all muscle and blurry smile, with thick black hair and sweet honey brown eyes.

“I hate your human disguise sometimes,” You grunt and turn to plop down on your ass as Bucky watches as the man lean in and proceed to lick from your chin up to your hairline. “Okay, okay...thank you Cerb,” You shove his chest gently to get him to release you, reaching for Bucky’s hand automatically. “This is my mate, Bucky. Don’t snap at him.” Cerberus gives you puppy dog eyes, his nerves calming down slightly to hold his form better. So at least now it was one face instead of the three blurry ones superimposed over each other.

“Did you just say Cerby?!” Wanda sounds astonished.

“As in Cerberus?” Natasha questions calmly. The guardian to the Underworld stands up and he’s visibly excited looking from you to Natasha and Wanda.

“Yes,” You coo. “This is my best friend in the whole world and Underworld, Cerberus. Cerberus, this is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers is his best friend. Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Phil Coulson. Wanda Maximoff and her twin, Pietro.”

“Pleasure,” His deep voice almost has an echo to it. “Lord said you needed looking after, pup. He was right. Too close.”

“I know,” You sigh out as your hand subconsciously clenches Bucky’s a little tighter even after he helps you up.

“No,” Cerberus growls. “Close.”

“Fucking great,” You growl out in reply, anger rising.

“See anything?” Phil asks, forehead furrowed just so. You sigh again, anger dissipating as quickly as it had boiled up.

“We are in a shit ton of trouble.”

“We are aware of that, kid,” Steve states, crossing his arms over his wide chest.

“Nooo. Like real shit ton of trouble. Seelie Court trouble.” Phil lets out a string of curses as Clint’s stance gets more rigid. “The cloaked asshole is working for the Seelie Court. I can taste the residual light magic. And he’s stealing magic. That’s why he’s been killing most of them. Kidnapping the more powerful ones to drain them continuously, I’m guessing.”

“He can’t take them back to the golden sithen,” Phil states, following where you’re leading. “So they’re still in the area.”

“I think he took them where there’s more greenery and nature, it would make it more comfortable for him. Someplace secretive to drain and hide them.”

“Central Park,” Bucky reasons. “It makes the most sense. It would be easy for him to hide them there, especially if he was -” He stops as you start exhibiting nervous energy beside him, enough to upset his wolf and your scent to change. “What is it?”

“Only royalty can move the sithen,” You whisper, eyes focused solely on Phil.

“I have to let Fury know…” Phil looks at you with pity and sadness appearing in his blue eyes. “Everything.”

“I figured as much when I tasted their magic,” face contorting with a pained expression is all Bucky sees on your lovely face as you whisper the words defeatedly. He’s on edge now with your changing emotions and scents, trying to keep his eyes from shifting too much or his fangs popping out to prepare for the impending fight, the need to protect and soothe you almost overwhelming him internally.

“I’m sorry,” He offers, moving forward to squeeze your shoulder sympathetically, withdrawing the phone from his pant pocket as your free hand shoots forward to grip his wrist tightly, a plea written plainly for all to see on your almost panicking face.

“Please Phil...delay it til the morning. I can’t...they’ll -” Bucky and Steve can taste the fear that’s rolling off you now, raising his hackles as Cerberus eyes him with interest before returning his gaze to Duchess.

“I won’t let your other side harm you,” Cerby snarls, his handsome olive face contorted with anger as you wince hard. Bucky tugs you into him as much as he can with your iron grip still on Phil, soothing the pacing and snarling wolf in his head as much as he is soothing you.

That’s why you said you should be better at wording things, Bucky thinks to himself, nuzzling his nose into your hair, fangs no longer a worry as your scent shifts yet again to worry. Only now he realizes you are concerned about how he sees you.

“Do you care I’m a werewolf and vampire crossbreed 100 year old plus former assassin?” Bucky mumbles softly against your head, making you pull away to look up at him, shock and confusion making you wrinkle your forehead at your mate. Your scent shifts to calm Bucky now, eyes tearing up just a tad as his wolf shakes and settles down. Mate needs reassurance.

“No!” You release Phil’s wrist to cup Bucky’s cheek, thumb moving over the course hairs of his beard. “I don’t care what you are. You’re mine, James.” The light in Bucky’s eyes stun you with his smile, his eyes crinkling beautifully. Just radiating his happiness in that simple little motion of his elated smile, your inner hound almost dopey at the tenderness your mate is exuding.

“Then why would I care if you're half fae?” He presses his forehead down against yours, making you squeeze your eyes closed to prevent the tears from falling. “You’re my mate, Duchess. I don’t care what you are, as long as I get to keep you. Understand, doll?”

“I just don’t want to be known as one of them...as one of the Shining Court. That’s not me.” You keep your eyes squeezed close, taking comfort in your mate’s touch and his surrounding scent, blocking out everything but Bucky.

“You moving that fast with that sword was hot though,” Bucky rumbles out, making laughter just peel out of you, opening your eyes to be met with those intensive cerulean orbs.

“You’re too good,” You copy his statement from the closet earlier, smiling up at the most important person in your life.

But that comment does make you think, yanking your forehead away from Bucky to snap back to Coulson.

“Phil! It’s for my father!”

“You sure?”

“It has to be! Only royalty can move the sithen! The High Prince has probably a quarter of the fae power I do and his son probably barely enough to magically open a doorway in the sithen.”

“Wait,” Clint starts, twirling a toothpick between his front teeth before pointing it at you and continuing. “So you’re a fae princess?!”

You wince again, Bucky’s metal fingers slipping under the edge of your shirt bottom to stroke your skin to ease the emotions swirling in and around you - at least they are much more in control and subdued than minutes ago. “Technically, yes.” You admit in a defeated whisper. “My grandmother is the Queen of the Seelie Court.”

“Which is why Peter said you were ordering the cloaked man to answer you,” Steve states, rolling his shoulders to relieve some tension. Too late you realize that since Steve and Bucky are actually pack that he was getting some diluted effects of your emotional rollercoaster just now just by being so close to the two of you. ‘Sorry,’ You mouth to him as he gives you a soft smile in return.

“So that’s why the ground shook?” Bucky asked, forehead slightly furrowed at Phil then down to you. “How can you move the whole sithen?”

“Oh, I can’t. I couldn’t do that unless I was Queen and would need a whole lot of blood magic to back it up to move it. And honestly, the sithen is a living thing, so it would need to be...um...convinced. But moving pieces of it - especially forgotten or ‘dead’ spaces that the court don’t access - is fairly easy if you know what you are doing. Hades is Lord of the Underworld. Is the “Underworld” just under Greece? No. It’s everywhere AND a specific place. The same properties apply to the sithen,” You shrug as if it hasn’t really occurred to you the schematics of it all.

“Ahh, sort of like the Sanctum Sanctorum of Dr. Strange’s,” Pietro supplies, tapping a finger against his chin with a small grin.

“Yes and no.”

“I was thinking more like the jet,” Wanda supplies to her twin who frowns at her.

“So if Dr. Strange had a Sanctum Sanctorum jet?”

“Jesus. Christ.” Coulson and Natasha mutter loudly in sync, sighing and turning away slightly from the twins and Clint who is nodding along with their continued discussion.

“So could you find the piece of the sithen in Central Park?” Steve moves the conversation back to the kidnapped victims, you watching him unclench and clench his right hand slightly. You move a little more into Bucky and reach for Steve’s right hand. His head snaps over to you almost comically fast, while you just try to exude a calming energy. Bucky whispers a soft ‘thank you’ against your temple before gently reaching over to squeeze Steve’s shoulder. You can almost feel Steve’s blood pressure drop once both you and Bucky are calm and now working on calming him.

“Yeah, I could. I’ve scented the magic signature he’s used both attacking me and at the crime scenes, so shouldn’t be too hard to locate it. I mean, I won’t be exactly spot on, but will be close enough to be able to move the sithen bit to me and manipulate it open hopefully.”

“So that’s the play,” Natasha states as Phil whips out his cell, causing another spike in anxiety to roll through you, but Bucky and Steve both quickly whisk it away with their touch.

“Yes, sir,” Phil states evenly. “We may have located the kidnapped parties. I request a team to subtly clear and surround Central Park. Yes, sir.” His right eyelid gives one lone twitch. “Yes, all Avengers to the Park. We are dealing with Seelie Court involved matters. Yes, she is here and will be leading us to the kidnapped hostages. Affirmative. Will do, sir.” He hangs up to find everyone staring at him. “Tony will be bringing everyone’s gear and then we’ll head to Central Park. If you have any requests or needs, please bother Stark. I have a whole ops to coordinate.” A black suv pulls up behind him, which no one even flinches at. “I’ll meet you all in an hour. Stark will know the location.”

“Onward to probable death!” Pietro mutters with fake enthusiasm and you frown at him, Cerberus moving closer to you until his arm is brushing. The scent of sage, juniper and lemon - overlapped with the scent of coffee, cinnamon, cedar and a soft ocean breeze, things distinctly Bucky to you, even the scent of orange faintly coming from Steve - do nothing to help the pit in your belly.

How true, you muse morbidly, glancing up into sad honey brown eyes. You can both catch the faint, trace smell of death.

And you both know it’s from you.

-----*****-----*****-----

Tony had brought you several SHIELD jumpsuits in various colors: gray, blue and black, smirking as you had raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, little hellhound. They’ll all form to fit you. Bucky and Peter mentioned swords, so I brought some thigh holsters as well as a back holster, since I didn’t know the length of your swords. Natasha has extra guns aboard the jet if you are into that. Also, we don’t have time for you two to be frisky, so -”

“Shut up, Tony,” Bucky had growled from behind him, just making Tony smile wider. Seeing Bucky in his hero suit was a whole different sexy than last night and this morning. Well, you now understood why Tony was having concerns about you two because - dear gods did you want Bucky to bend you over something and take you with that suit on. You’d be equally happy to just drop to your knees and thank your mate for this look. Bucky obviously can see and sense the changes as you are basically drooling and clenching your thighs, while having an iron grip on the dark blue suit you had been favoring.

“Remember!” Tony says loudly while shaking a finger at you before Steve comes up beside Bucky and herds the grinning man from the room where you’re surrounded by suits and weapons.

“Eyes are glowing again, doll,” Bucky purrs as he comes to a halt before you.

“Can’t help it, it’s an emotional reaction most of the time,” You breath out, a smile playing on the corner of his lips at your answer. “Used to just do it when I was extremely pissed off. Now apparently it decides to pop up whenever I’m -”

“Horny?”

“Focusing. On. My. Mate.” You insist as he rumbles out a laugh, bending forward to kiss your forehead sweetly. You tilt your head up to catch his eye again, giving him a small smile as you reach out to take his flesh hand. “But just FYI, I can smell you’re horny too. And them pants is tiiight.” He captures your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you so tight against his chest that the buckles dig into you a little, just making you all the more riled up.

“Mate,” Bucky’s voice is part plea and warning in it’s roughness after you two pull apart, you nosing along his throat, kissing the skin where your mark should adorn.

“You could leave to let me get dressed…?”

“Where the hell is the fun in that, doll? Huh?” Both of you are chuckling, touching each other as much as possible but struggling to keep it PG.

“Bucky, I know you don’t want to bring this up…”

 “Don’t.” 

“But this could be it, ya know? So I need you to sort of brace yourself if it does.” His back is now ramrod straight and his jaw clenched tight, but holding your gaze.

“I won’t let it happen.” The determination from your first meeting is back, but you can only muster the softest look in reply, letting the suit fall to the ground as you cup his face with both hands.

“Sweetheart,” You coo gently, watching the sadness dance in his eyes that he’s trying hard to hide. “I adore you. I trust you inexplicably. I would happily spend the rest of my life with you. To mate you, to marry you...to have a little baby that looks just like you, that’s all I want. You deserve some peace and so. much. love.” His hands are gripping tight onto your waist, you can feel the fingertips digging in as you continue. “But you know I’m marked for death, Bucky. They’ve tried most of my life to circumvent it, stop it, undo it. But death comes for me regardless. I need you to not pull away from everyone if that happens. You’ll need them. Please.”

“I don’t - I don’t want to deal with that. I can’t. I can’t lose you too. I said I would protect you and keep you safe. I’m no Alpha if I don’t try. I’m no mate if I don’t try.” You’re at a standstill, both now in emotional turmoil over this topic, trying not to let it bleed into the other. He presses his forehead against yours hard, staring into each other’s eyes. “I love you,” He whispers and it’s all you ever wanted to hear. Right now, you had all wanted right here - a wonderful mate who loved you and would try to move heaven and earth for you, who didn’t care what you were. One of the most beautiful men in the whole world who looked at you like the sun rose and set by your whim. The whole thing was unfathomable.

“I love you, Bucky,” You breathe out in reply, longing for any other outcome but the one you know is coming. “And I will love you as long as you live.” Bucky makes a noise in the back of his throat, a couple tears sliding down his cheeks as yours begin to fall freely, letting him wrap his arms so securely around you as his beautiful blue jacket absorbs your quiet sobs.

-----*****-----*****-----

The sun is nearly set, the sky streaked a hundred hues of dark pink and red as New York slowly descends into darkness.

Bucky is standing right beside you, outfit bringing out his eyes as he surveys the scene stoically. You’d chosen the dark blue jumpsuit to match his, arms brushing subtly as you stand just outside the magic lines - and sight lines from the sithen - of Central Park.

Although you can’t see them, you can vaguely sense the score of SHIELD agents and Avengers scattered on the edges of the treelines. But you can ‘see’ the edge of the piece of sithen just shy of the Azalea Pond at the center of the Ramble. Bucky had been the one with his tablet naming things off to you - you had only moved to New York two years ago after all - trying to help you narrow down areas where it could have been. You wish you had had the time for him to show you around New York, around Brooklyn, and places that still stood from when he was younger.

Cerberus is on the other side of the pond, should the cloaked figure try to escape, swathed in the grip of Underworld magic to keep him invisible and thus much more easy to herd or pounce.

Wanda is piggybacking off your abilities, twined with yours temporarily so she could sense the heartbeats of the victims now that you had a location. Sam is in the trees to the left of the pond with Peter, Steve and Tony on the right while Clint, Natasha and Pietro cut off any other possible exit points. Bruce is staying by the ambulances, ready to Hulk out should the need arise, although you could tell from his face he was radiating the bright hope it absolutely would not.

Any way the cloaked figure ran, he’d be funneled where the Avengers chose. There would be no escape. As a failsafe, Pietro would be the only one to engage with him except you, since he would be the most able to take him on with the fae speed.

You drag yourself back to reality, turning to gaze over at Bucky and steeling yourself with one last deep breath before starting down the short path to the Azalea Pond.

“Be safe for me, doll,” Bucky says softly, almost as soft as the small breeze suddenly around you two. You manage to nod, throat closing up again. The fair folk do not lie. It had been beaten into you, quite literally, when you were little at court. You want nothing more than to lie to Bucky in that moment. To reassure him you will be safe for him. But the fair folk do not lie.

Good thing you are not solely fair folk. You reach for his hand, grasping just his flesh fingertips in your grip and squeezing them hard. It’s a millisecond in time, but it seems like one of those Lord of the Rings moments that are in that slow, dramatic, longing-filled motion. “I’ll do my best, handsome.” Dropping his hand before you lose your resolve, you take the barely visible path towards the pond. Your magic is swirling with Wanda’s, your senses all in overdrive - so much so you can’t even register the smell of the flowers blooming along the landmark.

Pursing your lips, you whistle a simple five note tune that fae had used for time beyond memory.

From behind you comes that deep, craggly voice, “Greetings, highness.”

“Greetings, servant,” He gives a little hiss at the title you bestow. “SHIELD has sent me to inform you that if you cooperate, you will not be sentenced to death.”

“They are mostly human. I do not fear the humans.”

“You are not wise to not fear them,” You give a pregnant pause, making sure you give that haughty look the court loves to disperse. “If you do not accept this offer, I am to inform you that I, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos, will be judge, jury and - if need be - executioner.” He pushes back his cloak hood back, allowing you to finally see his scaled face. He was probably one of very few left over of those lizard scaled dwarves who stayed closer to the caverns around lakes and seas when humans first emerged as semi-civilized, with beautiful almost translucent rainbow sheened scales around his eyes and cheeks, his mouth set in a thin line with no lips.

“I was damned from the get go, princess.”

“We are only as we choose to be - it doesn’t have to be that way,” You insist, leaning a little forward, softening your eyes. Even if you disliked court life, the snobs of court who’s magic had begun to dwindle long before you were born, and how you were treated there - he was the same as you; a discarded fae. He doesn’t reply, though there is a flicker of something in his eyes, simply just unsheathes his double swords and gestures to you with his chin.

“Prepare, half breed,” Although his insult has less venom than the alley last night, you huff out a sigh at his tone. Like he’s just going through the motions. Asshat.

You shift your feet just so, straightening your spine as you wait for his move. Physically you are in that moment, but your power shifts the sithen opening to the side where Steve and Tony are waiting, causing the cloaked man to hiss, baring slightly sharpened front teeth at you. “Little bitch!” And his steel meets yours. “We will both die for this!” He snarls as he tries to drive you back towards the trees and brush opposite the pond, you holding the line as you wait for Wanda to signal you that the people had been recovered.

“I’ll deal with them when the time comes,” You growl low, blocking his blades yet again with a heavy clink, shifting just so that you can reach for Bucky’s favorite knife at the small of your back, tinged with the poison that your cloaked friend had been favoring and stabbing it into his side and piercing his lung with a squelch.

“The poison will do nothing to me,” He spits at you as you twirl your wrist to disarm him of one of the swords and slide Bucky’s knife back into its sheath.

“It will now. Dr Banner mixed it with another, a heavy iron involved one - infused with belladonna - to make you human slow,” You lean in as you block another wide swing from him with the one sword left, smiling wide. “And heal human slow.” The whole of Central Park shakes as you show your hand.

“No! NO!” He screams and hisses, attempting to swing his meaty fists at you now that he was without a weapon.

“I am still my grandmother’s first born grandchild. I am still the High Prince’s first born. I am a Princess of the Seelie High Court.” You lean in as your tone becomes more malicious with each word, watching true fear alight in his mossy green eyes. “And with all the inbreeding and decline for the last century,” You straighten up, your blue flames engulfing you as he attempts to scurry away from you, shielding his eyes against the light you emanate as he falls on his ass in the dense brush and dirt. “Let’s face it - I am probably the most powerful fae aside from the Queen of the Seelie and the King of the Unseelie.” Leaning down, fisting your hand in his cloak, you yank him back upright, snarling as your power dances behind your eyes, careful still to at least to not burn him with your flames. But watching him flinch at the heat, the basic fear all animals have towards a large flame, sets you more alight at the taste of that fear. “And absolutely the wrong person to piss off!”

“Spare me! Please!!” He screams, more high pitched than you had imagined, nearly making you wince as you see the red sparks above the tree line and see a blue clad shadow moving along the treeline coming closer to you. Pietro blurs past you, slapping old iron cuffs on the cloaked man, which sends him quite literally howling and screeching from the burn of the metal. 

Your flames give off a few large flickers before they begin to die down when Pietro says that they’ve gotten the kidnapped people to the ambulance they had on stand by, Bucky coming down the path towards you with a small smile on his lips as your eyes meet. Your magic shrinks back towards you, the weight of all the magic and your now overworked abilities settling back into you, your shoulders sagging a little with relief. It wasn’t over, but once your grandmother learned about your father and half-brother then she would be the one to end it.

The look in his cobalt eyes shift quickly, widening and moving to glare directly over your shoulder, his mouth moving in slow motion as he begins to barrel towards you, you begin to turn - only to feel the jerk of your body going forward instead. A glance downward shows a shiny red tip of one of the cloaked man’s swords protruding from just under your breasts, when you hear the mournful howl echo in and around your ears - only to realize it’s three distinct howls. The tang of blood spills into your mouth in a surprised gasp, turning slightly to see who has murdered you.

Your half brother’s hand is shaking slightly as he backs away from you, surprise written on both your faces as the scent of death finally fully fills your nose.

“I never thought -” You wheeze out, taking a few shaky steps towards your half-sibling as Bucky slides to a stop before you, his boots kicking up the fallen green leaves on the grass, both hands grasping your hips firmly as his eyes wander all over your body and face, tears already tracking down his cheeks. “You would have the balls!” You finish with another wheeze, the metallic taste much stronger now.

Bucky turns you to face him as Tony and Peter keep your half-brother from escaping, the darkening greenery of the world around you narrowing down to just Bucky. It’s a beautiful world to be relegated to actually.

“No. NO. Come on, doll. You - you gotta stay with me.” His voice is raw sounding, like he’s trying to not be loud, his metal hand putting pressure on the front wound as if it would help. His forehead is shoved against yours, your entire gaze narrowed to his blue eyes and his damp cheeks as he pulls you into his lap, collapsing the both of you to the ground. It’s funny almost to you in the moment...like you can still hear his loud, pitiful howl like a haunting melody behind everything he’s saying. “Doll, you gotta...come on, gotta fight. I need you to fight. Cerberus, he - he went to get Hades and Hecate. They’ll fix it. Just hold on til they get here, okay?”

“I love you soo much, James Buchanan Barnes,” You’re heartbroken to watch him see your bloody bottom lip tremble, and the color seeping from your face. You can see him weighing all his options through his tears, trying to move your tired hand up to touch him, to comfort him.

“I love you too, babydoll, but please God, please … just stay with me.” The choked up sound of his voice makes you want to cry for causing him this pain. No amount of forewarning could have prepared you for this feeling - the feeling of slowly breaking and killing your mate.

“Mate,” is the last thing you manage to get out before you just go limp in his arms, those jewel eyes he loves so much already just staring up at the first stars twinkling in the sky unseeing. In the back of his mind, his vampire side offers up the idea which he swore to God he would never do. But all too late.

The howl that rips from his throat is pure misery and heartache, his body bowed over his mate’s, his grip still holding her in a vice. The blood cloys her scent, furthering his heartbreak.

He looks up, needing Steve on a near visceral level, only to not see anyone at all. Confusion slightly mars his grief, looking over his shoulder and all around the darkened area, but met with no familiar faces or words in his comms. Confusion gives way to his war training, the alertness on it’s highest notch as he scans around, sniffing delicately at the air as the world seems much darker now than it had just been. When he turns back towards the pond, on edge at the very tampered down scents surrounding him, he spots three almost identical women standing there with those dark pink azaleas framing behind them almost like a fresco - just appearing as if from nowhere like Hades had earlier on the street.

“James Barnes,” The one on the left begins, long dark brown hair falling freely to her waist. “We are sorry for your loss,” the one on the right continues, her hair half up in intricate braids. “But now that we have fulfilled our ill-spoken creed,” the middle speaks, all that dark mahogany hair piled atop her hair like a crown, before they all join hands as the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand to attention at the sudden surge of power that surrounds him, his arms tensing as a wave of azalea scent blows around the two of them, bringing Duchess as close to him as possible again. “We will return our little cousin back to you.”

His mouth goes dry, forehead wrinkled in not understanding as he looks down at his mate, her eyes still open and her skin still dampened with that death pallor. Bucky gently uses his metal digits to close her eyelids, grief and nausea rolling through him simultaneously while the ground beside Bucky gives a small shake and splits open, Hades climbing so elegantly and easily from the ground below with Cerberus - in three-headed giant black dog form - with a wispy blue thing dangling from the middle head’s mouth. There isn’t even enough room left in him to be shocked, there is just acceptance of whatever this shit show was.

“Turns out, sometimes you just have to accept Fate and go through it in order to stop it,” Hades murmurs in his deep molasses voice, bending down just so, his long fingers gripping the back of Bucky’s neck loosely. “Will you accept your fate now, Bucky?”

“I’ll do anything for her,” Bucky rasps out with conviction shining in his tear-riddled eyes.

“Splendid,” Hades motions with his free hand for Cerberus to come forward. “You must take a mouthful of this first.” He orders sternly as a beautiful blonde woman, shorter than Duchess and with a more heavy hourglass shape, emerges from the crevice to the Underworld with a black and golden chalice. Bucky marvels at the tiny wild roses popping up in her wake as she walks around Cerberus to stand between himself and Hades. She sniffles as she looks at Duchess, one hand leaving the chalice as she frowns over at the Fates before brushing two fingers down his left cheek to his chin, the warmth from just her fingers seeping quickly into his icy feeling skin. He doesn’t even notice the Fates disappearing just after that, he’s so focused on the goddess before him.

“Remove the sword, Hades.” It’s gone with a wave at the woman’s order, Bucky unconsciously tightening his hold once again on his mate. “Now, Bucky, sweet little honeysuckle boy, take a mouthful of this - but don’t swallow.” She brings the cup to his lips and tips it up. “Now, when Cerberus drops her soul back into her body, kiss her and push all the ambrosia into her mouth. It’ll take a few seconds for her soul to readjust and the ambrosia to heal her before she comes back to consciousness, okay honeysuckle?” Bucky manages a jerky nod, rewarded with a pat to his cheek before she backs up towards Hades, Cerberus giving a huff as he leans down towards Duchess’s body.

“Three. Two. One.” Hades counts down, Cerberus’s light brown eyes locked onto Bucky’s before the middle head gently opens it’s very large jaw and the blue wisp floats down to her body. “Now.” Bucky smashes his lips against hers, feeding the liquid into her mouth with an edge of desperation barely restrained within him.

“Now we wa-” A gasp startles you all, her jewel-toned eyes blinking rapidly as her hands claw at Bucky’s waist where they’re trapped between them, until they’re focused on Bucky. Bucky lets loose a sob as she smiles up at him, blood now gone from her face.

“Hi handsome,” A tiny little cough to clear her throat. “Bucky,” Duchess manages to rasp out before she’s crushed to Bucky’s chest.

“I lost you,” Bucky half gasps/half sobs into her hair, the scent of blood seemingly long gone, a terrible dream from which he can now finally awaken...it was just her again. Just his mate.

“But you found me, handsome.”

Bucky manages to get out a soft chuckle as he pulls back to cup her face in his hands. “You do anything like that again, doll, and I swear I’ll -” She cuts him off with a kiss but he doesn’t miss the smile and silent eyeroll. When they break apart, she brings her hand up to cup his cheek, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone repeatedly as Bucky just reveals in the warmth of her fingers and palms against his skin.

“You are mine,” She whispers so damn gently, like a breath of life gently fanning over his lips as her forehead bumps against his softly. Bucky understood this was her sign that everything was alright, that closeness of foreheads pressed together and reading every emotion in each other's eyes. 

“And you are mine,” Bucky affirms, electricity buzzing down his spine before he smiles wide at his mate, happy to see her own smile widen as he does so. “You’re stuck with me for forever now.” She tries to feign a disappointed look and tone, to school her eyes and keep her lips from twitching up in a grin is poorly executed.

“Oh, no. What a terrible thing, Sarge,” It comes out more as a purr, lighting a warmth and fire from within Bucky, elation now bleeding as a scent out of him at this tiny but monumental moment with his mate. A deep voice clearing his throat behind you brings you both a bit back more to the present, Bucky glancing to the left as your smile stays gracing your gorgeous face.

“Welcome back!” The goddess burst out, tears opening flowing down her lovely and soft olive oval face, falling to her knees behind Duchess and throwing her arms around her shoulders, squeezing her fiercely. She even pulls Bucky closer, smoothing a hand up and down his back as she hugs both of them just this side of painful.

“Thank you, theía.” Duchess grunts out from the tight sandwich she’s in, looking over to her uncle. “Theíos, what happened to that little motherfucker?”

Hades stern looking face breaks out in a tiny smile, looking so kindly down at the scene before him as Cerberus’s three heads lap and nuzzle at the three on ground. “He’s still being held on the other plane. And speaking of which, we should return quickly. Hecate might actually kill him and start a bigger conflict than which we already have on our hands.”

“Well that answers some of my questions,” Bucky mutters just behind her right ear, nipping at the earlobe gently as Persephone releases you all, gently wiping away her tears.

“I’ll fill you in as best I can later. After someone fills me in, that is,” Duchess promises with a quick but warm kiss to his lips. Hades helps his wife up, kissing both of her palms and exchanging a long, loving look before extending his hand for Duchess, Bucky shooting up beside her as they each have a hand hold on her and help to steady her as she sways just a touch.

“Much later,” Bucky agrees with the barest hint of a nod, just needing to soothe his mate still. Frankly, just needing to reconnect and optimally be alone with his mate. Hopefully uninterrupted for at least two weeks, a month - two months would be absolutely dreamy and very, very far fetched with all the shit they’ll have to deal with afterwards regarding this case. But Bucky would move whole cities to make good on what she’d said to him aboard the jet too. Finally get him some of that apple pie life that he, Steve and the Commandos had talked about all those years and years ago.

He watches as you roll your neck, gently pushing away one of Cerby’s heads to shake both your arms out before reaching up to finally scratch at each of Cerberus’s heads one by one, kissing at their muzzles with gusto as the giant hellhound wiggles it’s butt with abandon. “I didn’t get that warm of a welcome,” Bucky remarks with a smirk, his mouth breaking into a wider smile at the look she shoots him.

“Because that is something personal you’ll get later on, Sarge,” 

“Geallaidhean, an dannsair beag agam,” Bucky growls softly, making sure to seal it with a deep, hard kiss. Promises, my little dancer. She looks a little flustered when they break apart, eyes not as focused as before. He knows she can smell the very pleased scent rolling off of him at her reaction.

“Such an Alpha,” She mutters with a teasing eye roll, keeping her hand on his chest. “You wear that jacket and you can have whatever you like,” comes the whisper against his lips, a soft growl punctuating the end before he takes another kiss. “Okay. Okay. Now, let’s go shank the little fairy prince,” Baring your teeth is more cute to Bucky than terrifying initially, but knowing what you’re capable of does make it scarier. And sexier, he wasn’t going to lie to himself. He loves that his mate is that intimidating.

And quite honestly, what will be more scary to the little prince than someone he feared and loathed coming back after watching them die? What's more, coming back for their retribution on him from the other side. Bucky can bet anyone that it’s not a hell of a lot actually.

“Brace yourself for it,” She whispers, hand wrapping tight around his metal one. Bucky feels a tug at his navel as the whole world around him seems to lighten at least ten shades, the overwhelming scent of blood returning, along with the pond waters, and Steve suddenly all fill his nose at once, Steve’s hands suddenly wrapping just this side of painful on his upper arms.

The scent of confusion and awe fill the area around them like a sudden breeze, the fair folk Prince calling for the God and Goddess to protect him in a whisper which might as well be a shout in the eerily quiet park. It seemed like even the regular wildlife noises in the Park had shown restraint, watching the otherworldly conflict in reverence.

“Did you miss me, brother?” No one on the other side of Manhattan could mistake the venom in her voice for anything other than deadly.

“You don’t understand!” The man - if you could call him that, no one in Central Park would though - shouts defiantly with a slice of whining at the end, his pupils blown as his eyes dart around the small clearing with barely restrained panic, nearly everywhere but on Duchess.

“Spare me your bullshit, Bradye,” Duchess growls, the lights beginning to dance behind her eyes as she moves closer to him, leaving her mate behind her. She smiles a bit triumphantly, maliciously. “You have come into this realm and by doing so are now subject to its rules and punishments. That useless title you hold will do you no good.” A few tsks come from her, “For you will face a death punishment either way. Hecate has requested the Queen come here and you and our father will pay for, let’s see, eight deaths and three kidnappings.”

“The fair folk do not lie,” He reminds in a taunt, thinking he’s won something. Her dangerous smile makes his millisecond of gloating worthless.

“Oh, of that I am well aware. I was schooled in that rule with leather. And steel. And sharp blows...and I think it may have slipped your mind, but I DID die. Charon saw me waiting upon the shore of the River Styxx. And he cannot lie about the souls he sees and ferries. Is the shaking of your hand as you drove your servant’s blade into my chest so quickly forgotten? Don’t worry,” Flames begin to gather around her ankles, slowly creeping upward like a nonsensical dance. “I have worked with SHIELD to document all you and our father have done. Did you know that there are some cameras opposite where your servant was seen entering and exiting? And that it has files that date back to before the first murder? Where you can make out two male figures walking into the park and it has a slight shake to it? Almost like an earthquake...or perhaps even a sithen moving…” The color drains from his already pasty face as Duchess strides closer, the blue and white flames now licking up her hips and lower back. There is a slight odor of urine, making Steve and Bucky both wrinkle their noses as Tony takes a small step away from him.

It’s a power move, not just the ever shifting flames but Bucky can clearly spot how sharp her teeth have grown, how her midnight blue fingernails are now black pointed tips. She’s allowing her fae side out as well, those multicolored lights bobbing and dancing behind her irises as each step she takes results in tiny little faerie rings, the tiny flowers blooming in the colors of the pinks, greens, and light blues that dance behind her eyes as small little beings descend from the trees and pixie-looking fae flit from the flowers around the Azalea Pond.

“You have no proof,” The haughtiness returns, looking down at Duchess, and had his voice not shook, might have pulled it off. He also eyes the fae joining the group in the clearing around the pond, his eyes catching sight of the faerie rings behind her and the shock that shows in his eyes is nearly equal to watching her appear back on this plane - alive.

“You hear that, Grandmother? Everything I asked Hecate’s handmaidens to give you is not proof.”

Bucky will remember that look forever. The snapping up of his head so fast it looked like it hurt, the look of complete and utter stunned surprise that seems to echo through and around him and actually make a tremor run through the little slimeball as Fury, Coulson and a lovely looking older woman with hair that went from silver at the top of her head and slowly gained a darker red as it came to rest at her waist came behind him into the clearing.

“I have heard all in this park. I have watched your hand slay your sister.” There is a flash of fury in her eyes, which Bucky notices are mismatched. One green as freshly mowed grass and the other a dark pine bark brown. “And had she not been preoccupied with keeping everyone in this park safe, sealing the sithen closed, and focused on her mate, you wouldn’t have stood a chance, you preposterous, moronic, useless child!” Her voice raises but her face never changes from an indifferent look that Bucky had seen Queen Elizabeth sport more than a few times on tv. “You and your father will be punished to the fullest extent of this plane’s laws. Before that you both will be brought before both courts of Fae and stripped of all your titles, rights, magic -” She looks down her nose at him with a sniff of disdain, “This applies more to your father as he actually has abilities. And you will also be made to pay for restitution to the families of those you had killed and of course those three whom you stole magic from and tortured. By our laws and the old ways, your sister has death rights on all three of you involved. And I must say, if I was her, I would drag your punishments out slowly...meticulously...painfully.”

Duchess strides back over to Bucky, hands already reaching out for him as the fire dies down around her - not as consuming, but still a bright warmth that shadows her entirety. Wrapped safely in his arms, Bucky rests his chin on the top of her head as Steve gently brushes his hand up and down her arm a few times, just reassuring her of their pack bond before taking a small step back to let them bond more. She pulls back a little from the comfort of his arms, tilting her head back to look up at him, Bucky knowing exactly what she wants. This was all very familiar to what happened just before she died...and honestly they all need that reassurance that everything is okay still. And this is the simplest and best way he can do it now; Her lips are soft and easily molded to his own. His sensitive ears can still pick up the little chirps and flitter sounds of small wings of the tiny fae that had climbed into this plane at Duchess’s silent command, gathered closer to her than her Grandmother, waiting for something else it seems.

A sharp featured man dressed in a black suit jacket with heavy, shining gold threaded designs along the wrists, collar, and lapels comes into the clearing with two men trailing behind him dragging a third between them.

The tiny beings begin a high pitched whine as the dragged man is thrown at the Faerie Queen’s feet. The man in black eyeing the tiny creatures with an unreadable something in his eyes.

Bucky is shocked at how much Duchess shares her face shape and nose with her father. Everything else must have come from her mother, making her features softer. Her eye color - she had told him last night - had come from her mother’s father, her mother’s side also responsible for her more soft Greek eye shape and supple body as well. Her father’s face however is harsher, more weathered looking than even his mother’s face. His eyes are a muddy brown and he looks to be maybe an inch or so taller than Duchess herself, unusual for a male - and even most women - of high Fae blood to be that short and not claim Brownie or Goblin blood, both of which a high Fae would absolutely loathe to admit to tainting their line. Him and his son seem to have been the tailings of a long and powerful bloodline, while Duchess was an anomaly of both sides of her family tree which was probably why she was so powerful. She was seemingly that red-headed gene in a sea of black hair which came about once every few generations.

Steve moves closer to the two of them again as the Queen looks down at her son with even more disgust than her grandson, which Bucky would not have thought possible a second ago. The sharp featured man comes to stand before Duchess and gives a deep nod, the two men behind him taking a knee as they come to a stop, the High Prince of the Seelie Court and his son watching from behind the Queen with shock and anger mixed on both their faces.

“Your highness, we at the Unseelie Court are thankful to you as it was a forgotten part of our court that was taken.” His bright green eyes look almost hesitant for his next words. “We are indebted to you for clearing this up. And also for clearing our court of involvement. The Unseelie Court is indebted to you, Princess Duchess Propolos Hekatos.”

Duchess pulls away a little from Bucky and Steve to sink into a deep curtsy, “Thank you, King Odhran. May your debt be cleared swiftly.” The two men behind him rise and they all go over to the Seelie Queen as Duchess’s flames die down further, pulsing softly in time with soft flutters and swayings of the tiny fae that have moved closer still.

“I will be seeing you later for their merited punishments, cousin,” The man says indifferently while also containing a hint of malice.

“Good evening until then, Odhran.” He and his men disappear as the Queen waves her hand to the men and women holding the prisoners formerly known as her family. “Fury. Coulson. We will be off now. They will be put into your custody in a week’s time. My granddaughter will, of course, be there for the handoff as a representative of the good will of my court.” Bucky doesn’t like that she’s ordering Duchess, fighting to suppress a growl. Does she not know he has plans for his mate?? She turns to address said granddaughter. “You will attend this handoff as a Princess of the Seelie Court. Come see me the morning before the handoff, as we have things we need to discuss. Please thank your goddess, Hecate, again for her swift actions and Hades for his too.” Duchess sinks into that deep curtsy once again before nodding at the trees and pond, the tiny creatures melting back into the waters and darkening branches like shadows, her Grandmother watching with something close to fondness on her face as the guards and prisoners disappear first, then her elegant frame takes a few steps and is gone as fast and quietly as the others.

Fury holds his hand straight up in the air after they vanish, no one making a move, just light breathing as everyone glances around the clearing, looking at Duchess and then Coulson who both give a firm nod before he lowers his hand and clears his throat. Fury’s good eye looks tired as fuck to Bucky.

“Alright people, shit shows over. Wanda, please begin magically cleansing this spot with Pietro, I want to be out of here in under an hour. Coulson, get me updates and signed paperwork from the three rescued for prosecution. Tony and Vision, keep the area contained until after the cleansing. SHIELD agents, please collect photos and evidence before the cleansing. Originals we keep, copies to the NYPD. Falcon and Spidey, back on patrols for the next few hours. Barnes and Rogers, take the lady home. I think she’s done and had enough for tonight. Everyone else, find something to do to make this go as fast as goddamn possible.”

“Roger, roger!” Bucky and Steve call out, Bucky tossing his flesh arm over her shoulder, Steve on his left side as they all wave silently to their friends and begin their way out of Central Park.

“This is one of the most terrible evenings of my life,” Steve mutters as Hades, Cerberus - in his human form - and a third figure, who Bucky can scent and see is definitely not the extra curvy Persephone, wave from further up the treeline ahead of them. “And I was just on the edge of the whole thing - witness and secondary pack feelings between you two. I might need a cigarette.” Steve mutters as he runs one hand through his hair and then down his face after taking a deep breath and letting it out.

“You haven’t smoked since 1938,” Bucky remarks with an eyeroll. “And that was before we knew it was bad for you, punk.”

“And this was one of the most terrible evenings of your life so far!” Steve turns his light blue eyes towards her with his Captain America signature disapproving glare at her overly perky tone. “The Seelie Queen says thank you. In that special fair folk way,” Duchess lays on the happy sarcastic tone as they approach the trio.

“As if I give a single fuck,” The woman’s dark voice growls out, her full lips set in a frown at the news. “How do you feel, mikrí mou skoteiní?”

“I told you, your little dark one is fine,” Hades reiterates with an eyeroll.

“I feel wonderful now, eroméni.” Duchess squeezes Bucky’s hand before ducking under his arm and pressing her forehead against Hecate’s as they intertwine both their hands, the power swirling softly around the two of them.

Bucky can feel the comfort in the darkness and mist that surround them temporarily, the two pulling apart and grinning at each other more like sisters or best friends than what they were.

“Mistress, this is my Bucky,” She stretches her hand out to him, Bucky forever heeding her siren call as he slips his hand into hers. “And that is our Steve Rogers.”

“I am honored to be in your company, gentleman. My mikrí mou skoteiní needs more family. I am glad she has found not only her mate, but a pack.” Her face shifts minutely from ecstatic to a little teasing. “One that will surely grow soon?”

“My baby doesn’t need to be having babies just yet!” Cerberus says in his deep honeyed voice, the slight echo noticeable now.

“My ma raised me right, ma’am. I got to mate and marry her before we go that path. My girl hasn’t even been to Coney Island.”

“Psssh. You haven’t been to Disneyland.”

“I was starting with Brookyln and Coney Island, doll.”

“Whatever you say, handsome,” She sighs out with a smile as Hades chuckles.

“And so it begins, Bucky.” Bucky grins down at his mate.

“I can’t wait.”

“Cheeseballs...the both of you,” Steve laughs out as Hades pulls Duchess into a hug, kissing her forehead before pulling away.

“Bring the boy down in a few days for brunch. Persephone will be elated, well more elated, to see you mated and bonded. Steve is welcome as well. You know how we love certain companies in the Underworld.”

“I shall bring the handmaidens as well. Perhaps we can get Mr. Rogers a mate as well,” Hecate teases again as Steve’s ears and neck turn bright red.

“We’ll call to check in tomorrow,” Hades continues, hand stuck out to Bucky who shakes it more firmly than last time which makes the God of the Underworld’s smile widen. “Gentlemen.” He extends his hand to Steve, giving him his own hard handshake before stepping back for Cerberus to enthusiastically hug all three of them.

“I love new pack members!” His echo-y deep timber reveals his obvious happiness, Hecate eye rolling good-naturedly beside him.

“I’ll text you later,” a smirk is painted on her full lips as she stares at Duchess. “But I understand if you are busy.”

“Goodnight Hecate!” comes Duchess’s embarrassed reaction, Bucky wrapping his metal arm around her waist and winking at Hecate. “Stop that!” She swats at Bucky’s chest playfully, just for him to catch it and kiss her fingertips.

“Let’s head home, doll.” Her eyes brighten instantly.

“Ooooh! I’ve never been to Stark Tower!” She states as Steve full belly laughs.

“He meant your bar or our shared apartment in Brooklyn.”

“But I’ll take you to the Tower in a few days,” Bucky promises with a kiss to her open palm as her temporary puppy dog eyes brighten.

“Goodnight all,” Hecate and Hades state simultaneously as Cerberus gives Duchess one last kiss to her cheek before rubbing his own cheek against it.

“Goodnight!” Steve, Bucky and Duchess chime in reply, watching the gods and guardian take a handful of steps before disappearing further up the path to the right, Bucky leading his pack down the left path towards 74th Street. 

“So, whatcha up to later, Sargent?” Duchess begins as they enter the area just before the Boathouse Restaurant, squinting just a bit at the brightness.

“Well, I got this mate who smells like fresh baked bread, lemon squares, cayenne, and a little hint of mint - who is in dire need of a mating mark and bond. And lots of baby making practice. Then I was thinking I take her for lunch at the Tower in a couple days to show her off.”

“Can you schedule an old school tour after the Tower lunch?”

“Of course, doll,” Bucky’s accent thickens a little as her eyes soften as she looks up at him. “I’ll even show you everywhere we got our asses kicked when we were young.”

“And by ‘ours’ he means mine after 1934,” Steve says from Bucky’s other side with a scoff, sending Duchess a wink as they get past the Alice in Wonderland bit and start on the path down towards the Model Boathouse.

“Whatever you guys wanna show me,” Duchess sighs out happily, leaning into Bucky and reaching around his back to take Steve’s hand. Steve squeezes back before kissing the back of her hand and releasing it, happy to have her in the pack.

“I’ll grab some stuff, but I’ll stay near - up in Natasha’s apartment a few floors up. Just let me know when it’s safe,” He chuckles out as a flustered look passes over her face. “Don’t worry, kid, it’s natural. Just lots of good luck to our furniture in the house with this Alpha.”

“Is Natasha’s floor far enough away, punk?”

“Well, I love my pack already,” Duchess murmurs as Bucky and Steve continue ribbing each other, watching the stars compete with the New York City lights as a few leaves rustle in the breeze and fall on the bright path ahead of them.

“Doll, as corny as it sounds, it’s amazing how I could try but I could never explain what I hear when you don't say a thing. Just your scent and hearing your heartbeat is a different kind of magic,” Bucky whispers against her hair before kissing her soft cheek, his metal fingers entwined with hers naturally.

“If every bit of magic was stripped from me tonight, I would be okay with it. Because the best magic I’ve ever received is you.”

Bless ya’ll for making it through my long ass rambling stories <3

@stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @thewhiterabbit42​ @nobodys-baby-now​ @mizzezm​​

**PICTURE IS NOT MINE - FOUND ON GOOGLE**

**ALL RIGHTS TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS**​

[jessmalia]

tell me your favourite disney songs pleaseeee

Ok I gotta start out with the BEST one so I'll just have it out there

I'LL MAKE A MAN OUT OF YOU IS A FUCKING MASTERPIECE! IT'S THE BEST DISNEY SONG EVER AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL! People have criticised me for liking it before because "uwu it has SEXISM in it that means it's BAD" like yeah??? it's a movie about female empowerment of course it's gonna have sexism in it, that doesn't make it problematic you fucking idiot. It's about as cold of a take as "oh no did you hear that Brokeback Mountain has homophobia in it? not very woke of them" like dude have you no critical thinking? I don't give a shit about the sexist lines it's a fucking BOP okay. I mean the lyrics???? "We must be swift as the coursing river With all the force of a great typhoon With all the strength of a raging fire Mysterious as the dark side of the moon" like WHO COMES UP WITH THAT?! And that's not even mentioning the fucking visuals okay? Like I genuinely believe it's the best training montage of all time (I haven't seen Rocky but my mom has and she said it's not as good. usually I wouldn't really trust her on these kinds of topics but I'm gonna take a wild guess and say she's right). I mean, the fucking visual of Mulan using her intelligence to climb up the pole and get the arrow, making everyone's training take a turn for the better? BEAUTIFUL! Also bisexual legend Lee Chang is shirtless during the entire thing 100/10.

Keeping it on the Mulan track, Reflection – the beautiful song that awakened something in EVERY queer kid (honestly tho I never really struggled with my queer identity that much so I actually relate to it more on an autistic level). Also THIS IS AN EDMUND SONG, I WILL FIGHT ANYONE WHO DISAGREES! 15/10. 

Then just, the entire Beauty and the Best soundtrack. It’s my favourite Disney movie of all time, it’s truly their magnum opus, and every song is a BOP. I relate to Belle so hard and she was also my first ever fictional crush at the age of 3. “Belle” is a great opening number that’s extremely musically effective since it serves both to establish the world and as an I want song. Belle (reprise) is just as great. Gaston is a great hilarious villain song that perfectly illustrates how the towns folk blindly love and follow Gaston AND how much of a fucking meme he is. Be Our Guest is grand and beautifully animated, and it serves to make us (and Belle) see the castle as home perfectly. Something There is just THE perfect song to illustrate growing romantic feelings. Beauty and the Beast is such a beautiful fucking love song I want to play it at my wedding! And The Mob Song has a Shakespeare reference in it, plus a lot of relevant as hell lyrics to its theme “We don't like what we don't understand, in fact it scares us And this monster is mysterious at least” what more could you want? honestly this entire song kinda reads like they’re going to kill a gay man or something, which makes sense since it was written by one, and it’s honestly terrifying through that perspective 20/10. 

I Won’t Say (I’m In Love) BASICALLY INVENTED MUSICAL THEATRE ITSELF HOLY SHIT! I fucking love to associate it with any ship that includes one of the characters being in denial (which is most of them). I’ve been listening to it a lot more lately since I put it on my meter playlist and it NEVER gets old. The muses trying to get Meg to say that she’s in love accommodated with her just refusing to admit it works soooo well. My favourite lyrics are “It's too cliche I won't say I'm in love” and “My head is screaming Get a grip girl Unless you're dying to cry your heart out” and “Face it like a grown-up When you gonna own up that you got got got it bad” and the ending part “At least out loud I won't say I'm in love” that one gets me every time. 20/10. 

Kiss the Girl is a fucking bop. I don’t have much else to say about it other than that. I hope my friends will sing it while trying to set me up with someone someday. 10/10.

I See the Light is such a wonderful love song and it always makes me think of Draco and Aria. Just the concept of finding your greater purpose through this person you never so coming, ah 😭😭😭. “You were my new Dream” “An you were mine” 10/10. 

I have a couple of songs where only the swedish version is special to me, and it’s all just cause memories with my dad from when I was little. So, idk you can listen to the swedish versions if you want even tho you won’t understand it (I mean you can just look up the English lyrics so that doesn’t really matter). Those are Thomas O’Malley, Ev'rybody Wants to Be a Cat (Alla Snubbar Vill Ju Vara Katt) and The Bear Necessities (Var Nöjd Med All Som Livet Ger). Me and my dad used to watch Aristocats all the time and his favourite character was Thomas O’Malley, so his love for the character and the song sort of seeped into me as well, and we both loved Alla Snubbar Vill Ju Vara Katt (I’m a cat person, what can I say?). We also watched The Jungle Book a lot and my dad was absolutely OBSESSED with Var Nöjd Med All Som Livet Ger. He sung it ALL THE TIME. I honestly think I’ve heard that song more than Let It Go. 15/10. 

Of course there’s a lot of other fantastic Disney songs out there (Hellfire and A Whole New World come to mind, I feel like they deserve an honourable mention) but these are just the ones that are more special to me personally. 

Also yes of course Reflection is a Henry song also but it’s just a given that if I relate anything to autism it also applies to Henry Mills

[feralphoenix]

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

whats UP hk fandom i am back with—“more picante takes?” WOW YES HOW DID YOU KNOW!!!

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHTS PROGRAM: today we are discussing the hollow knight boss fight, and all that entails for all the characters involved. relatedly this post does not have anything nice to say about the pale king, so if you’re very protective of his character, you may want to skip it.

FURTHERMORE, i would like to iterate that this essay is working from a place of compassion for ghost, hollow, radiance, AND hornet, because every single one of them is miserable at this point in the game and doesn’t want the events of this boss fight to be happening at all. this post is not an appropriate place to dunk on ANY of them. if you want to do that, please do it elsewhere.

thanks for your understanding.

ALSO, AS USUAL: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of radiance and the moth tribe’s backstory is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

A while back @grimmradiance​ made a lovely essay about comparing and contrasting Hollow’s moveset in their Hollow Knight and Pure Vessel boss fights and using what can be gleaned from the differences to speculate about their psychology. (This essay is currently their pinned, but I’ll attach a link in a reblog.) It is extremely good, and it made me want to look at the Hollow Knight boss fight my own self through one of my own areas of expertise, meaning music!

As we are all well aware, Christopher Larkin's soundtrack to Hollow Knight rules ass. There are two specific ways in which it rules ass that are relevant to this essay: Leitmotif, and sound palette.

Quick rundown for folks who aren’t familiar with these terms: A leitmotif is a melody associated with a character or event or mood that's incorporated into songs in different ways based on what's happening in the story. Undertale is an example of a game with an incredibly strong use of leitmotif that’s really only possible because Toby Fox is both the composer and the game creator, so he can synchronize the subtleties of the writing with music and scene scripting too.

The phrase “sound palette” can have a lot of meanings, but in this case I’m using it to refer to specific instruments or groups of instruments that are associated with certain characters. If you’ve watched Steven Universe and seen interviews/production commentary by its composer team Aivi & Surasshu, you’ll hear them talking about part of their approach to scoring episodes being how each main character is represented by certain instruments: Steven with the triangle wave, Pearl with jazz piano, and so on.

Hollow Knight is a small team project rather than a one-person show, so Christopher Larkin can’t go quite AS over-the-top with leitmotif integration as Toby Fox can on simple virtue of Team Cherry having to communicate what they want to him. But Larkin is Hollow Knight's sound designer as well as its composer, so he folds leitmotif and character sound palette together with striking use of stems to create a very immersive and cinematic musical experience that enhances HK’s story and gameplay.

This brings us back to the track Sealed Vessel, which has EXTREMELY tight and cinematic sound design and uses leitmotif and sound palette to not just sock players in the feelings during a charged and dramatic boss fight, but also tell us a lot about what Hollow and Radiance are experiencing emotionally, especially with the gameplay in mind.

So, let’s play the soundtrack version of Sealed Vessel (and some other stuff) and talk about what’s going on in the game during it!

You may want to get out your copy of the OST or visit Christopher Larkin’s Bandcamp page so that you can listen along.

LEITMOTIF & SOUND PALETTE

Before we actually get into analyzing Sealed Vessel, let’s talk about the involved characters’ leitmotifs/sound palettes so we know what we’re listening for.

Both of these things are easiest to identify when characters have a distinct theme song. Ghost does not. However, the main theme of Hollow Knight (see: the title track, Hollow Knight) is used as a leitmotif for the vessels as a whole. Most pieces involved with a vessel character include this leitmotif somewhere. For instance, you can find this leitmotif and variations on it in Broken Vessel’s boss theme. The Vessel leitmotif is led by a cello solo here, so we can identify that the cello is the central part of Broken Vessel’s personal sound palette.

When the Vessel theme is associated with Ghost in specific, it tends to be performed by viola and/or piano, as it is on the title track and in other places like the opening cinematic.

Moving on to Hollow, their specific sound palette is established not in Sealed Vessel but in Pure Vessel, their pantheon boss theme. (Sealed Vessel was composed first, since the Godmaster DLC didn’t drop until over a year after HK’s initial release, meaning Pure Vessel was reverse-engineered/extrapolated from relevant parts of Sealed Vessel. But we’ll get into that later!)

The major instrumental fixtures in Pure Vessel are choir and tubular bells (i.e., those dramatic vertical fellas that sound like church bells or a carillon), with some soft background instrumentation: bass drum, woodwinds (appropriately led by flute in the main melody’s “falling motion” - flute is the centerpiece of TPK’s sound palette), strings, and high/mid brass. Hollow’s overall sound palette has a very Christian choir-esque sound (in the Pure Vessel theme this is very idealized and saintly: soft and slow and tragic) and the beginning of their leitmotif has a very distinctive climbing melody that mirrors their ascent from the Abyss. The Unbearable Vesselness Of Being leitmotif is absent from the Pure Vessel track.

Meanwhile, Radiance’s boss theme is a very fun expression of her character upon which Larkin evidently went ham. Her sound palette is expressed through full orchestra (plus choir and pipe organ) that has a special emphasis on the bass part of the brass section, which does not see much use in the HK soundtrack. Her leitmotif has also got cute and distinctive touches: It’s full of triplets to match her tiara-looking antennae, and also has a repeated “fluttery” pattern of background sixteenth notes as countermelody, often spiraling downwards.

The majority of the piece is loud and bombastic and in a minor key to play up the “resplendent and terrible” wrathful aspect of herself Radi is pushing during this section of gameplay, a very quintessentially moth intimidation tactic: Try to look as scary as possible to keep your enemies from messing with you, since you’re not built for fighting. These blasts of intensity from the brass section match Radiance’s strategy of Overwhelm You With Bullet Hell Spam To Make Up For Lack Of Battle Experience/Poor Aim. But in between said intensity spikes you can hear traces of softer instrumentation and major key, little glimpses of a gentle warmth we can otherwise only infer from her backstory and the implications of Moth Tribe lore.

0:00 - 0:41 - OPENING AMBIANCE

The Sealed Vessel track begins with the ambiance of the Black Egg Temple’s interior: The faint tones of the glowing seals we hear when we pass by them, the only light in a pitch-black world besides the floor lighting up under Ghost’s feet.

Then a slow string tremolo fades in, slowly growing louder. In the track new notes join the tremolo progressively, while in-game a violin joins the anticipatory chord every time you snap one of Hollow’s chains. Which, may I say: A+++++++ sound design!!!!!! Rules ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The tremolo reaches a peak in dynamics - all three characters present are extremely tense - and then cuts off to allow for Hollow’s boss battle opening, i.e. Radiance screaming. Team Cherry kindly demarcates each phase of the battle with a Radi yell.

0:43 - 1:39 - PHASE 1: HOLLOW ON AUTOPILOT

Phase 1 opens immediately with Hollow’s leitmotif in bells, but with brass, piano, and percussion backing them up; grand and tragic. In the background the bass section of the orchestra's strings flutter in a repetitive pattern of 16th notes, i.e. Panicky Radi Noises. The violins harmonize with Hollow's leitmotif as it climbs, but then join the rest of the string section in fluttering 16th notes, transmuting what in Pure Vessel is the flute leading Hollow back down (8th notes) to a slightly louder “a” from the backseat.

In actual gameplay, the only attacks Hollow uses are their basic nail skills. Building on grimmradiance’s analysis of the window their attacks provide to their psychology, and pairing that with the Pure Vessel leitmotif booming over the metaphorical loudspeakers, we can tell that this is Hollow reacting automatically to a threat the way that their father trained them to. Their conscious mind might still be making dialup noises at Ghost’s sudden reappearance jumpscaring them with murky childhood guilt and trauma, but that’s only let muscle memory take over. Slash, parry, charge and thrust. Their time spent at bee bootcamp (which we can assume because Hornet was trained at the Hive and Hollow’s form while nail fighting is identical to hers on their shared moves) has served them well.

Radiance, meanwhile, has frozen completely for this combat phase, and contributes nothing here except the anxiety of the string section.

As the strings continue to go “a” the piano (Ghost) and woodwinds harmonize on something between Hollow’s personal leitmotif and the Vessel leitmotif in the backdrop.

However at around 1:29ish, the key changes, building into an overall color change for the Sealed Vessel piece.

1:39 - 2:15 - PHASE 2: SHE’S AS SCARED OF YOU AS YOU ARE OF HER

In actual gameplay, the part of Sealed Vessel used for phases 1 and 2 of the Hollow Knight fight is the Entirety of 0:43 - 2:15, possibly because there’s no easy transition spot like there is between phase 2 and phase 3. But the changes to Hollow’s moveset are clearly tied to this specific part of the piece.

Phase 2 is where Radiance pushes herself past her freeze response and starts trying to hit Ghost. Hollow gains two attacks here, which we can tell are Radi because they’re often accompanied by her crying (a softer and more abbreviated sound than her full scream): These two attacks are the Infection blob blast and the Light/Void pillar attack that hits for a full 2 masks damage (which appear to be Radi’s take on Hollow’s Pure Vessel-exclusive moves, their grabby tentacles & silver knife pillars respectively).

In the Sealed Vessel track, this part of the piece is almost entirely Radiance’s fluttering. The strings start by following the descending motion of Hollow’s leitmotif but in 16th notes, then ratchet up to start spiraling down again while straying further from Hollow’s leitmotif. This section ends in a back and forth between hard blasts in a one-two-(rest)-one-two-three pattern and gasps of fluttering between, with piano and low brass building behind it. Eventually the nervous fluttering of the strings becomes less frequent between the blasts: Radiance is inexperienced with fighting and very very afraid, but she’s also FUCKING PISSED and prepared to defend herself.

The OST version of the piece punctuates the break between the first half of the piece and the second with Radiance’s scream.

2:16 - 4:04 - PHASE 3: “I’M HELPING! :)” SAID HOLLOW; “HOLY SHIT PLEASE DON’T,” SAID LITERALLY EVERYONE

Phase 3 opens with Hollow stabbing themself repeatedly, a movement pattern they repeat throughout the phase. It is shocking the first time you see it, and never stops being horrible and sad no matter how many times you do this part of the fight.

Here, Hollow’s mind has finally come back online after their own freeze response, and they choose to destroy themself and bequeath the duty of sealing Radiance to Ghost. Even if they can’t be the one to make their father proud, they can still make sure their directive gets carried out.

Radiance knows exactly what they’re up to and why, and she reacts to this by completely losing her head and mashing buttons in a panic. This is something we see out of her at the ends of her boss fights too, where she’s feeling too threatened and afraid to do anything but spam optic blasts. In the Hollow Knight boss fight this manifests in two horrifying-looking but easy-to-avoid new attacks: The Infection blob sprinkler and the ragdoll.

Ghost does not react visibly because we're in gameplay, but their horror and grief at their sibling’s choice is echoed in the BGM. The Sealed Vessel piece goes soft and sad, with Ghost’s associated viola leading the bass strings in the Unbearable Vesselness of Being leitmotif. At 2:51 the violin comes in with Hollow’s leitmotif, and gradually the choir appears in the backdrop. The ensemble’s overall dynamics build in a slow crescendo, and at the very end of this segment the other instruments begin to join in.

This segment of the piece is also used in phase 4, which occurs if you don't have Hornet’s help or miss your cue to Dream Nail Hollow. Phase 3 ends when Hollow reaches 0 HP; in phase 4 they are for all purposes already dead. But Radiance manifests an extra 250 HP out of terrified, unadulterated FUCK YOU FUCK THIS!!! even though all she can do is get Hollow to fall on their face trying to slash and ragdoll them around. The BGM continues to play as Ghost absorbs Radiance from Hollow and Hollow’s body loses its shape and dissolves into liquid Void.

And there’s one other place in gameplay Sealed Vessel (Unbearable Vesselness of Being) is used: The Path of Pain, the completely evil kaizo-level obstacle course which presumably featured in Hollow’s childhood training, and behind which the Pale King has hidden his last and most terrible secret—that he had realized on some level that Hollow was a kid with feelings who loved him and wanted to make him proud, and condemned them to death despite it all by using them to imprison and torture Radiance as he’d always planned.

The OST version of Sealed Vessel includes the music for both normal ending cinematics, so we’ll be looking at them too.

4:05 - 4:35: ENDINGS 1/2: NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS

In the BGM for The Hollow Knight and Sealed Siblings endings, the Vessel leitmotif is played by violin, viola, and choir while the cellos and contrabasses—and then the brass bass section too—play a slower version of Radiance’s downward spiral. But once Ghost is pierced by the Black Egg’s chains and Radiance’s struggle to free herself ends in failure, the soprano and bass sections harmonize. The animation zooms out of the temple and the seal reforms. They are stuck together now until the end of Ghost’s life. Hooray.

The OST version of the track immediately segues into the BGM for Dream No More.

4:36 - 5:45: ENDING 3: THANKS, I HATE IT

Here, Hornet’s associated instrument, the violin, plays one long sustained note with a few notes of Ghost’s piano alongside as she wakes up.

TPK’s goddamn flute comes in at 5:00 with his leitmotif overpowering the backdrop Vessel leitmotif on piano while Hornet surveys the carnage: The temple has been destroyed, Radiance is dead, and what’s left of Ghost’s corpse is smeared across the floor. The Void may have taken umbrage with his horseshit and unceremoniously vored him, but the motherfucker still got what he wanted in the end; the Pale King has ended the Infection by completing his genocide of the moths, using the children he abused and abandoned as his proxies, and wasting two of their lives. Can I get a hearty THIS SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in the chat.

Given that Hornet herself is canonically unsure if bringing the fight to Radiance is really a just course of action, one can only imagine how she must feel when she sees the cost of that decision.

Our only real moment of catharsis is in this shit situation comes in at 5:13, where the flute gives way to a solo from Ghost’s associated viola, playing the Vessel leitmotif as the Siblings curl up and sink back into the mountain of their corpses. Goodnight, kiddos. You deserved better, and so did literally everyone involved in this whole stupid boss fight.

This is where the OST version of Sealed Vessel ends. Even without the gameplay and story context it slaps, but now that we’ve taken a look at how this 5:45 piece is wall to wall misery and fear on the part of literally every involved character, hopefully it will have even more impact!

[mostly-mundane-atla]

@paragonrobits @veryever alright, here we go. Technically-not-swears to give your writing a punch that "oh spirits" does not.

@terulakimban, @mikaslilworld, and @589ish were asking for this too so I'll mention them so that they're sure to see it.

Adjectives:

Misbegotten. Implying that someone is of questionable parentage is generally seen as in poor taste at best or incredibly insulting, vulgar "fighting words" at worst.

Cursed. Implying something or someone has done something deserving of a curse and have all the bad luck and unpleasantness that comes with it. Probably the most mild example here.

Damned. Considered more severe and material than "cursed" and often refers to a spiritual sentence or a fated misfortune. Whether or not this is an actual swear can depend on the person and the circumstance.

Poxy. This one is a little spicy because while on the surface it's just referring to illnesses like smallpox, cow pox, or chicken pox, historically, it referred to what English speakers euphemistically referred to as "the French pox" aka syphilis.

Nouns:

Animals. Referring to someone as an animal, especially one associated with unsavory personality traits (snakes and rats come to mind as a prime example), is often considered insulting and even dehumanizing. Note that asses and jackasses are actual animals and how off-limits those words are entirely depends on context

Witch. Often used in place of "bitch" becsuse it rhymes and can be used just as insultingly.

Scum. Refers to just about any icky substance that won't go away

Son of a ____. Insulting one's parentage is again in poor taste or straight up fighting words. The blank can be filled by anything: animals, unpleasant or unwanted things, people of any profession considered disgusting or demeaning. Have fun with it.

Inupiat words:

Honestly, if a fantasy version of Inupiat live in this world (and given two characters from this fantasy culture are named after Inupiat villages in Alaska, specifically, I'm going to specify Inupiat and will appreciate it if folks don't generalize it as Inuit) it only makes sense for Inupiat words to be used in other parts of the world. Influence and cultural exchange doesn't have to be a one way street where the "more advanced" only affect the "less advanced" and indigenous languages have always left traces behind.

Inupiat culture, and therefore language, is very matter of fact. Euphemisms aren't really used because no topic is really considered "too dirty" to talk about with any particular group. Insults are a way of showing love and familiarity. Offense is mainly conveyed through tone and context.

The phrase "anak niģiiñ" (anak meaning "poop," niģi meaning "eat," and -iñ being a suffix which in this case makes a verb a command aimed at one person) has been suggested as an Inupiat translation for the English phrase "eat shit." The words themselves are not bad words as you may think of them; the insult comes instead from how they're used to express anger at and disdain toward the person. Lots of words can be used this way, including any of the words for hell or for things I've alluded to on this post already.

If you're worried about this coming off as appropriative or insensitive, you may be lacking some cultural context for this to feel at home. Feel free to read through my "eskimo on main" tag for inspo on that. I'm willing to answer any other questions you may have as well, though be warned, I'm not exactly the quickest at responding.

Getting Creative - Basic Mode - Curses and Oaths:

We call bad words curses because at one point, they were exactly that. You were cursing someone and that was the greatest offense of it. Common curses include wishing death, illness, or injury on someone, sometimes milder but still unpleasant or uncomfortable experiences to befall them, and more rarely things like natural disasters. In a fantasy universe with fantastical abilities and animals, there are plenty of opportunities to customize this format into something exclusive to the Avatar verse.

An oath, in this sense, is a literal swear. English speakers may be familiar with "I swear on my mother's grave" or the more serious "for the love of god" being said when one is confronted. Here the offense comes from something sacred being invoked so flippantly. I think this is what people are trying to go for with "oh spirits" but it falls short for a few reasons. It doesn't invoke any one thing specifically. Anything can be a spirit and a spirit can take the form of anything. Are you invoking spirits of gentle breezes or torrential downpours? Of tadpoles or lions? Saying something like "by Koh's stolen faces!" or "lightning strike me down!" will make more of an impact than "Oh spirits" ever will.

Getting Creative - Advanced Mode - In-Universe Reference as Self-Censoring:

This one can be a little difficult to figure out, but it's probably my favorite one. Basically, you come up with, say, a historical incident or a bit of media that the people in-universe would know about because of its vulgarity. You don't have to explain it, because the whole point is that the audience doesn't know, just the characters. And you have the character's reference it to suggest vulgarity without having to spell any of it out. Allow me to provide an example:

"And then, well, let's just say I recited the last verse of The Earth Kingdom's Ode to the Firelord, almost word for word."

"The Kyoshi version?"

"The Omashu version!"

"And you got away with it?!?!"

Like most of them, this relies on the other character's reaction to sell it. It's loads of fun once you get it figured out because it feels like you got away with a lot when it's functionally just gibberish.

[boognish-worshipper]

Midnight City AU

this is an au where the main characters are all young adults!! (or millennials ig? they’re in their 20s basically) i gave a rundown of what’s what on a diff post,, i’m also splitting it up into diff chapters,, so this is gonna take a looooong time to finish. i’m posting this before i nitpick my writing to the max

it’s basically a lot of references to that point in time, artists, pop culture etc. all the chapters are named after songs from that era (including the name of this au bc i love midnight city and what better way to describe LS ‼️), and the lyrics r usually connected to what the chapter’s about, or about a character dynamic :D i hope this isn’t too cheesy, or sounds off ig. any typos in this were probably over looked bc i constantly reread my writing and rearrange stuff and make sure it sounds good 🥳 hope y’all enjoy !!! i’m also including a tag to find the chapters under :)

//Chapter 1: Crimewave

Trevor would never, ever admit it, but he had fallen into the category known as “post-hipster”. This was a strange era that began culminating, taking LS by storm. Whether he liked it or not, he could never avoid it. Even if he swore up and down he wasn’t like them, it was practically a paradox. Saying he wasn’t like them just made him a branched off version of the thing he denounced. Each aesthetic that was churned out as the 2010s rolled in were tied to a style, a sound, and Trevor couldn’t care less. It’s not like people liked what he liked. He didn’t belong to anything in particular, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t like them. If anything, he just became another obscure genre in the mix.

One of his favorite music groups was a Canadian duo called Crystal Castles. He enjoyed a good number of their songs, developing an interest for electropunk and pop punk. There was something unique about the sound, and it made Trevor feel special, like he discovered some sort of hidden treasure. He was into pop punk groups like Paramore too, but it was something about them that was just different. People knew Paramore. He often lingered around Sterling Lake, where other post-irony hipsters and classic hipsters resided, careful not to fully associate with them. After all, he apparently despised them, even though he participated in their strange… “culture”. If you could even call it that. From time to time he would find himself discussing his favorite artists with whatever semi-normal person was there, making a couple friends himself who weren’t the snooty kind he’d grown used to.

They all loved talking about how exceptional their taste in music was, a wide variety of people hanging around with their own cliques. Some liked Fall Out Boy, while others liked Blink-182, and then there were the weirdos who liked groups like Radiohead. Most of those guys were whiny, proclaiming how misunderstood they were. He knew maybe one Radiohead song at most (he definitely, definitely never cried to “Creep” and even if he did, so what) but never found himself willingly getting into their music. Then you had the nosedivr crowd, which consisted of mostly girls, and the occasional hipster guy that defected. Their taste was.. alright. Consisted of artists like Lana Del Ray and Marina and the Diamonds, who were their idols. He found almost everyone there besides the few friends he made kind of edgy, and not in the cool way. But he figured all hipsters and guys like them were kind of uncool. Don’t even get him started on those other indie rock types. God. He still came back as often as he could though, establishing some kind of routine. Most people there avoided him anyway, which he preferred. He had enough troubles with them in the past. There was one day he grew tired of the people gawking at him, and he launched a hipster right into the lake. So yeah, nobody within their right mind so much as looked in his direction. That was just how he rolled.

Today, he sat on a nearby bench in Sterling Lake’s park, watching some ducks float on water. His usual friends had been there too, seeing his clowncore buddy Wade with his cousin Floyd. Wade was extremely different than the pretentious fucks around them. He had a shit ton of piercings, and ICP was his favorite music group. Floyd on the other hand, fit right in. Almost too much, like it was something he was forced to do. But he did genuinely enjoy Weezer, of all things you could enjoy. Wade started waving at Trevor, while Floyd hid behind him. All he did was awkwardly wave back, turning his attention back to the lake. He liked Wade, but the clown stuff he wore sometimes spooked him. He didn’t pay much mind to his relative. Looking back across the water, he saw someone new, observing the area. Some dude a little above the average height, hands in his pockets walking around. He seemed a bit lost, and Trevor figured he should help if he was. After all, what was this guy doing here? New people didn’t show up often.

“Hey bud, you lost or something?”

“Oh uh, nah not really. I’m just looking for this girl I met a while ago, said she hangs out around here?”

“What she look like? I’m here pretty often.”

“Uhh kinda short, dark brownish hair? Wears fishnet stockings, high waisted shorts or whatever those grunge people are into.”

“Let me guess, she into the Neighborhood?”

“How’d you know?”

“Yeah, that’s Amanda, she’s a bit of a regular. Not too fond of me I must say.”

“How come?”

“She’s just petty towards me.” He said with a shrug. He didn’t feel like relaying his encounters with her if the guy was dating her or something.

“Oh… well d’ya think you could help me find her? I don’t really know anybody else here. I could actually use the help, since you know her.”

“Eh sure, why not.”

It’s not like he had anything better to do. The two began to walk around the park, gravel and dirt crunching beneath their feet.

“So.. what’s this place about?” The strange guy asked.

“Hm? Oh, it’s just one of those places the hipster folks meet up I guess. Don’t understand it much myself, nor do I really like them.”

“Then why do you come here?”

“Dunno. It’s relatively peaceful, those freaks keep to themselves.”

The man, who was only a smidge shorter than Trevor, glared up at him.

“Hey man, don’t call my girl a freak.”

“Ehh I don’t really count her in with the generic skinny jean wearing hipsters. More of a.. what is it called.. nosedivr type. Whatever that stupid website’s called. Why do you think she dresses like that?”

“Huh.. Never really thought to ask her.”

As he thought about the stuff Amanda wore, he took note of how the man next to him was dressed. He sported an olive jacket with a black turtle neck, and a plain pair of jeans. He wore beat up black converse to top it off, and a pair of Rimmers sunglasses sat upon his head. He looked simple, yet distinguished with the way he presented himself, hair neatly combed back. He figured the two would look nice standing next to one another. They would’ve made an attractive couple, if they weren’t dating already, the kind that turns heads. Trevor wasn’t like them. He wore a black beanie over his mullet, and his favorite pair of red Dix sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. The rest of his fit looked disheveled. He had thrown on a wrinkled top, solid black with little surf boards and cars along the bottom- he was a sucker for Hawaiian shirts. His pants were tan colored but had some bleach stains, with old combat boots on his feet.

“Yeah, we may not like each other but I don’t really consider her a freak like those guys.”

He jutted a thumb in the direction of a circle of guys huddled around a phone. The man holding the phone had strawberry blonde hair and a clean outfit on. An expensive looking outfit.

“Who are they?”

“The people here I absolutely cannot fucking stand. The genuine hipsters.”

“Oh.. and you’re..?”

“I’m my own kind. I’m not like these losers, all uppity and shit.”

“Right. Gotcha.”

They walked around a bit more before finding the group Amanda was with. She sat on a bench, chatting with a few girls who dressed similarly to her. All of them had black incorporated into their style. She herself had a black jumper on, tucked neatly into the front of her jean shorts. Just like the guy described, she had fishnets on under them, skater shoes to match. Loose braids fell on her shoulders, and a small black choker was wrapped around her neck.

“Oh, there he is now! Babe! Over here!”

She narrowed her eyes upon seeing Trevor standing next to him.

“Hello, Trevor.” She huffed.

“Relax, I was helping your boyfriend or whatever look for you.”

Her face softened slightly, but still kept a small glare in his direction. She pressed her lips together tight before replying.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Yup.”

The man turned to face Trevor, sticking out a hand.

“Hey, thanks for showing me around. Trevor, is it?”

“Don’t wear it out.”

He shook his hand, noticing how soft it was. It was in stark contrast to his own, which was rough and calloused.

“Name’s Michael. I’ll see you around most likely? Thanks again.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Amanda huffed again, nudging Michael’s shoulder.

“Let’s go hun, Bean Machine closes soon!”

“I’m comin’ I’m comin’!”

The two sauntered off, hand in hand. Trevor stood dumbly, watching them walk away. He was right. They did look good together. He wondered if he would actually see this Michael again, kicking a rock. He went back to the bench he originally sat at, putting his earbuds in, listening to some Crystal Castles again to pass the time. The beat thumped in his ears, and all he could think was how much better this shit was compared to that club music shit that played on every radio station in a 5 foot radius. He sat there, scrolling through his own secret nosedivr account, reblogging some photo of a lit cigarette. Right before a hand touched his shoulder causing him to jump.

“What the fuck- Oh. Ron.”

Ron was another friend of Trevor’s, a guy he had met outside one of the iFruit stores talking about how “they’re tapping the phones they sell in there!” and all that conspiracy nonsense. He was a paranoid guy, but Trevor kind of liked that about him. Those were the kind of freaks he liked. He was shorter than Trevor, sort of frail in stature. He wore a bright red windbreaker over a faded tourist tee that read “I went to Liberty City and all I got was this lousy t-shirt!”, along with khaki colored cargo shorts. It didn’t help that he wore some goofy looking bucket hat, and socks with sandals. He dressed like someone’s middle aged father.

“Trevor! Have you seen Wade around anywhere?”

“Last I checked, he was with Floyd.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Uh no, but my best bet is they went to that vinyl shop Floyd’s girlfriend works at.”

“Will ya come with me to find him?”

“Now why the fuck would I do that? What do you need him for?”

“Well I- I uh- um..”

“I uh! I uh! Spit it out Ron!”

“It’s about the Merryweather Night Club.”

Merryweather was a big organization that had a wide range of private clubs all over the country, and complimentary body guards to suit. They were all expensive as fuck, and anywhere they settled jacked up the prices of everything else. A lot of neighborhoods became gentrified as a result, and people actually considered it a good thing. What a fucking joke. Trevor of course couldn’t stand it. He hated bullies, and Merryweather was no exception. He’d been wanting to dismantle the club since they settled in LS, seeing as they only amplified the fake feel of the city. Let’s just say he’s gotten into more than a few scuffles with the club. And let’s just say it ended with someone getting stabbed as a result. The guy had it coming to him anyway. Between bouncers and the clubbers, they didn’t like Trevor or his kind loitering around the joint. It didn’t stop him from plotting some sort of revenge though. Ron per usual was on board, his reason being Merryweather’s violent history that had been swept under the rug. They were rather forceful relocating people who had lived in certain neighborhoods for years, Ron being one of their victims. Wade only decided to tag along because he wanted to be included.

“Ah fuck, what’d those bastards do now?”

“They’re throwing some big party!”

“…What fucking for?”

“All I know some guy’s coming to visit, somebody they labeled important and he’s-“

“Woah woah woah wait, Ron. Who?”

“Steve Haines.” He breathed out, careful not to be overheard.

Trevor’s eyes widened, his gaze shooting over to the posse he had poked fun of before. Steve was talking to the group, all of them doing that fake laugh they always did. God, even their humor was pretentious.

“Those fucking hipsters!” He hissed.

“I abhor them, you know that-“

“I know. I know. But, that Weston guy’s gonna be there with him-“

“Weston? Devin Weston?”

If Trevor hated hipsters, then he utterly loathed rich daddy’s money boys like Devin Weston. He had only gotten that stupid fucking night club because his father paid Don Percival enough money to let Devin do whatever he pleased with the Merryweather body guards. It was an elitist club, and they only allowed the best of the best in there.

“What the fuck’s going on there?”

“Something to do with those guys he hangs out with. I think they’re doing something major, expansion maybe-”

“And him and Devin are working together or..?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t hear much after that, that’s why I wanted to grab you and Wade and-”

“Then let’s fucking go get him, Ron!”

The two rushed out of there, heading for the vinyl store to look for Wade. Trevor knew a shit storm was coming, and he absolutely couldn’t wait.

//the next chapter’s gonna be longer i promise lolz